Whatever will be, will be

Everyone at the homestead had already taken off by the time Courtney and I got back from yoga, a bit later than anticipated. But it was ok ... I knew where they were all headed. Courtney took a few moments to get settled into her new room which had just been vacated. I headed out to our favorite tourist restaurant, Unity Pizza for Atli and Eva's farewell lunch. Maria poked her head around the outdoor canopy and waved me over to the table. Our housemates Warren and Kahu were already there, along with a few other well wishers.

It had only been a few weeks together but it sure felt like we were losing two members of the family. We had come from all different parts of the world, had our own reasons for winding up in Bhagsu, but after spending two weeks sharing one bathroom, lots of food and more than a few laughs it was time for the Icelandic contingent to return home. I started to think about my own impending journey back to the US.

We sat around our table we reminised about our time together in Rishikesh. I couldn't help but remember our teacher Khush's words at our graduation ceremony. He warned us, tried to prepare us for what was sure to await. No one comes to India and returns the same person, especially not after spending so much time and effort pursuing spritual practice. We all could have just hung out in Rishikesh or Dharamsala and smoked ganga with the stoner sadhus, but instead we all choose to spend our vacation doing 6 - 8 hours of intense yoga and meditation per day.

When your friends and family see you again, notice the physical changes, hear you speaking about God realization and watch you practicing hours and hours of yoga each day, they'll be convinced you've lost your mind. They'll start to think you're brainwashed. The people who love you the most, who you care about more than anything, will judge you, will question your motives, will be sure they know what you should be doing with your life, better than you yourself could possibly know.

I remember shaking my head out of frustration as Khush continued speaking. I had experienced the extremes of this very behavior first hand. I looked around the table at my cohorts with a bit of envy. It seemed like every one of them could point to the love and support their families gave them on their journey. How they were encouraged to go. How they answered all the eager questions about what they were doing. How they helped make all of this possible, helped take care of their worldly responsibilities while they were away. I was just getting to the point with my family where there seemed to be the beginnings of some level of acceptance. That's what happens when you're from an Indian family and dare to be just a little bit different from what is the norm.

But Khush told us to forget about those distractions. Sure, treat your inquisitors with love and compassion, but stay true to yourself. When you are accused of being irresponsible for not taking part in the material economy, when you hear that you are selfish for pursuing a goal greater than your own desires, when you are told you are a drain on society for not contributing enough ... don't believe those lies. Instead take a second to ask yourself what these people who belittle your path are contributing to the world. Mostly just stress and anxiety as a result of working jobs they dislike. A degree of lust and envy as a result of unrealized desires. At best a few dollars to United Way or some other charity which makes them feel better about themselves.

The world we live in only becomes a better place as the people in it spend the time and effort to make themselves better on an individual level. By raising our own awareness we raise the level of consciousness of the entire planet. I've had plenty of moment where I debated going back to an easier route, running with the rest of the sheep in the pack, banging my head against the walls of material possessions, relationships, fame and worldly respect that people swear is the path towards true happiness. But once you've acknowledged for yourself that there will always be a greater Truth than those things can provide you'll never be fooled again.

After lunch Atli and Eva headed down the long road to the auto-rikshaw stand, loaded up with all their belongings. They turned down all the offers to help carry their load, they knew they were capable of dealing with all the baggage they had brought with them. And I knew the same about myself.

Cold Ground Was My Bed Last Night

About 3 /4ths of the way up the Triund trekking route Warren, Mira and I became precariously aware that we only had one sleeping bag between the three of us. Connor and Dylan, the two travelling cohorts who had just passed us on the trail let us know that there was some event going on at the camp ground tonight and we shouldn't expect to be able to rent gear once we reached the top. "It's a puja, they are going to kill some animals and eat them" said Connor. That didn't quite sound right to me. But being the chivalrous gents they were, they offered to make room for Mira in their tent. "How come they offered the 18 year old blonde a place to sleep but not me or Warren?" I thought. Regardless, she didn't seem too enthused by the idea.

We debated turning around, there was still enough daylight left that we could make it back down to Bhagsu without having to navigate the rough trail and loose rocks in the dark of night. There was only one headlight and one flashlight between the 3 of us so the sun's position made all the difference. "We're not really prepared for this" said Warren, stating the obvious. We had decided to head out on this trek without too much foreward planning, had a few warm clothes but not much else. After exchanging a few Hindi words with a local heading the opposite way I convinced our little group to keep on heading up, I was sure we would figure something out.

We continued climbing switchbacks for another hour or so. The altitude was right around 3000 meters, enough to get us all breathing heavily. But as we turned the last corner, it became obvious what the fuss was all about. Before us stood the first snow capped peak of the Himalayas I had ever seen in my life. Not the most majestic scene I had ever seen, but right up there for sure. The campground, normally a quite serene place was overrun with school kids in uniforms. Apparently it was a holiday and a prep school in Dharamsala decided to take one of their classes camping for the night.

