Last Practice

This morning, I had my last practice in the shala. It was somewhat uneventful. My practice itself was okay. Not one of my best, but certainly not one of my worst. My breath did not feel strong. Three of my good Mysore friends were all  directly in front of me, and that felt special. By the time I finished my practice and came out of the changing room, Sharath had already left. I was not able to say goodbye to him. To be honest, I was somewhat relieved. His absence helped me to avoid a potentially awkward goodbye--Should I just bow to him? Should I lower to the ground and touch his feet? What should I say to him when I leave? I do not feel like I am missing out on something important by not being able to say goodbye.  I hope that I will see Sharath again soon--here in Mysore or somewhere else in the world. Leaving the shala was sad--like saying goodbye to a close friend.  Yesterday, during chanting, I was rather emotional, especially while Lakshmish was explaining the meaning of some the chants we had been working on this past month. I was looking around the shala with awe and respect.  This lineage and this practice have occupied such an important part of my life for almost the past decade. The shala has almost a mythic feeling in that I have heard so many stories and seen so many photos and videos since I started the practice. Being able to come here for a month to practice has been something extremely significant for me. I have devoted so much energy and effort to the practice over the years, and I have shuffled so much of my life in order to be able to come here for this month. My initial reflection is that this journey has been more than worth all the time, money, effort and energy. I will not say that coming here has been the culmination of my practice. I am not certain what the culmination of my practice might be, but being in Mysore and practicing with Sharath in the shala with all these amazing students has been meaningful in ways that I could not have imagined. I need to process the entire month in greater depth, and I will write another entry about my thoughts in the next few days. Right now, my general feeling is that I recognize the importance of this practice in my life and the lives of so many other people here in Mysore and across the globe. Some of us are annoying. Some of us have problems with ego. Some of us have personality disorders. Some of us are hopelessly lost. Some of us, too, are kind, humble, generous, loving, welcoming, compassionate, and helpful. This practice binds us all together and lifts us up in some way and adds purpose to our lives beyond the shala and off the mat.  The practice resonates throughout our lives and provides structure and purpose. I love asana, and I am grateful to have a body that allows me to do lots of fun postures. What I know now more than before coming here is the asanas are not at all the purpose of this practice. They are just a tool that allow us to assimilate, in whatever small ways that we can, the beauty and wisdom of Yoga.

Melukote and Conference

Wise words from Gandhiji.

Last Friday was the new moon, so there was no practice. A group of us went on a trip to a wonderful day trip to a town about 50 km away called Melukote.  This town is an important pilgrimage site in India. There are several important temples and a spring high atop a rocky hill where Rama and Sita sat to rest.  It was a wonderful day. Normally, Melukote is extremely busy with visitors and pilgrims, but we arrived early in the day and it was also a regular work day for most people.  Melukote is a small town in the hills. You travel up a narrow and winding road to get there. It reminded me a little bit of Dharamsala way up in the Himalayas, but the elevation is not nearly as high.  Our first visit was to the main temple in the town, the Cheluvanarayana Swamy temple.  The deity is a form of Vishnu. There were several pujas going on in the temple, and there were priests wandering throughout the temple playing harmonium, drums, and trumpet. With the incense, the fire from the oil lamps, the chanting of the priests, and the music from the instruments, there was a palpable energy in the temple. The rituals seem to work up to a frenzy, there is lots of tension or fervor in the air, and then a bell is struck and it is over.  There are many cisterns in Melukote. These are basins or pond that are used to collect water, and they probably do religious rituals by them as well.  After visiting the temple in town, it was time to climb the hill to pay our respects in the Yoga Narasimha temple (another avatar of Vishnu, this time with a lion's head). You reach the temple by climbing narrow, steep stairs. The temple sits about a mile above sea level. There are lots of monkeys and goats on the path to the temple, and the monkeys will definitely try to steal your bag. Many people take an offering of fruit to the temple, and the monkeys know this. They will steal your bag if you are not constantly vigilant.  They seem to respond to a loud and firm "No!" and move out of the way. I must admit that some of them are fairly large and scary.  That many of them also carry a type of herpes virus that can be fatal to humans is also disconcerting. Monkeys aside, we all made it safely to the top of the hill, paid our respects to Yoga Narasimha, and then made our way back down the hill for lunch. We stopped at a well-known pilgrimage restaurant where the specialty is tamarind rice (puliogare). I ate two huge plates of the delicious rice. I was so ravenous by the time that we arrived at the restaurant that I did not even take a photo of the delicious food. They offered us a tour of the restaurant and allowed us into the kitchen and the prep rooms. It was very clean, but the idea of health or sanitation codes most definitely does not exist in India. There was not a refrigerator in sight. All of the food preparation is done on the floor.  Everything is prepared over open flames. It is all quite a marvel to behold and provides a shocking contrast to our American obsession (not necessarily a bad one) with cleanliness. In my non-scientific assessment, I do not think that our American kitchens and restaurants are any cleaner than this type of restaurant in India, they just sparkle more and look cleaner. Having sated ourselves with tamarind rice, we visited a the spring called Dhanuskoti.  Again, we had to climb up to the top of a steep hill. The spring itself was not particularly impressive, but it does have significance in that it never runs dry. Apparently, Rama and Sita stopped here to rest during their travels. Sita was thirsty so Rama shot an arrow through the rock and water poured out for Sita to drink.  The water did not look refreshing during our visit--there were lots of frogs in the stagnant water. (There was also a cute lizard nearby).  There was a small temple near the spring and mute woman was there to look after the area and the little temple. Some of us chanted by the spring, and then we headed back to Mysore. It was a fantastic day trip. It was a pleasure to be in the country, and many times throughout the day, I marvelled to myself about how fantastic it was to be so far away from home and from everything that was familiar.

