Category Archives: India ’08-’09

The voice of our German instructor Shakti (spiritual name) wafted gently across the room. “This exercise is particularly good for relaxing the pelvic floor and preparing for birth. Now gently push down, and rel-aaaax”.

It was a moment that begged for reflection. Here I was, on my hands and knees, a pillow stuffed up my shirt, learning about the intricacies of doing yoga while pregnant. Not even a clairvoyant would have seen this coming six months ago. Given that I find many of the asanas (physical poses) hard enough while unimpregnated, this class was getting close to being a challenge too far. I struggled through. (I was helped by my chosen location for this class – the Japanese ladies enclave. God knows how they manage still look graceful while quasi-pregnant).

It’s been quite a journey, this week in particular. Full reflections will have to wait a while to grace cyberspace. There are two days left of the course – an examination tomorrow and then graduation in the evening. The final week has been filled with priceless moments.

I must now endeavour to put in at least a passable impression of knowledge of Vedanta Philosophy, Basic Anatomy, Teaching class structures, and Meditative practices in tomorrow’s exam. It is my first for a good 15 years.

If all goes horribly wrong, it occurs to me that a (relatively valid) answer would be to admit that I may have been relying too much on divine intervention in my revision. (I am currently 100 yards from the beach).

‘Til next week. Wish me luck!

If there is one word that has, for the past 2 weeks, stricken fear into all the teacher trainees here it is “Kriyas”.

“Kriyas” are the cleansing techniques that are associated with the practice of Yoga. Given the Sivananda Ashram’s keen desire to ensure that we realize yoga is not just stretching, this is an integral part of the teaching course.

All that we had to go on were some blurred descriptions in the manuals, and some frightening descriptions of nasal tube insertion, stomach muscle churning, and forced vomiting.

The day of reckoning had originally been set for 10 days ago, but lack of equipment delayed the inevitable. (The specific missing pieces were 170 “Neti Pots”, used for pouring salt water into one nostril so that it runs out of the other. I am certain there is some entrepreneur lying on a beach somewhere having made a fortune out of manufacturing these small flowering-can-like canisters).

As the trainees gathered down by the lake at 8am, many of us kept ourselves to ourselves, occasionally exchanging nervous glances as we mentally prepared for the worst. Some of the boys however (who clearly felt this was a challenge that could only to be taken head-on), could be seen indulging in bravado-laden chest-puffing and stiff-upper-lipping.

Mani, our teacher, has commanded tremendous respect through his challenging Asanas (physical practice) classes, and his brilliant stories. It was a stroke of genius to have him lead the Kriyas – I’m not sure many other teachers could have made it all seem so natural. He proceeded to demonstrate the salt-water nasal cleaning with his Neti pot, making it look like he had been doing it since he was a babe in arms (which he probably has). He very wisely left the other exercises to his assistants. (A teacher has to maintain some kind of distance from his students, and frankly throwing up in front of your wards is probably taking it a little too far).

Now it was our turn. Broken into groups, we nervously went through the steps of the first challenge – the salt-water nasal cleaning. This in fact proved remarkably easy, and you could sense the relief spreading through the camp as we moved onto the second exercise – cleansing the nasal passage with a rubber tube. .

As we got underway, I paused to look around. The scene resembled m\nothing less than an Indian version of the MTV programme “Jackass”. Here were 170-odd perfectly sane people trying to insert a small rubber tube up one nostril and down the back of their throats, sticking two fingers into their mouths to grab the tube, and then moving it back and forth to clear the passage. It was too bizarre for words.

In fact many people managed it (your writer got the tube down into my mouth but try as I might, that darned tube just evaded my groping fingers), and some positively enjoyed it.

The third challenge was simple to explain, slightly harder to execute. Drink (at least) eight glasses of saline water as fast as you can, and repeat as necessary, until nature takes it’s course and forces it all back out. This time it looked like the streets of Edinburgh on the morning after a Scotland-England rugby game, with people doubled up with cramps and spewing forth their insides with gusto. Nice. I felt particularly sorry for Australian Benny who consumed 20 glasses with no effects. Too much Castlemaine XXXX I think. I’m not sure that he ever did throw up, which is slightly frightening.

The final technique was for only the bravest of the brave – swallowing a 2-foot long thin strip of saline-soaked gauze bit by bit until it is at least a foot down your throat before bringing it back up “gently”.

As Mani patiently explained the procedure to the increasingly beleaguered students, one of the Tamil boys sprang forward with only a small tab of gauze showing out of his mouth. “Yes, he will demonstrate” Mani said after getting over his surprise. The Tamil boy then proceeded to pull nearly a yard of gauze from his stomach. They’re proud of their inner cleanliness down here.

