I seem to be stuck in Varkala. I had only planned to be here for two or three days, and now I've been here five days and don't want to leave. I have also been joined by Helena, a friend I met back in Mussoorie. It is nice to have a friend in town.
There was something about sitting in the tropical warmth under a palm tree, watching the surf which made it hard for me to believe it was New Year's Eve. Helena and I stayed up at my islolated hotel on the beach. We sat and talked, and drank a beer that my hotel guys smuggled out to us (hotels and restaurants are not allowed to serve alcohol, and usually put beer in tea pots..."special tea"). We almost missed midnight, but I happened to look at my watch a few minutes before. Far down the beach we could see the fireworks from the cliff. It was a very quiet, relaxed way to start the new year.
When the new year arrived on the East Coast, I was just finishing by coffee and breakfast. I paused to wish you all a happy new year. I did so again the next 3 hours. It was strange to be so far into the new year, and realize that some of you were still in 2003.
So, Happy New Year! I hope your year has started off well!
Mata Amritanandamayi, now called Amma, was born into a poor fishing family in a village in Kerala in 1953. From an early age she showed exceptional empathy for others. She began to comfort those who were suffering by hugging them. In her early twenties she developed a following which steadily grew. Her parents finally recognized that their daughter was going to be a guru, and began to support her activities. Her ashram now stands on the land where her house once was.
On Saturday, Helena, a Canadian guy named Steve and I left the beach to go to Amma's ashram for two nights. When we arrived in the evening, Amma was giving dharshan (originally the viewing of a saint, but in her case she gives a hug to everybody who comes). Shortly after arriving, we were whisked away to the back of the temple by one of the Ashram residents. Within a few minutes we were in line. As usually, I was curious but did not expect anything significant. When the man in front of me (a Westerner) put his hands to his face as if crying after his hug, I found it overly dramatic. Then it was my turn. Her helper put my hand on the cushion next to Amma, who then pulled me in to her shoulder. She held me for about five seconds, and murmured in my ear. I couldn't really hear what she said. Then she started to let me go, and then pulled me back a second time. When she did release me, I was dizzy and disoriented. Somebody pressed something into my hand. Another assistant helped me to stand up, and I slowly wandered off in a daze. The initial feeling of disorientation turned to confused amazement that I really had felt something. Neither Helena nor Steve had felt anything special.
After the dharshan, Amma took a thirty minute break, before coming to the large pavillion to sing devotional songs. The music was really amazing, and very relaxing. The crowd of several hundred people was very diverse, including South and North Indians (including Sikhs and Muslims), and many foreigners.
The next day I started with some meditation, and then we went to watch Amma do dharshan for awhile. Steve went again in the morning, and this time he also felt moved. In the afternoon, Helena and I did seva chopping vegetables in the kitchen, which we happily ate later in the evening.
That evening was a special dharshan, in which Amma would dress as the goddess Devi. Things started with Amma giving a talk at 5:00. This led into music which lasted until 8:30. With only a half-hour break, she began dharshan again at 9:00 and continued without a break, not even standing up, for 13 hours. At around midnight I had a chance to get another hug. I was very curious to see what would happen. Although I felt very relaxed, and happy afterwards, it was not nearly as dramatic as the first hug. Afterwards, I sat on the stage behind her for an hour. I also had a chance to be an assistant, by handing her prasad (blessed offerings) for her to give to the devotees.
I really enjoyed the positive atmosphere in the ashram. I found little of the holier-than-though attitude which one often finds in such communities. As a newbie, I was treated with special honor. I highly recommend a stay at the ashram to anybody coming to India.
It was nice to get back to Varkala. To hear the mosque as one walked along the beach to have delicious Keralan food. To hear the surf when one went to bed. But I really want to go back and get another hug.
Just 45 minutes South of Varkala is the state capital of Thiruvananthapuram (or Thrivandrum for short). My friend Helena and I headed there on Wednesday. We arrived around mid-day, found a hotel and set out accross the city. One of our first stops was a restaurant which serves South Indian 'thali'. After a delicious meal, and even better coffee, we were in a great mood.
We took an auto rickshaw down to a palace, which still belongs to the Travancore royal family. We went for a tour. For a palace it is more comfortable than flambouyant. It is two stories high, and is made of wood -- much of which is beautifully carved. While there, we found out that there was to be a concert on the grounds from 6-9 that evening. We decided to stay for the concert and went for a walk.
The concert was a South Indian Vocal concert given by Prince Aswathi Thirunal Rama Varma of the royal family. He was accompanied by a violin, a two-sided drum called a 'mridangam' and a 'ghatam' (a large clay pot). The stage was a porch of the palace. The musicians were surrounded by dozens of ail lamps.