By some degree of providence we managed to snag the last two sleeping bags available for rent at the chai shack which provided all the goods and services the campers could expect. Warren and I set out looking for shelter while Mira rested and enjoyed a hot cup of lemon ginger tea. The caves of Triund may or may not exist, but we never found out for certain. We didn't have enough daylight left to search properly. We moved onto Plan C or D at this point. Warren pointed out a saddle that was covered on 3 sides, open to the mountain face, had relatively flat ground and two large rocks on either side. It was the best we were going to do.

"Were you a boy scout?" I asked Warren. "Eagle scout" he answered. That was good enough for me, I was convined we would survive the night. We put on every bit of clothing we had and decided the best use of the remaining sunlight was to gather enough firewood to try and keep warm. If the hike up wasn't enough to get our hearts pumping, searching for and hauling up what few branches and shards of wood we could find certainly did the job. I made a heartfelt wish upon the first star of the night, and suprisingly enough it wasn't for my own survival.

Warren expertly tended our fire. He made sure to feed it slowly and steadily, so as to not burn out our source of heat for the night too soon. Mari enchanted us by singing a few songs, for which she was handsomely rewarded with a handful of squares of a Cadbury milk chocolate bar. Dylan and Connor joined in and shared the goods they had as well. We stayed up for a while, trading travel stories, talking about our homelands, our lots in life. I noticed the smile on my face while I told them all of my plan to head back to San Diego and continue working at the non-profit I left before this trip.

Before too long it was time for bed. Dylan and Connor headed back to their tent and Warren, Mira and I layed our sleeping bags shoulder length apart, huddled to keep warm. We pulled a few of the rocks that surrounded our fire ring and stuck them in the bottom of our sleeping bags, enough to radiate a bit of warmth throughout the night. As I pulled the drawstrings of my sleeping bag shut I gazed up at the Himalayan sky above. I laid there for a while, my eyes softly focued on the multitude of stars out on this new moon night. The Big Dipper was directly in my line of sight ... pointing the way to the North star.

The Lion which kills the Elephant of Death

The alchemists of yore spent considerable time and effort attempting to turn lead into gold. They probably never realized that the ancient yogis had already figured out something more impressive. Taking irrational fears and insecurities and transforming them into pure love. Taking wanton desires and jealousies and transmuting them into serenity. Taking the self-centered egoistical need for power and rising it up until it becomes wisdom. Taking all the impure energies located at the seat of our being and using them to find truth.

Several yogic techniques exist to sublime the disharmonious forces that occupy the lower levels of our being up to the heart and beyond. But none of them is as safe, easy and effective as the Uddiyana Banda. As the name implies, this is not a posture, an asana, but rather an energetic lock, a banda. The reference here is to prana, the life force that flows through the entire universe. Uddiyana comes from sanskrit and can roughly be translated as "to fly upwards." Thus the implication of the name is clear, it can be understood as "the lock which causes prana to fly upwards."

In addition to the spiritual benefits mentioned above, the physical results are exceptional. It improves digestion and purifies the digestive tract, improves circulation to the heart and brain and strengthens the abdminal muscles and reduces belly fat. The health benefits are so numerous that this technique is refered to as "the Lion which kills the Elephant of Death." To the uninitiated the technique may appear to be extrordinary, but once the process is understood it really is quite simple and easy to perform. Although make sure you have an empty stomach when you practice, give yourself 2-3 hours after eating.

Stand with your feet roughly shoulder distance apart. Take a few deep inhales to energize the body with prana. And then forcefully exhale through the mouth, bending all the way down so your knees press into your abdomen, completely expelling all the air in your body. Relax the abdominal muscles.

Retain the empty breath, without inhaling connect your hands to your knees come into a half-standing posture with the torso bent over. Make sure to keep the abdominal muscles relaxed take a "mock inhalation" by expanding the rib cage. Press into your hands and relax your shoulders. The vacuum in your lungs will cause your belly to suck into your thorax. Close your eyes and picture the energy subliming from your tailbone upwards through the spine, reaching to the crown of your head.

Within a few seconds you will feel the need to breath. The longer you resist this urge the more energy will be sublimed upwards. Once you feel your anus contract, the intial portion of your kundalini shakti start to rise, albeit in safe and controlled manner. But, as always with yoga, don't push yourself beyond your limits. Treat your body with love and compassion.

When you are ready to breath, first relax the abdominal muscles and then take and retain an inhale breath. Attempt to hold the inhale breath as long as you held the empty breath. Hold your posture, with the torso rounded over and keep feeling the energy sublime upwards.

