The Yogi Who Loved Me: A Day in the Life

I had a rather bizarre day yesterday.

Was it bizarre, or what is just India? You be the judge.

6:23

Wake up

6:31

Face off with a pair of monkeys. They were raiding a garbage bin and blocking the way between me and the bathroom. I stared them down, or rather, I glanced fleetingly, terrified as I learned the hard way many years ago that when you stare at primates they get mad and barrel up to the glass partition at the zoo and slap it, scaring the five-year-old bejesus out of you. Also, I have seen the Planet of the Apes.

Thus, like the warrior woman that I am, I choked and made an incomprehensible sound whilst motioning at the monkeys, directed at the ten year old owner's son. He took to the task bravely, chasing the monkeys and hurling Tibetan slurs at them as they fled the scene of the crime.

7:32
Marcela, my German compadre, has finally met me however she has led us into the abyss of Bagshu. Rather, we are looking for her eccentric yoga teacher, and she seems to have forgotten where he has set up his tent. I point out that he could have conceivably actually packed up and moved the tent. It took her about 20 minutes of steep hill/stair climbing to realize that we had passed it. As we stand there debating our course of action, the small pack of dogs accompanying us dart around our feet, unperturbed by our loss of direction. As we debate, we unconsciously make way for a caravan of donkeys making its way down the stairs. Finally we see another student, stumbling out of his hostel, late for class. He luckily knows where to go.

7:35-8:45 - Meditation Class
I really have no training. So I sit there, wrapped in a blanket, omm-ing and trying not to be exposed as the meditation fraud I am.

8:45
Apparently we are going for tea.

9:15-11:30
Apparently I am joining the yoga class. It's fine, there are only four of us. I stretch and bend and get my first workout in over a month.

11:45
Apparently I am joining them for lunch at Raku's cafe. Marcela goes to her room to freshen up, I am left alone with the yogi, who wants to get to know me. We chat. Turns out he reads palms. He reads mine.

My future according to Yogi

"Tell me my future."

"Hmmm ahhhh you are going to be a politician! Am I right?"

"..."

"Hmmm you have a sharp mind, you are educated. You are very logical, you think my chanting is nonsense. OH!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! YOU WILL GO TO JAIL!!!"

Up to this point, I had been quite enjoying my future. Now I become suspicious. He must be a quack.

"Jail? What? Where? Let me see that!"

"It's ok it's ok. Not for a long time."

"Whatever"

"You are a fire, you know that? I knew it the minute I saw you. It is in your eyes. You get excited easily? You are ambitious? You are a fire like me."

I become suspicious of his intentions.

"Uhhh ok. Who am I going to marry?"

"If he says I am marrying him," I think, "then I am hightailing it out of here."

"I cannot tell you who. Let me see. You will have three big relationships. You have not had one yet. One from 23-24, not too serious. Then 25-29 big love. Then 29-33 you are with new guy, one you knew since the beginning of your last relationship. You marry him at 33. You have four kids, one die in belly. Two boys, one girl. You want four kids?"

"Uh... no. We have a global population crisis, haven't you heard?"

"Ok. You had an accident when you were 19, no?"

"Uh... no."

"Emotional time for you?"

"Um I started university but no, it was a rather uneventful year."

"Hmm."

"When am I going to die?"

"Hmm. (Pause. Lots of squinting) 80. You will die suddenly, but not traumatically. You die during a conversation! (I immediately have an image of Brenda's death in the last montage of six feet under). Not like me! I die at 100! Look at my life line! I live longer than you!!!!

Laughs and laughs and laughs at my short, suddenly ending life line.

(is face suddenly becomes serious after he stops gloating) You must be with a fire you know. You cannot be happy with earth or air. Fire."

Ok, I get it yogi, but no thanks. Move on...

"Ok..."

"Let me see your hand again. Your line, it separates here. You will not die where you were born. Your life will be somewhere else. You also have an anger line. Are you angry?"

I am experiencing a rather high level of confusion at this point. I guess it could have been anger.

"Not particularly?"

At this point Marcela comes back and we have another conversation. We move to another table and the palm reading commences once more. Now he is digging deep.

"You have no spirituality line. I have never seen this. Most people have one."

"That makes sense."

"Don't worry, you can grow one. Over time."

OK, anger line kicking in. Along with sense of humor line. Why hasn't he found THAT one yet?

