Being in the Motherland of inspiration, India possesses ‘something’ that most people who travel here understand. In my old beaten up copy of the Lonely Planet there is a brief introduction on traveller’s either loving or hating India; many swearing never to return again. A more accurate travel advisory, however, would read that India is both: the great adventure in challenging your comfort levels and capturing your heart.

Certainly a country like India is not without its challenges. The poverty and the pollution are just some of them; juxtaposed with incredible beauty and historic reverie. For me, these are the reasons I need to return to India. That is, challenging my tolerance for the hectic and chaotic but above all to renew my spirit. The mountain range and a child's face do not look different. India promises to provide both the terrible as well as the wonderful. It is like a cross-reference experience in getting to know extremes.

My attraction for India grew solely out of my interest in yoga. Yet over the years it has become an equal drive to know both better. This fall marked another study trip to Mysore, India; the home of my primary teacher Yogacharya Venkatesha and the place where much of what we understand as being Ashtanga yoga evolved. While in India I am happy to become a student again as well as a wandering wilbury. Taking the time to learn more about India; her people, the customs and whatever else I can indulge in is a daily adventure. Visiting the temples, palaces, historic sites and museums is all part of this as well. But I truly believe that engaging with the people and being open to whatever 'unique' circumstances arise has had more lessons than being guided through a 12th century temple. In other words, it is the person telling me about the temple not the temple itself that is worth spending time with.

My India or rather 'my kind' of India is best understood from the list below of interactions with some of the local people in Mysore. Surprisingly enough it is also not wrapped around the yoga kutira. As I said, it is the 'locals' and my interactions with them from buying dinner, shopping in the market to getting in a rickshaw.

Misc. Exchanges
~ I order papad (a flat crispy bread like a chip) and get tandoori fish!

~ I ask to speak with another clerk at the hotel's front desk who speaks better English. The response is, “You want the wine list, mam?”

~ I rent a scooter and every 2-3 days receive a phone call from the vendor which goes something like this:

“Hello, madam, any problems? Any problems madam you just call me. Any problems.”

While in Mysore the seat lock breaks. We make arrangements for him to come the following day but he never shows up. The next day I get another call (repeat the line above).

~ I am 75 rupees short when buying a gift at the market. The vendor agrees with me that I can come back in an hour to pay. Be aware, he has never seen me before, does not know my name or where I am staying. He doesn't ask. He flashes only an unspoken look of, "Can I trust this person?"

~ In the local shops it is a common courtesy to be offered chai (tea) especially if you are a paying or potential customer.

~ I repair my shoe heel for $1 dollar. THe cobbler marks the price in pen on the sole of the shoe. While waiting the police officer stops to ask, "What country you?" and the cobbler demands, "You take foto."

~ I have a silver key chain welded in 10 minutes for 10 rupees (approx. 25 cents).

~ I spend several minutes exchanging clumsy arm and hand movements with one of the Muslim washers regarding when and where I can pick up my clothes.

~ The waiters at a local restaurant exclaim:

“You come long back. When you come now exactly?”

This is nice, really nice and I forget about the black toilets at the back.

~ “Did you have your breakfast?” “Had your lunch?” "How is your mother?”

A random set of questions from hotel staff, clerks, vendors and even strangers on teh street passing by.

~ A fellow motorist informs me there are police officers checking for people who are not wearing their helmets. I stop to put on the helmet and am grateful for the warning.

~ This year I learn what should have been the first lesson last on scooter driving. That is, how to lift the scooter up and onto the stand. I am a good laugh for the teacher who doubles as a bell-boy at the hotel.

"After 10 years you learn the first at the end."

Truly the best, however, can only be summed up by a photo not through words.


The jumbo elephants are finishing their practice for the upcoming festival of Dasara in October. Walking elegantly down the road in a single moment they epitomize all that India offers for a foreigner. That is, something of an open-air zoo in the middle of downtown Mysore. In order not to miss this I actually ran down to the center at the same time I knew they would be passing by.

Ah, India... it is always better expressed in a photo.