Adventures in Coorg

 

Imagine you are driving through the South Indian jungle at night.  Darkness has fallen sooner than you planned  in the depth of Nagarhole National Park. You were unable to resist stopping, again and again to view and

photograph the profusion of wildlife that seemed eager to pose right by the side of the road.  Looming in the beam of your headlights there is no confusing the sudden appearance of a wild elephant.  Nothing else could blot out the road, your only way home tonight.  As your car slows to stop, an intake of breath....there are massive forms looming on both sides of the road as well as in front.  You have driven right into the midst of a herd!  This was our situation last night, the culmination of a full and exciting day as only India can deliver.

The beauty of it all was that we awoke that morning innocent of the adventures before us.  February 12th this year, Sivaratri, is a special festival day throughout India.  We had originally had plans for a small trip to a neighboring state by train, but as often happens around here, our plans fell apart two days before.  Aeryk, not to be daunted, created a new itinerary for us to visit a special Siva temple in a nearby town, and we invited our friend Phillip to join us as we shared a post practice coconut at 6 am. Plan B turned into Plan C by 9 o'clock when my lovely landlady Shobha knocked on my door to announce she was taking us to her homeland, Coorg in her private car. 

The five of us spent our morning riding in the stately old Ambassador the bumpy roads to the coffee country, high up in the hills at the Karnataka-Kerala border, India's deep south.  Shobha and her driver, also a native Coorgi, wanted to take us on a "shortcut" through the wildlife preserve on our way to Irpu falls.  The falls we were told were special, sacred, and healing if we wanted to get in them.  In the near hundred degree weather, the idea sounded better and better as we traveled.  Nagarhole was amazingly beautiful - sunlit teak and bamboo forest riddled with animals.  Dhole (jungle dogs), a plethora of spotted deer, langurs, and massive gwar (jungle bison), were the first to greet us.  Shobha assured us we would stop longer on the way home, so we passed directly into the hills.  Lush "farms" of coffee trees intermingled with pepper trees and exotic flowers and shrubs as the understory of stately forest.  I ate my first coffee cherries, sweet and red, and collected some pepper to dry at home.

By the time we were able to climb to the falls, it was well into the afternoon and scorchingly hot.  It was sweet relief to climb into the lush landscape!  We passed a variety of happy looking damp pilgrims making their way down.  The falls themselves were a very welcome view, and the men quickly stripped down to jump in.  This being India, ladies get in fully dressed, so I prepared for my blessing in tank top and pants.  The falls themselves were deliciously pounding and cool, but nothing like the ice-baths of Washington state!  The locals were very friendly with us, but also did not swarm us for photos or to gawk (too much) at the crazy foreigners as is often the case.

Aeryk chills out for Sivaratri


At the base of the hill we visited an ancient temple for puja.  I think we all felt very pure by this point, or at least significantly refreshed!
Returning as we came, we almost overstayed our welcome at Nagarhole.  Evening being a very active buffet hour for wildlife there was almost too much to take in.  While we did not get to see any of the preserve's famed tigers, leopards, or any other cats, we almost saw too much of the wild elephant.  I read after our safe return that it is common for elephants to blockade the road at night and even to tip cars they come across, so  visitors are advised to leave before six.

 

Don't mess with the Gwar!

  Back in Mysore, extremely tired but happy, we were greeted by the joyous lights and sounds of Sivaratri festivities that ran late into the night.  Another perfect, long day in India.

vivian

A Word On Coconuts

 

When the pile gets big enough, it goes on the roof. 

Coconuts.

They are everywhere- lining the streets, in rows in the fields, even growing through buildings. From my apartment I can hear the occasional cartoon bonk of one hitting the street from twenty feet above. It's cute at first, but everything comes down. There are crews who maintain and harvest the street trees. They send a skilled climber up the tree, sometimes with a piece of cloth between his feet if he's new. He will use his machete to fell the fruit and dead or dying leaves. His partner will do his best from the ground to keep the population safe from shrapnel falling from above. When these coconuts land, it's either over a house, garden, car, or street. And when they bounce they are like a punted football- violent and random. Because of this and because a single man on the street will be ignored sometimes people or scooters are still hit. I've seen an officer file a coconut-related complaint. Later, a truck may come by for some of the husks. I have a set of pictures at the studio of such a vehicle. In between these visits fruit and leaves still fall. I sometimes hear a violent scraping/rumbling followed by a loud tha-whack! Down on the path most followed lie a ten foot section of solid coco-wood and even the leaflets are hard and dangerous. This week a lady was grazed by one that fell from our home's tree. Yikes! 

Now I always heed the advice of the PBS Star Hustler, Jack Horkheimer: 'And remember to keep looking up!' Some short time after a fall I will hear what sounds like water sprayed on aluminum siding in an echo chamber, that is to say the sound of one of these limbs drug off scraping down the road to be parted out like a Camaro. Everything gets used here, and in a country that doesn't have a Thriftway to get kindling at 3am everything freshly fallen is up for grabs. Our neighbors across the street have stacked this pile pictured for only a short while, they have however filled a whole rafter section designed for this purpose that wraps around the top of their house. Even our own landlady salvages and has deftly taken to a pile of coconuts with a machete. After having seen that I step warily out into the street, and pay my rent on time.

aeryk

Walk softly, and don't touch the Monkey...

 

Jai Hanuman!

