..meeting the Sikhs....

It is the beginning of week three. I just arrived in Dharamsala last night, after a grueling 7 hour bus trip, actually the third such trip since arriving in India. Grueling in that the buses are pretty basic, with few creature comforts, primarily serving as a means of getting from point A to point B, transporting lots and lots of people, most always while pressing flesh. Never any air-conditioning, so that if one is lucky enough to sit next to a window, a slight breeze is most welcomed, in the midst of very hot and humid weather. Any illusions I had of escaping the summer heat of New Mexico have been dispelled! There is little communication, as most of the people do not speak English. Periodically I am able to share music or the viewing of a couple of videos I have stored on my computer, with those closest to me. That is fun. They really seem to enjoy it. One of them is the video on my blogsite, created Donna, my computer genius. The locals seem to love seeing images of their own people. As long as I am writing about the bus ride, I might as well share my utter amazement with the traffic situation here. So far, it is perhaps the most mind-blowing experience of the journey. In a country of 1.2 billion people, the crowds are never-ending. I have yet to fully capture this in my pictures. I think I get so caught up in the experience that I have yet to pull out my camera, in the midst of it Here are a few pictures of some of the more milder moments.



But, surely, as the shock of it all begins to wear down, I will take more photos of the experience. In essence, two lane roads become multiple, 6-8 lane free-for-alls. There are as many means of transportation. Everything from walkers, bicyclists, motorcyclists, motorized and man-powered rickshaws, taxi vans, cars and buses, all sharing the same road, all vying for the smallest of spaces in which to weave in and out of, some more aggressively than others. Oh yeah, in addition to all of the vehicles, there are many dogs, along with the highly revered cow. At one point I heard myself blurting out "holy cow!!", humored by appropriateness of the exclamation. Traveling through the frenetically packed and bustling streets of any of the towns I have visited and traveled through, I find myself praying that no one get harmed on my behalf. Each ride is breathtaking as the drivers come within inches of each other, bumper to bumper, beeping their horns all along the way. As I anticipated experiencing the sweet sounds of sacred chants sung in the ashrams while visiting India, I had no idea that the sounds of never-ending honking horns would also be a big part of the texture of my experience here, sounds I will surely not forget anytime soon. While 35% of reported deaths in India are due to traffic accidents, there is a real sense that in the apparent chaos expressed in the streets, underlying all of it is a kind of rhythm that moves the masses along, protecting them along the way. Before leaving for my journey, one wiser than I counseled me to go with the flow, to find that rhythm. Surely my rides will become less stressful as I do so.

After leaving Poohl Chanti, I traveled into Hardiwar, a sacred city along the Ganges. After a night's rest, I took my first train ride of the journey into Chandigarh. Chandigarh is considered to be the most modern city in India, initially designed by two Americans and then taken over by a famous Swiss architect, whose intention it was to create a city designed to cater to the needs of the pedestrian, with sidewalks and parks, based upon a grid system. Environmental issues are of concern here, unlike other parts of India. Due to a statewide medical conference that was taking place that week, there were no rooms to be found, so I decided to continue on to Amritsar. Arriving after dark, quite weary from traveling all day, 5 hours on the train, 7 on the bus, I was not prepared for what I was to encounter there.

With the travel gods watching over me, I was well cared for, as an Indian family took me under their wings, guiding me along the way, as we were both heading off for the Golden Temple, the home of the holiest shrine for the Sikhs. Sharing a rickshaw, we made our way to the Temple, in the densest traffic of all, as we worked our way through the industrial area. Much of the importing and exporting of goods happens at night, when the weather cools down. Oftentimes the flow of traffic is predominantly going in one direction. On this evening, it was going both ways. Yikes!!! Not to belabor the point, but as you can tell, I am still taking it all in.