After an equivalent amount of time has elaspsed, exhale through the mouth, returning to a standing posture. Keep your eyes closed and feel the effects of your consciousness being elevated.

Ultimately all we all can control is this world are our own actions. By making yourself a better person you inherently make the world a better place. So the next time you find yourself complaining about how terrible things are, ask yourself, what have you done lately to improve yourself. Wake up, brush your teeth, do just 3 uddiyana bandas and I guarantee you you'll feel better about the state of things. Now just imagine if we all would take the time to do the same.

Over the Hills and Far Away

By the time Maria and I got out of bed and started moving around everyone was gone. What a bummer I thought, I was sure hoping to see all those guys again. I knew we'd catch up with Warren and Kahu at the Agama Yoga Center, but I didn't think we'd see Atli and Eva again for a while. After spending 16 hours with them travelling from Rishikesh to Dharamsala it was a shame to part ways without getting a chance to say goodbye.

But within a few minutes we starting moving around. Lack of sleep the past few nights meant we crashed out until way late and had to hustle so as to not miss checkout. We needed to get out of the expensive hotel room we crashed in the last. It made sense since we arrived into town so late, but we didn't want to stay there. And we needed to get up into the mountainside, closer to our yoga school where we would be spending a significant chunk of our time.

The long car ride the day before had taken a lot out of all of us. Although the time had moved quickly engough as we passed around iPods, discussed great books and movies and talked yoga philosophy. We fell asleep on each other's shoulders, passed around whatever food we had. Every time the car stopped we'd all take stretch in the middle of the winding hillside roads. It had all the makings of a great road trip, except a proper good-bye.

Maria and I debated our next move. We realized we didn't even know where we were, let alone how to get to Bhagsu, where we needed to go. As we threw out possibilities, there came a knock at our door. Eva asked, "Have you guys found a place to stay, there are four rooms together at this house up the road out in the hills, it's just like Swiss Family Robinson!"

It took about 2 seconds to convince us. Maria popped into Atli and Eva's room to ask a few more questions. I took my first stroll outside of the room as well, out onto the balcony on the otherside of the hotel wing, and my jaw dropped. I went back to the room, grabbed Maria's hand mid-conversation and dragged her outside where we both stood awestruck at the view before us. We inhaled deeply feeling that fresh mountain air and wondered where the heck we had arrived, it sure didn't feel like India anymore. But it really didn't matter, it felt just about perfect.

When the Student is Ready, a Teacher will Appear

One of my main motivations in coming to India for such an extended trip was to train and deepen my yoga practice. I had founded my yoga practice in San Diego, and while I felt blessed to have been learned so much from so many wonderful teachers, but I knew there was more knowledge out there. At times the classes and workshops I attended seemed like mere social gatherings. Many practitioners were so obsessed with their flexibility and depth of their asanas that they seemed to have forgotten that yoga is a means to connect with The Divine. Sure, partially I wanted to study in the birthplace of yoga, and of my parents, to see how it was actually practiced in its native context.

I decided before I left not to worry about where or how I would train, that the Universe would put me in the right spot at the right time and all would be clear. But Rishikesh, the self-proclaimed World Capital of Yoga, was very high on the list of possibilities. My first full day there I walked randomly, examining the posters splayed all over the city streets. I asked everyone I met with a yoga mat where they were practicing, what they thought. I stopped into a few ashrams and examined their schedule of classes. It didn't take long to become overwhelmed with the options, all the different styles of practices.

I sat with the head yoga teacher at the Vedanta Ashram and asked about his classes. "You see many people these days want to take bits and pieces of traditional Hatha Yoga and change parts of it, they don't respect the traditions." He complained. "Do you think that is a problem?" I asked. "Yes of course" he replied. "Correct yoga means practicing just as the ancient Yogis did, not evolving the practice." I thanked him for his time and politely excused myself.

That didn't sound like my own approach towards spirituality, or life in general for that matter. I loved being able to take bits and pieces of whatever spoke to me from whatever traditions I found and use those to create my own path. I had a perfectly good religious tradition, Islam, on which I was happy to fall back on if I ever decided I needed that in my life. But I had no inclination to adopt Hinduism instead, religion wasn't what I was searching for.

The next day I was able to sit with the teacher at the Brahman Yoga and Wellness Center. Their approach was refreshing, they made a special point emphasize their inclusiveness on different practices, Hatha yoga, Kundalini Yoga, Ashtanga Yoga and so on. But I noted they also offered courses in everything from Reiki to Indian cooking to Vedic astrology to Aryuvedic treatments. I wondered if a school that offered such a wide-range of knowledge could possibly provide me with the depth that I was searching for.

I allowed myself to become a little frustrated, wondering what it was exactly that I was looking for and if I would ever find it. Maria was arriving in town the next day and was also interested in deepening her yoga practice. It also just so happened to be in time for the introductory lecture at the Agama Center, the posters and the trikas had caught my eye. We woke up early and got some breakfast before heading to the talk.

