Friday, February 4, 2022

Scoliosis – My Guide to Spinal Awareness

 Case Study

Scoliosis – My Guide to Spinal Awareness

 

Disclaimer:  I am not a trained Iyengar teacher, nor trained in therapy using Iyengar yoga techniques, nor a trained researcher, nor from the medical profession.  This is a simple documentation of my journey. I do not know what worked, what didn’t; what worked with a delayed effect, or what worked as part of the cumulative effect of all that was done.  I have documented every little detail that I could recall so that those who are wiser than me in this beautiful amalgam of science and art that we have termed as Iyengar Yoga, may figure out what was appropriate and worked to correct the scoliosis.  I hope it inspires others on their yoga journey.  I would like to categorically state that everyone’s therapy requirements are different, each body and mind responds differently, and hence, the practices followed by me may or may not be beneficial to another person with scoliosis.  It is essential that a teacher of Iyengar yoga, trained in therapy techniques, be consulted for any therapy requirement.

 

Sometime in 2005-06, I had a fall which resulted in a slipped disc in the sacro-iliac region.  At the time, I just continued my daily activities, albeit gingerly, until the pain stopped.  I did not bother with an x-ray, or any kind of medical advice.  In 2007, I started learning Iyengar yoga, not for any medical reason – simply as a means to keep fit.

 



Over the years, I would periodically have slipped disc episodes, which I would manage with the help of my Iyengar yoga teacher.  In the early days itself, Sir had pointed out certain imbalances in my body – the left leg, the right shin, the right neck etc. etc. – all of which were attributed to the damage I had done to my body with running and wearing high heeled footwear on polished stone floors.  

 

As the practice yoga rectified the more obvious imbalances of the body, a spinal imbalance became increasingly apparent, especially in śirśāsana.  Sir had advised me to stand like Krishna (minus the flute!), standing on the right leg, crossing the left shin in front of the right.   I did this often when watching television or working but could sense no change happening.  As luck would have it, the pandemic hit before I lost the motivation to continue with it.  With the lockdown intensifying the practice, and therefore the body awareness and sensitivity, the spinal imbalance gradually started becoming more and more of an irritant

So it was that I decided to put in focused effort on rectifying the scoliosis.

 

When I started studying my body, specifically focusing on the scoliosis, I realized it was possibly one problem manifesting in multiple ways.  If I looked at my pelvis in the mirror in tādāsana, the right pelvic corner went in (caved in) on the side while the left jutted out (convex).  In non-symmetrical lateral movement āsana such as trikońāsana, the right pelvis could not open at all, and the left had limited movement.  The left hamstring was significantly shorter than the right.  There was a “catch” in the left side of the sacro-iliac spine, that made itself intensely apparent in seated forward extensions such as pasćimothānāsana, extending from the spine through the buttock to the back of the thigh.  There was a palpable “bump” on the left side of the spine in the sacro iliac region.  The left groin was much tighter than the right in uppaviśtakońāsana.  The body weight tended to be more on the outside edge of the left heel rather than the center.  The right shoulder blade refused to move in during sternum lifts such as in gomukhāsana arm movements or śirśāsana.  The effect of this on the right collar bone shortened the right side of the neck, due to which my head tended to turn slightly towards the right and up in repose, rather than facing dead center.  The list was endless, but as I feel now – it all came down to the spinal imbalance in the sacro-iliac region.

 

I had never taken an x-ray of the pelvis, and now I was under the spell of studying the body with the eye of the mind.  As far as I could make out, the fall on my right hip had pushed the right iliac bone in and slightly towards the anterior body. This in turn had pushed the left iliac bone to the left (out) and rotated its inner portion slightly, probably twisting the top of it towards the posterior body and the lower end towards the anterior body, though I could not be certain.  And of course, the spinal disc had slipped in that region.

 

All these insights came to me gradually, over the months of intensified practice and resultant pain.  My initial therapy was limited to what I term as my daily morning padmāsana preparatory āsana practice.  Releasing the lower back with gradual forward extensions in a crude version of kūrmāsana, followed by adho mukha baddhakońāsana.  Moving onto jānuśirśāsana and krounćāsana to release the hamstrings.  Then focusing on pelvic and groin opening by moving one foot at a time to touch the forehead, chin, sternum before taking it into ardha padmāsana position.  Gradually, as the hips and groins started achieving some mobility, I could take the foot higher and over the head, until I could take the foot into ekpāda śirśāsana position.  


