Thursday, January 27, 2011
Kathakali performance in Trissur, near Krishna Temple: the story of the woodcutter who dug a tunnel for the Pandavas to escape from
This actor/dancer (unfortunately did not get his name) performed a powerful and also hilarious version of the woodcutter who digs a tunnel and encounters numerous animals and stinging bugs along the way in the forest.
Oils, bitter herbs and other delights of Ayurvedic treatment
Guggulu Tiktakam Kashayam, Guggulu Tiktakam Ghritam, Dasamoola Hareetaki, Yogaraja Guggulu, Balarishtam....these are just a few of our prescribed Ayurvedic herbal preparations which we must consume 3-4 times per day, before meals, and beginning at 6 am in the morning. "Tik-tak-tam"....I like the sound of these Kerala Ayurvedic medicines! On the other hand, the taste ranges from extremely bitter to barely palatable.
But Assunta and I are savoring our daily treatments (we are now into day 4) at the Kerala Ayurveda Samajam Shoranur : http://www.samajam.org/ It may or may not be the world's first Ayurveda Center (not sure about that claim), but it is definitely rooted in a deep tradition, and has much to offer--tho it definitely does not cater to foreigners in any way; methods are very basic and traditional, without any effort to appeal to aesthetics. This is a hospital, and treatments are matter-of-fact.
That said, I look forward to my daily slathering, melting, molding, drenching oil bath and massage, with two young women on either side of me, in rhythmic unison, sliding their palms up and down my legs, arms and torso, massaging at times more deeply, at other times gently. In-between the actual massaging, the just-perfectly heated dark brown oil is poured repeatedly over every part of my body (head excepted, in this case), enveloping me like a baby in a womb-like liquid universe.
I am lying on a heavy ancient-looking wooden bench-cum-boat-like 'table'. The oil drips down off my body and is caught by the raised sides of the table, where it is gathered and regathered by another woman at the foot of the table, to be re-heated, and reapplied, repeatedly, for one hour. This is abhyanga. I will have seven days of this, followed by further treatments, to be determined.
Assunta is having similar but different treatments, some of which involve the application of a special paste to the body, and oil massage of the head. Our treatments were determined by the head doctor of Samajam, who met with us for a preliminary consultation, talked with us individually, quite at length, and took our pulse.
During the treatments we are meant to rest alot and not run around. Our food should be without oil or spices, quite simple. Luckily our cook Lakshmi is familiar with these treatments, and is a master at making us wonderful and simple Kerala food (like steamed plantains for breakfast, aviyal --a yogurt-based vegetable dish with rice- for lunch, and steamed rice cakes, or idli, for supper.)
The heavy oil massages make one feel very relaxed and sleepy, so its pretty easy to just decide not to do too much. (my one indulgence is staying in town after massage to post on the blog--the other indulgence was taking a bus to Trissur the other night to see a fantastic Kathakali performance! ** see photos in another post)
We are grateful to be here, and to be experiencing these treatments....
more follows....
But Assunta and I are savoring our daily treatments (we are now into day 4) at the Kerala Ayurveda Samajam Shoranur : http://www.samajam.org/ It may or may not be the world's first Ayurveda Center (not sure about that claim), but it is definitely rooted in a deep tradition, and has much to offer--tho it definitely does not cater to foreigners in any way; methods are very basic and traditional, without any effort to appeal to aesthetics. This is a hospital, and treatments are matter-of-fact.
That said, I look forward to my daily slathering, melting, molding, drenching oil bath and massage, with two young women on either side of me, in rhythmic unison, sliding their palms up and down my legs, arms and torso, massaging at times more deeply, at other times gently. In-between the actual massaging, the just-perfectly heated dark brown oil is poured repeatedly over every part of my body (head excepted, in this case), enveloping me like a baby in a womb-like liquid universe.
I am lying on a heavy ancient-looking wooden bench-cum-boat-like 'table'. The oil drips down off my body and is caught by the raised sides of the table, where it is gathered and regathered by another woman at the foot of the table, to be re-heated, and reapplied, repeatedly, for one hour. This is abhyanga. I will have seven days of this, followed by further treatments, to be determined.
Assunta is having similar but different treatments, some of which involve the application of a special paste to the body, and oil massage of the head. Our treatments were determined by the head doctor of Samajam, who met with us for a preliminary consultation, talked with us individually, quite at length, and took our pulse.
During the treatments we are meant to rest alot and not run around. Our food should be without oil or spices, quite simple. Luckily our cook Lakshmi is familiar with these treatments, and is a master at making us wonderful and simple Kerala food (like steamed plantains for breakfast, aviyal --a yogurt-based vegetable dish with rice- for lunch, and steamed rice cakes, or idli, for supper.)
The heavy oil massages make one feel very relaxed and sleepy, so its pretty easy to just decide not to do too much. (my one indulgence is staying in town after massage to post on the blog--the other indulgence was taking a bus to Trissur the other night to see a fantastic Kathakali performance! ** see photos in another post)
We are grateful to be here, and to be experiencing these treatments....
more follows....
Kolam festival and competition, Chennai, near Kapileshwar temple, Mylapore. Early January 2011.
*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kolam
This is an artform practiced by women on a daily basis in front of their homes (in a more simple form). It is considered auspicious to bless the house daily in this way,and continues to be practiced throughout South India and parts of North India.
speaking of lac bugs...
the most amazing thing happened last night; after having posted the note about lac bugs as an afterthought on the blog, I opened up my book "The Palace of Illusions"** to the next chapter. The title was "lac", and the opening paragraph is below:
"In my dream, I was a lac insect. Like my hundred sisters, I attached myself to a new twig and drank its sap. I had no eyes, so I focused my entire impassioned energy on drinking. I drank and grew and secreted resin red as mud until I was covered with it, until we were all covered. Within my shell I held still and grew, like my hundred sisters, and within me grew eggs. The moon waxed full: once, twice, three times. The resin pooled and spread across the branches, turning them red until the tree seemed to be a dancing flame. The waiting villagers nodded. Yes, soon. The eggs hatched, a hundred new insects attached themselves to other trees, the villagers broke off the branches and scraped the resin clean, and sent it to Varnavat where Duryodhan had ordered a palace to be built for his five cousins.
(And I? I died. No need to mourn me. My work was done.)"
** by Chitra Banarjee Divakaruni: a feminist interpretation of the Mahabharata, through the eyes of the heroine Princess Panchaali (Draupadi). This paragraph refers to the lac from which the Pandavas palace was built --and eventually was burned down.
"In my dream, I was a lac insect. Like my hundred sisters, I attached myself to a new twig and drank its sap. I had no eyes, so I focused my entire impassioned energy on drinking. I drank and grew and secreted resin red as mud until I was covered with it, until we were all covered. Within my shell I held still and grew, like my hundred sisters, and within me grew eggs. The moon waxed full: once, twice, three times. The resin pooled and spread across the branches, turning them red until the tree seemed to be a dancing flame. The waiting villagers nodded. Yes, soon. The eggs hatched, a hundred new insects attached themselves to other trees, the villagers broke off the branches and scraped the resin clean, and sent it to Varnavat where Duryodhan had ordered a palace to be built for his five cousins.
(And I? I died. No need to mourn me. My work was done.)"
** by Chitra Banarjee Divakaruni: a feminist interpretation of the Mahabharata, through the eyes of the heroine Princess Panchaali (Draupadi). This paragraph refers to the lac from which the Pandavas palace was built --and eventually was burned down.
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