Parotas, on the way to Tiru

After we left Ganeshpuri and the Nityananda shrine, we flew from Mumbai to Chennai (now Madras), in the state of Tamil Nadu. We spent the night at the Radisson, a good choice in India. That's where we discovered India is in love with Jon Bon Jovi and Bryan Adams' music. The server in the Regency Club played it loudly over and over and said it was the latest rage.

The next morning, after I received an ayurvedic foot massage that came complimentary with the room and Marty ate another dosa, we set off for a four hour drive to Thiruvannamalai (known as Tiru). Tiru is a small town in southern India, famous for its gigantic Shiva temple, Mount Arunachula, and the ashram of the great sage, Ramana Maharshi who died in 1950.

Along the way, our driver, another man named Ganesh, continuously beeped. It was so irritating that we were so relieved to pull off to a road side chai shop. Marty decided to eat whatever the man at the grill was making, because it was in the shape of a pizza. These "little pizzas" were later identified as parotas. This lunch was proving to be both fascinating and dangerous for our health.

The whole time the cook is making the parotas, you'll see a man brushing his teeth and washing up right behind him. Watch how the cook 'manhandles' the food after and serves it to us on a banana leaf.


We also ate the guavas that a woman was selling by the road. YUM! The chai was delicious too. We'll have a video on how to make that later from Rishikesh. We eventually made our way to the Sparsa EcoResort, a perfect place to stay while visiting Tiru.

Sparsa Resort in Tiru

We stayed at the Sparsa resort, a gorgeous eco resort about a mile from Ramana's ashram that we learned about from our friend who had just been to Mukti from Boston.

We watched the traditional pottery making technique, and got a parrot and rat astrology reading (the rat turned out to be a guinea pig.) These two creatures lived next to each other in a tiny divided wooden cage. When the door to their cage slid open, they were trained to run to a spread of cards and each chose one. The cards were pictures of various Indian gods. The ones the guinea pig and parrot chose apparently indicated that I'd have a strong body until I was 90 and that March 22nd of this year is a start of a long period of good luck (it's also our 6th wedding anniversary.) Marty isn't that into parrot, rat, or any type of astrological readings.

In Tiru, we met up with our friend Corrine's husband, Sathya, a Brahmin who's lived in Tiru for 14 years. We ate lunch a delicious lunch of spicy rice and yogurt and dahl at his home that his brother Krishanmurti made. After that he took us to the guest house he was building adjacent a rice field, and toured us through Tiru with his own private tuk tuk and his brakeless car.

Along the way, we saw many, many ashrams either newly built or just being built for followers of the 'living gurus' springing up around the area. This seems to be primarily because of popularity of Ramana's teachings and the people coming from the west to see where he lived who bring a readiness to seek enlightenment and willingness to spend money. In 1993 Marty stayed in Ramana Maharshi's ashram, it was much less crowded than today.

Ramana's Enlightenment Experience at the Age of 16

Ramana Maharshi was an Indian Sage (1879 – 1950) best known for his teachings of self-inquiry. The most popular book he wrote was called Who Am I?

Ramana was born to a Brahmin family in the state of Tamil Nadu. At the age of 16, he had a life changing experience during which he spontaneously initiated a process of self-inquiry that culminated, within a few minutes, in his own permanent awakening.

He left his home for a mountain named Arunachala in Thiruvannamali where he lived in a cave for many years. He radiated a powerful silence which attracted followers and quieted minds. When asked for advice, he recommended self-inquiry as the fastest path to liberation, or moksha. His primary teaching is associated with Vedanta, and Jnana Yoga, and he recommends a variety of paths and practices.

Below is the video of his words as they are posted on the wall in the ashram. The sounds you hear as you read it are the sounds of the peacocks that surround the ashram.

Here is the transcript:
"It was in 1896, about 6 weeks before I left Madurai for good (to go to Tiruvannamalai - Arunachala) that this great change in my life took place. I was sitting alone in a room on the first floor of my uncle's house. I seldom had any sickness and on that day there was nothing wrong with my health, but a sudden violent fear of death overtook me. There was nothing in my state of health to account for it nor was there any urge in me to find out whether there was any account for the fear. I just felt I was going to die and began thinking what to do about it. It did not occur to me to consult a doctor or any elders or friends. I felt I had to solve the problem myself then and there. The shock of the fear of death drove my mind inwards and I said to myself mentally, without actually framing the words: 'Now death has come; what does it mean? What is it that is dying? This body dies.' And at once I dramatised the occurrence of death. I lay with my limbs stretched out still as though rigor mortis has set in, and imitated a corpse so as to give greater reality to the enquiry. I held my breath and kept my lips tightly closed so that no sound could escape, and that neither the word 'I' nor any word could be uttered. 'Well then,' I said to myself, 'this body is dead. It will be carried stiff to the burning ground and there burn and reduced to ashes. But with the death of the body, am I dead? Is the body I? It is silent and inert, but I feel the full force of my personality and even the voice of I within me, apart from it. So I am the Spirit transcending the body. The body dies but the spirit transcending it cannot be touched by death. That means I am the deathless Spirit.' All this was not dull thought; it flashed through me vividly as living truths which I perceived directly almost without thought process. I was something real, the only real thing about my present state, and all the conscious activity connected with the body was centered on that I. From that moment onwards, the I or Self focused attention on itself by a powerful fascination. Fear of death vanished once and for all. The ego was lost in the flood of Self-awareness. Absorption in the Self continued unbroken from that time. Other thought might come and go like the various notes of music, but the I continued like the fundamental sruti [that which is heard] note which underlies and blends with all other notes."

Breakfast at the Lake Palace Hotel

Okay, the secret's out. One of our main motivations for coming to India is to eat. We both love Indian food (along with the chai, music, incense, temples, many religions, and the swamis, sadus, charlatans and holy people that go along with all that.

Marty's favorite thing to eat in the morning is a masala dosa with sambar, and mine is an idly (thought I eat more than one, so they are called idlis) with coconut chutney. These two dishes are traditional dishes of south India states and are served in very few Indian restaurants in America.

Idlis are cakes are usually two to three inches in diameter and are made by steaming a batter consisting of fermented lentils and mostly rice. The fermentation process makes them easy to digest.

A masala dosa is a very large thin lentil-flour pancake rolled into a hollow tube stuffed with a small portion of spicy vegetable potato mixture. It's served with sambar, a very thin tamarind-based stew. In 1993, Marty first ate dosas while visiting a restaurant near Ramana Maharshi's ashram in south India and in fact, one time, along with his friends Mike and Janine and the young Swami Nityananda, he ordered a 6 foot long dosa at Tirupati (the most visited shrine in India dedicated to Balaji, a incarnation of the Hindu god Vishnu.) Marty calls it a crepe on spicy steroids, and wishes I could learn to make them.

When I stayed in Ammachi's ashram in Kerala (a state in South India), I looked forward to breakfast (and every other meal of course) because I had discovered the idlis. Marty said they also served idlis at breakfast in Ramana's ashram.