The view from the spring.

The Karnataka countryside. Lots of agriculture.

The spring where Rama and Sita rested. Look closely for the frogs,

Lizard at the spring.

Friends at the spring.

With Rama and Sita at the spring.

A view of the Yoga Narasimha temple from a distance.

Entrance to the Yoga Narasimha temple.

Almost to the top!

Lord Yoga Narasimha.

A mama monkey and her newborn.

On the way up!

It is perched precariously on the top of the hill.

The Cheluvanarayana Swamy temple in the town.

A priest getting water for puja.

Lots of movies are filmed here,

Another view of the hilltop temple.

My friend Michael and I.

Last Saturday, Sharath gave his usual Saturday conference, Everyone assumed that he would not give one, but he decided to do so late in the week. He said that the conference would be short so that the people leaving this month could get a photo with him.  The conference ended up not being so short at all. He took questions from the students in the shala and he spoke for about 90 minutes. I will not transcribe what Sharath said, but the essential message for me was that yoga helps us to filter out all of the noise and confusion in the world. We should not add more confusion and chaos into our lives. We do not need to supplement our ashtanga practice with lots of other techniques or practices--the ashtanga practice itself is more than adequate. Additionally, we should be of maximum service to our fellow humans. Seva is extremely important, if not essential to following a yogic path. The asanas are important, but they are not the end goal of yoga. They are just tools. Our devotion to our practice is more important that how well we perform asanas.

A happy photo with Sharath.

Isn't it Ironic?

The last 36 hours have been rather unpleasant. I had a bad case (as opposed to a good case?) of food poisoning. I was completely wiped out for over 24 hours. I went to practice yesterday, but I was in a state of delirium. If I had been in my right mind, I do not think that I would have gone. My practice was really weak and I spent most of my time trying not to throw up. Upon returning home after practice, I spent all of my day between the bed and the bathroom. Finally, I stopped puking last evening and I slept through most of the night. Of course, I had really bizarre and disturbing dreams. Finally, this morning, I woke up in better shape. It took a lot to keep my breakfast down, but it stayed put, and I was able to eat a small lunch. I would have sold my soul for a Saltine. I decided not to go to practice. I am feeling a lot of guilt about that choice, but in the end, I am not here to prove anything or to win any special commendation from anyone. I told Sharath that I was sick when I left the shala yesterday (he called me back and told me to drink buttermilk). What bothers me the most is that I was hoping to work on getting deeper in my drop backs this week and to go higher up my legs in chakra bandhasana. I even cut out the toes of some socks so that I could pull them up over my calves to make sure that I do not slip when catching. As it is now, I only have one mysore class tomorrow, Friday is a moon day, Saturday is led, Monday is led, and Tuesday is Mysore. I do not think that I will be making any huge progress in those few days. The good news is that because I have completely emptied out my system, I am feeling really skinny. All of my binds are going to be super deep tomorrow.  One more bout of food poisoning, and I could finally reach my goal weight!

I am a fashion addict and I found my lounge.