Video : Morning "Padmāsana Preparatory" Sequence


Some months later, showing off my prowess to my teacher through email, I spoke of my efforts to address the scoliosis.  He advised me to introduce utitha hasta pādānguśtāsana 1 (forward) and utitha hasta pādānguśtāsana 2 (lateral) to the regimen.  He also mentioned that there was nothing like rope śirśāsana to address this issue.  At this stage however, I had not installed the wall rings for rope śirśāsana.  So, I introduced utitha hasta pādānguśtāsana 1 and 2, resting my raised heel on the back of the chair, and then gradually increasing the height, as well as the duration of the posture.  Months of this, and I could sense no impact.  Meanwhile, another teacher of Iyengar yoga visited me and strongly advised me to install the wall rings, further adding that rope śirśāsana, done with the legs straight, would help in establishing pelvic alignment.  

 

Finally, I gave up my concerns for the cleanliness of the wall and had the wall rings installed.  Now, in addition to the daily morning “padmāsana preparation” regimen which had gone to the extent of including ekpāda śirśāsana by then, I developed a daily evening practice of ūrdhva prasāritta pādāsana, suptapādānguśtāsana 1 and 2, utitha hasta pādānguśtāsana 1 and 2 on the ropes and in the doorway, ending with straight leg rope śirśāsana and finally sarvāngāsana.  I would use a stopwatch to maintain each leg lift for 5 mins at a time, repeating each side twice.  So, 20 mins each of suptapādānguśtāsana 1 and 2, utitha hasta pādānguśtāsana 1 and 2 on the ropes.  Doorway utitha hasta pādānguśtāsana 1 and 2 was brief, as my hamstrings had not yet released adequately enough for me to maintain that for 5 mins.  Rope śirśāsana gradually increased from 5 mins to 15 and 20 mins, with commensurate time spent in sarvāngāsana.  Of course, I could not always spend this length of time.  So often one or the other āsana would be omitted

 

Somewhere during this period, while trying to move a large flowerpot around, my disc again slipped.  The pain was relatively mild, and I knew how to take care of it myself, but I informed my teacher so that he would not query my gingerly movements during online classes.  His immediate response was that the disc had slipped because of ekpāda śirśāsana practice.  I recognized that the spine was in a state of flux due to all the āsana practice that was focused on it, but Guruji’s words, oft quoted to us by our teachers rang in my ears – “If śirśāsana gave you neck pain, go into śirśāsana to understand how to remove your neck pain”.  And as Prashantji often says “all of you who are past your prime, don’t let the āsana slip away as you age”.  

 

With both these exhortations ringing in my ears, I continued all āsana practice while the slipped disc episode was on, with the attention now on keeping the buttocks balanced in every āsana.  Immediately, the extent to which the leg moved in āsana like ekpāda śirśāsana reduced, but I could intuitively recognize that what was happening now was more correct and did not stress the spine.  Despite the pain of the slipped disc, with the spine balanced, I could continue all the āsana that now constituted my morning “padmāsana preparation” practice with deeper learning.  Another instance of how an injury had acted as an inner guide to better understanding!

 

Then Prashantji started online classes and he mentioned that while āsana in general needed to be maintained for some duration, when an āsana was being done for remedial purposes, repeats were more beneficial.  Immediately, I gave up my 5 min regimentation and started holding the postures for shorter durations and increasing the number of repeats.  Almost immediately, I felt release happening much more readily and every subsequent repeat released the body further and further.  This became quite an “aha!” moment.  And it enabled me to regularly include all the aforementioned āsana in my 1 – 1.5-hour evening practice.

 

Every new discovery would be eagerly shared with a couple of my teachers, who would generously view the videos or read my long messages and give me tips on how to further improve on what I was doing.  These interactions played their own role in deepening my understanding of what was happening within the body. 

 

One morning, releasing the leg from ekpāda śirśāsana, I found the back of the knee very well established

on the shoulder.  On the spur of the moment, I decided to attempt aśtavakrāsana – something I had never dreamt would be possible for me in this lifetime!  As I did aśtavakrāsana on the left side, I felt an intense pull from the left sacro-iliac spine to the left buttock bone and the back of the left thigh.  I knew it was again having some effect on the scoliosis.  Then onwards, aśtavakrāsana got added to the daily morning practice.  

In one of Prashantji’s prāńāyāma sessions, he was educating us on the beneficial effects of silent sound forms (tattva kriya, prańa kriya) and he mentioned that rather than counting in English or the vernacular, which had no prāńic benefit, one should use the first letter of each number (in any language) and convert it into a prāṇa kriya.  So rather than एक, दो, तीन (ek, do, teen) etc. one could use ए, दे, ते (e, de, te) etc.  Rather than one, two, three etc., one could use ओ टो थो (o, toe, thoe) etc.  Immediately, I changed the counting style during my eye exercises, or any other time that I needed to count.  Now it has become a reflex.  I’ve developed my own style and 1-10 are now counted as अ, ब, त, च, प, स, श, अ, न, ध (a, ba, ta, ća, pa, sa, śa, a, na, dha)!

