Embraceable Kerala

Has it really been since mid-December since I last posted an entry? It's easy to see how one can lose oneself when time's passage is not as noticeable. Well, I'll try to make some very abridged sense of what has been afoot in India since then.
With the holiday seasonfast approaching, it was off for another go at Sivinanda ashram in Southern Kerala. I had several reasons for going there ; Keep the yoga practice alive, be around people I had more than a passing acquaintance with over Christmas, and compare the ashram to to one I went to in Madurai. All three goals were accomplished; I met scores of people from all over the world, was able to hold postures steadier and deeper than before, and realized how fortunate I was to go to the Ashram in Madurai at first, as it is much less busy and there is a prevailing sense of calm and tranquility that can be elusive amid the hustle in Kerala. I also met a fellow blogger there who covered the experience quite succinctly. Below is a shot of one of the morning walks, which happened twice during my stay.

One of the most difficult parts of staying at the ashram was knowing that I was a mere hour away from a beautiful tropical beach paradise. After 11 days, I caught a cab with some other ashram refugees to go soak up some sun and splash in the surf at Varkala, the aforementioned paradise. Varkala is part of my history. I first landed there nearly 2 years ago and have very warm memories of my times there, in most part because of several crazy friends who go by the names Yael, Marco and Effie, so going back there with an entirely different set of people did feel odd. We left the day after Christmas, and upon arrival were hit with high rents for India, though through some determined bargaining and a bit of footwork were able to find two breezy, reasonably priced rooms. The next week+ leading u[p to New Years was a non-stop blur of eating fish, drinking espresso and lazing on one beach or another between bobbing in the surf. Varkala has done a good job of not spiralling into full-blown tourist ugliness while unabashedly becoming a tourist hot-spot and stop over for anyone visting Kerala. The beaches are bereft of sellers of any sort, as all the shops and restaurants are located on top of a sheer cliff that overlooks the beaches. The one small annoyance that became a major pain the longer I stayed was the long wait at all the restaurants. A 2 hour wait seemed the norm at most of these places, and all the restaurants are tourist restaurants, so on top of inflated prices, you can spend a good chunk of your time in Varkala waiting for your lunch or dinner. Perhaps I should have updated my blog while aiting for my barracuda at Tratorria. New Years itself was spent on the darkened beach with a bunch of people from the ashram, and after that we climbed cliffside to mingle with the revelers of the bars. Varkala has a strange rule about serving alcohol discreetly and all bars closing at a certain hour, and as 2am rolled around I could see why. Several table smashing tussles broke out between Indian guys as I walked back, and several of the girls from the ashram were groped on the walk back. One of the girls, Stacey, who has a very low threshold for this behavior, punched the guy who grabbed her in the nose, and held him over the edge of the cliff until her rage subsided! "Eve teasing" is the term given to men grabbing women in India. I've been with girls ho've been grabbed, and my reaction was similar to Stacey's, to unequivacally express that behavior like that won't fly. Usually by means of a shove and an ardent "No" in Hindi. I'm not justifying dangling some sexually frustrated, hormone wracked 18 year old boy over the edge of a cliff to ring in the New Year, I'm just saying I can kind of relate.
Next stop was the ashram of the "Hugging Guru" or Amma, which is almost required for anyone staying in Varkala. A 1 hour train ride, followed by a 30 minute rickshaw ride and we were there. The setting of the ashram is gorgeous; it's situated on the banks of the Kerala backwaters, interconnected waterways that are graced by armies of coconut trees from every direction, and a stone's throw from the Arabian Sea. Amma is a record setter, as she has hugged nearly 30 million people, and travels quite frequently on hugging junkets. When we heard she was in town, we had to get our hug, if not least for me to judge what one reknowned hugger( so I've been told) can learn from another.The 1st sight of the ashram is unusual, a number of Soviet-bloc style pink! buildings rising out of he jungle. Amma devotees are evrywhere, notable for their white robes, 1000 yard stare, and potpourri of nationalities. Ambient noise is everywhere. It's quite easy to stay there, as anyone can pull up and have a dorm to flop down in for 150 Rupees. After getting set up in my dorm full of 50 year old Russian men lounging in Speedos, I got in line to hug. I couldn't help but notice some behavior that would be viewed as strange in different settings. For example, a number of her devotees have dolls of Amma, and watching 60-somethings cooing over a doll was a bit odd. After a relatively quick 30 minutes in line, I was in the scrum on stage close to Amma, and her handlers told me to get on my knees, as this is the usual hug reciever position. She is surrounded by rapt devotees basking in her energy, and the crush of people is a bit disconcerting. There was an Asian man filming her hugging behind her and another devotee massaging her shoulders to keep her limber for the hug hungry masses. Someone else later told me there is a hug clicker that keeps a running tally of all the hugs. Before I knew it, I was temple to bosom with a 50-something year old Keralan woman who was whispering something in my ear. I thought the hug was over, was moving in my patented reverse kneel crawl, when suddenly Amma pulled me back in for another hug and whisper. I'm not certain if I ended the first hug too quickly or if she ascertained that I was in need of another one, but then suddenly I was pulled away and she was swarmed by someone else. As a certain doe-eyed Brit might say, "Scratch it off, Harry."