I’m sitting on my balcony in the shade, sipping a cold orange juice. It’s been 30 degrees in the sun since I got here, a bit too hot for this fair skinned Irishman. I live on the first floor of a two story house in Gokulam, Mysore. If Gokulam was in Ireland it would be a leafy suburb. My apartment is comfortable, clean, and spacious with three large roof terraces (thinking of holding a rooftop party!). The owners are a very nice older couple from Bangalore, Swami and Bagdah Ramakrishna Krupa. They only spend a couple of days a week in Mysore and they occupy the ground floor. We share the same entrance. On my first morning I encountered Amma, an old lady who minds the place and waters the plants. She’s tiny, toothless and half blind and bemused me as we tried in vain to communicate about keys. She has no English, and I no Hindi. A week in, we now smile and wave at each other, I give her some fruit and she opens the gate for me to get the bike out.
The shaded balcony outside my bedroom overlooks a scrub green area where I spot many birds, all sorts of flying insects and colourful butterflies (the odd cow and goat too and I’ve seen ants the size of small spiders). It seemed idyllic until I realised it also doubles as a local man toilet. Every second bloke seems to stop off.
Some local characters are a delight, like Mahesh, a young lad full of enthusiasm whose business card promises he can arrange “everything” from accommodation to transport, and even flowers if I needed them! Before I met Murthy (the guy who organised the place I’m in), I agreed to meet Mahesh to look at a few places and gauge standards and prices. He tried hard to “sell” me a double room in a nice serviced apartment block. I can still hear him: “many people are coming sir, you take sir, 23,000 rupees, yes please sir”. And see his head bobbing from side to side in that typical Indian way that suggests indifference to us. I’m glad I waited.
The big news here at the moment is the wandering wildlife, like the man-eating Tiger. There’s been three recorded human deaths in villages near Mysore recently, so the locals are terrified. After three failed attempts to tranquilise the animal, Shere Khan remains at large. He came from Bandipur wildlife reserve, about 50kms south of Mysore. Not to be outdone, a herd of eight wild elephants managed to get to within 3kms of the Mysore ring road last Sunday. That’s about 8kms from where I am in Gokulam. From my room I could hear the firecrackers used to guide Hathi and co. the 50kms back to the sanctuary. Increased harvesting of bamboo and their rising numbers has put pressure on their food supply, causing them to wander. There are now over 1,800 elephants and 100 tigers (up from just 11 a few years ago) living in Bandipur reserve. There are also monkeys on the loose in nearby districts, and I’m reliably told they throw coconuts at unsuspecting passers-by! Any wonder I feel like Mowgli from the Jungle Book 🙂
As I write, a couple of hawks hover overhead searching for prey, one caught what looked like a small snake the other day. It’s mirrored in the local economy where many human hawks also prey on unsuspecting yogis and tourists. At breakfast today in Santosha’s (a home style cafe run by the very friendly Arun) I discovered some lower price levels for accommodation and transport. I’m not overly concerned as I’m happy with where I’ve landed. Murthy, the guy I’ve been dealing with is very nice with very good English. He’s also the local Western Union agent and probably makes a small fortune dealing with the thousands of yoga students that come each year. I’m feeling right at home with a currency dealer! The rule, it seems, is negotiate everything. I don’t have a problem bargaining over the bigger numbers, but it bothers me to haggle over relatively small sums, like 50 cents, which is a tidy amount to a local. A fellow yogi told me at breakfast, by not negotiating hard it encourages them to ask higher prices, which doesn’t help those on tighter budgets than me.
Foodwise I’ve been a little underwhelmed by the local Indian cuisine, but it’s early days. I’ve had some nice meals, and some only so so, but most importantly I’ve remained healthy, touch wood! I’ve also been ON the menu quite a lot, as I accumulate mosquito bites faster than Man Utd accumulate points. With so many international yoga students in Gokulam, some homes have turned into little restaurants serving lovely home cooked buffets and western style breakfasts. It’s almost impossible to know where they are unless someone directs you to the house, and then you have to keep your eyes peeled for a name on a gate or parked sandals on the ground! Anu’s, Vivian’s, Santosha’s, Anuchi’s are all popular spots where yogi’s gather to eat, hang out and chat. I’ve had some really tasty meals in these semi-secret locations and met loads of very nice people. They also have wi-fi which has been very helpful while I await connection at home but sometimes makes meaningful conversation impossible. Apple gadgets proliferate, and the sight of six or seven people round a table with heads buried in a machine is quite common.
I practice yoga at 8.30am each morning. Despite a Camino tightened body (hamstrings, shoulders and lower back) I eased myself back and got through the first week fine, a little low in energy but otherwise fit and healthy. My teacher is Saraswathi Rangaswamy, daughter of the illustrious Pattabhi Jois who founded the Ashtanga Yoga school that has given it’s name to this style of yoga. She’s a short, stocky, no nonsense type of gal. She’s now in her seventies and barks out instructions using no more than two words – “catch toe”…”straight leg”..”suck in”…”more up”…”lift head”…etc. It costs 18,000 rupees (€200) a month to practice here, which, oddly enough, is more expensive than at home. With a worldwide draw of c.2-300 students practicing each month, it makes for tidy revenue.
On my second day while admiring a Royal Enfield motorbike, the enthusiastic young owner offered me a test ride, but I baulked, fearful of the traffic, and took a ride on the back to a nearby cafe instead. The deep thudding sound of the single cylinder engine is fantastic, and the retro look is far too cool. I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on one someday. In the meantime, to get used to the traffic, I picked up a Scooty from Murthy for 700 rupees/week and it’s been getting me around. I’ve got lost a few times while figuring out the local area and finding my bearings. The rules are pretty much “go with the flow”. While they drive on the left, it isn’t always so, particularly if you’re “only going down the road a bit”! Fellas come at you from all sides…and horn blowing is incessant, it’s a national pastime, like cricket. I got fined 100 rupees (€1.20) by a traffic policeman the other day for not wearing my helmet (it’s only compulsory on big roads). When I told him I didn’t need a receipt, he waved me on and trousered the cash! I’m told it happens a lot to tourists. Met an Aussie guy Kieran (born in Antrim) after practice today. He rides a Royal Enfield Thunderbird 350 and he’s agreed to let me run out the lease, which has two days left, after he leaves at the end of this week! Looking forward to that.
There are a few familiar faces here too. Caught up with my old teacher training friend Claudia a few times. She’s given me a few pointers as she’s been here a month already. And my teacher Gillian is here for 3 months, as she has been each year for the past number of years, developing and deepening her practice. And many others from all over – Brazil, Canada, Czech Rep, Reunion, Poland, Finland, Australia, Japan, New York, UK (Leeds!), and from Dublin, Cork and Kerry too like. Namaste!
A World of Wanders 