 

With all this focused attention, I had developed intense spinal awareness.  So it was that when standing with any degree of attention, I could make out the spinal imbalance.  Reflexively, I would tuck the tailbone in, lift the kneecaps and lower abdominal organs and feel the lift in my sternum and inward movement in the dorsal spine.  Initially, my inner knees would not touch.  Daily practice gradually made the knees touch, and the effort shifted to making the calves come in contact.  This brought awareness to the weight on the right heel not being centered – so centering the weight on the right heel got added to the “to-do” list.  

 

Week by week, I could feel ligaments and tendons deep inside the backs of my knees, thighs and buttocks releasing. Initially, there would be a “click” kind of sensation as I wilfully released it.  Within days, the release would happen without too much effort, and then without any effort.  I must mention that during these months of intense effort and release of deep-seated muscles, ligaments, and tendons, I went through intense pain in my legs, back and pelvic regions.  The pain kept shifting, reassuring me that different parts of the lower body were getting extended.  However, there were many nights when the pain in the pelvic area refused to allow me to fall asleep; and when I did fall asleep, any shift in position brought me to full wakefulness due to the stiffness that had set in.  

 

Mornings were a different story – I would find my body, especially the legs and lower spine stretching voluptuously, repeatedly, even before I came to full wakefulness.  My teacher told me this was the cellular memory setting into the cells, so I was happy to enjoy these stretches as evidence that things were progressing in the right direction.

 

The shifts in the pelvic and spinal skeleton system also impacted the knees.  Where earlier, I had attained the proficiency to sit in padmāsanā for 20-30 mins, now I could barely sit for 5 mins before the left knee started paining.  I understood that as the pelvis and leg rotated, a different part of the knee was being asked to extend for padmāsanā.  This section of the knee having been unaccustomed to the extension, was now protesting.  I kept at it and gradually, over months of daily padmāsanā and prāńāyāma practice, again worked up to 30 – 40 mins of padmāsanā


It was interesting that as the hamstrings extended and the pelvis and groin opened, the excessive lordosis in my lumbar back reduced.  The tailbone moved in, and the lower abdominal organs lifted.  I could feel the space in the lower abdomen.  When I sat in padmāsana, I could feel the lift in my lower flanks and abdominal area.  One day, as I sat in padmāsana, I felt the impulse to extend my flank to the side.  As I did so, I felt intense extension in the flank, extending all the way to the buttock bone and back of the thigh.  Prashantji would say my inner Guru was prompting me, because I do not recall having ever seen this sideways extension being done in padmāsana by anyone.  I could feel it working on the sacroiliac spine, and so yet another aspect got added to the “padmāsana preparation” sequence.

 

The cumulative effect of all the practice resulted in far-reaching lower abdominal extension, which had its own impact on my digestion.  An Ayurveda I had consulted many years ago had told me that good digestion and absorption were evidenced by stools that came out as a single banana.  Two years of treatment and dietary experimentation under her certainly put right the perennial sinus problem for which I had consulted her.  But the single banana output was a goal beyond my reach.

 

Now, with the intestinal space created through the spinal extension, I could feel as if crimped sections of my intestine were releasing, and this had a positive effect on my digestion.  Acidity and bloating became a thing of the past.  A flat stomach became a goal within reach – not for reasons of vanity alone (well, a little bit for that as well), but as evidence that the excessive spinal lordosis was correcting itself and lower pelvic organs like the urinary bladder were lifting.

 

The extension of the lower abdominal space is also having its impact on the prāńāyāma practice.  Now, the ability to sense and manipulate the breath in the internal domain is often effortless and even playful.  No longer are recovery breaths required and it is only the pressing demands of the “business of life” that requires me to cease the prāńāyāma practice (and sometimes, the fatigue in the knees from long duration padmāsanā)

 

As of August 2021, the scoliosis is reduced to maybe 10% or 20% of its original severity.  I can rotate the left leg in the socket while in śirśāsana, though it is yet to happen on its own.  I can feel the pull on the right side of the body, which means the right flank is still slightly shorter than the left – it takes some effort to keep the flanks the same length, but the effort is minimal and therefore sustainable.  