The foolhardy few completed this final exercise before we trooped back up to the gates of the Ashram. It had, in fact, been great fun – just another part of the experience here, which continues apace.

One more week to go before exams – and graduation next Sunday. I will post again then.

At the halfway point in the Yoga Teachers Course, I can happily report only minor niggling physical injuries, a very healthy mental state, and a happy soul.

The progress you can make from 4 hours of Yoga Asanas a day is amazing – a solid and sustained headstand was something that felt a country mile away at the beginning of the course, but now feels, well if not exactly natural, at least doable. (Due to doubters after the original post, I have now included a picture. The pinkness in the face is sunburn, not over-exertion I can assure you).

I’ve also realised why they wear loose trousers. I am discovering muscles I’m not sure even my mother knows that I have.

The teachers keep pushing, and I keep pulling – generally they are sensible enough to avoid touching me while I am in the (in)delicate position of trying to put my ankle behind my head. That one will take a little more time.

In an Ashram of 56-bed dormitories, I once gain fell on my feet for accommodation. I ended up in the small 12-bed “Vishnu” dorm with 9 Malayalam guys from Kerala, 1 delightful Delhi-ite, and a Swiss guy. Despite a slightly rocky start – see below – we all get on fabulously, to the extent that I ended up doing a temple dance on stage with the Malayalam guys (I call them my Mallyaly army) in last night’s weekly “Talent Show”. (The talent shows will be the subject of a separate post at some stage. National stereotypes have been coming to the fore in all sorts of very amusing ways).

So, that rocky start… Naturally, after the long induction on the first night, sleep came pretty easily to the Vishnu Dormitory, at the allotted time of 10.30. I entered the halls of slumber looking forward to some quality shut-eye before the wake-up bell at 5.20. Given the punishing schedule, sleep is always at a premium.

The Mobile phone alarm that went off at 3.45am was, therefore, not exactly welcome. “Patience, Duff, patience” I told myself, recalling the slightly frightening response from one of the staff the previous night when I enquired about the course: “Well Andy, this course is tough… Eventually something is going to get your ego – it will be the most unexpected thing – but something will get you in the end.” Was this my first test?

After the seventh repeat of the alarm at 4.06, I decided enough was enough, and stormed across to the bed concerned making my views known in the finest English vernacular I could dredge from my weary body, before flopping back into bed for a vital further 75 minutes. There was an eerie silence in the room as we all got up later – I was clearly not the only one who had suffered.

The second night came, and again sleep descended quickly in the evening. And again, a phone alarm at 4am – this time it was turned off and replaced with a loud shower, the clattering around of someone getting dressed, lights on, and then a strange rattling sound for the next 20 minutes. I shoved my head determinedly under the pillow and snaffled some precious remaining minutes, calming my rising blood pressure the best I could.

“This has GOT to stop,” I said to the biggest guy in the dorm.

“I know, man – but he doesn’t speak any English – but if he does it again we’ll beat him up” he said with a knowing laugh.

I spent most of the third morning’s Asana class thinking about how to resolve the worsening situation. Just as I entered the delicate final stages of the shoulderstand, it came to me – taking my inspiration from the Kerala police motto plastered on the side of their cop-cars (“Kerala Police – Polite but Firm”) I decided to draw a picture (see photo) depicting the requirement for silence and darkness between 10pm and 5.20am to restore some order.

I was just preparing to post my notice as we turned in for the third night, when a gentle “Ahem” behind me. “Yes?” I enquired, politely (but firmly). It was the big guy again. “Erm, man, it’s awkward… you see… he’s a Pujahri – it’s part of his duty to do pujah (worship) to Parvati at 4am every morning… that rattling sound is him passing beads through his brass bowl – it’s part of his ritual…”

This was tricky. I found myself at the sharp end of cultural sensitivity. I had a decision to make.

Given that the Asanas practise was starting to bite, the urgent need for sleep won the day. I went ahead and posted the picture. Now it was a case of wait and see.

5.20 the following morning came and incredibly I found myself fast asleep. It had worked! The result has been subsequent love, peace and spiritual harmony in the dormitory and firm friendships. I am now addressed as “Chetan” – Older Brother – by the beaming Pujahri (Jaylal), and reply equally cheerily with “Anir” – Younger Brother. Another of the boys has taken to calling me “Alia” – Brother-in-Law (although I am insisting on seeing his sister first). A couple of the lads even sidled up later in the day to say they were secretly rather relieved – it wasn’t something that would have been easy for them to do. I could not ask for better dorm-mates.

Time is precious on the day off, so I will leave it there today. From the hilarious flatulence incident in yesterday’s meditation to the stories of Astral travelling over tea, there is more, much more, to say. But that will all have to wait. I have another day off on Friday and will post again then.