Across from my house there is a little manicured park. It is surrounded by a fence that I haven't yet crossed. There are bushes and trees with a Victorian aesthetic sprinkled sporadically on the green grass. A path follows the perimeter and morning and night Indians in ones or twos march with purpose around and around. Normally I accept the park as part of the landscape and it just fades into the rest of my backdrop of India landscape but sometimes I stop on my way down the stairs and notice just how green, how dewy, how beautiful this little park is. This morning there was a woman wrapped in a sari sitting on a bench with her fingers and hands pressed up into her face. She was performing a kriya (a yogic cleansing exercise) in the middle of the park-- in public.
Earlier than that I walked down the road to practice. Parts of the road are dirt, parts are paved. Sometimes it is quite muddy and my slippers flick mud up the back of my legs and shirt. Stray dogs trot in packs and the air smells strongly of cow poop. This is before the sounds of birds chirping. This is before the sound of sweeping and slapping clothes against rocks. It is before people start honking and vendors push rickety carts of plastic bags, fruit, blankets down the road. It is before the smells of miscellaneous burning objects mix with masala, onions, and dung. It is dark and it is quiet and when I look up, I can see the moon and stars peeking through the palm trees.
I am in the middle of led class today and I can feel myself practicing, the person next to me, the person behind me. We are chanting the opening mantra and I hear myself squeaking beneath the whole room of voices. The whole world exists where I am looking: the tip of my nose, my foot, my hand. It extends to the people in my peripheral vision and we're all breathing and moving together. I realize that I'm moving and not moving because Sharath is telling me to. I'm located here in India right now. It is still weird.
Earlier than that I walked down the road to practice. Parts of the road are dirt, parts are paved. Sometimes it is quite muddy and my slippers flick mud up the back of my legs and shirt. Stray dogs trot in packs and the air smells strongly of cow poop. This is before the sounds of birds chirping. This is before the sound of sweeping and slapping clothes against rocks. It is before people start honking and vendors push rickety carts of plastic bags, fruit, blankets down the road. It is before the smells of miscellaneous burning objects mix with masala, onions, and dung. It is dark and it is quiet and when I look up, I can see the moon and stars peeking through the palm trees.
I am in the middle of led class today and I can feel myself practicing, the person next to me, the person behind me. We are chanting the opening mantra and I hear myself squeaking beneath the whole room of voices. The whole world exists where I am looking: the tip of my nose, my foot, my hand. It extends to the people in my peripheral vision and we're all breathing and moving together. I realize that I'm moving and not moving because Sharath is telling me to. I'm located here in India right now. It is still weird.
No comments:
Post a Comment