Amma is coming to town!

Amma is coming to town! Amma is also known as “the hugging saint.” She is a living mystic; living in a constant state of direct realization of the Divine. 

And she gives out hugs. People travel far distances for the chance to hug her, and stories of her mystical abilities and miracles abound. My friend Hope has seen her twice. Hope is here in Mysore too - this is actually her eleventh (11th!) trip.

She saw Amma in the United States and once here in India. She says you can ask Amma for something, and a miracle may occur. Hope asked Amma for healing for her friend Steve’s father, but all she could muster out while starstruck in Amma’s presence was “Steve, Steve, Steve.” Not only was Steve’s father healed, but for the next several months she attracted people named Steve into her life - to the point of ridiculousness.

So I’ve decided I’m going to ask Amma to be Kali Das. And by that I mean, I want to embody my higher self, to live in a state of communion with my higher self; the Divine within. The name ‘Kali Das” symbolizes that for me. Kali is a name for the Divine Mother, and Das means “servant of” or “devotee.”

Also, there is a famous Indian writer - the “Indian Shakespeare” if you will - named Kalidas. The story goes that Kalidas was the village idiot, and was utterly embarrassed and ridiculed because of his stupidity. He devoted his life to the Divine Mother, Kali, and was granted the gift of beautiful words. I feel I am being called to write, so the name Kali Das has deep significance.

So I am going to ask Amma to be Kali Das. I’ve heard Amma does not really speak English; however, she is said to understand all languages on a higher level. If all I can get out while mystified in her presence is, “Kali Das,” I will be happy.

Now if I have my wits about me, I’m also going to ask her for clear skin. 

Don’t laugh. Hope said there is a story of a woman asking Amma for bigger boobs and supposedly it happened. And Hope says Amma helped her hair grow. And I’m tired of having the skin of a teenager at almost thirty-six years old. I think maybe Amma can help me. Its worth a shot, and I’m certainly not above asking her. 

Admittedly it feels a bit silly, treating Amma like Santa Claus for grown-ups. But deep down I'm a believer, so I'm going for it wholeheartedly. Updates to follow.


Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

More adventures

Emerson is with Ratna this morning, and I am grateful for the time to write. I took a break from writing for a bit to take a walk down the road and grab lunch. Adventures ensued.

I see a cow on the side of the road. Lately I’ve been patting them on the head when I pass. Usually, the cows even bow their head a little to allow me to pat. I feel so connected to animals and think they must see that feeling of connection in me, and want my head pats. So this morning Ms. Cow bows her head a little, I reach out to pat, and she uses her pointy cow horns to whack me in the thigh. I turn and run a few steps and screech, thinking the cow is chasing me. Of course she is not, she is still where she was a moment ago, chewing her cud. I laugh out loud and look around. Luckily it does not appear that any of the locals saw me. Mental note: be more reticent with future cow pats.

I head on up to my favorite bakery where I can get a roasted veggie sandwich and curry-potato stuffed bread for 14 rupies total - which is about 28 cents. Best deal around. After I buy lunch I sneak into a local tailor shop, which recently moved locations to a better spot.

I walk in and meet the owner, and ask him if he moved recently. He says yes, and seems pleased that I noticed. I tell him that he altered a tank top for me last year, and that I bought a bag from him. He smiles and gets back to his work.

I pick out two beautiful bags (for gifts!) and five smaller wallet-size bags. I ask him how much it is. Here is the tricky part - in India, like lots of other places, the shop keepers almost expect you to bargain. As an American I’m not really comfortable with it, and usually feel out of my element trying to “make a deal.” He counts up the total and while he is counting I say something like, “Is there a discount for multiple purchases?” while laughing awkwardly.

He appears to completely ignore me and tells me the total is 1400 rupies, the exact ticket price. I decide to give up my negotiating, which is failing miserably, and convince myself that it is nice to help a local business owner and I am paying less than $30 for two big bags and five small wallets - what a deal. He smiles when I pay him and says, “you take one extra wallet, my gift to you.” 

Yay!! I thank him and wish him success at his new location. I head back home with a spring in my step.

Then I encounter two local transvestites. They are dressed like women, in beautiful saris, and have pretty, feminine faces. The only giveaway is the vague appearance of facial hair removal procedures on their chins. I know their story vaguely, the small bit I learned of it last year. They walk around and demand money from local business owners, threatening to curse them if they do not give them money. The locals believe in the girls’ powers and willingly pay to avoid being cursed. I decide to play stupid. I invoke the dumb American tourist approach.

The taller one calls from 20 feet away and walks toward me, “You have money. You give me 10 rupies.” I try to look confused and send love at the same time. I look her directly in the eye, “what do you need 10 rupies for?”

Her companion looks at me and says, “you have rice?” Although suddenly I’m not sure if she is saying, “you have lice?” Immediately my mind tells me she is trying to curse me with head lice!! I feel a bit of fear - could she really give me head lice? Her eyes are deep and mystical, and I all of a sudden believe she might have that power. I breathe and go back into my myself, try to feel my connection to the Divine. Again, I play stupid: “I do not have any rice. Do you want rice?”

She gets slightly annoyed, “give me 100 rupies,” she says with a firmer tone. I look into her eyes and give her a compliment and flash a playful smile: “with your beautiful eyes, I might consider it.” She blushes and her eyes warm up. She says, “where are you from?”

“America,” I tell her.

“What is your name?” She asks.

“Kali” I tell her. She smiles."What is your name?" I ask.

“My name is Shanti*,” she says.

Her friend becomes impatient with the delay. She says with a stern but kind tone, “10 rupies for her, 10 rupies for me.”

I reply in a dorky voice, nodding, feeling lucky to get out of the deal without head lice and for less than 100 rupies: “twenty rupies sounds fair.”

We part ways and both the girls say goodbye and thank you and I sense a warmness from them toward me. I walk away with a feeling of nervous excitement and feel fortunate for the chance encounter, which I instantly want to write about. Every day is an adventure here.




*(not her real name)


Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

Morning treat

This morning E and I headed up to Anoki’s Garden (frequented by Yoga students) for breakfast. We met some friends and were sitting at a big table with other yoga students that I do not know, though I’ve seen them around. One of the girls was telling a story about how she accidently left for yoga practice this morning without a cover-up on over her yoga clothes, just a scarf covering her, and she felt that the Indian women were staring at her and questioning her modesty. I had the thought, “I always leave the house with my yoga clothes and just a scarf – she must be overly modest.”

We leave and I’m walking E around the City. Everyone seems very friendly and waves and says hello. "I must be glowing with happiness," I think. We stop at a store to get my Indian phone reloaded with minutes and again I think about the yoga student, and her over-the-top modesty, and I think, “she is overreacting, I don’t need to worry that much about modesty.” 

Shit you not that very instant a middle-aged Indian women walks up to me and says, “Madame! You have a hole in the back of your pants, very bad spot, go home immediately and change. Please Madame.” I turn around and see that there is a largish hole, maybe 2x2, right over my asscrack! I have been flashing everyone we have past on the road for approximately the last hour.  So much for modesty.


Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com