 

Earlier, when instructed to use the fingers to part the buttock cheeks was given, I would go through the motions, but could feel that the right buttock was not budging, even if I used my fingers directly on the bare skin.  Now, with some effort, the right buttock cheek moves away from the spine and the urine flow which used to angle towards the right, has started straightening, indicating that imbalances in the internal body have started to correct.  A straight flow of urine, even when bladder pressure is low, is my diagnostic tool to know when the internal body has adjusted correctly!

 

My sole exposure to Geetaji was the annual Yoganuśāsanam held every year from 2014-2018.  Sometimes, she would single out someone who she had spotted as having a body imbalance.  She would make the person walk and comment how one buttock was swinging freely, but the other one was not.  I would wonder at it – I could see the imbalance in the other person, but I could not feel my buttocks, either of them, swinging when I walked.  I figured that either it was happening, and I was not sensitive enough; or that I was too thin for my buttocks to swing.  As the groins and hips are freed up, today, I can feel my buttocks move side to side as I walk, and I recall how our shāstrā describe a womanly woman – one who walks like an elephant!

 

Now it feels like the universe is conspiring to rectify my scoliosis.  Every āsana affects the spine and works to correct the distortion.  Rope adhomukhaśvānāsana, with the feet halfway up the wall followed by rope adhomukhavīrāsana on the wall released something low down in the sacro-iliac spine.  I distinctly felt something (calcium deposits?) crack on the left side of the sacro iliac spine.  Trikońāsana with the rope at the hip and the lower arm extended over the backrest of the chair again had the sensation of the distortion being addressed.  Kapotāsana with the bolster on the chair worked intensely on the sacro iliac spine.

 

At some point, sethubandha sarvāngāsana on a single block started giving rise to a pain in the right anterior iliac bone and right pelvic corner.  I realized the twist in the iliac was probably getting addressed.  I started staying longer in that posture.  Earlier, in śavāsana flat on the floor, I could not feel the backs of my thighs or knees touching the floor.  As the hamstrings extended and the lumbar lordosis reduced, I could feel that the two buttocks were not touching equally.  Gradually, after staying in block sethubandha sarvāngāsana for an extended duration, both buttocks and backs of knees started touching the floor, though there is still some pain from extension in the right frontal pelvic corner.  Matsyāsana has been added to the morning “padmāsana preparation” sequence to address this.  The pain that started on the right periphery has gradually shifted closer to the center and is currently on the right side of the spine.  I know, that when it moves to the center, it will disappear.    Even as I completed writing this account, one of my teachers showed me how to get spinal traction in shavāsana, using the belt and the bottom rings.  This looks like it might deliver the coup de grace on the scoliosis, as just a couple of days of this practice is yielding palpable correction to the minimal imbalance that remains

 

The experience is not without its share of scares.  As the left leg starts to rotate in its socket, there are times when walking, the leg buckles at the root with a sharp twinge.  At such times, I just freeze momentarily, and then slowly take a cautious step forward.  Within a step or two, the pain goes, and I know it is just the leg telling me that it is yet unstable, yet in the process of completing the rotation to the correct position.

 

As things improve in the lower half of the spine, my attention has moved to the top half.  My teachers had noticed it from the early years, and now I gradually developed the sensitivity to notice that my right shoulder was not carrying its fair share of load in śirśāsana.  I found shoulder work done in the doorway to be more effective than ropework 1.  Possibly because with the ropes, I could not make out when the two wrists were not at the same level.  Pushing the sides of the doorframe apart with my palms at shoulder level, squeezing the shoulder blades together as I took a half step forward, I could feel the stiffness in the left scapula.  When doing gomukhāsana with the right arm lower, I felt stiffness in the right scapula.  While both scapulae had opened significantly more than at the start of lockdown, there is still an imbalance in the shoulders that needed to be put right.  The weight on the right foot is still not quite in the center of the heel.  And so, the journey continues, each day yielding yet another discovery, contributing to the sense of wonder that keeps us forever young!

 

Acknowledgment: I would like to express my deep indebtedness and gratitude to all my Bandra Iyengar yoga teachers- in alphabetical order, Shri Jawahar Bangera, Shri Siddharth Bangera and Ratna Kaji - who knowingly and unknowingly, helped me (and continue to help me) on this fascinating journey of the discovery of the self. 

 


Friday, November 5, 2021

Yoga Is An Elephant

Huh?  Yes, Yoga is an elephant.  Surely, you have heard the story of the 5 blind men who wanted to know what an elephant was.  The one who felt the trunk, described it as a snake; the one who felt the tail, said it was like a rope; the one who touched the leg, described it as a tree trunk; the one who felt the stomach, said it was like a wall; and the one who felt the ear, described it as a fan.  Each was convinced about his own perception, because his personal experience, was his truth.  So it is with yoga

I started learning yoga so I would live a healthy life for whatever be my lifespan (āysh in Konkani, āyush in Sanskrit).  The initial years were only about overcoming the effects of many years of desk work, jogging-running and wearing stiletto footwear on polished stone floors.  All killers for the hip and knee joints, as I learnt when I discovered how the movement in these joints had become restricted.  It became a challenge – regaining movements in joints and muscles that I had unwittingly abused, for so many years.  A way to make reparation, or apologise to my body.  

