There is so much more to filter through after the amazing whirlwind of this 16 days journey. For now, I share what came out first. Although first a shout out to the awesome group, especially the Kripalu Ayurveda students and friends, and Boston's own Arianna (who is a travel and sari rockstar). And soon I will post something about my current whereabouts, the Ayurveda Campus of Vaidygrama on the outskirts of Coimbatore.
The mission: start south of Chennai and visit 7 sacred spots, ranging from the site of the Ramayana, to Sri Ramana Maharishi’s ashram, to the Nataraj Chariot festival in Chidambaram.
Ramana’s ashram is resplendent, as it was for me 12 years ago on my first visit to India where I saw a peacock with its resplendent tail up. The cave where he once sat immediately brings me a sense of rest, like I could stay forever. The place we stay, Sparsa, is one of my favorites yet, where I can sit and drink tea on the balcony in the dark, then see the sunrise as we practice yoga on the roof, among the palms. We had a number of amazing rooftop sunrise classes along the trail.
Chidambaram is my most powerful place, the temple of Nataraj, or dancing Shiva. We arrive on the last night of the Chariot festival where this huge, arcane-looking chariot is pulled by the crowd on thick ropes through the streets. The wheels are taller than me and the vehicle is turned by placing a wedge under the appropriate wheel at the appropriate time and pulling a few feet, then repeating the process until the corner is rounded. It takes a few hours to get Shiva through his annual walk around the block. The chariot is about 2 stories high and peopled by at least a dozen priests, and an array of offerings: full banana stalks, flower garlands, and of course, the Nataraj Murti. The crowd is in great spirits and happy to include us in the pulling of the rope, which is a good 8 inches in diameter. We stand around on either side of it, waiting for the drum roll that signals for the crowd to begin. You’d better be ready. My foot stays back under someone’s heel while the chariot and the rest of me moves ahead. After I get my foot reamed in the chariot pulling (there is still a weird bruise) we make our way to bed to prepare for tomorrow’s big Puja.
This temple is presided over by the 300-person family of Dikshitar. One must be born into it; they intermarry, and can be recognized by the side-bun hairdo. Robert has a relationship with one of these priests and has arranged a special Puja for our group. We leave the hotel at 4:30 and are in the temple until 11. It is one long Puja with all the trimmings, even a 7AM coffee break and finished with breakfast served from buckets. And no- nobody gets sick. Here they have a crystal lingam, which is bathed 6 times/day in milk, coconut water, and honey, then covered in flowers, then rice flour. A final rinse and it goes back under cover, the doors are closed until the next Puja. Gallons and gallons of milk cascade over the lingam about 2 inches square, out the spout to splatter my sari before the other devotees press in to drink handfuls of holy milk, or catch a water bottle full, in some cases. I am struck by the opulence (6 times a day!) and I can’t help but think of the hungry people on the street.
Somehow after the marathon day in the temple, I feel changed. I will never recite om namah shivaya in the same way again. It will always remind me of this place, of the ancient traditions still so much alive and the power inherent in this lineage.