The head instructor, Khush, began by speaking about what yoga actually is. Sure yoga might help you lose weight, reduce stress and make you more flexible ... but those were all side affects from the true purpose of yoga, which is nothing short of attaining complete Nirvana, union with The Divine. The tantric practice of yoga actually pre-dated it's intermingling with the Hindu relgion. Tantra, like other esoteric traditions stood orthogonally to Hatha yoga, much like Sufism did to Islam, Qabalah to Judaism, Taoism and Zen to mass Buddhism. They all offered a means to access God directly stripping away the dogmatic beliefs, without the hierarchies of the established order, the intecessories that stood between you and the Universal spirit. Tantra was presented as an empirical science verifiable through direct subjective experiences. There was no theology to adhere to, only actions and re-actions explained through the laws of Karma.

It offered a way to live in the world without being of the world, as opposed to the Buddhist traditions that required renunciation from the things we attach to in order to attain Enlightenment. Tantra offered a path of transmuting the human desires we all have and using them as a means to access the Supreme Consciousness. As Khush continued I found myself nodding my head in agreement over and over again. I noticed Maria doing the same. It was as if someone had taken all the thoughts in my head and finally presented them in a coherent manner which I could support.

Attaining Enlightenment has never been one of my goals for this life-time. If it happens, wonderful, but for me the truth is indeed a pathless land. Becoming a better, stronger person, burning some Karmic seeds, those are the things that motivate me. Tantra was presented as a short-cut to the most austere requirements of other traditions, but for me even it's teachings may prove to be too strict. Regardless, having one more foundation to draw from, one more source of knowledge from which to strengthen my own practice, shall prove to be indispensable, no doubt. The classes start tomorrow, and I can't wait to put this knowledge into practice.

A Homecoming of Sorts

I sat in the cafe in Kushinagar and ate breakfast with Harry, Anna and Paula, the trio of English gap year students, sipping chai thinking about their offer to join them for a bike ride through the rice paddies outside of the village. We'd had a wonderful time hanging out the last few days, but something felt just a little off.

I've started to become aware on this trip that not all offers of friendship and help are equal. Sometime people feel compelled to give out invitations not out of a genuine desire to offer support but rather out of a sense of duty or obligation or perhaps as a means to cover the guilt that they themselves feel for desiring what they desire. The less-authentic individuals among us extend such offers with bated-breath, hoping they will be rejected. This gives them a chance to have the best of both worlds, keeping what they want, but at the same time being able to tell themselves they are generous for having offered.

The problem arises when those of us who are open to receiving the free love that is available throughout the universe do not have the wisdom to distinguish between these false, non-genuine offers and those which are given without conditions. A bait-and-switch is presented, where one thinks one is accepting something given freely, but in reality the ground has been set for bitterness and resentment. It would be much simpler if we all lived in a world full of authentic people, where people only put on the table that which they were able to give freely. But, unfortunately, that does not happen to the be universe in which we reside. So it becomes our obligation to make sure that the gifts we receive are truly offered freely and not out of some sense of societal politeness.

I thought about what I should do and reflected on the last words of the Lord Buddha, uttered in this same village 2500 years ago right before he passed into mahaparanirvana ... "all things must pass" ... it had been one month since our group of three had left the safe confines of a city full of family for an adventure, and one more week since I had started wandering on my own. I looked at the group of Brits and let them know that it was time for me to return to Lucknow.

It took me another 36 hours of hard traveling to work my way back to Lucknow. Shared jeeps, rickshaw, trekking with my packs, one bus, a long train ride and finally a tempo and I was at back at my Seema-khala's house. She took one look at the dirt and grime collected on my body, my bags covered in filth, my hair pulled back in my choti and told me I had lost too much weight and looked like a sadhu, followed by a threat to disinfect me from head-to-toe. I felt terrible, physically exhausted and emotionally drained. It was good to be amongst loved-ones.

By a simple twist of fate my cousin Shaad and his wife happened to be in town, and Seema-khala's daughters Ghazal and Sana were arriving the next day. My Nani was staying with Nayara-khala and we had a chance to chat when she came to pick me up the next day to see her. Likewise she commented on my weight and found herself with mouth agape at a loss for words when I regaled her with the stories of my solo travels.

"Why do you do these things?" She asked. "Do you need more money?" It wasn't about the money I assured her. It was about living freely, embracing adventure, having faith in the universe to set things right, overcoming hardships and adversity to become a better, stronger person. She nodded like she understood, but I wonder if it made any sense to her at all.