 

As the body regained mobility, the mind moved to extending the duration for which each pose was held.  And lo, here was the next learning.  As the duration extended, I found that the body would “relax” into the pose.  The pose was no longer something to be “conquered” or “achieved”, but something to initiate and then wait for it to “happen”.  At this level, the body no longer sweated, nor did the breath rate change (except in some of the more challenging balancing poses).  

 

It took years of disciplined practice to reach this stage.  In our achievement-oriented culture, we’re so used to working hard and striving for things, that the approach of just waiting and allowing things to happen was quite alien and counter intuitive.  The most difficult part of reaching this stage, was learning to let go of control!

 

The process was not only slow, but painful.  Our teachers tell us to embrace pain.  A certain amount of pain is there as part of our individual karma or prārabdh.  If you avoid physical pain, it will manifest as emotional pain; if you avoid emotional pain, it will come as psychological pain.  The pain that is part of our prārabdh has to be experienced in this lifetime itself, so best to experience it as physical pain and get it over with, since that is the easiest to handle!  

 

Pain is not necessarily a bad thing.  One soon develops the discrimination (vivek) to distinguish between the pain of unused muscles being forced to work, or crooked joints being forced to straighten after many years of non-use.  This is different from the sharp pain of something going wrong, as anyone who has experienced a slipped disc, dislocation or fracture etc. knows.  So we learn to embrace pain as a sign that unused parts of the body are starting to work, which means that the breath and prānic energy will soon start flowing freely there.

 

And then the lockdown happened.  Suddenly, there was plenty of time to devote to the practice.  No interruptions for outings, visitors, or even the maid coming in to clean!   The practice intensified, and in the silence of the lockdown, I started becoming more aware of what I could sense happening behind the skin and muscle.  Ligaments and tendons, bones and joints buried deep underneath the flesh, started to come alive.  Our teachers tell us, where the mind goes, the breath goes; where the breath goes, prāna (life force) goes; and where prāna goes, good health is inevitable.  This was when the absorption (laya) started taking place – the engrossment of watching what was happening deep, deep inside the body.

 

It was like going into an unknown dark room, with a torch.  You have no idea how large, or what shape the room is.  The initial perception is that the extent of the room is as much as is covered by the beam of the torch.  As you direct the beam of the torch elsewhere, to your surprise you find the room extends there as well.  Similarly, we think we know our bodies.  But as the sensitivity increases, one realizes the inner dimensions of the body are much beyond what was initially perceived.  Our inner body is a huge, huge room, much beyond what can be imagined.  We only need to move the beam of the torch – our mind, our awareness - there

 


Thus it dawned on me why a Guru is called a Guru – a dispeller of darkness.  Not someone who brings us to the light (whether outside or inside us), but a person who dispels the darkness, the dark unknown spaces, within us.  Not for nothing is it said that the body is a microcosm of the macrocosm.  Everything that is there in the universe and beyond, is there within our body as well.  This is beyond the realm of physics or modern science.  This is esoteric science.

 

And so the voyage of discovery continues.  Every so often, there is another aha moment, as yet another dark corner of the inner room is lit up.  This is how, what started out as a purely physical “fitness regimen” has become the corner stone of an adhyātmic practice, a practice of constant self study, self purification

 

About the author : Ajita Kini has been a student of Iyengar Yoga since 2007

 

Friday, September 2, 2016



The Ocean’s Blues

On June 12, 2014, I drove through Cadell Road flooded with sea water awash in garbage. I realized that people would soon be booking their orders for the larger sarvajanik Ganapatis, in time for the start of the festive season at the end of August. The picture in the papers on June 13, were evocative of a living creature that was spewing up an indigestible meal from the depths of its belly. I was moved to writing this piece, appealing to our people to think of the plight of the sea when booking their Ganapatis. After all, Mumbai is in the coastal zone and we live at the mercy of the sea - it behooves us to show consideration towards her



The ocean was feeling sick. It clutched its belly as it roiled and grumbled. Finally, with a huge heave, the ocean came up to the shore and vomited up the stuff that was making it feel so sick. What a relief! 