Arriving at the Temple one moves into another kind of flow. Upon entering the sacred grounds, everyone who enters is immediately asked to remove and store their shoes, wash their feet and cover their heads. While my cap would not do, the scarf I have become accustomed to wearing served me well. As the family went their way, I was directed towards a dorm-like place, where many, many travelers had already bedded down for the night. I was given a locker to store my stuff in, and then back out into the masses. The Temple is a sanctuary for pilgrims from all walks of life. Housing and meals are provided free of charge to all who come to pay their respects, symbolizing a commitment to honoring the unity of all people, all religions and all nationalities. In the community dining hall, up to 40,000 are fed a day, round the clock, with the constant clattering of metal dinner plates as they are returned to be washed. Many, many devoted pilgrims were already asleep for the night, some on the open marble floors, some on the grassed areas, with many many more in reserved rooms. Meanwhile there is an on-going flow of those choosing to bathe in the sacred waters that surround the Temple.



The Sikh religion was created over 500 hundred years ago with a lineage of 9 gurus. Its founder, Guru Nanak, was a non-atheist who did not believe in the caste system, but rather that "God was not concerned with the caste, but with the doings of man." Unity of God and the brotherhood of man is the main thrust of his teachings, insisting that the truth ultimately lives in every individual.

Sikhism is a faith of both Hindus and Muslims. Guru Nanuk was against the superstitions and idolatry of the Hindus and the intolerance of the Muslims, providing an alternative faith for those of both nationalities. The architecture is a blend of Hindu and Islamic design, with a gold gilded dome representing an inverted lotus blossom.


During designated hours of the day, Priests keep up continuous chants which are broadcast throughout by loud speakers. There is little question that this is a holy place, as the faithful come to worship and seek healing.



Night two in Amritsar I chose to sleep in a hotel room with all of the comfy accommodations, hoping to catch up on sleep (costing a whopping 1,000 rupees - $20 – money well spent!) The next day I returned to the Temple, wanting to take in more of it, including the walk into the Holy Shrine. Having done so, I just may have satisfied my need to visit the Taj Mahal, given that the Temple is reported to be the second most beautiful building in India! I shall see. Clearly its breathtaking beauty, along with its inspiring atmosphere, met many needs. I am grateful for having visited there and the graciousness of those who received me and the many others.


In the late afternoon, I, along with many thousands of other tourists, set out to witness the ceremonial closing of the Pakistan-Indian border, some 40 km. away. Back into the flow of traffic, we arrive to quite a scene of hordes of people making their way to the stadium, which was built to accommodate massive crowds. My heart skips a beat as I lay my eyes on a Sophie look-alike; eager to pet her, I was refused the opportunity. As we get closer, woman are sent through a draped receiving line, in which we are briefly scanned. As an American I, along with other Westerns, are assigned VIP seats up close. I am amazed at the number of people who have come here to experience this daily event.







It is quite a ceremony of pomp and circumstance, with young people dancing and cheering to the music. Then as the young soldiers in their flashy uniforms parade before their respective audiences, the two countries come together to perform their highly choreographed flag-folding ceremonies. Meanwhile we are all led in a series of chants, "Hindustan Zindabad! Hindustan Zindabad! Hindustan Zindabad!" (long live Hindustan).

On the other side, Pakistanis are doing their thing. With a much smaller crowd present, the men and woman are sitting on separate sides of the bleachers, with the woman all wearing their burkas.

Meanwhile, earlier in the day, I read in the India News, that Obama is highly encouraging the Pakistanis and the Indians to engage in dialogue. So while the people are enjoying the sports-team like rivalry between the two countries, their governments are at work (or not) on some pretty serious matters.

We were asked to return to the bus at a designated time, in order to make our return to Amristar in a timely fashion. With all of us on board, off we go, back into the flow of traffic. One more trip to the Temple before going to bed. A long trip awaits me tomorrow, as I continue on to Dharamsala.

Om Shanti.

In the midst of many blessings, off to a rough start

Here I am, night two, 2 AM, wide awake, slowly making my way thru jet lag, after having traveled thru multiple time zones. Since I had slept my way thru the two international legs of the flight over, I had hoped that I would have been spared it, but no such luck. So, here I lay, listening to the sounds of the Ganges River, preparing my first blog entry since arriving in India.