He gets his serious face again:


"You have a tendency to make an opinion about others based on the word of your close friends. YOU MUST BE CAREFUL OF THIS. Especially in politics."

Marcela looks on gravely.

"So that's why I will go to jail," I mope.


He looks at my hand again with renewed vigor. He grabs a spoon, and starts measuring my fingers. He checks my pinky and pointer finger, once, twice, three times he does the same measurement. Then he breaks out into a broad grin and starts laughing so loud the restaurant goes quiet. He slaps the table and declares

"You will be famous! You will be famous!"

"Why?" Marcela asks.

"See this distance? Few people have it! Same distance as Napoleon and Gandhi!"

How palm readers worldwide got this data, I would be curious to know.

"You will be... a famous politician!!!"


After lunch I am informed that today is an auspicious day. Marcela has convinced our yogi to... shave off his beard. And I am invited to come, so with nothing better to do, I head off into MacLeod Ganj to shave off our yogi's beard.

2:30 pm - Barber Shop
This is apparently quite the occasion. His friends, upon hearing the news, can't believe it and are dropping by to bear witness. I stand there and take pictures with Marcela's camera as she personally conducts the preparatory trim of his scraggly mass of facial hair.

I had a moment standing there, trying to get the right angle, and the hilarity and absurdness of the moment and location and people hit me.

After the trim, the shave was conducted by a professional with a sharp blade. The whole time he kept on exclaiming that he would be too beautiful now, and now he would have to talk to women. Marcela explained to me that this is a real concern of Indians - if you are too beautiful the Gods might get jealous and spurn you - thus they try to play things down to stay on the safe side.

The truly weird part of the beard emancipation process was that they finish it up with a healthy dose of facial bleach. As the barber is applying it thickly to his face, I ask him if it is going to burn more because he just got a shave. His eyes widen momentarily in alarm, then he calms and says no, it is disinfecting.

Four minutes later he is grimacing in pain and admitting "Ok, it burns a little. The gods must be punishing me for being so beautiful."

3:30
Coffee with newly shaven yogi, Marcela, and Raku who came down to witness the event.

4-6:30 - Yoga class.
Beginning to tire.

6:45-7:15 Mantra class.
He insists that I attend. It was a bit of a farce. He sat there and would say the mantra in sanskrit very quickly, then ask us to repeat. We would giggle and shrug. Then he would say it slowly and we would scribble it phonetically onto whatever paper we had happened to bring. Then he would run through the English translation, which I at times had to repeat and explain to Marcela and our Brasilian classmate. For all those Anglophones out there, how would you describe the meaning of 'embibe'?
Anyway, this is what I wrote down yesterday, just for the record:

Chant #1

Omm guru serbe mahishera idontknow guruuuuuu
shak shak per dasama shri guruuuuuu
vishooo citu gurve amordenah
tasmayyyyyy

Chant #2

Asto mah saguhmaya tomso mah yotogameah myrityo mahmoomriksee umreetat gamaya
"Lead us to unreal to real darkness lead us to the light from the death to mortality"
Sayna pubto
Sayna knuckto
Sabedium karbah bah-hee

Chant #3

Treajus vee now
dhi tah mas too
mah bit besa ba-hee

Chant #4

(And apparently this is the mother-daddy of the chants)
"Des A Guy Tree" Mantra
Omm voo vuvah sabah tat sabeetor
Baharainium pargoooooooo
debaseer dhi mah-hee
dioyo-yonah bratchdayeat!

I got home around 7:30, had dinner, wrote in my journal. Bizarre or just India? Either way, I am quite enjoying myself her in MacLeod Ganj. I signed up for a five day yoga course that started today, although I was so sore from yesterday I had to take it a little easier than I usually would when I am back home and in shape. Five days seems like a major commitment to me these days, but I think I am up for the challenge. There are some really cool and interesting people in the class, we went for lunch afterward as we were all famished (not allowed to eat before yoga) and I am meeting them for dinner at a place called 'Peace Cafe' and a movie about his Holiness the Dali Lama. Apparently he got in town today. Fingers crossed he announces a surprise public lecture in the very near future (aka the next five days).

I am off. Hope all is well at home, big congrats to Christine and Sandeep, and I promise to try and come up with event-filled entries on a more regular basis in the future!

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Part of trip: The India Chronicles

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