Last tour, we were encountering Shiva at every corner. This time, our paths have been crossed again and again with the furry footfalls of Hanuman. The forshadow must have been in the form of the Hanuman picture David brought us from the old shala. Locally this started with an opportunity to sing with our musical friends the Hanuman Chalisa-- praises of the exploits of Hanuman, Kirtan style, but before that event even happened we found out about another set of opportunities across town. A youngish scholar from the UK and a student of M.A. Jayashree led us in a rousing chanting session featuring Hanuman. This was at a wonderful house just beyond the lake, and now gives us further excuse to go there, or at least through it. This was the call-and-response we have come to expect, but the leader was as welcoming as the group and it was easy to fit in socially and musically. He also offers Bhagavad Gita chanting and dialogue, which is a thrice weekly thing for the next week that he is in town. The group already covered the first two chapters leaving chapter three for our time together. It is nice to be studying a bit, more than just reading at home. There is some stuff offered through the shala, but it is not my learning style right now. In between sessions, we had a chance to hear Swamiji; a visiting swami Sharath's family is putting up while some ceremonies happen. He was one of Guruji's first students and is still close to the family. He spoke of devotion to practice, to self, to discovering what is the body and what is beyond. Basically the same stuff that the Gita and Upanishads have been telling me all week. But it was wonderful to get his blessings, and his take on our practices and how important it is for the whole world today. 

aeryk

Apologies

It has been brought to my attention that something I posted on the blog could be misconstrued to reflect negatively on my teacher David Garrigues and fellow student Katie Gehn.  I want to share my deepest remorse for my thoughtless comments.  Anyone who knows me well knows that I have the greatest love and respect for David.  He holds more of the spirit of Ashtanga yoga in his baby toe than I have in my whole body and I owe almost everything that is strong and good in my practice to him.  I don't know Katie so well, but I have practiced next to her and she is a very powerful lady with a beautiful practice.  She obviously has great devotion to this yoga as she managed to uproot her life and leave her three children at home while she spent time studying here.
My intention, obviously not well thought out, was in response to some requests from back home for form corrections - are there any differences here from what we are practicing in Olympia?  It's a little similar to how once was asked, "how are they wearing it in Paris this season?" now we ask "what is the current asana fashion in Mysore?"  It pains me extremely that I may have offended anyone, teachers, students, or friends.  Please accept my apology.  I will give more careful consideration in future to what I put out in such a public space.

Vivian

First-Rate Service in a Third-World Country

 

The Dell Vostro 1520; the most expensive thing we own and our link to the outside world.

This is more or less what you should have seen a week ago- a blog entry. That is for those just joining us what we refer to as Plan-A, which I should have seen coming with my own paislied third eye. Yes, the correct answer is somewhere between plan-D and none of the above. Right now we have internet access right into the laptop strung in through the bug-screened window, routed through a cable that is still downstairs yet originating on the roof, passing my window on it's way down the first time. On the roof, it bounces from foot-tripping height to laundry strangulation as it swings simian over two more roofs and a coconut tree before rising out of sight. It's no surprise then that it wouldn't take much for the system to go down and would take a while to sort out the problem. Despite territory issues, power issues, time-share issues, it came down to the bill not being paid. Yeah. It's paid now, and the modem is in our apartment. That should make things easier, until the power goes out, or the line gets snapped, or...

aeryk

A Quick Word on Tittibhasana

I've received some questions about the tittibhasana sequence in second series from back home.  Here's the current scoop:  Jump on if possible, or arrange as necessary...butt down, feet up - not level.  The insect flies for five, lands for five, walks five double steps forward, five back.  That means twenty movements of the feet total.  Then the insect draws into its shell, feet close together for five.  Finally the insect lifts again for One - not five counts before flying back to chaturanga.  I hope that clarifies things.  There are many insects here in India.  Some fly, some creep and crawl, many are large and many are small.  All, however, are endowed with extra charisma and flair.  Be certain to put some attitude into your sequence to be an authentic India bug.

vivian

Where do you go when you've already gotten away from it all...?

 

 

 

Kukkarahalli Lake, Mysore

This our new favorite getaway! We found this gem on our first trip and have visited it many times since. The walk from our place was warm and brisk, but we strolled through a few new neighborhoods and became rejuvinated by their simple beauty. It is amazing how many small temples and corners of devotion are found in the most unlikely places, or maybe they are right where they need to be.  We met a gentleman on our walk who told us that this is a very ancient lake, obviously arousing a sense of historical pride in him. Yes, India is about the art and history, but it is an art and history of a people. Many peoples. This is why the country is struggling with adding more states. Each state is representative of people bound by language, and then there are more languages and peoples caught in cracks or overlooked and now they too are asking for representation. Here in Karnataka, the Kannada-speaking natives have the majority, but even that could change. It wasn't until last year that the language was recognized by the overseeing Indian Parliament as an official state language. It's only been around for thousands and thousands of years.

But at the lake, we get away from the politics and enjoy benches covered by flowering arches, open expanses of green and blue, painted cows grazing near the shore, and pelicans, storks and other birds too numerous to detail here filling the skies and trees. The mile or so to the lake is overshadowed by the mile or so perimeter stroll we take, practically alone save for the random historian or festive bovine. Don't get me wrong- I love the crazy part of India. When I leave I will miss the smoking trucks, tailgating rickshaws, late night honking, full body contact crowds at the supermarket, and the combination of jasmine and burning dung everywhere- but until then, you'll find me Saturdays under the tamarind trees at the lake.

aeryk