Ghazal and Sana also commented on my weight loss, but I didn't really think much about it until I stepped on a scale. 61 kgs I thought ... hmmm ... I had to do some math before I realized that meant 135 lbs. which meant I had lost almost 20 lbs in the last month, putting me at my weight range from freshman year of college. "How did you do that?" asked Sana, genuinely curious I suppose. "Well, probably by meditating a bunch, doing tons of yoga and qi gong, not eating meat, not smoking, not drinking and walking an average of 5 kms a day. Oh and the food poisoning probably didn't help."

This trip through Lucknow proved to be much more relaxing, the newlyweds were back in the US and my friends were off in other parts. Just me, visiting loved ones, allowing myself to be nourished back to healthy by rich Mughlai cuisine,. Putting into practice that which I had learned, accepting that which was appropriate and politely declining the rest. After one week I left again, headed off to the foothills of the Himalayas, back in good health, ready to challenge myself ... armed with my backpacks and a bag with a prepared dinner and breakfast from my Seema-khala and cousin Sana, in need of nothing else.

Vipassana

When I started thinking about my India trip I had a few things on my mind I wanted to accomplish. A Vipassana retreat did not have the top spot on the list, but was definately in the Top 5. So when we arrived in Bodhgaya, the spot of the Buddha's own Englightenment, and found the International Meditation Center, I was pretty much sold. "Sounds like fun" said Maria when we started talking about the idea. "What a strange comment" I thought. Maintaining complete silence, six hours of seated meditation a day and another four hours of walking meditation sounded like a lot of things, but fun was none of them.

The biggest question our group faced was how many days to go for. The center allowed for a flexible schedule, you could come and go as you please. Mike said we wanted to stay as long as he needed, maybe even 20 days. Maria had this numerical formula developed that involved 3, 5, 7 and then 10 days. I didn't quite understand it and really was just hoping I could make it 3 without going crazy. After much back and forth we settled on 6.

I knew I wasn't in a good spot before we stared. My mind had been going crazy as of late dealing with some family drama, recovering from an emotional dagger that was plunged deep into my heart. Our retreat did not start on the best footing either. We arrived five minutes late to orientation. The venerable monk noted our tardiness and then offered us some tea before we began our retreat. As we sat in the meditation room where we spend the majority of the next few days he laid out the precepts to us ... No harming of living things, even mosquitos; no speaking, reading, writing; maintining celibacy; no intoxicants; two meals a day with no solid food after noon; wake up at 5 AM to start meditation and continue until 9 PM each day.

He explained the practice to us, incredibly simple and yet amazingly difficult. It involed just being present in each moment, watching the rise and fall of the abdomen as you sat, and putting your concentration on the moment it rises and then the moment it falls. When the mind distracts you, know that you are thinking, and when the thought passes, return back to watching the rise and fall of the abdomen.

We started with a group of 7 practicioners, all following the same guidelines. The seated meditation the first day was enjoyable, but as I went to shoo away a mosquito I squished one that lingered too long, breaking the first precept. After 24 hours our teacher entered the room and brought us out of meditation. We had our 15 mins of talking time for the day and a brief lesson. As he went around the room taking notes from all the practicioners they all seemed to complain about the same thing, the physical pain associated sitting still for that amount of time. I was suprised, for me the physical pain wasn't much to endure. I had spent the last few years training my body to recognize the difference between pain and discomfort and knew my limits, knew how to treat my body with compassion so as to not injure myself but still be able to push myself. For me, I just couldn't get my mind to quiet down.

On the 2nd day two practicioners finished their retreat and left our group. Another one on the 3rd day. I felt like I was just starting to make some progress. All that silence had given me time to watch my mind wrestle with all the thoughts and emotions it created. Different variations on the same dialogue played over and over again, but I had started to understand what I needed to do.

The answer was simple, forgiveness. I realized what an amazing vehicle forgiving those who had caused you pain was. Forgiving the transgression of others required no one else but yourself. It didn't mean forgetting or condoning their hurtful acts, but choosing not to allow one unskillful action to result in another and continue to pass forward that pain and sorrow. And it is one of the most amazingly powerful acts you can commit, because it allows you to let go of the bitterness and anger that otherwise just eat away at your soul and leave you a jaded person. I started to apply it over and over again to the pain I had been caused and felt like my mind was finally finding some peace.

It was at our daily break in silence that Maria let us know that she would be leaving tomorrow. I knew this retreat wasn't really for her. This austere path, the mosquitos, the mice, the toilets that didn't flush, the laddle full of gruel for breakfast. That night she broke her silence and let me know that she had only been staying because she was afraid to be by herself. And now she was ready to find her own trip, on her own terms. I was happy for her, knew that she would be ok, knew that she was capable of taking care of herself, but sad to see her go. And as she was planning on heading to Nepal, I knew this might well be the last time I saw her for a while.