On the shore, pieces of half digested Ganesha murthis mixed with the crap that nearby slum dwellers had deposited that morning.  It shamed the ocean to see what it had been forced to do, but the discomfort in its belly had left it with no choice.  It just couldn’t have borne the pain any longer.

And as the ocean tried to digest what remained in its belly, it ruminated on what had brought it to this sorry state of tummy sickness ….

Once upon a time, it remembered the beach used to be a quiet place, where people came to enjoy the evening breeze and brought their children to play.  Sure, nearby slum dwellers used the rocky outcrops on the beach to do their morning business back then also.  But the ocean could handle that – after all, it believed in the maxim of “dust to dust”.  Organic matter did not give it a tummy ache – in fact, it fed some of the marine life it housed.  Hearing activists scream at people doing their morning business on the shore, and then having those same activists come and drop chunks of plaster of Paris in its tummy made the ocean snarl at the hypocrites.  How it wished it could speak in the human tongue and tell them so

As the ocean continued to spasm gently with the indigestible mass in its tummy, it wondered when this practice of dropping huge big chunks of plaster of Paris in it had started.  After much thought, it remembered.  It was somewhere around the time when people used to shout slogans against the British Rule.  It remembered hearing the name of Bal Gangadhar Tilak, who used something called Sarvajanik worship in the bylanes of Pune to break down ancient caste barriers and unite people to fight for independence from the British.  Clever Tilak – he had realized way back then that this was a work around the then prevalent British ban on public gatherings.  And so, the practice had caught the imagination of a nation (or at least, Maharashtra) and the annual event had taken on a life of its own

The ocean thought it didn’t mind at first.  After all, it understood the need for an “India for Indians” and was willing to do its bit for the cause.  But why was it continuing now?  As it understood it, it was now many years since the British had left the country.  Why then was this circus continuing – nay, growing?

The ocean forced its aching head to figure out this puzzle.  The sickness was making it irritable and unable to focus its thoughts, but it did want to get to the bottom of this mystery.  It shook its head to clear it and the people on the shore shouted to see the spray flying up from what they perceived as an extra huge wave.  And with the shout, it was like a light bulb went on in the mind of the ocean

But of course, it was still those ruthless political manipulators using the excuse of a religious extravaganza to mobilize people and funds.  Some of them were politicians in local or central governance, while others used these events to achieve positions of power in community forums.  And as the master psychologists they were, they offered pomp and show, a display of religious fervor along with the promise of free food as “Prasad” and the opportunity to enjoy shortened work days in the name of worship. 

The ocean knew it had hit the nail on its head.  Ouch!  It felt like there were multiple nails in its head.  As it held its head and groaned, out popped a sharp edged decoration that had been designed to look like the rays of the sun or a halo behind some murthi or the other

Happy at having figured out the puzzle, the ocean decided to rest a while.  It noticed a group of agitated people at one end of the beach and decided to offer them the calming influence of a surging and ebbing tide at their feet.  It gradually crept towards the group and noticed that they appeared to be cops in uniform.  It could not help but listen to their conversation as it tried to soothe their agitation
And what it heard was this – “Have you heard?  There are rumours that a terrorist group has entered the city and is planning to plant a series of bombs at various Ganesha mandals.  The ATS doesn’t know where all to plant their plainclothes men and detection squads – there are so many pandals in so many places.  What is worse, if an incident occurs someplace, the access roads are so chock a block with pandals, there is no way for any Emergency Response Team to make it to the place in a hurry.  Or for that matter, get any victims out of danger and to medical assistance”

And the next guy said – “Forget that.  I was on traffic duty yesterday and it was horrible.  Traffic was crawling along, and all because vehicles were slowing down on the flyover to have a peak at the Ganesha pandal visible from there.  There were any number of minor collisions, and of course the moment a vehicle was involved in a collision, both the drivers and passengers forgot all about Ganesha and started fighting about who was at fault.  I tell you, I could not for the life of me spot the divinity in man while I tried to resolve about 10 fights yesterday”

“Fighting is one aspect”, said the third guy.  “Our station head was grumbling about the diesel budget for the month.  Seems with all this slow moving traffic, we’re getting barely ½ the mileage we normally get on all our police vehicles.  If this is what we achieve with our flashing lights, driving on the wrong side of the road and / or pavement at times, I wonder what these civilians manage to get with their vehicles”

The first guy weighed in – “I bet that’s why they chose this time to raise petrol and diesel prices.  People’s travel increases to get from 1 pandal to another.  Plus their mileage decreases due to the traffic woes.  I’m sure all the petrol pumps are making a killing this month.  In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they start running dry unless the distributors increase their refill service frequency”
“Yeah, and then the politicians can all talk about the cost of oil and the balance of payments.  Bah, what humbugs they all are”

