My mothers family practices and traditions.

My mother’s first family also had a ritual of a morning ‘varjish’ (physical exercise) regimen for the men. This included a rebounding of sorts, bouncing on your heels, rolling your toes forward, bouncing back on your heels and on and on like that, for what seemed like forever to me, as they all stood in a line, rebounding away in their pajamas, (probably TMI) while they read the morning’s newspapers, taking turns reading the three different newspapers in three different languages. English, hindi and Urdu. Each newspaper was a cultural entity in itself. 

I now recognize this kind of rebounding movement, as something we also do in Qi-Gong, as a way to stimulate all the acupressure points (which are the same for acupuncture) and meridian channels that run to or from our feet. Mummy’s two younger brothers and father were sometimes joined by my Bari (literal meaning, older) Aunty, Mummy’s older sister.  The women, or my Bari Aunty to be precise, had a yoga routine, mainly floor poses/ exercises, of which they are many that are specifically considered beneficial for women.

On weekends there were the very welcome visits of the ‘maalish’ (massage) people; male masseurs for the men, and female masseuse for the women. So you can see my mum grew up with a whole host of holistic modalities incorporated into their domestic routine. You may have noticed however, that she was not necessarily an active participant in these pursuits. Like me, I suspect she was into a thousand things at the same time.

I loved Sunday mornings at my Grandparents’ home. I am so happy and utterly delighted that I was able to live with them from the time I was born, and through my formative years. It was such a wholesome way of life in a healthful atmosphere, and this is just the tip of the iceberg. Remind me to write about specific rituals for different organs of the body, and the yogic practices of my Grandfather and Aunt, both of who were the most diligent and carried their on with their practices through to the end of their days. My Bari Aunty could read the newspaper without reading glasses for as long as I can remember.

Our Own Platform 9 and a half

Usually I credit my being of Indian (South Asian) origin, for attracting the attentions of holistically inclined folks, and thus being introduced to some new spiritual philosophy, book, health protocol or some other wisdom that stimulates, or fits right into my intellectual world.

Alternately, one could believe that we each have our own invisible antennae that pick up on people, who are prospective transmitters of such enlightening conversations. Usually, these explorations carry on well past pre-scheduled appointments, sometimes at the chagrin of our companions. Often, they delay us from arriving punctually to wherever we were headed. Such a sojourn as this is effortlessly carried out in the middle of a bustling restaurant, a grocery store, at an airport or on an airplane (happened to me on my last two flights) or just about anywhere we humans converge, or bide time waiting to converge.

It is like going into our own Platform 9 and half, to undertake that special portion of our life’s journey, which is destined to either impact us profusely, remain in our memory for a long time, or perhaps even change our course.

One such fellow traveller is Bill the Second, (more about Bill the First in a bit) who I met in our optometrist’s office.  We have had some illuminating, lively, absorbing, and enriching discussions since. On our last visit Bill the Second asked if I had read a particular book by Karen Armstrong. I was not familiar with her writing and had not heard of her, or the book. Once home I googled her immediately. The one thing to impact me instantly, was this quote from her:

“Discover what it is that gives you pain, and then refuse under any circumstances whatsoever to inflict that pain onto anybody else”

-Karen Armstrong.

I wrote it down immediately. Then rewrote it in a couple of other places, including on the back of one of my bookmarks, so I could read it periodically. Think about it. This one statement sums it up for me. It answers so many questions, and provides so many solutions. 

                                                           *********

Another sortie through our Platform 9 and half, led us to Bill the First. He was our neighbor in Sydney, Australia. The front door of his rental apartment was directly across from ours. The other three neighbors were owner-occupiers, but I doubt if anyone had ever socialized with each other, or even tarried to talk, until the advent of this Indian family’s arrival. That is what we Indians do, we converge on to a place, and effortlessly make everyone there our own. Or almost everyone, and in time their families, extended families and friends, become our friends too. 

While we did not make much foray into Bill the First’s family connections, beyond occasionally meeting with his two sons (he lived on his own), he certainly became an integral part of ours. It is interesting how that transpired. We actually knew of him, before we really knew him.

Mummy was visiting us from India, and as was her habit she went for long walks every morning. We lived close to a huge Park, alongside the Parramatta River. Mummy took two rounds of the Park, sometimes three. She would usually be gone for the better part of an hour. One weekend morning she was really late returning home. As usual her face was flushed, but today her eyes sparkled too.

Those who know her, know that my Mother is a whole other kettle of fish. Mummy is the most talented and most unique person I know. She is the Fountainhead of all of my intuitive and learned wholistic education. As I advance in the years, I notice her sanskars in my self, and even several of her traits, including her inherent trust in the goodness of people, which sometimes borders on gullibility.

