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Spring 1999
NAMASTE,
My wife, Suzie, and I embarked upon quite a voyage to end 1998. As I mentioned in the last newsletter, we, along with several teachers and students, journeyed to Pune, India to attend the celebrations honoring the eightieth birthday of my teacher, B.K.S. Iyengar.
Suzie and I stopped in London for a day to break up the long ride and ease the jet lag a bit before continuing on to Pune. The birthday festivities there lasted for two weeks. From India we traveled to Thailand and visited the northern city of Chiang Mai and the capitol, Bangkok, where I taught three classes at the Health Center in the Oriental Hotel. Our friends in Bangkok showed us the sights, including river cruises to the Grand Palace, the Summer Palace, and the old capitol at Ayudhya. On December 21, the morning of my birthday, we departed Bangkok and flew to Tokyo, where we snacked and snoozed through a five-hour layover. Then we caught a flight to Honolulu, arriving the next morning, which, since we had crossed the international dateline, was still my birthday. In Honolulu, we jumped on another plane and island hopped to Kuaui, the Garden Island of Hawaii. It was the longest birthday I ever had, and by then I barely knew what planet I was on, let alone what day it was. After five days of relaxation in Kuaui, we hopped back to Honolulu. I taught three classes at the Silent Dance Center in Honolulu, and then we took a day to do some sightseeing before we finally flew back home. We had departed on Thanksgiving Day and arrived home two days before New Year’s Eve, a fantastic around-the-world adventure of almost five weeks.
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India, as always, was an amazing experience. It had been four years since my last trip, as much time as has ever elapsed between visits for me. The highlight was seeing Mr. Iyengar once again. At eighty years of age, B.K.S. Iyengar looks great. His eyes still twinkle, his smile is broad, and he has the skin of a twenty year old. He was obviously pleased to be so honored by so many people.
And there were a lot of people. Some seven hundred students from thirty-five countries attended, almost three hundred from the U.S. In addition to the students, a number of local and national Indian dignitaries appeared to “felicitate” Mr. Iyengar. At the opening and closing ceremonies, they gave speeches touting Mr. Iyengar’s accomplishments and praising his contributions to his city, district, country and the world at large through his teaching and his charitable acts and gifts. Part of the opening and closing ceremonies consisted of a coterie of Brahmin priests performing various religious rituals, chanting for hours on end and doing things I didn’t understand with fire and flowers and water.
The first two and last two days of the celebration took place at a huge hall in downtown Pune. The remainder of the events was held at a brand new hotel, Ambrosia, nestled in the hills about ten miles outside the city. Since the air in Pune is so polluted that some people regularly wear a scarf or mask over their mouth and nose to breathe, we were all very grateful for the change in venue.
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Suzie and I arrived a couple of days early to allow ourselves a chance to adjust to the time change and to register for the program. Registration tables were set up at the Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute, where classes are normally held and where the Iyengars who teach there - Mr. Iyengar, and his daughter and son, Geeta and Prashant - live. It was the first time Suzy had been to the Institute, and I enjoyed watching her look around at all the places and things she had heard so many stories about.
The Institute was a fifteen minute walk from the apartment we shared with Patricia Walden and Gabriella Giubilaro. I usually stay in a small hotel when I go to Pune, so I found it a real luxury to have a large room to practice in, a kitchen, and a telephone readily available. In addition, Suzy and I enjoyed having such good friends with whom to share things: meals, shopping, information, the events of the day and our impressions of them, and a car.
Yes, a car! Although among us we’d been to India dozens of times, none of us had ever driven a car in India; indeed, none of us even knew anyone who had. Usually one takes rickshaws (small three-wheeled scooters with a bench seat in back and a roof overhead) for short trips or hires a car and driver for longer journeys. I’d always been amazed (and occasionally horrified) at the traffic in the city, mystified at how it all worked in the midst of what seems to be complete bedlam and chaos. I mean, there are times and places where even crossing the road on foot is high adventure. We learned that the rule of the road (there only seems to be one) is "Might makes right" - the largest object has the right of way. Sometimes we would find ourselves facing vehicles of various shapes and sizes coming at us four abreast, filling the entire road. As you can imagine (actually, I’m not sure you can imagine it), driving was quite an experience.
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Ambrosia was a fifteen to twenty minute ride from our flat, as they’re called. The day’s activities began at 7:30 A.M. each morning except Sunday, so the roads were fairly quiet. For seven of the days, we began with three and a half hours of class - asana and pranayama. A tea break followed and then someone, usually Prashant, gave a talk on some aspect of yoga philosophy. By the time the talks ended, most of us were more than ready for lunch. The food, vegetarian Indian meals, was delicious, and the service, especially considering the size of the group, was well organized. Afternoons were open for visiting and rest, although many of us were often involved in meetings of different committees and groups. Occasionally some of us played hooky and went home to rest or sightsee or shop for gifts for friends and family back home. In the evenings, presentations of cultural events such as Indian dance, music and drama, took place, after which dinner was served. The days were long and full, twelve to thirteen hours, and by the end of the two weeks, everyone was exhausted.
Mr. Iyengar seemed to have the most energy of any of us. He taught all seven of the asana classes (2 1/2-3 hours) and one of the pranayama classes in his inimitable, passionate style. He fearlessly and joyfully climbed onto the platform to demonstrate poses for us, and even at eighty years of age, his backbends are a thing of beauty. He conducted two lengthy question-and -answer sessions with wit and wisdom, and attended all the lectures and programs. Because he is a figure of world-renown, members of the media - print and electronic - prowled the grounds of the hotel, hoping to have an opportunity to speak with him. He gave numerous interviews and endured scores of photo sessions with equanimity and grace, and stories about the celebration appeared in the newspapers almost daily. He ate every meal with the group and was available at that time for anyone to visit and talk with him. His stamina was awesome and inspirational.
Even more inspirational is the tremendous love he still demonstrates for the guiding force in his life: yoga. That love fills him and his teaching with enthusiasm, earnestness, and delight. As his student, I feel fortunate to be able to allow his knowledge, his energy, and his love, which I carry with me when I am with him and when I’m not, to so often lift me beyond my limited concepts of myself and offer me a glimpse of a vast world of infinite possibility. I am so grateful for the wonderful privilege of having been able to participate in the celebration honoring the eightieth birthday of B.K.S. Iyengar, for the great pleasure of sharing that experience with so many good friends and fellow yogis, and for the opportunity to offer to my teacher on his birthday my deepest love, gratitude and respect.
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