One month to Sivananda Yoga teacher training

OhmOm Namah Shivaya! 

After an overnight stay, well from midnight to 4qm, I board a bus at 5 am towards Pondicherry.  It's a sleeper bus, with full reclining beds and white cotton sheets. 

When I wake up at 7:30 we're in Tamil Nadu, it's hot, it's tropical after 9 weeks in the Himalayas.  in Pondicherry my Autorickshaw driver takes me to the OYO Hotel I have booked.  Sadly they can't check me in, as they're only set up for Indian s

tourists.  I go round the corner to MiCasa hostels, a modern Spanish chain, and they check me right away to a quiet, cool dorm.  I explore Pondi a bit, it is lovely laid out and has a tree-lined grid system.  Very cool model for future cities.  The next day I get an autorickshaw to Greens guesthouse outside Aurobindo Mataharant temple.  I check in to my treehouse room (My son would love this!) and walk out to go into Sri Aurobindo for the first time to view the Matrimandir.  It's awesome, it's beautiful, and I sit down to sketch in a quiet corner.  That evening I set off walking towards aurevill town, to get something other than pizza to eat, and a lovely Auroville resident gives me a lift to Garden kitchen, where I eat veg biryani and get bitten by mosquitoes.  I hear dance music coming from across the field, and walk around to the Kali festival at the temple.  At my side is Hari, a young Aurevillian, who offers me a ride on his motorbike (Japanese) to dinner.  Hari becomes my companion for the next few days.  

At breakfast the next morning I meet Maria from Spain, an NGO working in Varanasi, helping children with special needs,  and their families, and navigating the education system.  We decide to walk to Aurobindo together, my second visit.  We walk through the tree-lined abre to the stupendous Matrimahir temple.  That evening Haari and his friend come and pick Maria and I up at Green's guesthouse, and take us for a trip to the beach, my first dip in the Bay of Bengal.  It's very nutrient-rich, and the shells are huge and many.  Maria and I ooh and aah for a while, collecting shells.  Next morning I must say goodbye to Maria as her holiday is up, and she must return to Varanasi to continue her social work.  I spend the next two days blissfully being transported around Auroville. 

After a wonderful mind-opening, mind-expanding time at Auroville in Tamil Namiu, my new favourite state in India, I return to Chennai Main station for the overnight train to Trivandrum. I eat samosas. My last night at Safire residency, and I can't sleep. My last breakfast is at ICH, black coffee with Idli and Sambal, of course. I get an air-con taxi to Neyyar dam and take a pre-yoga selfie under the arch. 

I am "processed" in reception, and shown to the same dorm, Sita, that I stayed in 14 years before. My first dorm mate is the beautiful Alessa, from near Santos, near San Paulo in Brasil. We share Brasil Stories. I also meet Ambika, a beautiful soul, also from Brighton.   On the tour of the ashram by Oman, I meet  Tommy, who only turns out to know, Naomi,  my wonderful yoga teacher in Brighton. What a small world!  Tommy has a broken back from a horrific car accident. He gets told the pain is all in his head, which is frankly unhelpful. Yoga shows the way, we are told. We meet Maya and Selma, who are funny. Their Karma yoga is running the mosquito-infested health hut, and with every freshly squeezed juice, they call "Enjoy!" over the Mike. Sadly, Sivananda is not for them, and the first week they leave the Ashram, Naya goes to Rishikesh, to get her TTC in Ashtanga Yoga. Why I ask? I love Sivananda yoga, with its emphasis on Savasana or proper relaxation after every, posture. Savasana is easily my favourite posture. Call me Tamasic. 

We have a wonderful fire Puja on the first Sunday, to Lord Ganesha, the remover of obstacles. I love the Puja and little rituals of Sivananda. It brings a tear to my eye. 

We learn under the Gurukala system, devised by Swami Sivananda for the modern age, so that aspirants can come to Ashram to learn yoga. I'm quickly put into Mangala's remedial class for headstand, a diminutive but fierce sadhana from Colombia. She coaches us patiently, step by step each day to this king of Asana. 

The days are hectic, woken at 5:20 or so for morning Satsang, I'm in the hall at 5:30 to avoid the hum of washing and ablutions in the dorm. Then we have Yoga class with Suresh. It takes me 3 days to adjust to his Malayalam English, I wonder what "exhale yup" is, as exhale is usually for down postures. "Keep breathe" has me too, and I imagine keeping my breath in a box... 

Then it's breakfast in the dining hall, served by Siri, who urges us to keep quiet and devotional with an "Ohm". The food is rice, a curry, a vegetable, and a minute spoon of salad dished up by French Clarisse, who looks like she grew up on a diet of salade and fromage. Also, Buttermilk, which I found gross after a year of being vegan, but I take it as there is little protein in the diet. With the busy, exacting schedule, actually excreting what little food we put in our bodies becomes a problem: before Satsang is too early. 