In the early sixties, while going through a very rough patch in her life, my mother went on a ‘tea’ diet. It was necessitated more out of her untangling the complexities and hardship of personal crises than to lose weight, which she claimed to be the reason for her folly. As a result she messed up her appetite and digestion and says it was then that she became ‘allergic’ to medications. She was already allergic to fish, which caused urticarial break outs/ reactions to flare up. Too much tea now compromised her gut. Mummy has since not taken any chemical medications, not even an aspirin in her life. Not even a vitamin pill.

My mother switched to homeopathy and naturopathic intervention, whenever the need arose. Her focus on holistic therapies intensified, and she started to pay more attention to how her own mother used food as medicine. Some of it we was already implemented as a matter of family tradition, but now these culinary traditions were integrated into our lifestyle. More than culinary, it was also the massages, massage manipulations, rubs, poultices, herbal teas, etc.

After her retirement from government service, and as a daily practice, Mummy had created a regimen for herself - Sahaja Yoga based meditation, (to which she had been introduced by a dear, dear family friend from Bombay, Armaity,) acupressure and exercise. Then she fed the birds, whenever possible, watered her plants, and took one leaf each every morning, of homegrown basil and mint, and neem when available. Her first line of defense remains water therapy.

To get back to Mummy’s flushed face, sparkling eyes, and excited demeanor, we must revisit our Platform 9 and a half, and also pay homage to our ‘antennae’ that bring us life’s little and large joys in the guise of relationships, most fruitful, some not. Well, in this instance Mummy’s antennae, or perhaps Bill the First’s must have reverberated to bring these two souls to talk to each other, somehow, somewhere along the walking track in Meadowbank Park.

That day, she returned from her walk, exceptionally refreshed and rejuvenated. Good intentioned company will do that to you. She said she was delayed because they had stopped to talk, and she had continued on her walk after he left. She asked me if I knew a Bill, describing him to me. I did not.

Mummy excitedly recounted how they both discussed Dr. Ann Wigmore and the benefits of wheat grass, which in the 1990’s was not quite so fashionable. One had to wait for the boom of the Internet, the following decade’s favorite child, for the colossal revival of this and other holistic therapies. Bill the First knew a lot about wheat grass, and even Omega 3’s and enzymes and was using all of them, by way of foods. A chap, right up my mother’s alley. He later told us, that he had healed himself of his prostrate condition.

I can only imagine these two chatting away, like two sailors on an expedition to make new discoveries. Mummy would have told him about Sahaja Yoga and meditation, naturopathy, acupressure and water therapy. Mummy was always intrigued and extremely attentive whenever she met other people on journeys similar to her own. She could easily become quite voluble and animated in such discussion.

Mummy looked forward to her daily walks, because there were days when Mummy and Bill would meet again and with each meeting, renewed their acquaintanceship, and progressed in their exchange of views and news. I was very pleased for Mummy, because it provided her with the perfect mental stimulation on which she thrived. Even better that it happened at the start of her day. She was mostly home alone, until my son returned from school, as I was at work all day. Sometimes in the evenings we would go for a walk again, or I took her grocery shopping, but we never met this elusive Bill, which was surprising because if he walked here he obviously lived in the area, and we were a two street neighborhood.

Until one glorious September morning on a weekend, when she returned from her walk, I heard Mummy turn the key in our front door and call out to me, “Oh Veenu, Oh Veenu, hurry up, come here,” which remains her standard phrase to get my attention whenever she is excited about something. At the door stood my 72-year-old mother, as excited as a schoolgirl, with this white Aussie bloke, possibly a few years her senior, also grinning from ear to ear and smiling profusely in turns. A smile we would grow to love. This is how we first laid eyes on the, until then elusive Bill!  

That morning, they had finished their walk (Mummy walked longer) at the same time, and started to walk homewards together, probably too engrossed in the conversation to notice that they were walking in the same direction, and on the same side of the street.

I can only imagine their surprise, when they would have stopped at the entrance of the (same) building to say their Au Revoir. I’m sorry, but I just have laugh out loud here, as I imagine the incredulous look on both their faces! Was it shock, did they both laugh out loud as well, or did they both break into joyous smiles at the discovery that they lived in the same building. And then, on the same floor of the same building, and right across from each other!

So that is how Vimla met Bill, and how Bill the First came to be into our lives.

End of Episode 1. To be continued in coming installments of Our own Platform number 9 and a half.

Copyright© 2014 by Veenu Banga

The Seismic shift of Consciousness

There was a shift I felt inside me recently, in the last couple of days actually, that came about in the most uncanniest of ways. Like an earthquake, which is first felt physically and then registers, it was exactly the same. I felt 'it' first in my body (my mouth to be exact), and then it 'registered' like a gut wrenching stab in my subconscious. As it did then, it gives me goosebumps and sends shivers down my spine to even write about it.

