A Life of Service

Bapu.

She is a tiny woman; maybe 5 feet, if she stands on her tiptoes. She might be easy to miss if you are not listening or watching for the invisible.

Bapu is about 82, and is Swamiji’s niece (the daughter of Swamiji’s eldest sister). She lives with Swami Vishwananda, looking after his every need. She came to live with him when he got sick many years ago and has stayed. She knows how to serve; quietly, elegantly and whole-heartedly.

My real relationship with her began two visits before, when our love for each other began to shine in our eyes. I noticed mine lit up when she walked into the room; she would enter so very, very quietly. She almost slips around the door frame; her own light frame silently appearing. The presence of her body is followed by a gentle smile and then her eyes light up and she pours oceans of love into you before she ever so slightly lowers hers to the floor. She refuses help in the kitchen and a small explosion arises when I try to move the dishes off of the table and into the kitchen. ‘It is my duty’ she says, with her eyes shining invisible beams of light straight into my heart and I know that she really means it. “It makes me so happy to serve you…”

She drifts in and out of the room as Swamiji tells me story after story of his experiences with great saints, but today, at the end of the second day of stories and pictures, his stories drifted into the life of Bapu and pictures and stories of her spiritual life came out to lie on the same table where a lifetime of stories about great Masters and those who love to be in their presence, had lain. There she was, with Papa and Mataji. Next came a story of Anandamai Mai and the time that Ma heard this sweet girl (Bapu) singing Bengali chants. Ma was captivated by her voice and would always make Bapu sing…When Anandamai Ma came to Bangalore, Bapu composed a beautiful song to Ma, right on the spot. Everyone in the audience was wildly and appreciatively clapping. Later I came to learn that she plays the Veena and is quite a composer.

When she visited Anandashram, Papa used to ask her to sing Om Sri Ram Sri Ram Jai Jai Ram in the hall. Once when she had chanted for over an hour, Mataji brought her buttermilk to sooth her throat. This picture of Mataji and Papa is very special to both Swamiji and Bapu, as Bapu was allowed to stand next to Papa; something that Swamiji, himself never had the privilege to do.

…And then, in the quiet afternoon, inside the yellow house in Bangalore, in early March, with Swami Vishwananda and myself, Bapu unexpectedly burst into song…For 15 minutes we were treated to the heartfelt Bengali songs that she had also sung for Anandamai Ma. She has stolen my heart one more time.
Jai Ma! Jai Papa! Jai Bapu! Jai Swamiji!

Peggy's Garden in Digboi, Assam

Hi,
I went to Digboi to visit Peggy Carswell and her husband, Kel. She lives in Merville and is doing her very best to inspire the tea growers in Assam to grow organic tea. She has a demonstration garden there that is awesome. This photo is one of her and Pompy, her administrative assistant and right hand woman. Pompy is sharp and very competent. She also manages the garden when Peggy comes back to Canada. While I was there I met two lovely women who were from Canada. Peggy encourages volunteers to come and experience organic farming. She uses Bio Dynamics and Vrikshayurveda. She's very dedicated. Here is her website address: http://www.fertile-ground.org/

It was raining and really cold in Digboi and I felt so very much like a Princess. I hate being cold and did not bring the right clothes to India. Luckily there are no wimpy photos of me dressed in four layers and then wrapped in their down sleeping bag. It was not a pretty picture, but I lived.
It's warm in Delhi. At last.

Holi in Dibrugahr, Assam

Yesterday was Holi in India. My hosts here had been invited to a Holi celbration and they promised me that the people at the party we were going to were definitely not going to "play colors"...So off I went in my good clothes, glad to have a real invitation to meet real families. A rarity when one travels...My hosts where I am staying are in mourning so they assured me that this year there would be none of 'that'.... HA!

Soon after we arrived a woman appeared at the door with her husband; she was splashed with colors all over her face and clothes. OH OH... It went straight up from there; Laughter, drinking (not by me though), running, intense colors being smeared all over your body and clothes and THEN came the water. Bottles of water, ice cubes and finally the hose...My kind of people. I threw caution and the preservation of my beloved skirt and dress to the wind and jumped into the fun head first. They were delightful to play with; sparing no one, not even the foreigner; especially the foreigner.