There's no time between Asana class and brunch either. 

Then comes Karma yoga from 10:30 -11 am. This is the most important path of yoga and quite triggering for some. The statuesque Jenna and Leo make a grand job of taking the register, meaning they have to get to class 15 minutes before everyone else. They are not open to bribery. My Karma yoga is in a team of 4 sweeping & mopping the UnterSiva hall. Sometimes I'm alone. It takes one person 8 days to pick up a mop. Gardening with Mangala looks more like therapy. I feel sorry for the little weeds, as they are God too. 

The ones I admire most are the dinner servers as they have to rush to the dining hall, after lectures, wash up, serve with an Ohm Namah Shivaya, and then clean the hall. They seem to enjoy it and are a good team. 

This is the best time to have a shower, in the newly cleaned bathrooms. 

We turn up shiny and clean at Swami Tanmaye's chanting and Bhagavad Gita class, which she chants beautifully. I ran away from the doctrines of the patriarchal Roman Catholic church aged 11, but was forced to study the new Testament aged 14. I haven't picked up a Bible since. Tamaye brings the story of Arjuna the warrior's depression and delusion on the Battlefield alive with her beautiful chanting, in Sanskrit. Luckily the handsome flute player Krisna is on hand to guide him, and so the 18 chapters of the Bhagavad Gita and the scripture of Yoga unfolds over the next 4 weeks. I am falling a little in love with both Bhagavad Gita and the teacher Tamahe. Am I a good student? Will I cast off the ego, to liberate myself from the cycle of dhuka, sorrow, and eternal rebirths? 

Next tea is served in a Ashram's central courtyard, by the ever-present, ever knowing Harsh. Harsh has been in the Ashram for a year or so, he loves chanting, and luckily for us, chants so loudly, that our feeble sounds are drowned out. His knowledge of the Mahabharata is epic which helps us in the weeks to come. 

At tea we mix with the yoga vacationers, so I meet the lovely Bea from Berlin, and we talk about yoga, philosophy, and positive thinking in German. I meet the lovely Yuki from Japan, who sits up model straight in Satsang. And we meet the indomitable Chris, also from Berlin Germany. We plan to go clubbing at Berghain in Berlin after Sivananda is over. 

Then it's back to the Siva hall for the graveyard shift, with Nataraj, Sivananda director, who has the unenviable task of teaching us about Vedantic philosophy:  Karma, death  rebirth,  retribution, Brahma, Atma, Maya, and the 3 Gunas which might cloud our self realisation or knowledge from 2-3pm each afternoon. He does a good job, and we are soon considering matters of the cosmos in our conversations. 

Then Suresh has to wake us out of our tamasic state with afternoon Asana class. The gurus wander amongst us correcting our mudras and postures. It's so hot in Kerala 

We have to work hard for our afternoon tiffin of chapattis and dhal. The health hut becomes particularly popular on chapatti and dhal nights, as people cram some calories in, in Form of banana &peanut butter toasties, despite the risk of the being bitten by the mosquitoes. Here we meet Derek, an Irish fashion designer and Insta influencer, who tells us hilarious stories about his dachshunds, and how his parents lost everything in the financial crash of 2008, but win the Irish lottery a few years later. The luck of the Irish, eh? 

Then it's back to Satsang at 8pm. We drag ourselves there but are uplifted by chanting our Jaya Ganeshas. We find it funny that a bit like the Beatles, 50 years later, we are sitting in India singing "Hare Krisna, Hare Rama, Krisna, Krisna", sadly without the herbs that helped them produce their best works, being on the Sattvic diet. 

Every Friday we have a "free day", which still means getting up at 5:30 am for Satsang, which conflicts with my definition of "free", and so Tommy, Alessa, and Sebastian from Lima, Peru take an autorickshaw to Vismaya restaurant and eat a delicious slap-up veg meal, if not entirely Sattvic. 

Every Saturday we have the talent show: and the ladies dance and sing Bhajans or play beautiful Indian instruments. It's hosted in turns by Anthony, a polyglot from Mumbai who travelled extensively in Latin America, and speaks fluent Spanish, that he's quickly accepted into the "foreigner" or Western group of aspirants. Next week it's hosted by Garv, a trained journalist, who's looking to make a career in music now. There are worse people to practice yoga next to. This week it's hosted by Sean, a Californian surfer, musician and English teacher, who serenades us with Bob Marley singing, introduces the Ashram to country music, Show me the way home to West Virginia. His Yoga jokes need work. 

And so our time at Sivananda, between the two full moons is done, and we are yoga teachers now. Many of us heading to Varkala to peace out on the non-sattvic diet before our return as yogis into the real world. 

Ohm Shanti! 

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Next blog about travelling around India to Isha at Coimbatore and Hampi.