“Don’t talk to me about politicians.  I had one visit the pandal where I was on duty yesterday.  And to make sure he drew enough crowds, he brought a shapely young Bollywood star with him.  You would not believe the kind of Z-class security that accompanied him and how much chaos it created in the pandal.  You were talking about the rumours of terrorist activity earlier?  I am telling you, those guys could easily have entered the pandal in the midst of all this chaos and done anything they wanted to do.  There is absolutely no way we can plug every possible avenue at times like this”

While its belly was more at ease now, the ocean was more upset than before.  It felt its shoulders droop and its head hang as it quietly withdrew from the shore.  And as it withdrew, the people on the shore cried out at the amount of debris that was revealed and how the tide had gone out further than ever before

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Voluntouring in a School in Wanla, Ladakh

“Ma’am le, ma’am le, humko story padho na.  Ma’am le, ma’am le, humme English padhao na”[1] - I was surrounded by screaming kids, ranging from probably 5 to 12.  The older kids – the 9th and 10th standard kids - were more circumspect, but still probably preferred our little interludes over their regular lessons (as anyone would).  Where was this, you ask?  This was Voluntouring in Government High School, Wanla, Ladakh.  125 students with 25 teachers, and 3 of us voluntourists (sometimes 4).  We’d tied up with 17000ft.org (look them up) to work with school kids to improve their English, even as we got to see the Real Ladakh, doing homestays in the more remote parts of Ladakh, instead of traipsing around seeing only the touristy bits (which also we did)

The day we first met the Head Master and teachers, some of the teachers were eagerly welcoming, asking for our help with English grammar and other topics that they found difficult to explain.  Others were more guarded – don’t disrupt our classes, said one sternly.  Ten days later, as we gathered for our farewell cup of tea, I asked some of the teachers for a comparison of how they’d felt when they first met us and how they felt as we left.  The best response – Last Monday, we felt “yeh loge kyon aaye hain?”  Today, we feel “yeh loge kyon jaa rahe hain?”[2]

What brought about the shift?  We all really, really enjoyed what we did.  Sometimes, we took classes with the regular teacher sitting in and observing.  A novelty for us – none of us were trained teachers and none of us had ever taught school kids before.  But most of the time, we did impromptu lessons.  Like, when we discovered the kids had trouble with tenses, I started making up sentences they could relate to – “I sell rice.  Yesterday, I _____ rice”.  Now, fill in the blank.  And so simple past tenses of some key verbs were learnt through conversational English.

Sometimes, we’d get into debates.  I was reading a story to some kids of the 7th grade, when we came across the word “wrestle”.  To explain it, I turned to 2 of the 3 boys in the class and described how they sometimes fought and rolled in the mud, which we girls (there were some 5-6 girls in the class) never do.  This bright eyed little boy tells me – hum tho baahar se shaitaan hain, lekin andar se shareef hain.  Yeh loge[3] ….. and he strategically trailed off with a far away look in his eyes.

Ladakh has an Integrated Child Development Services (ICDS) scheme, a day care facility, which typically operates out of the local school premises.  This means, there are infants in prams and strollers right alongside the older kids in the school.  During assembly, the ICDS kids form the first row and gaze around silently absorbing the procedures until one fine day, a uniform is slapped on them and lo, they are in school now!  Assembly is conducted by the school monitors.  It includes prayers in English, Hindi, Ladakhi ….. news of the day, thought for the day, general knowledge or trivia …..everything that is there in any school.  Some kids will take turns to come and perform a song or a poem ….



The Wanla school was formed by merging smaller schools of 7 surrounding villages and was therefore a residential school.  The boys lived on the 1st floor while the girls lived on the ground floor of the residence in some 3-4 dormitories.  Each dorm had kids of mixed ages, and the older kids helped look after the younger ones.  Sometimes, you’d find a younger kid go up and cling to the legs of an older hero worshipped idol between classes, or during lunch time.  Imagine heading to the river behind the hostel to brush your teeth, wash your face and wet comb your hair. 


The teachers had their own one room - kitchen-bath residences in the same complex.  Mid day meals were cooked by a cook.  Dinner was cooked by the students, who took it in turn to share kitchen duty.  Every week, one house was on duty and chores were shared amongst the kids through a nice graphic chore board.  Flower beds were irrigated by channeling the river water towards it and guiding it through makeshift little dams built with pebbles and mud


School hours were from 10 am – 4 pm, with an hour for lunch from 1-2 pm.  We’d head home to our home stay just opposite the school for a welcome break for tea and relaxation, before heading back to school at 6, for the 6-8 pm Activity Time.  That was when we had our greatest fun.  We started out with story reading, but then soon went on to make up word games.  We used Flash cards, and with the kids seated in a circle, we’d ask them to pick a card, any card, in turn and then make a sentence with the word on the card. The school romeo got the word “chick” – so of course, his sentence was “there are many chicks in this school”.  His next word was “charming” – so he goes – “I charm all the chicks in the school”.  Would you wonder at the howls and jeers that went up at each of his compositions?