Suddenly the sound of drums drifted through the joy-filled air and we rushed out to the street to see the tail-end of a troupe of young people dancing along in the street. One of the women invited them to come in; I watched in awe as this group of about 30 young people began dancing very some very complex local dances, flowing and snaking to the right and left; arms linked together and all the while to the steady beat of the drum. The others, smeared with brilliant colors watched and grinned in loving amusement and approval.

When it was finished, our hosts for the evening brought out a golden metal jar filled with money. What came next brought tears to my eyes. The whole group of young people, including our hosts gently dropped to their knees while the young people chanted Vedic chants from the scriptures (I have captured a half of a minute of it here). When the chanting was over our hosts gave them their money and they were on their way; no fuss, no muss; gone.

I began to get chilled and the other women suggested I jump into the hot shower and wash everything off, while they found some clothes for me to wear. (good thing we wore about the same size). Dinner came later; rice, beans, subji and MUTTON! (at last, some meat)... for desert there was a pineapple upside down cake, kheer and some sort of sweet pancake with sauce.

We all retired to the screened in porch and then the cards came out. POKER had arrived!!!! About six of them played raucous, good-hearted poker for an hour or so and then, just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. We all went our separate ways with our clean bodies, fresh clothes, full bellies, fond memories and warm hearts in cars that were glistening and wet as they waited in the gently falling rain.

HOLI...I loved it.

The Cost of a Blessing

Last night I had a shock. Usually the way for me to proceed is clear and I proceed quite well from one point to the next. I came back to my room after dinner, booked a hotel room for two nights in south Delhi and then phoned the people whom I was to meet there, for confirmation of our meeting. They had told me that they would be leaving on the 23rd and if we were to meet it would have to be before then. No problem. I had planned it out well, 1. Spend one day in Haridwar on the 20th, 2. Hire a car to take me to the hotel in Delhi on the 22nd which was near the area where they live, 3. Have a meeting with them and then 4. Leave for Assam on the 24th. What could be easier???? But if you've been following these blogs, you already are knowing that it has all the earmarks of an adventure.

Sure enough, after the hotel bookings, a phone call to the people whom I was to meet, yielded up an awareness that they were not going to be able to to be available for any meeting because they were getting ready for their trip...Okay........I phoned the hotel, but no, they would not give a refund for the 22nd...Sorry. So, there I was with everything in place and no where to go...I couldn't help but see God's hand in this.

So, I yielded to the idea that I had lost the cost of a hotel in Delhi for one night, changed the date with the driver for the next day, extended my room for one more night in Haridwar and settled into myself and watched and listened with delight for the real reason of this extra day in Haridwar to be revealed.

I spent the day on the banks of the Ganga; watching an array of Saddhus smoking chillums and strolling along the ghats. Some were taking naps while others were either eating or chatting.

As the day was beginning to come to an end and moving along quickly now I realized that I really wanted to return to Anandamai Ma's ashram for the puja at 6:45. The driver did not arrive and so I jumped in a rickshaw, so late that I was almost certain that I would miss it, but in fact only 5 minutes had gone by of the grand puja and I was there for 'almost' every delicious moment. On my way into the ashram grounds I had noticed a small group of foreigners huddled around a Saddhu who was wrapped in orange. He was slumped in the plastic chair and seemed to be having trouble raising his head to the left side. All the foreigners were glued to his every syllable and the 15 or so of them seemed to be very familiar with him. You can always tell by people's bodies, whether they are connected to each other, and some of these people had been together for a very long time.

I hurried by them, making note of the group and then walked into the blissful handful of equally entranced pilgrims who you could see LOVED Ananadamai Ma.

Finally the puja was over and after lingering to get some prasad, I walked outside. The group of foreigners was still there on a small spot on the steps in the courtyard. I paused; listening for the telltale signs of TRUTH, and it was truthfully still and real. What a delightful change from the banks of the Ganga. I moved away, finally and went to look for the driver, who surely must be there by now...; he was still no where to be found, so I returned, put my shoes neatly back into the shoe stall and joined the small group who were glued to the Saddhu. When it came time for him to be carried in his chair back to his room I seized the moment and bowed at his feet; touching my head gently to his feet. He put his two hands right on the top of my head three times. He asked me where I lived and had I seen the Kumba Mela?, because this year was Maha Kumba Mela (meaning every 12 years). He knew my name before I told him what it was...........I asked him his name; it is Swami Vijayananda, and as it turns out, he was a disciple of Ananadamai Ma's. I watched him being carried off and the French-speaking group disperse quietly and thoughtfully. Now I knew this was what I had been meant to do; exactly this. And, as if by magic, the driver appeared and off we went, back to the Ginger Hotel.