When the concert started, I didn't much like the Prince's voice, and thought it would be a long three hours. Soon, however, I was riveted. All the musicians were very talented, and his voice proved equally amazing. A short time into the concert, everybody stood as the Maharaja arrived. Later, the full moon rose over the palace. When the concert ended over 3 1/2 hours later, it seemed too soon.
After the concert, we had another great meal, and retired to the hotel. That night was one of my worst nights in India. The hotel room was unbearably hot, and full of mosquitos. I was eaten alive. Yet I was still in a great mood in the morning.
The next day we headed down to Kanyakumari, the southern tip of India. A three-hour bus trip brought us to the crowded pilgrimage spot. It was fairly uneventful, except that it was impressive to see waves breaking from opposite directions over the sand. Our adventure ended at around midnight, when we arrived back in Varkala.
I have really enjoyed taking short trips from a home base. It is nice to have less luggage to worry about, and to know you have a comfortable, safe place waiting for you.
On Saturday morning I finally managed to tear myself away from Varkala for good. I headed a few hours north to the city of Cochin. I took a ferry accross the bay to Fort Cochin, which lies at the end of a long peninsula. There I found well kept Dutch and Portuguese houses. Although most lodging was full, I managed to find a decent room (read 'with mosquito netting'), and went to explore the neighborhood. I found a beautiful art cafe wich served coffee in Bodum press pots -- I almost cried when I took my first sip...I guess I do miss some to the familiar things from home.
The next morning I dragged myself out of bed early and went to a closeby Syrian Orthodox Church. Supposedly part of the liturgy is still in Aramaic, but as everything is chanted, I wasn't able to distinguish the Aramaic from the Malayalam. I was surprised at how much the service resembled western services -- it seems pretty clear that even this Church was heavily influenced by the European colonizers.
After the service, and a yummy breakfast, I headed over to Jew Town. Before the middle of the 16th C. there had been a Jewish principality in Kerala -- having been granted by a Hindu maharaja. The state was destroyed by the to Portuguese, and many of the Jews fled to Cochin. They were granted land and protection by the Maharaja of Cochin, and built a synagogue next to the royal palace. Virtually the entire population of Jews left for Israel after 1949. Now only two families, with 14 members remain. It seems sad to me that a community that had existed for over 2000 years has disappeared so quickly.
Today is the harvest festival of Pongal, which is celebrated here in Tamil Nadu. I am currently in a small town called Mamallapuram, about 45 km south of Madras, which is famous for it's rock carving. There are temples and carvings dating from the 7th Century. Modern Mamallapuram is packed with large and small workshops where the craft of carving is still practiced. Walking along, one hears the "chink-chink" of hammer and chisel.
While I was in Varkala, I met two brothers who were there carving and selling their work. One of the brothers, Ramesh, speaks Hindi, and we talked. I mentioned to him that I was heading to Tamil Nadu for Pongal, and he invited me to his house to celebrate.
His family lives just outside a small town about 17 km from Mamallapuram. His father, and they have a small house (built by the father) on the edge of rice paddies. I was given a tour of the area, including the fields. To suppliment their farming income, many people in the area also make and sell bricks.
Ramesh's mother invited me to help with the Pooja (prayer ceremony) for Pongal. A small flame was lit on a tray, and the ash was used to mark our forheads. A coconut was blessed over the flame, then it was cracked and the water poured on the ground. We then went inside to do another pooju at the house shrine.
Following the poojas, we sat down in the house to eat. We started, of course, with Pongal, a dish made from coarsely ground rice. Pongal I have had was always savory, usually with whole black pepper. This pongal was sweet, and delicious. We then had a traditional South Indian meal of rice, sambar and rasam.
Finally Ramesh and two of his brothers took me back to town to see the local Shiva temple. It is at the top of a large hill, and is reached by climbing 550 steps. The temple dates from the 7th Century. From the temple, we had a view all the way to the coast, some 15 km away.
In Mamallapuram I made friends with a group of painters from Rajastan. They have a little studio, where they sit on the porch and paint the day away. On my first night in town, we hit it off by speaking Hindi. That night was a celebration in Rajastan, and the invited me home for dinner. I spent a considerable amount of my remaining time in Mamallapuram sitting and talking with them in front of their studio as they worked. I was quite content to relax and watch the pictures slowly take shape...also, they made delicious coffee with cardamom.
My next stop was to be Pondicherry, a former French colony. Calling ahead, I found all the guest houses full. Despite this, on Sunday, I packed up my things, and stopped by for one last cup of coffee with my friends. Then I hopped on a bus to Pondicherry, a former French colony, about 1 1/2 hours South. Having only been returned to Indian control in the 1960's, it still has a very strong French feel to it, including delicious baked goods.