Between London and New Delhi, I had an 8 hour layover. Not one to miss an opportunity for adventure, in a new country with enough time to do a bit of exploring, I made my way onto the Tube, headed into Leicester Square, one stop past Piccadilly Circus in downtown London. I had just enough time to grab a bite to eat, take a brief walk around the Square and then back to the airport. Actually cutting it a bit close, generating a small amount of stress, as it became clear that I would not make the recommended early arrival for International flights. Fortunately I was befriended by a local fellow who was on his way to Singapore and was quite familiar with the different terminals at Heathrow. Graciously he guided me along my way. I am sure he made the difference as to whether or not I made my connection, with only minutes to spare. Upon reflection, I generally tend to cut it short, not being one to enjoy arriving hours early, and then just waiting for departure. While I have never missed a flight, often I have arrived just in the nick of time, as I did a few days ago, at Heathrow airport. I suppose we all have different temperaments, determining how we navigate our way thru life. Would I be better off, doing it differently? Don't know.

Upon boarding the plane to New Delhi, I was pleasantly surprised to experience a remarkably more comfortable plane. This was a flight on award winning Asian run Jet Airways, where customer care is top priority, reflected all the way from the design of the aircraft to the attentiveness of the stewardesses to the delicious Indian meals that were served. Shortly after boarding we were offered a warm damp face cloth for freshening up with, and I knew I was in good hands. Periodically during my journey across the ocean I reflected on the flight from Brazil to Paris, that just yesterday, disappeared in midair, yet to be discovered. Some 220 life's, just gone, with no clear answers as to why or where. Just gone. Surely, some form of destiny at work, seeming to have little influence on any of the thousands of travelers committed to carrying on with our plans, wherever they were taking us. Shortly after breakfast, two hours before arrival time, I chose to watch The Reader. I had wanted to see it when it first came out, but missed doing so. Quite a tender film. I found myself left feeling vulnerable and open as we landed in Delhi. Somehow imagining that it was all part of the journey. Making my way thru immigration, claiming my luggage, receiving some currency from the ATM machine and finding my way to the shuttle bus, which would take me to the interstate bus station , all went very smoothly. Surprisingly I was spared the onslaught of beggars and taxi drivers that I had been warned of. But instead, much to my delight, while waiting for a full load of passengers, I was accompanied by a young man, who spoke good English and was eager to offer his support, encouraging me to ask him "anything I wanted to know" about his country, his culture, his people. While I was feeling a bit numbed from the past 36 hours of travel, I had little to ask. Slowly, as the conversation began to unfold, and we exchanged names, it became clear that he was sent to me by Sai Baba. His name is Sai Ram. I asked him if he knew Sai Baba and he informed me that he had received his name from the Avatar.

I have been aware of Sai Baba for many, many years. He was one of the Eastern Guru's that influenced my teachings early on. More recently, while in the hospital in March, a friend of mine, a devotee of his, brought me his picture and encouraged me to pray to Swamiji. I appreciated his familiar image, while not necessarily feeling a personal connection with him. During the final hour before confirming my plane reservation, I found myself praying to him for support, should this journey be for my highest good. And now, here he was receiving me into his country, thru Sai Ram. Once the connection was conscious, the questions began to flow. There was a kind of kindredness between us and I welcomed the guidance he had to offer. After arriving at the bus terminal, Sai Ram guided me thru the maze, I had anticipated at the airport, first taking me shopping for food and water, before getting on the 7 hour bus ride I was about to take. Then, exploring the different options, attempting to find the right bus for the trip, negotiating with the bus driver in purchasing the right ticket for the proper fare. After coaching me as to how to find my way, once in Rishikesh and onto the Ashram, he was off. Before leaving he gave me his cell number, insisting I call him, should I need any help. So that as I headed for the Northern part of India, I was sure that I was in good hands, and that Mother India was looking after me! I look forward to the journey she has in store for me, while visiting her homeland.

It is now 4:21 AM. Before long, daily yoga will begin. I look forward to the opportunity to support my body in easing into those postures which will allow it to comfortably sit cross legged, on the floor, as we all share in our meals and other communal practices together.

