Spirited Action
Anxious I would miss the opportunity to do yoga with a personal instructor, I awoke before my 8:15a.m. alarm. Roopa was sending a driver to fetch me to her daughters' home where they receive yoga instruction five days a week. I removed my shoes and hurried upstairs believing instruction was starting at 9 a.m. sharp, but this was not a formal class so the instruction started when the students were ready.
Shameem Akthar, yoga instructor and therapist, a look alike of Debbie Allen from the hit t.v. show “Fame” (yes, it was a hit), was ready to begin. She walked us through many poses explaining the importance of each movement and the focus of the mind. The personal instruction, corrections and focus on breath were a prelude to a day of spirit.
Yoga behind us and breakfast waiting, we went downstairs in the beautiful thirteenth floor condominium where again, several men had prepared a multi dish feast. I would have settled for a plain bowl of oatmeal or even a protein bar, but Indian food was once again on the menu. I am less surprised each day, but I find it interesting that the food eaten at each meal use roughly the same level of spice and ingredients with just slight variations giving it significantly different taste. All of this is not to say breakfast was deficient in any manner . . . as long as you weren’t expecting Aunt Jemima to speak to you from the edge of the table while you inhaled organic whole wheat pancakes.
Rested and still exhilarated from her 3 day conference on human values, Roopa had been inspired during the preceding night by many new ideas for my trip. Her enthusiasm was racing so much that I had no time to seek clarification or pronunciations. She spoke of different Ashrams in different cities, meditation classes in Mumbai, ayhruvedic pulse readers and book shows. She pulled no fewer than 12 books relating to spirit off of her shelves thinking they might be of interest to me. I was overwhelmed, but holding on for the ride. This was the India I came for and my train had just pulled in the station.
The thought of getting back on the road in Mumbai was not appealing, but Roopa was determined to show me an ashram. She said there was one an hour away, outside the city limits. Not wanting to dampen her enthusiasm and appreciative of her interest in sharing, I hopped in the backseat of the shiny black Honda Accord as we headed off to the Swami Mukuntanda Ashram.
Getting out of the city involved using the brakes more than the gas, but once we got to the highway out of town, it was clear sailing. As we reached the city limits and beyond, the traffic dwindled, which was welcome relief, but that seemed to license those on the road to get crazier and play mini games of chicken. The drive was pretty as India revealed it’s first bit of countryside to me. Reminded me of many countries I visited before, typical of most agrarian societies with a patchwork of land being farmed by a family living in a small makeshift thatch roof hut on one corner.
We arrived at the ashram in the countryside just after 5:30 only to learn that it closed at 5:30 and I would not be permitted inside without first registering and that time was 8:30 in the morning. Managing our disappointment, we strolled the street in front of the ashram for a few minutes (mostly so I could pray to the traffic gods) and then began heading back to the city. I fastened my seatbelt as a beautiful orange sun set in the countryside. One thing about sunsets is that they never seem to get old, no matter where you find yourself. Just seems that when you are traveling you get to see them more as daily routines are temporarily resigned.
Roopa, Simran and I shared some crackers and Roopa took a pencil to paper as she explained the relationships of the various gurus and spiritual stories. At one point, my eyelids staged a coup as they fell to half staff, fighting both fatigue and the dry air from the fan whirling above. I was no longer hungry nor could I retain any more information, my system needed a reboot in the form a bed. Showing signs of wear as well, Roopa and I agreed to continue our discussions after a night’s rest.
Shameem Akthar, yoga instructor and therapist, a look alike of Debbie Allen from the hit t.v. show “Fame” (yes, it was a hit), was ready to begin. She walked us through many poses explaining the importance of each movement and the focus of the mind. The personal instruction, corrections and focus on breath were a prelude to a day of spirit.
Yoga behind us and breakfast waiting, we went downstairs in the beautiful thirteenth floor condominium where again, several men had prepared a multi dish feast. I would have settled for a plain bowl of oatmeal or even a protein bar, but Indian food was once again on the menu. I am less surprised each day, but I find it interesting that the food eaten at each meal use roughly the same level of spice and ingredients with just slight variations giving it significantly different taste. All of this is not to say breakfast was deficient in any manner . . . as long as you weren’t expecting Aunt Jemima to speak to you from the edge of the table while you inhaled organic whole wheat pancakes.
Rested and still exhilarated from her 3 day conference on human values, Roopa had been inspired during the preceding night by many new ideas for my trip. Her enthusiasm was racing so much that I had no time to seek clarification or pronunciations. She spoke of different Ashrams in different cities, meditation classes in Mumbai, ayhruvedic pulse readers and book shows. She pulled no fewer than 12 books relating to spirit off of her shelves thinking they might be of interest to me. I was overwhelmed, but holding on for the ride. This was the India I came for and my train had just pulled in the station.
The thought of getting back on the road in Mumbai was not appealing, but Roopa was determined to show me an ashram. She said there was one an hour away, outside the city limits. Not wanting to dampen her enthusiasm and appreciative of her interest in sharing, I hopped in the backseat of the shiny black Honda Accord as we headed off to the Swami Mukuntanda Ashram.
Getting out of the city involved using the brakes more than the gas, but once we got to the highway out of town, it was clear sailing. As we reached the city limits and beyond, the traffic dwindled, which was welcome relief, but that seemed to license those on the road to get crazier and play mini games of chicken. The drive was pretty as India revealed it’s first bit of countryside to me. Reminded me of many countries I visited before, typical of most agrarian societies with a patchwork of land being farmed by a family living in a small makeshift thatch roof hut on one corner.
We arrived at the ashram in the countryside just after 5:30 only to learn that it closed at 5:30 and I would not be permitted inside without first registering and that time was 8:30 in the morning. Managing our disappointment, we strolled the street in front of the ashram for a few minutes (mostly so I could pray to the traffic gods) and then began heading back to the city. I fastened my seatbelt as a beautiful orange sun set in the countryside. One thing about sunsets is that they never seem to get old, no matter where you find yourself. Just seems that when you are traveling you get to see them more as daily routines are temporarily resigned.
Roopa, Simran and I shared some crackers and Roopa took a pencil to paper as she explained the relationships of the various gurus and spiritual stories. At one point, my eyelids staged a coup as they fell to half staff, fighting both fatigue and the dry air from the fan whirling above. I was no longer hungry nor could I retain any more information, my system needed a reboot in the form a bed. Showing signs of wear as well, Roopa and I agreed to continue our discussions after a night’s rest.
posted by Global415 at 1:23 AM
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