In the last few years, Leah and I have enjoyed several different yoga classes in the US, and visiting an ashram seemed like it would be an interesting and new experience. So, for about the last week, we did just that. Using a guide book, the Lonely Planet South India, and the internet, we more or less randomly picked the Isha Yoga Center, roughly an hour from Coimbatore in the state of Tamil Nadu. From Hassan, we bused south most of the way there and chose to walk the last kilometer.
Some volunteers drove us the last few hundred meters and onto the grounds, which were sprawling, campus-like open spaces with green fields, trees, and building outcrops: "cottages", apartments, dorms, a group dining hall, practice halls, a conference hall, a home school, a day spa, a restaurant (under construction), a cafe/shop, a multi-faith temple (which resembled a Hindu temple more than anything else, since there was a linga in the middle of the main floor) and many more structures that couldn't be easily identified. Most of them were made of brick and steel or massive stones, carved or rough cut, and the whole flattish ashram was abutted to some beautiful, tree-covered hills, the Velliangiri Foothills. Shortly after arriving, we were lodged in one of the "cottages," a comfortable hotel-like room.
About a hundred, or maybe 1500, full-time volunteers live and plan to spend the rest of their lives at the ashram. (When talking with residents, the theme seemed to be that each gave dramatically different answers to the same questions, even simple or practical questions.) Central to their daily routine were "practices" and work. The practices involved, among other things, yoga stretches, vocalisations (like bird calls and barking), sitting in specific postures, praying and meditation. All residents worked--cleaned, cooked, taught, helped visitors, or performed office work or community outreach. All other actives, like for example, reading(!), were considered unnecessary and passively discouraged. The idea was that practices and work were part of spiritual enlightenment; why do anything else? Hmm (I raise a skeptical eyebrow.)
Two days after we arrived was the scheduled program called "Inner Engineering" and despite the title, which could politely be called cheesy, we agreed to take it. All we planned to do was relax, experience an ashram and maybe learn some new yoga. And, with few illusions about the world, I braced myself against a possible religious harangue. Less Leah and I, there were 30 people in the course--22 Indians, 5 non-resident Indians (3 from Australia, 1 from Ireland and 1 from the US), 2 Australian women, a Lebanese man, a Chilean man and a Saudi man. I expected a mix of mediation, yoga exercises, and just a bit of spiritual mumbo-jumbo. But after the first day, it was clear: the course was designed to take middle/upper class Indians and Westerns right from the stresses of their jobs and families and ease them into a healthier lifestyle and tack on a bit of psuedo-science and mediation, all of which were wrapped up in a specific practice we learned, which, when done, lasts about half an hour.
As usual, though, Leah and I don't fit the typical stereotypes. Are we stressed at work? No. Are we stressed with family life? No. Do we want to be doing something different with our lives? No. Do we have too much material baggage? Considering we're traveling with two outfits each, for a year, I'm going to again say, no. At any rate, I was told by a chatty resident that one of the strategies to make program participants realize how foolish their daily stresses are, was to use different stresses to "soften" particpants into accepting mediation. The first stress was requiring us to wake up early, at 6:00 or 5:00. Also, it was suggested we begin the morning with a cold shower (although there was hot water in our room) and eat a little pill of neem and turmeric (each tastes terrible) before the morning session. There were some yoga stretches and physical exercises. And, the food was good vegetarian fare with lots of fruits and vegetables, but meals were spaced oddly. There was no coffee or caffeinated tea. The problem with their plan for us, was that none of this was particularly stressful for Leah and me. All you have to do is stay at a Bombay budget hotel to experience most of those things. The style of travel we enjoy requires us to routinely wake early, eat strange foods at random times, and physically stress ourselves, because it allows us to experience the raw world. It's how we live.
I don't want to paint the wrong picture; the atmosphere was positive and friendly, the volunteers were helpful and cheerful. They continually asked me if I was okay, if I was sore from practice, or if I needed anything special. They also worked tirelessly to cook, clean, serve food and round people up for activities. They seemed to specialize in pleasant details, like sneaking into our rooms to leave bowls of jasmine by the bed.
The course was a combination of some (acutely irritating and boring) rhetorical lectures, videos, a few yoga stretches, small group discussions, forest walks, massages and high energy games. Thankfully, when the spiritual harangue did come it was quite meek and poorly handled. However, the program still fell short of expectations: there just weren't enough yoga stretches. Sadly, I will not continue the practice as prescribed.
In the end, and aside from the course, I found two fundamental difficulties with the ashram: everything the residents do is motivated from the selfish desire to achieve their personal enlightenment, and not because helping other people or a community is the right thing to do; and, idolatry is the backbone of the life there, like praying before meals, activities, or to Sadhguru, the founder of the ashram and guru for all of the residents, or a linga or several other physical objects. Both these things make it impossible for me to view the residents' smiles, volunteerism and life, in general, with anything more than pity.
Leah told me once some things are better to have done than to do. Isha reminds me of how true that is.