When I came back to my room I looked up Swami Vijayananda on the web and there he was. He lives at Anandamai Ma's ashram and is a revered teacher. Some of the foreigners there (who were mostly French) told me that he is French...

So I figure the cost of having these loving and powerful blessings (that are still radiating in my head from his blessed touch), was 7000 rupees. Cheap at the price. How nicely this was so lovingly orchestrated...JAI MA!

(these two photos are night shots of buildings at the ashram; the one with the OM sign is the bookstore and the other is the entrance to the temple where Anandamai Ma's body is buried, just below her marble statue. You can double click on them and they will enlarge if you want to see them closer)

Kumba Mela in Haridwar

Yesterday morning I woke up with this strong desire to go to Haridwar. Back to Anandamai's Ma's ashram and then the puja (if there was time). It worked perfectly. The driver who had brought me from Rishikesh first took me to the ashram to meditate, in the sacred place where Anandamai Ma was buried. Later we rushed to the banks of the Ganga where i crawled through fences, walked down long walkways and then through security, where I had my purse checked for cameras, guns and whatever else they were looking for. I passed the inspection and was allowed to pass (my camera was in the side pocket of my purse where they had not looked).

I joined the throngs, which were not anything like I had imagined. I had imagined millions of wild Saddhus and millions of pressing, crowding pilgrims and not a single glimpse of the Ganges, but I was deliciously wrong. Across the bank the crowds were huge and 100 or so deep, but here on this side the crowd was only about 30 deep...about 15 lines of people sitting down on the ground and about 15 who were standing. I was moved by how kind the people were to me. Some young men who had noticed that I wanted to take photos, opened a space for me in the crowd that was standing and got me to the front. The puja (aarti) began slowly and eventually became a blaze of lights. All circulating in a clockwise manner, people had varying sizes of lamps; some a single candle, others tiers of flaming ghee lamps. At one point a lovely couple, with love in their eyes and soft voices, came up on my right. The man, so nicely said (I've noticed how they make note of when someone speaks 'nicely' so I will do the same here) "Do you mind if my wife gets up to the front? She has a problem with height and she is a good bhakta" How could I not make room for her? (she was about 4 and 1/2 feet tall). I put my right arm around her, brought her in close to me and took the rest of the photos blind...why not? (sometimes the best photos come to you when you have not controlled them)

The pilgrims (and I) chanted a beautiful and moving chant as the appreciation for the Mother Ganga swelled in our hearts. You could see it in their eyes (and mine). I gave thanks that I was there, being able to celebrate and honor this most sacred river 'Ganga Mayima" with them. What an incredible blessing.

The Ganga has become as precious to me as Ganesha and Anandamayai Ma's ashram.

Luxaman Jhula Soldiers

As I went to the Mother Ganga this afternoon to submerge the last shawl in the Ganges, I noticed that soldiers with guns were at both ends of the bridge. When I returned to cross back over the bridge around 4:30, there were about 50 soldiers. They were in blue uniforms, had helmets, face plates, sticks and guns. They were positioned on the rooftops overlooking the bridge and the German Bakery, which was the target of terrorists in Pune.
Life goes on with a bit more awareness. It would take a lot more than this to disturb the peace that the Mother Ganga brings to my heart. Here she is in all of her radiant beauty.
I leave for Delhi tomorrow; the shawls have all been dipped and my goal has been achieved.

On the Way to Rishikesh

Just before the turnoff to Haridwar our car was stopped, along with all the others, and we had to present our passports to soldiers with guns. The car was searched for guns and bombs. The driver told me that two bombs had been found in Haridwar the month before; one at the foot of the large Shiva temple and the other at the train station. These terrorists are serious but I am keeping my wits about me. However I am sticking to my program and will stay in places where I feel are safe.

At one point in the journey there was an accident on the road and cars were detoured. To my absolute delight we went through a small village and I got to shoot many photos out the window of the car. Here are a few.

I am in Rishikesh now and feel safe. And, yes, I will avoid the German Bakery...
The wind is howling outside and it is good to be in the Himalayas again. my second home....