The name of this store was chosen with no irony whatsoever.

My new hair goal!

It is hard to make any generalizations about Indian culture because this country is so varied and diverse in terms of language, religion, ethnicity, politics, food--everything! Nevertheless, I have noticed that the Indian sense of humor is completely different. Sarcasm really does not have any place in Indian communication. Everything seems to be truly at face value. Snarkiness and sardonic attitudes do not seem to be a part of the cultural landscape. Sometimes I think that in the States, we are incapable of any kind of communication that is not entirely cloaked in sarcasm.  People are generally very friendly and pleasant here.  I think that there are public officials who derive a lot of satisfaction out of wielding their authority. I am so used to relying on sarcasm and bitchiness in my everyday communication, that I sometimes forget that this does not translate into different cultural contexts. It reminds me of my interactions with my nieces and nephews, or other little kids. Sometimes I forget that they do not have the sarcasm interpretation device in their brains yet and that they are taking what I am saying to the at face value. I made one of my nieces cry the last time I saw her because she did not know that I was joking. Animesh warned me before travelling to Delhi this trip about things that I could not say in front of his parents such as "I am teetering on the brink of suicidal despair,"or joking about divorcing him because he puts cilantro stems in the dal.  I successfully managed to suppress my sarcasm for the few days that I was with his parents, but I definitely think that it caused me some kind of cramp or something. Not being a smart ass all the time takes a lot of effort and energy.

Another cultural difference in India is the lack of any kind of irony. I do not mean the literary term of "irony," in which situations turn out differently than expected. People like and appreciate things exactly for what they are--not through some ironic or hipster optic. Concepts such as camp, kitsch, and cynicism do not exist here. This cultural irony that has permeated American culture to its core is now completely invisible to us. At least in certain segments of American society, irony has completely lost its edge--and perhaps become meaningless.  I have read numerous articles about the millennial and post-millennial (do they have a label yet?) rejecting irony; they are more earnest and sincere cultural consumers.  We have all become so self-aware and have "curated" (gag) our preferences to such a degree that we are essentially incapable of experiencing something without an intermediary veil or irony. I am not saying that we should approach all facets of the American cultural landscape with sincerity and appreciation--especially because most of it is produced without a soul, only to be consumed as quickly as possible and without any kind of analysis or reflection. In any case, I am not cultural critic, and this concept of cultural irony has been discussed for several decades now.  My point is, quite simply, is that it does not exist here in India. I suppose there is a certain class of intellectuals or young, urban hipsters that approach cultural consumption through an ironic lens, but for your average Indian, they like what they like and they are not ashamed of it.  Undoubtedly, India is a highly aspirational culture and consumerism is rampant; at the same time, however, it seems to me that Indians appreciate films, music, food, literature, etc... for what it is or not. For example, no one here is watching Bollywood movies here because they are over-the-top and campy, they are watching them because the truly like them.  So--what is my lesson from all of this? I am going to listen to my Barry Manilow and Carpenters records without shame and because I truly enjoy them, not because I am listening to them through the intermediary of nostalgia or because of camp. I grew up listening to the big BM and Karen Carpenter, and I love their schmaltzy sentimentality. I feel real emotion when I listen  to Barry and Karen and just because I mostly like miserable goth and punk music, does not mean that I cannot like 1970s adult contemporary music too. 

Conference and Shiva Temple

As usual, Sharath held conference on Saturday morning. Since I leave my led-primary class just to get right back in line for the conference outside the shala, I can pick anywhere I want to sit inside for the conference. I usually sit along the back wall, but for this conference, we decided to sit on the stage right by Sharath. He was in a jovial mood and he instructed us all in nodi shodana, or single nostril breathing. The conference was personally amusing for me because my apartment mate, F., decided to do pancha karma starting yesterday. During the conference, Sharath specifically said that we should not do pancha karma as active ashtanga students. The practice and the asanas are sufficient for cleansing our systems; pancha karma is unnecessary and it will only serve to weaken us. If we want to do pancha karma, it should not be done in conjunction with asana. F. was somewhat deflated by Sharath's comments, but he is still going to go through his week of pancha karma. Basically, pancha karma is a kind of week-long cleansing or detox. On the first four days, a person drinks a glass of ghee with herbs in it.  You are permitted to eat, but only bland, cooked foods like khicidi.  On the final days of the week, you get ayurvedic oil massages.

