Teaching in Shanthi Nagar

Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon for the past month, I have been taking a 20 minute rickshaw ride through Mysore, away from the 'Beverley Hills' area of privilege and massive houses to Shanthi Nagar, a predominantly Muslim area of little alleyways and tiny mud houses. Sheep and goats run around everywhere, the diesel fumes are overpowering and there are lots of smells and noises that I fail to identify easily! I teach a group of 6-14 year old school children for a local charity called Pratham which is funded in part by the charitable wing of the shala where I study yoga. These children have been identified as needing extra English to help them integrate into secondary school more easily. I teach them simple spoken English on such topics as animals, colours, parts of the body etc. Lots of games and songs and my favourite: animal noises!

My PC version of hangman which involves kids getting eaten by a shark.

Look at their adoring little faces! God knows what I'm doing?!

Simon Says- our favourite!

Me trying in vain to encourage some pairwork!

More from Honey Valley

On the second day I was there, I went for a nice walk to a waterfall and swimming pond on a little tributary of the Cauvery river about an hour and a half from Honey Valley. Patrick and Emily look relaxed but I can tell you it took them quite a while to get into the water and it was freezing! I only stayed in for about two minutes!

We had a nice picnic after our swim, read a bit, did some drawing or made some jewellery.

On my way back to Mysore, my first bus broke down and I was left stranded by the roadside for a while near this lovely traditional Coorgy house.

Honey Valley.

Last full moon day I ventured off to Coorg, south-west of Mysore near the border with Kerala. Coorg or Kodagu is a mountainous, coffee-growing region, home to an ethnic group called the Kodava, who have their own customs, cuisine (they eat pork and drink wine) and traditional costume. I stayed on the Honey valley estate, where they used to produce a lot of honey (it is the highest region in the country to produce honey) until the bees got ill and flew away.

A last remaining hive. Actually I heard loads of bees around.Now they grow a lot of coffee. They dry the coffee on the verandas of the houses and grind it directly from there. It's delicious on a cold morning.This is the kind of view you get from up there.
I stayed in a traditional hut... and had a little bathroom with 'Indian- style' toilet and bucket bath. The water is heated with a wood fire and it was really lovely and hot. On the night of the full moon I walked up 'the Ridge' to watch the sun go down and the moon rise over the mountains.

We were accompanied by our own wolf ( all the dogs on the estate howled all evening at the moon- thank GOD for ear plugs).

It was very cold up there in the evenings (it went down to 12 degrees CENTIGRADE- sorry Diana- developed nations don't do Farenheit anymore) and this is me in panic mode, wearing ALL my clothes to go to sleep in.
A local flora interlude:
Wild dahlias.

Ode to an Indian Man...

(Disclaimer: If you are an Indian Gentleman reading my Ode, this poem is NOT about you so please don't take offense).

Oh my King, my God, my mustachioed Lord.
You are ever-present.
You are everywhere I go.

You are there at dawn, when I awake
to the gut-churning hawk
of your morning ablutions.

Each day I am greeted by your regal belly,
while you welcome the sun
in your highness's dhoti.

My life is in your hands, Oh Great One,
as I navigate the perilous highway.
Your permanent hand on the horn makes it very clear
who's King of THIS road.

Your lusty looks follow my every move,
my esteemed Master,
from chai shops, wine bars and street corners.

Bodily functions pose no obstacle to you,
great Celestial being.
You are squatting at the roadside as I go by,
doing what has to be done.

As evening falls, my Prince,
you are to be found prancing in the streets,
arm-in-arm with your buddy.

Your talents know no bounds.
Only One of your inestimable reach can
steer a motorbike, chat on a mobile and
scratch his balls ALL at the same time. RESPECT.

At end of day, my Dream, my only Master,
I am lulled to sleep by
the reverborating echo of your incredible, manly belch.

Odds and Ends...

The following are some random photos of various things I've done recently (some through choice and others not). For example the Kirtan evening I inadvertantly found myself at when I thought I was going to a talk on Aryuveda. I had been to one of these evenings before and decided it wasn't my thing. It involves a call and response of various religious chants and quite a lot of religious-like fervour and swaying. This is the Swami who had me creased up all evening (thank GOD for some relief)- he looked more bored than I felt, he texted his mates on his mobile several times, his phone rang at the height of the fervour, he hummed random, unrelated tunes at inappropriate interludes, he lives in a cave and sells DVDs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

These are for you Diana. I was glad you weren't there I'm afraid- you know why!!!!!!!!!

These are my Swedish friends looking non-plussed:

I love these rules of conduct from the Rotary club.

Stop it!
???!!??!!!!!???????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!?

Some 'rangoolies' (not sure about the spelling) for Diwali. A lot of families draw these daily to show that everything is ok in their household. They look impressive even before you realise that they are often drawn freehand and with powder made out of crushed up shells not a stick of chalk. There's a woman I have watched in the mornings on my way back from practice who does beautiful ones without any template. I think this is Soul Art.

Diana and I enjoying an evening at the Dynasty Hotel roof terrace at Diwali. As well as fireworks, we spotted a rat running up the pillars!

This is a laundrette. Not my local but very similar. At my place I have a running 'situation' with the chap about a pair of trousers I dropped off there 3 weeks ago and which are always ready 'tomorrow'. I think he is teaching me, in a very vivid manner, that 'tomorrow never comes'. (Good job I don't like the trousers that much eh?)

This is a yogi supply shop and homestay restaurant which is near to where the old shala used to be. The lady who runs it told us that she had regularly made breakfast, lunch and dinner for many famous ashtanga yogis including John Scott, Richard Freeman, David Williams... She is a Brahmin and doesn't employ anyone to help her prepare food, which has to be kept pure (and therefore untouched by non-Brahmins) so she gets up at 4am everyday to make breakfast, which was wonderful.

My Swedish friends again: Annette, Olle, Tina and Brita enjoying cappuccinos and 'hard house' at Barista coffee shop.