The Porch Had a Guest

Dori

...I don't know how to tell you about Dori. She lives upstairs from me at the hostel. She has a long history of mental imbalance and has spent a great deal of time on my porch. She gave me permission to photograph her and use the photos in any way I would like to. I am thinking I would like to do an exhibition of some of the photos I have taken of her (and India). Her red hair in the sunlight that day, was breathtaking. If you double click on her image you will see colors that are a little more true to what I saw.
I think her face is one of the most beautiful examples of a person with no masks that I know of. Her pain, exquisite. I love and admire her honesty.
I am grateful to Dori, who has the courage to express what many of us feel but hide...

A plant in the medicinal garden at the University

This plant caught my eye.

Swami Vishwananda in his winter duds and his niece, Bapu

These photos of Swami Vishwananda and his niece were taken at Christmas when I went to Bangalore to visit them. Swamiji was all dressed up in his warm clothes so that he could walk me to my hotel which was two blocks away from where they lived. They took such good care of me while I was there. They are both a delight and such a pleasure to have a visit with.

Study in black and white

I shot this from a moving rickshaw as an experiment, when I was exploring what my new camera could do. It turned out to be a grand accident.

Patient waiting for an appointment at the hospital

This man and his friend were sitting in the sun on the steps of the Government Hospital waiting for the doors to open.

Woman sitting in the back of a rickshaw

Here are two of my favorite photos from my time in India. Although I still have almost a month left, right now it is easy to download these so that I can share them with you all. This woman who was sitting in the back of the rickshaw captured my attention.

New Friends in Jamnagar

For some reason the Vania's wanted their own blog page (see next story), so here they are in living color, in their home that is across the street from the King's Palace in Jamnagar. A sweet couple. Often P.C. Vania would come to fetch me for dinner or tea on his Honda Hero motorcycle. What fun! One day it was me, a large plant and him on his motorcycle. Me, balancing the plant and myself so that I would not knock him off balance.
Their grandson is a cricket player and is often going out for cricket practice when I arrive. He smiles easily, loves to watch TV and occasionally tries out English words on me to see if he has gotten them right.
They are good, new friends and I'm glad to know them.

Getting ready to move on

I am getting ready to leave this room, that for four months I have called 'home'. Here is a picture of the transformed porch that now, daily, is used to dry all my clothes, curtains and sheets for storage and the trip.

All of my beloved plants are now living at P.C. Vania's home. My favorite tree (which had just started to bloom again) left yesterday and the family has promised to look after it with loving care. Here is their photo with their grandson. This family adopted me while I was here, inviting me for dinners made from mutton (the only meat I've had in all the months I've been here). They did their best to get me to rent one of the two small apartments that was on the ground floor of the house they own, but I opted for hostel life and disgusting accommodations instead. The thing that kept me/us all going was Saraswati, who rose above it all; and the image of the lotus with its feet in the mud; blooming its exquisite and elegant bloom. Often it was kept me going; that and the porch.

Now the cool wind from the north dries the curtains that were made from a local Jamnagar sari. We (I call myself a local now) know that it is snowing in the Himalayas when a cold breeze blows in Jamnagar. It's snowing in the Himalayas....

Vrikshayurveda in Assam

I am the last one in the hostel; the last one of the students from the three month program, that is. All the undergraduates and post graduate students are busily locking themselves in their rooms to get ready for their exams in April. Occasionally they poke their heads out and make strange guttural sounds, like hobbits that are being tortured. Their faces are pinched and their eyes have a vague, vacant, far away look in them. They quickly scurry back into their rooms, as if even looking at or speaking about anything other than what is on the printed page, will seduce them and they will be lost forever in another reality and they will surely fail their exams, never finding their way back to Ayurveda. (I understand the feeling very well) They have tiffins delivered every day, small, stacked containers filled with hot food; usually dal, chappatis, a small 1/2 cup of veggies and some rice. They don't have time to cook, they tell me through small cracks in their doors. We smile, a knowing smile, I do my best not to engage them and we both get back to what we were doing. It's hard to not engage them because some of us have become very good friends and I feel that I have yet, one more family in my life. Some of them are SO very dear to me.
On the 15th of February I will leave Jamnagar for Delhi and make connections to go to Haridwar and visit the Kumbha Mela. (http://www.kumbhamela.net/kumbh-mela-haridwar.html). I will stay in Rishikesh with my young friend, Amit. I met Amit in Rajasthan a few years ago and have not had a visit with him since coming to India. He has a steady job now so can only stay away from work for a short while; but just long enough for me to take pictures of this amazing event with my camera that has a new 4 gig memory card. Plus I have five new jute, lemon yellow shawls from Bhagulphur which I will dip into the Ganges for good blessings. I will also be taking them to Anandamai Ma's ashram in Haridwar for more blessings...Blessings will be abundant. There will probably be over a million people there in Haridwar, so it should be an interesting experience. Daunting, but a great adventure. I'm so glad to have Amit accompanying me. I will leave my large red suitcase in Delhi, but the magic carpet comes with me, as well as my small Ganesha who lives in my change purse while I am traveling. I have plane reservations for the 24th of February to travel to Assam where I will then visit Binod Saharia and The Abaliorganictea Estate (www.abaliorganictea.com) and view the estate where Swami Valmiki has been experimenting with Vrikshayurveda (an ancient organic farming method that has come from the Vedic Scriptures that I am very interested in).
This has all the earmarks of an excellent time. I have learned that Binod's farm is one of the many farms that sells organic tea in the Comox Valley. And if that isn't enough, I even happen to know the person who will be there at the same time. It is SUCH a small world.
(Binod has given me permission to publish these photos from his website)
I have plane reservations to return to Delhi from Assam on March 3rd and from there will go south to Kerala and look for the place that uses Ayurveda to treat elephants. I will document this if I can find it. More about my projects in another story, otherwise I'll just ramble on and on.

