Up early because Mooji session is at 8. Not later because he will be on the podium for the opening of the (World Famous!) International Yoga Festival. I sit as close to the front on the floor so my raised hand will be seen. Mooji arrives, and brings with him onto the stage a young Asian woman, who sits at his feet. Hands go up, questions posed, lives exposed. After two people ask their questions, my hand no longer goes up – my question is being answered through bits and pieces of theirs.
The first woman up, a Russian about 50 years old (they have a translator), cries a bit and relates how she is empty and wants to be finished with Samsara. She tells how for over two years she has had a problem with her skin on fire, even sloughing off at times, but visits to the doctor and hospital result in a prognosis of complete health. How much more symbolic can you get? She is at work one day and a co-worker is playing something from YouTube in English (which she doesn’t speak or understand) and she feels driven. She finds out what he has played, and it was Mooji. She buys her ticket to see him the next day. Mooji, who is asking some questions along the way, laughs a bit and says “satsang is never boring with the Russians.” He tells her that everything is good because the fiery skin has led her here. He then asks for a show of hands on how many Russians are in the hall, and over 2 dozen hands go up. He tells them that he will arrange for a Russian satsang this week.
Other people ask about their moments of mindfulness versus being in the mind, and how to maintain mindfulness throughout their day. Mooji says “why worry?” Enjoy what you do and come back when you can. Practice will allow you to remain longer and longer.
Finally, he looks to the young woman at his feet. He has her sit up on the seat next to him and asks her what she has to say. It takes a few moments, because she says she does not have the words – she’s neither here nor there. After a bit more quiet, she starts laughing. She says that it’s all so silly. She continues laughing, Mooji is laughing and we all are laughing. He turns her face to the hall and says “this is a lovely face, but soon the mind will return and she will have this face (and he puts his face into his palm and puts on something of a scowl).” Everyone laughs more because we know exactly what he means. Laughter subsides, musicians come on stage for a Punjabi sing-along, and then satsang is over.
I walk out into the constant, chilly drizzle (today I’m wearing both of my coats and my leggings under my pants) and wait under the roof overhang until Kaita shows up. We hop in the rickshaw with Jackie and Prashant and head out of town until we find the office of gold medalist Ayurvedic Dr. D. K. Srivastava at his Navjeevanam clinic (which means “new life” in sanskrit). I am here and figured, why not? I am ushered in, we chat (including him bragging a bit by showing me a picture of Mooji from when came in for treatment recently) and then he holds his fingers on my pulse while asking a bunch of questions.
True to form, I hadn’t really researched this before jumping in, but I did later, and learned that Ayurvedic medicine concentrates on the digestive and elimination system – a clean, well-functioning system leads to good, strong energy. It also includes recommendations for yoga, meditation, exercise and balanced nutrition. Not so bad. He tells me I have a very sensitive nervous system, a trauma at some point that is blocking energy to the lower part of my body, some weakness in my kidneys and a digestive system that is only 70% effective. He prescribes a daily regimen of herbs and instructs me to return on Wednesday evening so he can see how these have, if at all, impacted the system and he will then give me some for the longer term.
We hop back in the rickshaw, which waited for us, and head (yes again) to Rajisthani for lunch. Another dosa, veg curry, and paneer:
I see someone order this for dessert, then have to have one. It’s like a tres leches cake, with lots of moisture. Don’t have the nerve to eat with the chile pepper, though!
More beautiful mysterious desserts. And yes, you do eat the foil along with the rest!
As I walk outside the restaurant, this is the stand where all the nan and chapati are cooked up and passed through the window into the server:
While J&K pay and get some sweets, I walk out with Prashant and get a small supply of bananas. Rickshaw back to the hotel, where I rest for about an hour, then meet J&K at Ramana’s, in the yoga hut, for a bollywood/traditional dance lesson with Lalita, one of the girls (about 17) Kaita knows from her days volunteering at the orphanage. I’m a bit exasperated at first, but then I just let go of it and follow along. It’s fun, and great exercise, even if I feel like a total goofball (and I’m not alone here).
After class, she gets her bells (don’t remember the word for it),
which she blesses and then puts on. She dances a bit for us:
After class, we walk all the way across the bridge and through town (about 45 minutes or so) to get to Surendar’s yoga class. I hope there are only 6 people there and Jackie hopes there are 40 (because she’s not really wanting to go), but lo and behold, there is no class on Sunday! Surendar is there and gives us a beatific smile and we stay a while to enjoy the view from the rooftop. Then we walk back along the Ganga until we arrive at Parmarth Niketan, the ashram which is hosting one of the (world famous) International Yoga Festival. The ashram is lovely and it’s hard to believe that it contains over 1,000 rooms! I purchase my ticket, then we complete our trek and (finally) arrive at Oasis for dinner. I don’t want to move another inch! My body is hurtin’ for certain. We enjoy a lovely dinner and Kaita is kind enough to call Prashant, who bring a bike and gives me a ride home – THE most fun way to move through the streets in India!