The shala filling up right before Sharath's conference. 

I was right behind Sharath; I was tempted to do bunny ears behind his head as he spoke.

Earlier in the week, on the suggestion of a friend here, I made an appointment for an ayurvedic oil massage. I am not the type of person who gets massages, but I figured that I might as well give it a try. The cost was minimal--about $25, which is rather expensive for India. I had the massage in a place called Swastha Ayurveda right near the shala. It is beautifully directed inside and with an abundance of fresh flowers and there are beautiful statues of Hindu deities. Vedic chanting is played in the reception area and in the massage rooms. After arriving for my appointment, I was ushered into a dark massage room. It was warm and it smelled of incense and herbal oils. My massage was scheduled to last 1 hour and 45 minutes. There was a large wooden slab table in the room, a few diyas and deities, and an old-style metal sweat box (a sauna that you sit in with a hole in the top for your head to stick out).  I was asked to disrobe and to put on a loincloth. I am not exactly comfortable without clothing, but it was dark and I managed to overcome my puritanical body shame. The two masseurs began by doing a silent prayer in front of a deity (I am not sure which one it was) and then they began the massage. Working in tandem, they massaged oil into almost every surface of my body from my head to my toes--including my ears--during the following 90 minutes. Having my ears massaged was possibly the most unusual part of the experience; I am not sure anyone has ever touched my ears before. The wooden slab was rather slippery because of all the oil that they were using, and I was afraid at several times that I was going to slide right off the table. The massage was fairly intense, but very relaxing at the same time. The oil that they used had a medicinal, herbal smell, and it had the effect of turning all my muscles into jelly.  At the end of the massage, I was put into the steam box for about 15 minutes. It was a strange feeling to be covered in oil, but simultaneously dripping with sweat.  After the treatment, I towled off and went home. I am not sure that I have ever felt more relaxed in my life. The purpose of the massage did not seem to be to work out all the kinks and the knots in my body (they did spend some time on my jacked up shoulder), but it catapulted me into a state of great contentment. Later in the day, I went with some friends to a kirtan. The call-and-response chanting only served to propel me deeper into my blissful state. There was a really positive, harmonious energy in the room, and everyone seemed to be chanting from the warmest depths of their hearts. After chanting, we went to dinner at a nice spot, where there were lots of Indian families out for festive Saturday meals. We chatted about yoga philosophy and ate delicious food. It was a perfect end to a wonderful day.

Sunrise at the ghat at the Kabini river.

Pre-dawn bathers getting dressed for a temple visit.

This morning, I woke up really early to meet some friends to visit the Sri Srikanteshwaraswamy (Shiva) temple in the nearby town of Nanjundgud. We left Mysore at 5:30, and we were smart to leave so early. Not only were we able to see the sunrise at the ghat at the Kabini River (another holy river where many people take dips in the sacred waters), but we were also able to visit the temple before it was mobbed with weekend visitors. The temple itself is about 1000 years old (although it has received many restorations and updates over the centuries).  A temple elder noticed us walking through the temple, and he approached us. It turns out that he is the son of Pattabhi Jois' wife's sister (or something like that).  He led us into the most important part of the temple for a special puja, which was a memorable and special experience. There is a frenzy inside the temples here that seems to build and build. There are so many people and so much activity--I am never really sure what is going on exactly or what it is that I am supposed to be doing. People are pressing as closely as possible against the barriers to try to get as close to the deity as possible. The deity in this temple is a Shiva lingam. During the puja, the priests chant while a swinging vessel hanging over the lingam drips water.  There are lots of diyas and fire being waved about as well. Some of the priests "dress" the lingam by completely covering it in flowers. At the end, they somehow attach what appear to be metal eyes.  Finally, a bell is struck and the puja ends, and a priest brings a fire around for everyone to wave over themselves as they file out of the puja area.

The approach to the temple.

Shiva! He wears a cobra around his neck. 

Om Namah Shivaya!

Sri Srikanteshwaraswamy Temple

As we left the temple, there was an elephant outside. This was my first elephant sighting in India. I have no idea how these elephants are treated, but I hope that they lead pleasant lives. I am sure that they would rather be in the jungle with other elephants rather than standing outside of temples in the sun taking photos with pilgrims.

Sacred Bael tree outside the temple. Bael is Shiva's favorite fruit. 