Over the last few years I've had to say more goodbyes than I've cared to. Some have been harder than others. Not being able to speak probably made this one easier, I did my best to pantomime my appreciation to her for having accompanied me on this journey this far. She spoke to me and I listened, breaking another precept. I presented her with then pendant I had won from the Shi Fong temple in San Diego. She asked me who it was, and I wrote down "Guanyin, the Boddhisattva of Compassion", breaking yet another precept. Guanyin had come to symbolize this trip for me. But the pendant truly belonged to Maria because throughout the last month she had taught me how to see the human side of the people around me. It wasn't enough to know the rigth answer and seek to apply it with all due haste, but rather to understand how a human being needed to be approached in the precise moment they were in.

The next morning Mike broke his silence, letting me know that he would be leaving as well. His back was killing him from all the sitting. As I came back from breakfast they had their bags packed and were ready to leave. I tried to convey my great joy in having had them as travel partners and a bit of advice, that they needed to take care of each other. It wasn't until after my next seated meditation that I realized that I was all alone. As I walked back to my room I saw the Bengali woman who never before broke her meditative gaze, moving at a casual brisk pace. I realized I was the only one left out of our original group of seven.

My world collapsed. I felt alone and alienated from everyone and everything. I questioned myself, my path, what I was doing here at all. I wept openly. I wondered if I shouldn't just head back to the US, find a job in some cubicle, watch TV, save for my retirement, follow the rules and just lead a mundane life like any other person. I laid in bed missing our 2 o'clock meditation, 3:30 tea time and didn't even start the 4 o'clock meditation until I was already 1/2 hour late. I managed to find a little solace as I sat, but when the venerable monk came to the meditation room and asked how I was doing I couldn't keep the tears out of my eyes. "Today has been a very hard day for me" I let him know. "My friends have left, I am in this room all alone and I feel incredibly sad."

The monk found the right words to soothe me. He showed compassion for me, letting me know how my friends had let him know they were sad about leaving me as well. He told me about the impermanent nature of all things, even relationships. He told me how I was clinging onto the moments I had shared with my friends. How that attachment was causing my suffering. He advised me not to deny my emotions, not to fight them but not to obsessively think about them either. Just be aware of them ... sit with them ... and when you're sad let yourself know that you are sad. And when you feel lonely, let yourself know that you are lonely. And those feelings will pass as well.

His teachings were not new to me. But they were what I needed to hear. I tried to put them in practice. I spent the majority of the next hour meditatively walking back and forth in that room, letting myself feel the saddness that envoloped me, slowly repeating to myself "saddness, saddness, saddness" and eventually it passed. I returned back to my practice of watching the rise and fall of my abdomen.

I spent the next two days in that room alone, sitting with my mind. Watching it drift off and then gently bringing it back to the present moment. I allowed myself to feel the emotions that arose, I continued to forgive when anger came. I found the tension in my belly I had been holding onto for years upon years. I found the seat of my breath in my lower Dan Tien. I felt my hips loosen, my tailbone extend, my spine straighten, my shoulders relax. And I knew that what I was doing was exactly what I was supposed to be doing.

On the 6th day, I had met my intention. It was time to leave. I finally broke my silence, by thanking the venerable monk for his teachings and his support. Perhaps someday I'll complete a full Vipassana retreat, but for the moment, I was walking out doors aware of things all around me, but with my mind nowhere but right now.

A Nice Place to Sit

As I sat under The Bodhi Tree I tried to still my mind, but no peace would come. I was here in the spot where Siddhartha Guatama attained Enlightenment, yet the only thing that ran through my mind was the story of his Renunciation.

At the age of 29, the Prince Siddhartha left his infant son and wife sleeping in their chambers, renounced all claims to the throne and set off for an austere life. He left home searching for a means to end the suffering that is human existence. At the same age I quit a relatively easy job with a six-figure salary to wander around and search for something more. We had both come to the conclusion that material wealth was not the ultimate goal of life, but the similarities seemed to end there.

It took Shakyamuni Buddha another 6 years of false starts and failed attempts before he came to Bodhgaya and sat under the Bodhi Tree for 49 days. I made it here within 3 years, but I could only imagine how much further away Enlightenment was.

I wondered how his loved ones reacted to his "Great Departure." It is said that while meditating and approaching enlightenment, the demon god Mara attempted to distract Siddhartha Guatama by sending his three charming daughters to seduce and enchant him. But the Buddha to be would not be moved. I thought about all of the times I chose to indulge in my own desires instead of pursuing the straight path, the more difficult path, and I wondered if I was done.

As the Bodhisattva maintained his deep meditation, Mara summoned a great army of demons and assaulted him with fear and insecurities. But still Siddhartha would not be swayed. He simply made the Abhaya Mudra signifying fearlessness and the arrows that flew towards him fell to the ground as flowers. His tormentors fled seeing the courage that the son of Suddhodana displayed. I thought about all of the times I let my own fears and those heaped upon me by the ones I held most dear keep me from doing what I knew was best.