Anandamai Ma

I'm reading a biography of this beautiful Saint, called "A GODDESS AMONG US", and couldn't help but share her photograph with you all. This photo comes from the archives of Swami Vishwananda. He very graciously allowed me to copy this and many other photos that he has.

A Glowing Man

Swami Vishwananda had been asking me since I first arrived in Jamnagar if I had gone to the temple for Krishna's blessings and today was the day; at last! Stefani, Uri and I started out at 6 am for Dwarka and the Krishna temple on the day of the kite festival. It was chilly and we were wrapped in shawls to protect us from the early morning cold. It was a pleasant ride; uneventful, stopping for a breakfast of idlis along the way in one of those open restaurants that are like giant truck stops/Indian style. As we neared Dwarka the sky was spotted with colors, the kite festival was underway.

Since it was a holiday there were thousands of pilgrims at the temple. We made our way to the front for blessings and to give an offering. Stefani had a long orange scarf thrust into her hands from the temple priest and I got a short red one hurriedly thrust into mine. I caught myself trying to make a story out of who got what and why, and then just let the story melt away into laughter. Who cares? (It is now draped around my Ramana Marharshi calendar in my room) Perfectly adorning this great saint with a splash of red on my pink wall…

We piled back into the car and drove deeper into Dwarka, and to the beach. Stefanie and Uri went swimming down the beach and I visited a small temple. Our driver had disappeared so I just followed the energy of where I was supposed to be. After the temple it lead me to a spot on the low wall where others were sitting (mostly men). I sat down and waited. It was behind a small food stand that was selling some manner of spicy potatoes and run by a man who was glowing. Occasionally people dropped by to buy his potatoes. A camel was lying down on the street waiting for people to come by for rides. He (or she) was wearing its Sunday best. I continued to wait to discover why I was there, knowing it was the perfect spot; you just know sometimes….

Sure enough the glowing man came to talk to me and asked me what I was doing in India. When the conversation got around to plants he glowed even brighter. He told me that years ago he had been badly burned and a local woman had come to him with some leaves from a plant. She told him to mash them up and put the juice on his burns. He did as he was told and miraculously was healed with no scars. He then began to do this on his own and went out into the dry countryside to pick this plant so that he could help others to heal their wounds and burns. Eventually he got tired of traveling out to the country to pick them, he told me turning up the glow a bit more, so he collected the seeds and planted them closer to him, in his yard. Would I like to see them? he asked. WOULD I like to see them, …silly question. OF COURSE I would like to see them.

By then Stefanie and her husband, Uri (who had come from Russia to stay with her for the last month of school) were back and this lovely glowing man, put his cart on “self serve” and invited us back to his house to see this famous and miraculous plant. He did not know its name. We walked through the dusty streets of Dwarka, past open windows where men were chanting Om Sri Ram, Jai Ram, Jai Jai Ram in rich, sincere tones and large neem trees to a small doorway where we stepped over a aged large board to enter.