A tulsi (Holy Basil) plant next to the bael tree 

Surrealism in Action

One of my favorite quotes from Michel Foucault comes from "The Masked Philosopher." He writes about curiosity:

"Curiosity is a new vice that has been stigmatized in turn by Christianity, by philosophy, and even by a certain conception of science. Curiosity, futility. The word, however, pleases me. To me it suggests something altogether different: it evokes "concern"; it evokes the care one takes for what exists and could exist; a readiness to find strange and singular what surrounds us; a certain relentlessness to break up our familiarities and to regard otherwise the same things; a fervor to grasp what is happening and what passes; a casualness in regard to the traditional hierarchies of the important and the essential.

I dream of a new age of curiosity. We have the technical means for it; the desire is there; the things to be known are infinite; the people who can employ themselves at this task exist. Why do we suffer? From too little: from channels that are too narrow, skimpy, quasi-monopolistic, insufficient. There is no point in adopting a protectionist attitude, to prevent "bad" information from invading and suffocating the "good." Rather, we must multiply the paths and the possibilities of coming and goings."

I wonder if Foucault ever travelled to India. If he had, I think that it would have blown his mind. Everywhere you look, there is something "strange and singular." I cannot imagine what it would be like to take drugs in India (there are certainly lots of people who do--both Indian and non-Indian) because everything you see here is some kind of hallucination. Many times during the day, I ask myself: "Did I really just see that? Did that really just happen?" One of my favorite "hobbies" is looking for the unusual or the bizarre in everyday life. I love encountering people, places, and things that somehow step outside the bounds of what is normal or expected. Living in Atlanta, especially in Cabbagetown, provides no shortage of these opportunities.

I love the name of this dentist's office--not to mention
 the world famous Glam & Glitz

This clinic can handle pretty much anything.

For example, I needed to get a haircut the other day. I knew that there was a barbershop near my apartment here, so I decided to risk it on my way back from practice. This was no conventional barbershop, mostly because it had a palm tree growing from the floor through the roof. I have no idea if the tree has some kind of sacred significance or if there is some local code about cutting down trees, but I found it infinitely amusing that someone decided to build a barbershop around it. Incidentally, the barber gave me a pretty good haircut for 90 rupees (about $1.30). I have paid a lot more for a lot worse. The experience itself was not unlike a barbershop haircut in the United States, except that the barber worked his scissors with incredible speed and precision. In the States, my experience is that hair cutters work more deliberately and more slowly. This barber, however, reminded me of Edward Scissorshands.

Did I choose this barber because of the Zayn Malik poster
 or because of the tree growing through it?

The tree is definitely alive.

Rajesh Scissorhands, barber extraordinaire.

From now on, I will only get my hair cut
 in salons with trees growing through them.
Will I ever find a Classic Mens Parlour in Atlanta?

My practice has been okay the past few days. Well, that might not be entirely true. I have not felt particularly strong or light. Yesterday during backbending, I told the assistant that it was a bad day. She responded with "Believe in yourself!" Her comments seemed to work, because she took me very deeply into chakranbandhasana. I was completely calm and relaxed. Most of the time, I fall into a place of fear and resistance. (To be fair, it is somewhat disorienting and scary to be hanging backwards and upside down without a clear perception of what is up, dow, backwards or forwards.) This particular assistant has backbended me several times--I think that she is Korean. She is always very kind and supportive.

While waiting to go into the shala for practice today, Sharath loudly reprimanded a student who was sitting in the group. "Why did you do pasasana in the changing room?" The student was dumbstruck by the comment, and I think all of us were. How was it possible that Sharath knew that this student did pasasana in the changing room? Sharath continued; "Why do you do crazy poses? If you want to do crazy poses why do you come to me? You go to another yoga teacher who gives you all the poses in a month!" Sharath was visibly angry. The student quietly apologized. I really have no idea how Sharath could have known that this student had done pasasana in the women's changing room. To go back to Foucault, the shala definitely has a Discipline and Punish vibe going on. You never really know when Sharath is watching you, but we all internalize his gaze and police ourselves accordingly. The shala is a veritable ashtanga panopticon. Sharath does have an keen awareness of exactly what poses people are working on, where they stop in their practice, and where they may have left off the previous year in Mysore. He does have a connection with every student on some level or another. The connection may not be on our terms, but there IS a connection.

