india

India, land of colour and spice and beautiful chaos.
Ancient sunlight reaches you through haze.


Every square inch of this land alive, inviting you to further engage. You immediately feel (and without in any way diminishing our previous travel experience), nonetheless you feel "why didn't I just come straight here." Here in the present because where else would you be, letting go because you have to.


Everything expands!


We find our way to a reforestation garden south of Chenai (Madras) on the Indian south-east coast. This is where the tsunami hit and soaked the land with salt. Anna, who runs the garden, believed that the planted trees broke the wave somewhat, although they are still recovering from its impact. She told her story: The wave was like a train roaring in, she recognised the dark, massive wall of water topped with a shimmering halo of light because of a recurring dream she'd had. She siezed her grandchild and raced up the stairs, and looked out upon what she described as "like being in the middle of the ocean". All her family survived, although the village lost about 40 members.


For this part of the trip we are joined by Peter, David and Aysin and since we no longer fit into a white ambassador taxi, we adapt ourselves to bundling in and out of auto-rickshaws, appreciating the flexibility and independence this style of transport allows.

We spend some time on the outskirts of the township of Auroville, " an urban experiment to undertake the work of evolution of consciousness". This place is deeply interesting and not very easy to penetrate in a matter of days. I get my first scent of fascination in the visitor centre bookshop where I learn some of the history. Auroville was founded in the late sixties by the mother, partner of spiritual/intellectual Sri Aurobindo, intended to be an urban settlement of 50,000, but population and economy have grown slowly, only now some 2000 people in scattered projects, cottage industries and residences. Although thoroughly green and innovative in all its plans, it has had to compete with expanding population in surrounding towns and villages for resources.

We spend a few days at the ashram of Sri Vast, a young guru who advocates life as celebration. He advises that we approach our lives like bungee jumpers, only not determining in advance the measured length of our leap but leaping freely into the infinite, unknown. Then we leave Auroville, stopping overnight in the town of Jinji, an old that hill fort where we share the town's only hotel with a Bollywood movie crew filming on location.
The next day we arrive in Tiruvanamai, on first appearences the place is swarming with Swamis, as Corrina puts it, too many to be taken seriously. We learn why; one perambulation around the holy mountain Arunachala can undo the negative karma of 10,000 lives. The mountain is the embodiment of Shiva, at its foot stand both an ancient temple and well-known and greatly visited ashram of Ramana Mahashi.




At Arunachala, we had heard of a Temple reforestation project, a sister organisation to John Seed's (from Yulunga, Australia) rainforest action network. And we meet Ishi, who never leaves his house without a copy of Hafiz, the Sufi poet, and he becomes one of our guides to the rooftop satsang or spiritual discussions, that take place daily. Fever and congestion take their toll but on the third attemp we climb to the cave where Ramana meditated in hot summer months. The experience in the cave was profound. For weeks after we will be haunted by the Gayathri chant which played on a crackly tape recorder during the few moments that we spent in the cave.
On the night of the full moon we hire a bullock cart and perambulate the mountain with thousands of other pilgrims.





The last day dawns and we ready ourselves for the final departure.