When Mara realized understood the fearlessness of Shakyamuni Buddha's he challenged him instead. Demanding to know what made him think he was qualified to attain anuturra-samyak-sambodhi. Rather than let his ego become engaged and feel the need to defend himself from personal attack, he simply made the Bhumisparsa Mudra, touching his right hand to the Earth and allowing his actions, as witnessed by the Earth god, to speak for themselves. I thought about all of the times I felt reproached by my most loved ones, the times I jumped to my own defense, engaged in argument in order to justify my own cause, and I realized how pointless it was.

But the Buddha was much smarter than me, he chose to disconnect from the things he could not detach from. He didn't e-mail, call or visit his relatives. He set out out to meditate in the woods, in the caves, nearly starved himself to death and finally vowed to not move until he found full everlasting Enlightenment. He didn't let his desires, the forces of fear or even his own ego get in the way of achieving what he had determined to do. I wondered how many more lifetimes I would have to go through before I could say the same.

I already had realized that, like it or not, there were people in my life who stood in my way. They offered much resistance, hurled only the fear and insecurities which blocked their pure love, and still unequivocally believing that their good intentions justified their bad behavior. Yet I could never disassociate from those loved ones, they were a part of my own being. Instead I wondered if I would ever be able to detach from their unskillful actions and if somehow I could help them by holding my judgments and unconditionally loving them exactly as they were.

Years after Enlightenment, the Buddha's son Rahula and his wife joined his sangha. Things finally came full circle. I wondered if I would ever find that sense of closure and acceptance from within my own family. If I would be strong enough to stay on the path I was, or would I find myself pulled off it and returned to my former life of drugery. As with all things, I was sure the answers were yet to be determined.

Watching the Dharma Wheel Turn

When I first met Dr. Umesh my healthy sense of skepticism kicked in. I always tend to be wary of locals in a foreign land who are quite so eager to help out clueless tourists. But Maria was sold immediately. After her first Aryuvedic massage she came out floating and glowing and let Mike and me know that we would no longer be consuming alcohol, tobacco, drugs, meat or even cold water. We both looked at each other and quickly agreed that she had lost her mind.

The next morning during our yoga practice he told me my energy was blocked. Ok, I could believe that, I was feeling pretty blocked as of late. After class he told me I should take of the mala that I was wearing around my neck, the one that my soul-brother Alex had given me. "It's no good for your energy" he told me in his broken English. And that was enough to set me running.

Alex is one of the best friends I've ever been lucky enough to have. Maybe it's because as an Indian-Muslim and a Persian-Jew, both raised in the US we share a bond only minorities of minorities could ever understand. He gave me that mala at our going away party. I never quite understood the significance it has for him, but when he pulled me aside and started to take it off to present to me, I sensed the obvious hesitation in his hands. He didn't want to give it to me, but did anyway out of a bond of true friendship and I accepted because I could not refuse such a gift.

After our yoga class with Dr. Umesh Mike, Maria and I decided to wander around the streets of Varanasi. Before too long Maria innocently questioned me about the mala. Ever since her awakening she had been reminding me of my mother and sister when it comes to lectures and I was in no mood to hear it. I had just spent a week being told how I should live my life by just about every member of my extended family and didn't need one more bit of input, so I found a way to shut her down quickly.

It wasn't until trying to shoo away a persistent rickshaw-wala that I saw the Wheel of Dharma turn firsthand. He commented on my mala and showed me his. He then said he thought it was great that I didn't eat meat, smoke or take alcohol. And I understood.

Those reminded me of the first questions Dr. Umesh asked me. I had proudly told him that I did all of those things, within moderation of course. I had decided a while ago that the life of renunciate was not for me. I wished to embody the middle path as much as possible, "everything in moderation, even moderation" I would tell anyone who would listen.

But I had chosen to wear a mala that signified a vow I had no intention of keeping. Once I realized that my hands couldn't pull it over my head fast enough. As soon as I got it over my nose I felt my shoulders relax for the first time in two weeks, and only then realized how much that mala had weighed.

I stared at it in my hands and said outloud to no one in particular, although Mike and Maria were walking next to me "This isn't my mala ... it's Alex's!"

Anger was the first emotion that I felt "Why did he give it to me? He didn't even want to!"

And then I understood "He gave it to me, so that I could give it back to him. He gave it to me so that I could return it to him"

And then it all became clear "I have to go back to San Diego"

Before I left San Diego I had this fear of floating away. This notion that one road leads to another, that it would be easy to hop from India to Thailand to Cambodia to God knows where. There was nothing really bringing me back home. And I could just disappear to never be seen again, much like my traveling companions joked about. I told everyone that asked that I was coming back in 3 months, but I was never sure if I really believed myself.

