Being here is such a world away. It’s once again been four years. I am constantly checking things, asking folk if “_____” is still in the same place. So much is the same and yet we are all talking on about what has changed. There are at least two malls in Mysore, now, complete with multiplex cinemas. Cost of basic living supplies has doubled. There are more cars and it feels like in some ways the signs of money coming are there.
Mysore is yet Mysore. Gokulum is growing, but the people are still the same, mostly, the breakfast places for the most part have all changed hands a few times. But Tina is Tina and Anu is Anu. They are the same places and most are open the same days of the week. I can’t find the organic market, but according to most folk there is an organic shop now that carries grains, powders, mangos and bananas. Lots of mangos and bananas.
Oh, and yes the yoga. The first two days were led class, mat to mat. The floor is the same marble, covered in huge mysore rugs that aren’t usually cleaned. It isn’t bad though, and it works. In some places there are folds, and I have to change my practice a little because today I practiced over the folds. There are only two groups now, the 430 group that is led, and after some of those with children do self practice so the “second” parent gets to practice. Since I am without mine yet I practice early. I wake up at 230 automatically, the jet lag is on my side.
I practice with Ganesh, Ross Settles’ friend and previous teacher on one side. His breath is deep. My other neighbor forgets Purvotanasana almost, I later on almost forget the second side of Janu Sirsana C. We laugh and move on, for once Sharath doesn’t catch us. I remember forgetting the same one in London, long ago, with Guruji, much scolding was there. Bad lady 🙂
Sharath has changed the office, some of the pictures are moved. When I came in to register it took me a moment, even when I had been warned, I wanted to go to the old office room where Guruji would be.
Sharath taps the back of my head in Ubaya Padangustanana. Feather light touch, head back, Anne, look back and up. His count is the same. His steadiness the same. I remember Guruji’s voice alongside his, I can’t help it. The exact inflection, the parts that carry on, the parts that are gone. It’s all a mix really. It’s all a mix. Up, don’t come down, don’t cheat in Utplutihi.
The wind is blowing, I’m sitting on the balcony overlooking the Bapuji Children’s Home across the street from where I live. Kids ride by on bicycles with school uniforms. The girls across the street are quiet now, earlier they were out and smiling, waving at me as I left.
The wind brings relief from the heat. It’s rather nice actually.
New people fill the shala, peppered with a few familiar faces. Peter Sanson is here, today his wife Amna practices in front of me. She is very graceful. I creak and breath and come out alive on the other side. The warmth is there, we are all flowing together and the warmth is there. James is there from LA, and Satu and Trisha who used to run the Anoki Garden way before it was Anoki Garden.
More to come, there is more to come. Whatever we know, whatever we grow used to, life keeps on moving and breathing and there is no end in site. The Gunas flow in an ever moving dance of manifestation, showing what I hold on to, and what I hold dear. Showing me in the end there is no holding on, there is no holding back. Keep breathing, moving, loving, and life will dance with you, too, and show you you too are still alive and capable of being made anew.