"Health is wealth. Peace of mind is happiness. Yoga shows the way." - These words welcomed me into the Sivananda Ashram in Kerala a month ago, a sultry March evening. The reception building was well-lit but all was quiet as I was quickly ushered to the temple for the initiation ceremony where a smiling gentleman applied ash, chandan and kumkum on my forehead before handing me a bag that contained a book and some clothes. I was escorted to my dorm where I selected a bed and parked my suitcase. I was told to put the pillow and sheets on a bed and head for satsang. I obeyed. And walked over to a large hall where almost 150 people seemed to be engrossed in chanting "Om namah Shivaya" and other such names of Hindu Gods. There were pictures of various deities on the walls and the first one I set my eyes on was Goddess Saraswati. I looked around and saw a few Indian faces amidst a sea of faces of people who had obviously traveled a long distance to be here. Many seemed to be wearing a yellow t-shirt and white pants which I realized was the uniform that was given to me in the bag a few minutes ago. The announcement at the end of the satsang reminded us to be present at the 6 a.m. satsang the next morning. I was tired from my travel, hungry, sweating profusely and vaguely registered the words as I dropped into a disturbed sleep on an unfamiliar bed in a strange room.
Thus began my 4 weeks at the Sivananda Teacher's Training Course at the ashram. The days were hectic, starting well before dawn and ending in a dreamy stupor each night until the bell rang again the next morning. We had what seemed to me like unending hours of asana classes where my body endured a lifetime worth of yoga postures. We sat on the floor for chanting sessions, daily Bhagavad Gita discussions and lectures on Vedanta philosophy. This was in addition to morning and evening satsang with silent meditation and chanting and homework as well. A brutal routine with two meals where "sattvic" food was served and of course, no TV, internet or newspapers. Not that we had time to enjoy any of these distractions - there was just enough time to bathe, sometimes wash your underwear and occasionally talk to loved ones on the phone.
The days were a blur of activity, buzzing around from one session to the next with barely a moment to spare in admiring the sheer beauty of the ashram, located on a hill, right beside a beautiful lake fringed by mountains in God's own country. On Fridays, we got a break from the routine to admire the barrel-sized jackfruit that hung from trees like grotesque appendages, fruits trees with tropical fruits like chikkoos and papaya which dotted the campus. A green lawn invited us to spend a few moments each evening for some fresh air while the dorms radiated the days heat. A lovely temple with a gorgeously bedecked goddess watched us scurry around like the naughty squirrels who zoomed past. A lion growled in the distance in the Lion Safari Park across the lake.
Most days were hard for me. Most days I grumbled. The asana classes wiped me out. Every pore in my body seemed to produce nothing but sweat. Every muscle wanted to just curl up and rest. My scalp was not dry for a single moment during that month. I longed for the familiar solitude of my comfortable home. I was constantly surrounded by 120 classmates. Each day I wondered what I was doing here and most importantly - why?
Sometimes it seemed like everyone else was having a good time - every foreigner who struggled to sit on the floor and eat food served in stainless steel plates with their hands, every person who struggled to pronounce the Sanskrit shlokas, every student who grappled with the esoteric concepts of karma and koshas. I admired them all. And was still full of self-pity.
There was a final exam before we could graduate and we had exactly one day to study. And we did. Sitting in a secluded spot beside the lake. A gentle breeze caressed the waters like the birds that flew silently above the surface before dipping down to grab a fish. THe humidity kept rising until the thunder rumbled in the distance. And the rain crashed around us. The leaves rustled in the high wind and fell on the ground. Raindrops dripped from branches and through the gaps in the tiles that covered our shelter. Our books got wet. Our notes flew around aimlessly. And then all was quiet.