And then in one single instant, it became cemented in my mind. I knew what the future held. May 7th I was hoping on a plane from Delhi back to the US and somehow getting myself back to San Diego so that I could return my good friend Alex's mala to him, put it back in his hand where it belonged all along. I understood that he gave me that mala, to keep me tethered to my friends and city which I love, so as to not float away.

A Son of Lucknow

"4 Times" Nida said with a sense of assurance in her voice that made me doubt the version of events. "Once before independence, once after independence and once in his seventies."

"That's only 3" I thought to myself. "Ghazal said something like 14." Samira agreed, she remembered it too, from just recently when Ghazal was in Madison and we all went met at my parents home to visit. Ghazal had just been flown into New York to attend a muppet conference. She played the part of Chamki from Gali Gali Sim Sim. Nida still insisted it was 4.

Rahil and his family drove in from Minnesota and Samira and Asma flew in from Ohio. We stayed up late into the night trading stories of family history. Our side of the family didn't have too much too offer but we listened intently as Ghazal regaled us with tales of how cool our Nana was. He had just passed a few months ago.

When I asked our Seema-khala she said yeah 14 times, but our Nani our corrected her. "18 Times! They used to hang them up and beat them. But still they would not stop fighting. No matter how many times he was arrested! 14 times before Independence. 4 times after, even when he was 70 he was in jail. 3 days he spent in jail cell."

I had heard about the last jail cell not too many years ago. It was after he gave a rousing speech to a crowd of striking Union Workers. A few of them took it upon to attack one of the managers. Nana was arrested for inciting a riot. Released 3 days later for lack of evidence.

We heard second-hand references to the stories he told about the rats which attempted to chew off his leg. He said he had to stay up all night to beat them off. It was one of his "Damned Fools" stories, because someone always played the part of the damn fool.

After he was released a crowd of workers carried him on their shoulders all the way back to my Nayara Khala's and Shahid Uncles apartment in Lalbagh. The neighbors were wondering what happened. There were no elections pending so he couldn't have been chosen to serve again.

He was a student leader during the Indian Revolution. Was arrested with Gandhi. He was a Freedom Fighter, but never signed up for the pension, because he said he never did it for the money.

My Nana, Muhammad Shakil stayed a staunch Communist up until his last days. He spent most of his time as a lawyer, some as a politician. A member of Congress. Some still refer to him as a Nawab of Lucknow. We never heard too many of Nana's stories growing up, since he passed last year I've been asking everyone I can about stories about him.

I even asked Vikas, the head pimp at charge we met presiding over his sisters wedding. When I mentioned Nana's name the entire room hushed. A raucous animated group of brides brothers and cousin-brothers fell silent ... and Vikas said it with that characteristic Indian sideways bobble. "He was a great man, a son of Lucknow." We had only met Vikas a few hours ago when they were attracted by the unsual sign of a ghora yogini walking down the streets Maria, Mike and I were soon invited into the wedding and fed and welcomed as guests. That Indian hospitality is something else.

At the internet cafe in Varanasi I got a vague promise from Ali to ask his parents for more stories. He was from Lucknow as well and we met while We met while Facebook'ing the girls we left behind.. I asked if they had heard of Muhammad Shakil. He knew the name but not too much more.

Nana was a true renaissance man. Still remembered for his poetry. A family story is told that on the night of their wedding he looked at my Nani for the first time and told her "Woman, even those raven locks will not tempt me, I am off to fight the revolution!" My mother loves reciting his verses, with a teary nostalgia in her voice.

My Nani dutifully supported him throughout all those difficult years while he was in jail. And all those years since. And my Nana returned to her over and over again, until a year ago last December when he finally passed. Throughout those years he composed more and more verses to her and her beauty and intelligence and continued to embody his beliefs.

Before I left Lucknow my Nani pulled me aside one more time and besieged me with love. "Kashif beta, this is no way to behave. Your Nana was not an ordinary man, but he was very orthodox with his family. He loved us, he would do anything for us. But he fought for what he believed in. He was a great man and he raised a family. It is high time you get married now and stop this wandering life of yours."

The great thing about my Nani is that it was only with the love and support of a woman like that was my Grandfather able to rise to such heights. Before their marriage, all the family told her to do anything but marry at Freedom Fighter, what chance has a cause like that got. But my Nani was no slouch in her own right, she was one of the Daughters of the Revolution, later training the next generation as the Dean of an all girls school. But that which would deter those who seek order and reason excited her.

I told my Nani not to worry. That I would make her proud. That my history had not yet been written and no one knew what my story would yet be. That maybe someday I would find a woman as strong and capable as she was, who would love me just as she loved my Nana. And just imagine what heights I could rise with that type of support!