On the bus, I struck up a conversation with a guy who studied wildlife biology. He offered to help me find a hotel. We got off the bus, and he drove me on his scooter to the Park Guest House (where Mr. Patel in Ahmadabad had told me to stay), and knowing them, got me a room. Once again it was a matter of having personal connections.
It was early evening by the time I had deposited my things. I wandered up the sea-shore road, which was closed to traffic for the day. It was packed with families and teenagers strolling about, and eating chaat (snacks) at small snack carts. I stopped in front of a 20 ft. tall statue of Gandhi to listen to a trio playing classical Indian music. Then I stopped and had some chaat myself.
Sri Aurobindo and The Mother were spiritual teachers who settled in Pondicherry. Although their philosphy grew out of Hindu scriptues, it trancended any one religion to speak to a universal divinity.
Auroville is a large planned community started by The Mother. She meant for it to be a place where anybody could come to try to seek a higher consciousness. Its charter states:
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A site was chosen near Pondicherry, and work was begun in the 1970s. The plan is for a city of 50,000 people. Currently around 1,800 people from around the world live in small communities scattered around the area.
The heart of the community is a large temple in the shape of a huge golden ball, called the Matrimandir. I visited it yesterday, which involved shuffling along in line for 20 minutes, folowed by a brief glimpse inside. In it is a large meditation room made entirely of white marble. At the center of the room is a crystal ball about 2.5 ft. in diameter onto which a beam of sunlight is focused. It is one of the most peaceful spaces I have ever encountered. Luckily, after having viewed the temple, one can get a pass to do meditation there, which I also did.
Arriving at the Visitor's Center on Monday, I tried to find accomodation with one of the communities. Everywhere I called rooms were full, so I basically gave up on the idea of staying here. While there I met a woman from the Netherlands, and we set off to go to the Matrimandir. She was looking for friends of hers, and asked if we could stop at one of the guest houses on the way, whereshe found her friends. The site was beautiful, with a circle of guest rooms facing a central courtyard and open-air dining hall. Half-jokingly, I asked for a room. As it turned out, there was a single room available just for the four days I wanted to stay. Once again I chanced upon a great situation.
Last night after meditation, I had a delicious dinner at my guest house, and then set out to find a theatre piece I had seen advertised. It was pitch black, and I had no light on my bicycle. Luckly the person I flagged down for help was headed there, and gave me a tow with his motor cycle. The theatre (done by a young American) included (anti-)war songs, and then a piece called "The Values Americans Live By".
I spent the day today with about fifteen others in an orientation course. We had speakers in the morning, and in the afternoon we cycled around to see various communities and activities. From lamp making, to the library to the new Town Hall. I find it inspirational what people are accomplishing here.
On a side street, next to the District Court, I found a chai and a somosa cart next to each other. I squeezed between them to join others on a bench along the wall. Over my shoulder was a small hole in the wall, where Advocates would poke there heads out and shout for tea. Then their black-robed arms would reach through to accept the chai when it came.
I returned to Chennai before leaving Tamil Nadu. I wanted to see more of the city, since my last visit had been so short. Unfortunately, I had a fever and muscle aches, and spent most of my one full day waiting in the doctor's office.
With less than two weeks until Sarah arrives, I don't have much time to get back to Delhi, but I wanted to break my trip up into smaller pieces. I wanted to go to Bangalore, but all the trains for the next four days were over-booked. So, I decided to go to Hampi as my first stop. In Hampi are the ruins of a city, which was the capital of a Hindu empire until the middle of the 16th Century, when it was sacked.
The only train I could get left around two in the afternoon. It got me to Guntakal, where I needed to change trains around 11:30 at night. I took a tiny, grimy retiring room at the station, happy just to have a place to lie down. At 6:00 the next morning I was on a train to Hospet, the nearest railhead to Hampi.
I found Hampi to be beautiful, and annoying. The ruins are scattered all around a rocky landscape. Huge boulders perch improbably on top of each other. A small city has grown up in and around the ruins, with some shops actually in the structure which was the old bazaar. I found it annoying because absolutely the only industry here is tourism. I am discovering that I don't really like the places where tourists congregate.
On my first day, I met a Japanese girl who spoke Hindi (and virtually no English). It was wonderful to discover that I could actually carry on a conversation in Hindi without relying on English. It was also nice to meet somebody else who was connecting more with the culture than the average tourist.
The next day, which was thankfully cloudy, I roamed around the ruins. I discovered a wonderful huge Ganesh statue. At one point I met a group of local art students practicing their water color skills by painting the buildings and rocky landscape.