Just a few asana notes: Sharath definitely does not like the thigh clasp in Mari C and D.  I have heard him correct several people for doing that. Sharath really likes toe pointing. If there is an opportunity to point your toes in an asana, then by all means point away! (Just to clarify--This does not apply to asanas like janu or mari when you are clasping around the extended leg and foot.)

I stopped by the Swami Vivekenanda ashram.
It turned out that it was his 155th birthday.

Maha Sankranti!

On Saturday, I have led primary at 7:30. This might be my favorite class of the week. It seems to be less crowded than the other led classes and doing led primary seems somehow less difficult after all the sweat and exertion of the mysore classes that preceded it. Only one more class to go before rest day! After the class, Sharath gives a conference at 9:30. As I wrote previously, Sharath asks us not to disseminate what he says during the conference; I will refrain from much commentary. My feeling from listening to Sharath for only two weeks here in Mysore (and after hearing several talks in during his tours in NYC), is that Sharath has a very common sense approach to yoga and that he is very adverse to complicating yoga unnecessarily.  He has a fun sense of humor and he conveys a feeling of gratitude and appreciation towards his students. As the lineage holder of ashtanga, he carries a lot of weight on his shoulders and there are many people clamoring for his attention from many different places.

After conference, I went with my friend Michael (from NYC) to visit a temple in the city center where Sri K. Pattabhi Jois sought instruction from Krishnamacharya (the latter also taught the former in the Mysore Sanskrit College). We visited some really nice antique stores nearby--right in front of the Jaganmohan Palace. One specialized primarily in old paintings of Hindu deities as well as other religious objects. The pieces were rather pricey, but I may return to see if I can bargain for a beautiful red Ganesh painting that I saw. There was another antique store that was less charming that had a lot of English colonial style furniture.

Later in the day, a few of us visited the nearby town of Sriragnapatna. This town is basically an island surrounded by three rivers. Where the three rivers meet is a sacred site--the Kaveri Sangam. It was beautiful and serene, and there were lots of families celebrating Maha Sankranti by the river. Many people come to this sangam to take a purifying dip in the rivers' waters. I was not brave enough to take a full dip, but I did put my feet into the river as well as my hands. I splashed some water over my head as well. So far, it seems that I have not contracted any fatal disease.

Cows dyed yellow all over Mysore

This cow might have been the winner of a contest, but she was not at all happy.

Taking a dip in the holy waters

Families celebrating Sankranti

It is somewhat difficult to pin down the exact meaning or purpose of Sankranti. It seems to be a harvest festival and it has a special significance to agriculturists and farmers. On this day, people decorate their cows (if they are light colored, they dye the cows' fur with turmeric to make them yellow). It also might involve making the cows jump over hot coals or something dreadful like that. I did not see any hot coals or jumping cows, therefore, I am unable to speak to the cruelty involved in the ritual I am hoping since cows are revered as holy animals, they would not do anything here to hurt them. Sankranti is also a celebration of the new year--a recognition of the lengthening of the days and moving away from the winter solstice. Young girls wear brand new (and apparently brightly colored dresses) and offer food to on plates to loved ones.

The line to get in the temple

The drone: the spirit of
Lord Ranganatha?

After visiting the Kaveri Sangam, we tried to visit a nearby Vishnu temple (the Ranganathyswamy Temple--Lord Ranganatha is a resting form of Vishnu). We were not able to enter the temple because it was a holiday and there was a line about two hours long to get in. The area around the temple had a carnival like atmosphere. There were lots of vendors selling food, religious items, and tacky glow-in-the-dark objects.  There were thousands of people, and many came from hundreds of miles away for the celebration. We were however able to witness a ceremony in front of the temple. As the sun set, a group of priests assembled and performed about 30 minutes of vedic chants. The entire area in front of the temple (almost like a roadway leading to the temple and about 200 yards long) was fenced off for the event.  The entire ground and the fencing were covered with oil lamps.  As the sun began to set, lights illuminated the temple and worshippers began to light all the diyas. We were told that there were 100000 oils lamps in all. The sight was overwhelmingly beautiful.  Oddly, there was a drone flying above the scene, and it seemed to lower towards the ground in front of the priests at important moments during the chanting ceremony. We had no idea that we were going to witness any of this, but we were grateful to witness the breathtaking scene.  Everywhere you look in India, there seems to be something unbelievable right there before your eyes. Often the sights are sad and tragic, but there are just as often beautiful and moving.

Michael and me.

Deb watching the diyas being lit one by one.

Lighting the diyas.