Another game that we evolved over the days was with a word grid.  We formed the kids into teams of 4-5 each (as many as 7-8 teams).  Each team had to send 1 kid at a time in turn, to spot a word in the word grid.  The team gets as many points as the letters in the word.  Next, each team had to find the word in their dictionary.  The first team to do so, got 5 points.  Now, each team had to form a valid sentence with the word to win another 5 points.  The ____ is very beautiful, substituting the required word into the sentence, was the most popular sentence.  Which we found ourselves also doing all the time – the sunrise is very beautiful, the moon is very beautiful, the mountains are very beautiful – Ladakh is like that, can we blame the kids for making those sentences?  So with a lot of “ma’am le, sir le” to gain our attention, the games went on until we hardly knew where the 2 hours passed and we were done for the day

Wanla was literally a one street village, with 25 homes and the usual gompa on the mountain behind the village.  Before school and between 8 pm and dinner, there was nothing to do, but admire the view (which we could do and discuss endlessly) and go for walks.  Dinner was cooked by our hostess Mrs Sonam Dolma – a great chef, we waited in great anticipation for her meals.  Her husband, Mr Rinchen Dorje, was a master craftsman, employing about 5-6 people and turning out beautiful carved furniture.  We’d sit around low tables, mopping up dal with Tingmu or Ladakhi skeu or thukpa with great relish, as we learnt about the oracle of Wanla, the snow leopard of Hanupata, the farming practices of Ladakh, or that never failing fallback – the weather.  “Mumbai ka fashion aur Ladakh ka mausam – badalta rahta hai”[4], as the locals never failed to remind us.  We were never without our little backpacks with extra layers of warm clothing, muffler, woolen cap, wind cheater – and believe me, one day or another, each and every item was used

A week into our Wanla stint, one of the teachers invited us to her home village of Hanupata for an archery festival.  Funsuk, our 17000ft facilitator went for a walk and returned having fixed up our ride next morning.  And so, Wednesday morning, we excused ourselves from school duties and set off for Hanupata.  People had gathered from many surrounding areas and the festivities went thus – a round of chhang (local barley homebrew) or other drinks, followed by a round of live music, singing and dancing (high altitude dancing), followed by a round of archery.  And then the cycle begins all over again.  The dancing got more inspired as the drinks flowed.  Our host from Wanla was foremost in imbibing, distracting us from the festivities at hand, as we wondered about how we would get back home on the narrow winding Himlayan roads.  As it turned out, Funsuk just commandeered his vehicle and drove us all home, leaving our host to find himself a ride the next morning!


From Wanla, we visited the Dha’Hanu villages of Garkun and Darchik.  These are 2 of the Brokpa (or Drukpa) Aryan villages, considered to be founded by remnants of Alexander’s army and the last of the pure Aryans.  They consider themselves unique, though we felt that while they were distinctly different from the Ladakhis, their looks were not unlike many Punjabis, Saraswats, CKPs or even Iyengars.  At any rate, their head gear, featuring a bright orange flower that we were amazed to discover was not artificial despite its unlikely colouring, was certainly unique.  Their dialect, traditional attire, festivities, songs etc are considered to be distinct from the Ladakhis as well.  They do not typically inter marry with the Ladakhis, saying they find it difficult to adjust with them. 

From Garkun, it was back to Leh, and then some tourist highlights visiting Pangong and crossing Khardungla to have lunch at North Pullu.  And before I knew it, it was time for me to return to Mumbai and ground zero (literally and figuratively!).  But some things are for sure – I will be back (17000ft has 22 schools in Nubra Valley, so that’s where I’d like to head next time round); I will stay in touch with the Head Master, teachers and students of Wanla; and I have made 3 new friends – my 2 co-voluntourists Delnaz and Shubham (I was so very lucky to find like minded people on my team) and Sandeep Sahu, my “bad boy” school classmate co-founder of 17000ft




[1] Ma’am, Ma’am, please read us a story; ma’am, please teach us English”
[2] Why have these people come?  Why are these people leaving?
[3] We are devils on the outside, inside we are gentlemen, whereas these people (the girls) …..
[4] Mumbai’s fashion, and Ladakh’s weather – they keep changing