There was a small courtyard with mostly women doing their daily chores of washing, and cooking. His house was at the back and as we walked up to his house I saw that a small creeping plant was growing everywhere. It looked very happy. It had dark green leaves and a single stem with white and yellow flowers; flowers everywhere. We were invited in for tea. We sat in his darkened living room and were served tea under the watchful eyes of Guru Nanak. He told me a story of a young man who had had a motorcycle accident and his wound that wouldn’t heal. Surgeons were cutting more and more of the skin away and now gangrene was setting in. He came to see the glowing man in hopes that he could help him. And it worked! His wound was treated with the juice of these leaves twice a day and the gangrene left….wonders of all wonders! The wound completely healed.

The glowing man spoke to his wife and the next thing I knew was that I was gifted with a small container of seeds! Now he handed me the phone and lo and behold, here was the man who had had the motorcycle accident on the other end and he was confirming that yes, this plant had healed his leg and could I help him find out the name of this plant, because his doctors in the UK wanted to know the name of a plant that heals wounds, burns and gangrene? Of course I could; wasn’t I studying Ayurveda at one of the best schools in the world where they know such things? I took his email address and photos of this small green miracle plant and we prepared to leave. Our glowing man had been writing something on a piece of paper. He looked up and stretched out his hand with the paper and looked me in the eyes and said, “This is forever!”. I knew that whatever was on that paper was important. It was his address and phone number. I knew that I had a new friend…

Back at school the next day, it took a mere 10 minutes to find a teacher who knew the name of the plant whose photo was preciously tucked away in my camera. I emailed the man in Dwarka and the name of the plant is now on its way to the UK; helping people with burns, wounds and gangrene, no doubt.

And what is the name of this plant, you might be wondering? This small plant that grows everywhere at the university as well? (but not as happy as the ones in Dwarka) Its common name is coat buttons. Its botanical name is Tridax Procumbence and I don't know what its Sanskrit name is. In March some of these seeds will be on their way to Canada and the US to look for homes in dry places. I’m hoping they will get through customs. I’m hoping to share them…. Jai Krishna!

Yogananda and Anandamayi Ma

The Reincarnation of Saraswati

The loud music pulled me right off my porch at lunch where I was sitting with the plants. I followed it to the men's hostel and arrived in the middle of a ceremony where a large handful of students and professors were standing in front of the garlanded statue of Saraswati (the Goddess of Knowledge and Learning). We were all (I was the only conspicuous foreigner) given some rice in our hand and then proceeded to her statue, one at a time, to offer it either at her feet or on her feet (I choose her feet). I gently poured it on her feet and silently gave thanks for her presence and the opportunity to be included in the passing on of this ancient wisdom. She was then ceremoniously lifted up by some of the students and carried out to a waiting pickup truck where she was carefully and gently deposited. Some of the students told me that she would be driven to the sea, and then taken out in the ocean and deposited in the water. She is made of plaster of paris and will slowly dissolve as she melts back into the sea. Another one will replace her, I am told, with a new ceremony.
But for now, she sat in the back of this pickup truck, waiting for her cold disintegration with a great deal of grace and patience. I could only guess what she might have been thinking as she watched these young students dancing with joy and abandon to the live music.
I was curious about her story so looked on the internet for information about her. Here is a one of the short stories about Saraswati:

Saraswati Saves the World from Shiva’s Third Eye and the Beast of Doom

Shiva was woken from his meditations and looked around to discover a world on the brink of corruption and being unsalvageable. Shiva decided it was time to wipe the slate clean. Shiva, the destroyer, opened his world destroying third eye attempting to destroy the three worlds.. Out came a terrible fire that threatened all existence.
There was panic everywhere. Only Saraswati remained calm. “Shiva’s fire burns only that which is impure and corrupt.”
She took the form of a river and with her pure waters picked up the dreaded fire from Shiva’s third eye. Within the folds of her water she carried the fire far away from the earth to the bottom of the sea where it transformed into a fire breathing mare called Badavagni – the beast of doom.
“So long as the world is pure and man wise, this terrible creature will remain on the bottom of the sea. When wisdom is abandoned and man corrupts the world, Badavagni will emerge and destroy the universe,” foretold the wise goddess.

... and from an Ayurvedic point of view (as Dr.Dawidi has said) it is the fire that has to be controlled... Brilliant.

