Finding Inner Peace at Isha Yoga Centre

We had recently visited the magnificent Isha Yoga Centre at Coimbatore. Those of my 12 esteemed readers who have been there will agree that the Centre is set in sylvan surroundings; and with its earthy flavours and minimalistic engineering, blends well with nature. The food is simple and tasty, the volunteers are helpful and there are abundant spaces well suited for deep meditation.

The reception was smooth and orderly and the staff at the ‘welcome centre’ were well informed and polite. The visitors as well as the volunteers comprised a large number of foreigners too (say 30%).

Overall, the campus is perfect for peace of mind. Except for one minor irritant – the presence of millions (well hundreds actually) of other fellow Indians.

It goes without saying that any crowd that comprises 70% Indians would need special measures to maintain order. The management of the Isha Yoga Centre too apparently, knew this well, and therefore, the first thing that strikes you as you enter the portals of the Centre, are the large number of signboards exhorting guests to maintain silence, not take photographs, not use cell phones while walking on the roads, etc. In short, not act like Indians. But then you know us. We are like those hungry Lions in the jungle who care two hoots for the sentiments of a gazelle holding aloft a sign ‘go  vegan’.

So, one might well be attempting to be conjoin with one’s spiritual self while sitting at one of the many meditation spots, only to have a phone blast an ‘Ooo antava mavma’ right behind you. What will follow thereafter is a garrulous discussion in some depth about the impending betrothal of niece Dimpy with Bunty at Greater Kailash II, Delhi (on speakerphone of course). Breaks the rhythm it does, especially when one is trying to breathe through one nostril, or is trying to unentangle oneself from jalebi like contortions that the yoganidrasana pose puts one in.

Some of the more conscientious meditators or yoga practitioners may well throw a few annoyed glances at the talker, but trying to silence Dimpy’s uncle thus, is as effective as shouting at your router when the internet goes on the blink.

Then placards such as ‘no photography’ are only treated like gentle reminders to do just that. It is almost as if an aunty walking down the road is reminded (on seeing the sign) that her spiritual transformation cannot be complete without it being captured on the phone.  Often, her pose and the pout are framed along with the ‘please do not take photographs’ sign.

Meals at the Isha Yoga Centre are served twice a day, three shifts each at the Bheeksha Hall. The Hall is huge, simple, spotless and airy. Quite obviously, people start queuing at the entrance of the Hall well before the scheduled meal timings.

Except that ‘queuing’ is a concept a bit alien to Indians. A general melee would be a more appropriate description, with the paunch of the person behind nudged intimately into the small of your back.  

The queueless queue moves forward thus in one seething mass of sweat and hair oil. And an Indian melee would also mean noise, right? Correct. But I noticed that the volunteers outside the dining hall were a bit more insistent than those elsewhere. Should they find you more than a bit talkative, they come and stand right before you silently, and (as politely as feasible) shove the ‘maintain silence’ placard right into your face. Most effective this modus operandi. Even the most incorrigible ones will pipe down. Some even have the decency to look sheepish. I would strongly recommend it for the Indian Parliament.

The meals are all ‘satwik’ in the sense that they promote harmony and balance. Hence the food is simple, largely free of masalas, and comprises easily digestible grains and vegetables. Which also means that the two restaurants inside the Isha Yoga Centre (the Peppervine and Velliangiri) with their masala dosas, grilled sandwiches and pastries do brisk roaring business.

Then there other food stalls which serve Maggi, sandwiches, colas, momos, etc. for people who have had an overdose of harmony and balance. Attainment goes down better with monosodium glutamate and shredded cheese I guess.

The Isha Yoga Centre also has the Teerthakunds, or bathing pools (Suryakund and Chandrakund for men and women respectively) in an acknowledgement of Indian tradition which states that one must wet one’s entire body before entering any sacred place.

Considering it was a reasonably hot day, I was looking forward to a dip in the sparklingly clean and inviting waters of the Suryakund. Accordingly, I plunged into the Kund only to learn to my chagrin, that while the day can be warm, the water can be disconcertingly cold! Something to do with higher specific heat, Google tells me.

I had anticipated a leisurely physical and mental rejuvenation via a  20 minutes dip prior heading for the Dhyanalinga (meditation form). Instead, I was out of the pool in half a second, in a fine approximation of a shivering jack-in-the-box. I stood there on the brink, teeth clattering and both hands clasped under my chin as I contemplated my next steps.

The trick I learnt by watching other devotees, was to take things easy. Go down the steps of the pool one at a time, slowly. Educated but still wary, I did so gingerly, and was rewarded with a sublime experience. I could, as promised by the pamphlets, feel an increase in my spiritual perceptivity and a renewal of my energies.

Amongst all things however, the one place where Indians really come into their own at the Isha Yoga Centre is at the Adiyogi statue. (Why? Well because cell phones and photography are allowed here.) The statue is a huge bust of the Adiyogi (the First Yogi, or Lord Shiva) and stands 112 feet high. There is also a ‘sound and light’ show from 1900 -1930 hrs every day, depicting the life of Adiyogi. Obviously therefore, while visitors can be seen admiring and praying before the statue the whole day long, the period between 1830 to 2000 hrs is particularly busy. And a busy period will, spirituality or no spirituality, entail some amount of jostling and/or elbowing.

The staff start clearing off people from around the statue by about 1845 hrs, to a line marked by a rope, beyond which people are encouraged to sit on the ground for the show. I was momentarily (and pleasantly) surprised to see most people do so obediently. Self and The Wife were further pleased to find a place to sit right at the front, just beyond the rope and with a clear unobstructed view of the Adiyogi, by 1850 hrs.

By 1855 hrs however, some enterprising Indians  had formed two rows ahead of us. 1900 hrs saw us, without having moved from our spot, now somewhere mid throng with even more enterprising Indians adding rows ahead.

Be that as it may, the sound and light show was mesmerising, especially the part where the Adiyogi morphs into the embodiment of the masculine and feminine. It was a stunning moment.

We spent two days at the Isha Yoga Centre and I can recommend with confidence that anyone who visits the Centre will be enthralled with way spirituality can be found in the simple grandeur of the place. No overt religiosity, no overt presence of the Sadguru.  I can bet that once you become immune to ‘Ooo ante mama’ and master the art of dodging Dimpy’s uncle, you WILL find your inner peace.

Finally, if you found yourself smiling, please do forward this post to two of your friends who take life too seriously!