One week later:

It was a week ago that I arrived at Poohl Chatti, a small ashram on the Ganges River, north of Rishikesh. It has been the perfect place in which to get my bearings. The perfect place to become somewhat accustomed to this new and very different country/culture. It is located about 4 km. outside of the bustling city of Rishikesh, which is quite a sacred area, at the base of the Himalaya mountains. Now is the holiday season for the Indians and this holy place is a destination spot for many of them. The massive numbers of people that fill the streets, can be quite overwhelming. I spent my first night there before making my way here, the next morning. I have traveled into town a number of times, getting small tastes of it and then retreating back to the ashram, in order to assimilate.




Yes, it has been perfect to be here. Life at the ashram has been sweet. There are many travelers from all over the world staying here for short periods of time, stopping by in order to replenish their weary souls, before venturing on. Chai time, after our meals, provides great opportunities to share of each others adventures, favorite towns/areas/ashrams to visit, politics, spiritual practices, along with many, many stories that emerge out of being in this awesome part of the world.

There is also a retired resident Swami who is at home here along with a number of others and many locals that come to visit. It has been a great place to learn of some of their traditions, including sharing our meals sitting on the floor cross legged, eating only with our right hand (left hand is reserved for – toilet duty) removing shoes before entering the dining hall, evening chants, proper dress and getting familiar with hearing a foreign language, opening to communication beyond words, all the while taking in the constant rhythmic sounds of the Ganges flowing, in the background. As is so often the case, I have been blessed with a wonderful room. Mine was on the top floor at the end of a corridor, with 3 sides of windows, one which looks out over the sacred waters. It makes it a bit of a challenge leaving here.

The first few days were quite intense, in that the temperatures got quite high, in the 40's, along with a good bit of humidity. While absolutely loving all of the views my little abode afforded me, there was no escaping the heat as the sun came pouring in, from all directions. Along with all of the bright light, came much heat! Just about the time I recovered from jet lag, we had an evening downpour which broke the heat spell and I was ready to enjoy my arrival. It was about that time, that I became acquainted with two of the others, staying here. Emanual and Tara, from Australia. They had just arrived from the Southern part of the country, in order to escape the heat there. Not toosurprisingly, they are devotees of Sai Baba and had been living at his ashram for the past 4 months. Emanual has been a disciple of his for the past 20 years. They had great stories to share , clarifying even further, that visiting His ashram was in store for me.

All of the women here wear wonderful bright colored clothing. I am finding that I am ready to unload everything I brought to wear, replacing it with Indian garb, including wonderful long scarfs, with multiple purposes. Doing so is very inexpensive as prices are extremely low here.

Line, a dear young woman from Denmark is heading to Delhi and has offered to drop off a bag of mine to be stored at one of the hotels, until I return for my flight home. While committed to traveling light, I am seeking even lighter and appreciate the offer.

One of my favorite parts of the day here has been the 2 hour morning yoga classes. Over 30+ years ago, I practiced yoga and loved it. ( It was around the same time that I was listening to George Harrison's album All Things Must Pass, after the Beatles had made their way to Rishikesh to study with the Maharashi, on their "Magical Mystery tour"! ) I have practiced yoga, off and on since but never on a very regular basis. Getting into the class here, I reconnected with the time when I so enjoyed it. Doing yoga in India seems to feel so natural with the body responding some days more comfortably than others. It is such a great way to prepare for the travel days ahead, loosening and stretching all of the joints and muscles that will be asked to serve me on my way. Yes, in India, one doe yoga and how good it is!

The other special part of the day, is spent swimming in the Ganges. As a way to cool down from the heat, many of us make our way to the River, soaking in her cool, fresh waters. The same waters that are so highly revered and plays such a major part in the spiritual life of the millions of Hindis. Surely there will be many more experiences of the Ganges as I travel on. Surely, this is one I will remember quite fondly.


So much more could be said, so much more will be remembered, but for now, it is time to move on. I have attended my last yoga session while here, had breakfast, exchanged addresses and shared final hugs and said good-bye's. Now is time to journey on, making my way even further north, heading towards Dharmsala, home of the Dali Lama. Namaste.