Life in the 'Old' Hostel

Here are a few glimpses of life at the hostel. These two men are our faithful guards. They sit at the front entrance and NO ONE gets through the door. All food deliveries, mail deliveries, guests, and puppies are stopped and are either turned away or allowed to pass with an accompaniment from them. The one who is standing greets me every day with an upturned hand, a "JAI MATA JI!" and a smile. When they don't have much to do they watch the puppies who were born about 10 weeks ago. Their big stick teaches the puppies which lines they can cross and which ones they can't.
The hostel that I live in is the 'old' hostel and my room (number 4) is the one on the left with the string of mirrors. The small plastic bag is where the delivery man deposits 1/2 liter of pasteurized cow's milk every other morning at 7:30 am. (I still boil it)

Pancake Brunches

My time in Jamnagar is coming to a close. We have finished all of our classes as a group and for the next week we will be allowed to visit the departments we are really interested in, or to spend time with the professor of our choice, to explore, more deeply, a topic.
I have chosen Dravyguna and will be spending three days with Dr. Patel who really loves plants. He is taking me and some of his other students out to the land that the University owns. He has a small clinic there where he sees the local villagers and treats them with Ayurvedic herbs. He has lived on this land with his family some years ago and has planted many of the healing plants and trees that are listed in the classic literature. It was there that I stood under the Haritaki tree and was bathed with grace. I later found out that Haritaki cleans all the srotas (channels) in the body. Yes, it does.

Two days will be spent with Dr. Ravi Shankar, so that I can do some more research on how to:
1. bring more organic herbs into the Ayurveda field
2. set up a department on Ayurveda for animals (which Swami Vishwananda is helping me with)
3. explore Vrikshayurveda (farming from the ancient texts), and last but not least
4. put together a plan for finding out how the villagers are using herbs to heal their animals
Huge projects. All this because I wanted to write a book on Ayurveda for Horses. (and now see where it's gotten me?)

My last day will be spent with Dr. S.H. Acharya, who is the head of the Pancha Karma Department here and is one of the most skilled Ayurvedic practitioners I have ever met. He is also the head of the Foreign Students program here at the University and I have visited his home several times. He will assist me in putting together a proposal for Ayush (the branch of standardization that has been formed to elevate Ayurveda in the world). Dr. Acharya will be visiting Sebastopol, CA in April and I have embarked on a plan to bring him to Vancouver, BC on April 2nd and 3rd. He will be giving a free lecture there. He is one of us...Contact yodih@shaw.ca or me if you want more information.

All of the other students will be leaving and going on small adventures before leaving India but I have started to do Pancha Karma with Dr. Acharya. I am on my third day of beginning the day by drinking melted ghee; today it was 75ml...mmmm....
I will be finished on February 10. I am doing all of this to bring some more movement to my knees.

When I leave Jamnagar, I don't have a clear direction as to where I'll go next. I am thinking I may return to Canada to live in Vancouver. I'm ready for home; although there is a tea planation in Assam that is using Vrikshayurveda that I will be visiting first. I can hear the heavy breathing of my magic carpet coming from the cupboard so I know that something is afoot.

And, oh yes, what does all this have to do with pancake brunches? you may be asking yourself and will she ever get to the point? Now.

Our class celebrated this ending yesterday with a pancake brunch in my room (our second such indulgence). I made pancakes and my famous scrambled eggs with cream cheese and chives (but the Indian version with green onion tops; equally as good). Gyaneshwar came to play his sitar and Yoshie, one of my classmates came to play her Indian instrument for us; beautiful haunting music. I took these photos while there were playing. Many of us spent the rest of day together; silently knowing that we were all resonating with a different melody that was being played on our heartstrings; a tune of sweet sadness; the music of separation. We went out into the city and In the late afternoon and early evening drank in the rickshaw rides and walks down the narrow streets in the Muslim section where we stopped at our favorite stand to buy spicy baked potatoes. We slowly moved as 'one' and, unlike the other times, where we would wander off by ourselves, the group made sure we could all spot each other as if there was a tender invisible rope that was keeping us all together. We are all good friends now.

Sadhu Soccer

Just couldn't resist sharing this photo (not mine) that one of my classmates sent me.
Enjoy...

Early morning glimpses around the University

Good morning,
As my time here is just about up, I thought I would give you a few glimpses of what an early morning (8 am) looks like in Jamnagar at the University, as it wakes up. The building where the medicines are made is very beautiful.
All of these building were hit by a large earthquake some years ago and now stand a shadow of their former selves. I'll send more pictures another time.
Phyllis,