For three weeks I had amazing experiences on my first trip to Pune, India. While that was six months ago, I still deeply enjoy reflecting on my days there. It’s been summer break and home has a revolving door of young adults and kids filling the kitchen, porch, basement and pool.. Living through the organized chaos that comes with being a mom of four probably helped me feel at home in the liveliness of India.
During these summertime days my practice fluctuates with regularity but keeps a steady sense of discipline. Somedays I do zoom class with Abhijata Iyengar from RIYMI. Sometimes I listen to the podcast On the Light (it’s amazing) while making dinner. Some nights before bed, I read an online book club featuring the Tree of Life. When I find bonus moments of quiet, I come here. All of them bring back to India. And the practice of yoga.
In India, everything awakens the senses to life in new ways. Every rickshaw drive, every walk down the street, every yoga class holds the possibility for new awaking. Going for the first time was the ultimate journey. Exotic, chaotic, polluted, beautiful, joyful, simple, and full of friendly people thriving in the chaos. Or at least trying. Locals work hard and labor is real. I loved waking to the sounds of the elderly ladies sweeping the streets. There was a rhythm to it that felt mindful and peaceful – one sweep at a time. Mornings provided a quiet break from relentless construction noise on Hare Krisna Mandir Road.
The sidewalks adjacent to Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute (RIYMI) now have shiny signs previewing the luxury towers being built. Around the corner, skinny sacred cows napped on the sidewalks. Small children still walk between the rickshaw traffic, begging for money. Whole families still ride on one motorbike with no helmets.
The juxtaposition of new and old is not only present in the Pune, the realities are also right in front of you. There are Westernized coffee shops, nice restaurants, a gourmet grocery store and a shopping mall.
Here’s me getting a lesson on making South Indian Filter Coffee at Godaam coffee shop, where Iyengar students frequently meet. It’s quite different from my coffee experience on my walk through the Old City.
Local scenes from the streets
The two week yoga intensive was held at a gym 15 minutes away from where we stayed near the institute in Model Colony, so our daily commute gave us plenty to experience.
While traveling about, classic pune scenes were easy to spot. Locals wear puffy coats since it was “winter” there in January – while I was sweating in my breathy linen shirts! Men on foot pushcarts of heavy goods through the streets. Children walking home from school.
We stayed next to an international school. Once I got a glimpse of the all the children in uniforms packed into a small yellow van used as a school bus. It was so full they all stood inside while their backpacks rode on top. They were joyfully chatting it up like excited school kids do when it’s time to go home. I wondered where they put their bags in monsoon season.
I didn’t capture that moment on my camera, but I had my camera ready when I saw these smiling school kids one day after yoga class.
There are so many street markets. Everywhere. You can get anything here. Including a fresh coconut after yoga class! And amazing flowers.
Teachers who have been coming to Pune for decades talk about how they have seen the town change and develop. My teacher Aretha remembers the same coconut seller outside the institute as long as she’s been coming to Pune.
I’m new on the scene and today is all I know. But I love seeing things that spark my imagination of what it would have been like in the 70s, when the Hippie Trail first brought travelers and aspiring yogis to India.
I love this photo of a trash truck.. yes TRASH truck. Reminds me of the “good old days” senior teachers talk about. When locals all rode their bikes and students watched beautiful sunsets, before the pollution of today.
Sunita the Seamstress
One of the first things I did when I got to Pune, was visit a seamstress who is known in the Iyengar Yoga community for making clothes for visiting students. Sunita is preserving the art of handmade Indian clothing. She is honest, kind and an amazing seamstress. If you are in Pune, go see her! If not, follow the link to her on Instagram. Her videos detailing her newest creations make me smile.
I ventured there solo and she communicated with me on What’s App until I found her shop tucked away in the basement of an office building. Later, my friends and I made several more stops there, having items made for us. Here is one outfit she made for me.
Meeting Sunita was a local treat. I made one last stop by her shop to pick up a gift of local honey she asked me to bring back to the states and mail to a friend at the Dallas Iyengar Studio. And I took this gem of a photo. Here’s the men working for her! They were all happy to have thier photo taken. This is what I call supporting the local people.
The Model Colony Post Office
The post office in Model Colony was an experience! Like you can imagine, it’s been there forever. Sadly, there is talk that it might be torn down soon. My teacher Aretha used go here to mail daily letters home to her daughter when she came for a month at a time. That was before we had smart phones and instant communication. Her daughter is now 23 years old.
We had a short window of time between yoga classes and we were hoping to have time for a cup of coffee. But when we got there, a worker put a sign up saying they were closed for lunch. So we waited… 45 minutes for them to open back up. We waited and people watched. As people do.
I addressed my letters and sealed them with the provided glue. There are no lick and go envelopes in India. Paste. A literal jar of paste.
This was the last time I saw my letters. Not a single one made it to the our Tennessee mailbox! The journey to the post office was definitely worth the effort, even if we went without an afternoon coffee. A friend mailed a gift to a work colleague who lives in India. And that was successful. Maybe my effort was a little far reaching. At least for today. Who needs a post office anymore?
Not me. Really…. Here’s a photo my oldest girl texted me from her dorm room. She was showing me “her” vintage jean jacket – that I rescued from a closet in my parent’s house on my last visit there. A real blast from the past. In a surreal way, as I stood in a nearly obsolete post office in India.
Just for fun, here’s a picture of the mall in Pune, that doesn’t look too far removed from the one in Atlanta where I bought that jacket in the late 1980s. In Pune the colliding of the new and the old is wild on a multiple levels. Crossing a few decades. And maybe a few oceans too.