So, what happened? It was on Thursday, September 4, 2014 that on an impulse I mindlessly pulled out a packet of 'junk' food and served myself the mixture of deep fried and spiced lentils, nuts, and assorted other stuff like rice flakes etc. I was not even tempted to eat it. Perhaps I was a tad hungry and wanted a nibble, but instead of the usual raisins, nuts or a banana, I just picked up this open packet. Perhaps because it was kept near the tea bags and I was debating whether I should brew myself a cup.

What is so appalling about this is? Just that I have not touched any of these things in months. No desire to either. Anyway, I scoop out a little and pop it into my mouth, and suddenly feel a shiver go down my spine. It tastes horrible and I want to spit it out. I don't, because it will be throwing 'food'. Next thing I hear in my subconscious, a very nasty remark that seems to resound in my ears like it was just being spoken. I had long forgiven, forgotten and moved on. It was a barrage of malevolence uttered years ago, in 2002, in a place of near sanctity. It came unexpectedly, like a stab in my heart. It was unsolicited, undeserved, hurtful, mean, and downright cruel, considering it came from someone who is traditionally supposed to be a protector.

I still do not know if the unexpectedness hurt more or the remark did. Imagine one goes to a familiar and beloved church or a family temple for respite, and the priest shows up. You look up to them with respect and humility. Without even flinching he suddenly berates you and almost throws you out of what you thought was a sanctuary. It stuns you to silence. Because you are under the roof of a higher authority, you hardly believe it. You slink into your inner reserves of stillness to preserve the sanctity of the surroundings. It was exactly like that.

I do not regret leaving the incident undisputed. If ever there is a circumstance to take the high road, it was this. When others are involved, who may be injured in the process of salvaging one's transient self respect, it did not seem worth it. It took me almost eight years to get over the incident, and in a flash, no sooner had the salt touched my tongue, than it came flooding back, with all its vengeance and violence. Nonetheless, it still took me a couple of hours to deflect it.

What I realized was my body revolting with this 'food' (not) just as my Spirit had then revolted at the poisonous dart of the barrage of thoughtless and callous words. So how did these two connect, twelve years later?

The US Geological Survey website (http://earthquake.usgs.gov/learn/kids/eqscience.php) describes an earthquake thus:

"While the edges of faults are stuck together, and the rest of the block is moving, the energy that would normally cause the blocks to slide past one another is being stored up. When the force of the moving blocks finally overcomes the friction of the jagged edges of the fault and it unsticks, all that stored up energy is released. The energy radiates outward from the fault in all directions in the form of seismic waves like ripples on a pond. The seismic waves shake the earth as they move through it, and when the waves reach the earth’s surface, they shake the ground and anything on it.."

In my personal journey of striving to achieve the mind, body and spirit balance, like many of us, I too have been flirting with several forms of meditation. I use the word flirting, because you try to get to understand and know the process, without investing too much of yourself in its creed, until you are sure it is right for you. Despite the distance, and at the same time, your heart is involved in the liaison. So there is that tension and pressure building up, because you're not merely ships passing in the night, but much more than that, even if you eventually pass it by.

When you go deeper into meditation and you connect your front and back channels, it is in your Solar Plexus that the connection takes place. Your 'gut' so to speak, is where it all comes together. As you go deeper and stay in it longer, the Energy builds up, and you channel it, and thus you continue in your bliss. It is a very powerful force. You cannot jerk yourself out of it, without some 'seismic' activity. This is what happened to me that day. It was a shocking, disgusting, affront to all my hard work, my struggles to purify body, mind and spirit.

That first mouthful on my tongue was the 'seismic' activity. It was my body repelling the negativity of the food. It was not good for my gut, nor what my gut desired. It was not new to me, but it was like that bad, or rather, the worst of my memories, and my 'gut' instincts revolted. Like an earthquake, first in my body and almost instantaneously in my subconscious. It took me but an instant to come to this realization. I was secretly pleased, because it meant I was progressing in my spiritual journey and my body and my senses were able to harness my intuitive wisdom; well, intuitively!

Two days later, a Sahaja sister, Saumya, posted an extract from (H.H. Shree Mataji Nirmala Devi) Mother's talk in Delhi in 1976, on "Having a good tongue". For me, it was a sign. Coming from someone who embodies my mother for me, since my mother was indoctrinated into Sahaja and it became her regular practice. It was also confirmation of what I had felt. Coming as it did, through Mother's words, it was both humbling and heartening at the same time. A quiet Euphoria, quiet because it comes with much responsibility. You know that you must never revert back to your old decrepit, discarded ways.

So why I am writing this now, why am I sharing this very deep and personal insight about this experience of an uplifting shift in my consciousness, especially when I am usually silent about these things when it comes to my personal journey. I think it is because of Saumya's post and what it did for me.

Perhaps you have felt these 'siesmic' shifts in your consciousness, and in your inner world. It becomes my duty to pay it forward, so that you can revel in the advancement, and be propelled further towards the attainment of your goals. After all, can we move forward and onwards, unless we know we are on the right track, and getting results?

Copyright© 2014 by Veenu Banga