14.3.2016., Delhi

Guruji kaže kako
um voli nove stvari, a srce stare. Kad imaš oboje u kombinaciji onda je to to.
U Delhiju sam, koji mi je nov, družim se sa starim prijateljem.

Gladna sam! Evo
ti pola kile grožđa za (preplaćenih) 5 kuna.

Žedna sam! Čovjek
ispred mene gura hladnjak-kolica i vadi litrenku vode – 1 kn.

Dosadno mi je!
Prošetaj se 3 i po sekunde, vidjet ćeš milijardu zanimljivosti.

Spava mi se!
Legneš, spavaš.

Vruće mi je!
Upalim klimu ili ventilator ili se bacim na hladni pod (ili samo položim bose
noge na mramor). Možda tuš? Hladna mineralna, sok od naranče, sjest u
predvečerje na vrh zgrade gdje pirka vjetrić…

Sunce u Delhiju
je taman. Malo vruće preko dana, ali malo. Dovoljno da ne bude prevruće i
dovoljno da bude sasvim toplo da možeš ići okolo u prozračnoj robi.

Za ugodan provod
u Indiji treba imati malo strpljenja i malo znanja. Usluga se traži i dobiva na
drugačiji način. Stav je: mušterijo, bitna si, ali nemoj pretjerivati ni u
čemu, jer od mene nećeš dobiti ništa, koliko god me mogao platiti.

Odlazili smo
zadnji iz restorana, već je bio skoro zatvorio. Taman je čovjek krenuo jesti, i
uto se trebao spustiti tri kata dolje da nam otvori vrata na dvorište, i
zaključa iza nas. Mi smo polako kapali jedan po jedan, i dok nas je tako čekao,
kaže ovako: «Pola chapattija mi je u stomaku, pola gore u tanjuru; treba
zaraditi novce, ali treba imati bar malo komfora u životu.» Tko zna koliko je
dugo radio prije nego je uspio sjesti da pojede jednostavno jelo s malo kruha
(chapattija).

Praznici u
Delhiju su vrlo brzo bili gotovi (jedan dan). Slijedi let za Bangalore.
Niskobudžetni let. Teško je izabrati koje dodatne ponude imaju smisla, a koje
ne. Više mjesta za noge, naruči hranu unaprijed, čekiraj se prvi, uđi u avion
prvi, torba da ti izađe prva iz aviona? Sve neka sića, ali se skupi. U Europi o
ovim stvarima ni ne razmišljam, znam da idem najjeftinijom opcijom i nema
dileme. Rekla bih da je u ovom slučaju dobar recept: više mjesta za noge (iako
nije baš strašno ni bez) i naručit hranu unaprijed, ima više izbora. Svejedno
mi je gdje sjedim (prolaz, sredina, prozor), prtljagu ću čekat kao svi i
check-in nije toliko dugo trajao.

Spašavala sam
Ruskinje na aerodromu, jedne na check-in-u, a druge na kontroli ručne prtljage.
Kako je to smiješno – ne govore ni riječ engleskog i jednostavno ne mogu
razumjeti što se događa. Prevodila sam s engleskog na izmišljeni slavenski
jezik, i s ruskog na engleski. Nigdje nije jasno naznačeno kada kupuješ kartu
online da treba ponijeti sa sobom tu karticu s kojom si kupio kartu. Tete
Ruskinje, kao ni ja, nisu imale sa sobom baš tu karticu. Ja sam svoju lijepo
rastavila na proste faktore tek dan ranije, jer sam imala napad rješavanja
nepotrebnih stvari, a kartici je istekao rok upotrebe (kad sam kupovala kartu,
još je vrijedila). Nije bilo komplicirano, trebalo je kupiti novu kartu, a iznos
stare će biti povraćen na račun.

Drugi par ruskih
tetki je imao dva para škarica za nokte u ručnoj prtljagi plus jednu torbu
viška za u avion. Pitala sam ženu jel uopće putovala u zadnjih deset godina,
jer nisam mogla povjerovati da ne zna da ne možeš unositi oštre predmete u
avion. Meni su oduzeli male škarice prvi puta neke davne 1999. kada sam
pobjegla iz Zagreba u Dubrovnik na par dana posjetiti tadašnjeg momka.
Uglavnom, žena je imala dva para škarica; nijekala je da ima drugi par, i nije
htjela dati ni te koje su joj našli (jer joj očito trebaju, za nokte). Onda su
joj torbu dvaput stavljali pod rendgen, poništili joj boarding pass, i vratili
je na check-in i preda tu ekstra torbu skupa s oštrim predmetima u utrobu
aviona.

Iz aviona

Nebo je sivo,
oblaci narančasti i smeđi.

Sunce se gubi u
prašumi prašine.
Sklapa mi se oko, jedno prvo, pa ga drugo uprati.

Samo Sandhya –
prostor između – vlada.

Nisam budna niti
spavam.

Najedena,
napojena, svejedno se veselim tvrdom ashramskom krevetu, vrijućem zraku punom
komaraca i dragim ljudima. Jedva čekam doći kući. JEDVA ČEKAM.

19. ožujka 2016.

4. dan tečaja za
buduće yoga učitelje. Tek danas pišem, jer je danas prvi dan kada sam uspjela
uloviti par minuta slobodnog vremena. Potpuno nevjerovatno je kako na većini
Art of living naprednijih tečajeva sve manje spavaš iz dana u dan, svaki
slijedeći je sve naporniji i natrpaniji, a ti si sve življi i odmorniji.

Od kada sam
stigla u ashram, prije 5 dana, spavala sam u prosjeku 4 ipo sata po noći, možda
po sat po danu, imam pauze za jelo u kojima stignem pojesti, presvući se i
vratiti na slijedeći sat. I uz sve to, i dalje se stižem družiti s ljudima,
napraviti gomilu stvari na tečaju, meditirati 3-4 puta dnevno, raditi yogu 2
puta dnevno, učiti anatomiju i razumijevati yogu kao pojam kojeg je samo jedan
dio fizička vježba. Vrijeme se ovdje čudesno rastegne.

Imala sam osjećaj
da je svaki dan kao njih minimalno tri. I sve živo o čemu razmišljam mjesecima
isplutalo mi je na površinu. Pokušala sam umom i kroz savjete drugih dokučiti
što je sad u pitanju i kakvo bi bilo moguće rješenje. Čini mi se da mehanizam
koji mi omogućava da ne preuzmem odgovornost i ne napravim nešto svojevoljno i
onako kako bih željela – je takav da samu sebe učinim trenutno nesposobnom da
nešto uvidim ili shvatim.

Jasno mi je što
želim, ali mi nije jasno kako to ostvariti, pa onda umišljam neka rješenja u
koja me i drugi uvjeravaju da su dobra za mene. Iako je rješenje zapravo
kombinacija svega pomalo, a ja ga promašujem uvidjeti. Zato pitam Gurua. Ipak
on zna najbolje, ono što moj mali um zamišlja je da je njegov odgovor
kombinacija poguravanja u pravom smjeru plus ogledalo tvoje vlastite duše.

Tjedan dana
kasnije – 26.3.2016.

Izbacilo me iz
Satsang benda. Baš sam car. Ne baš doslovno, svašta se tu odigralo. Došla sam i
sjela naprijed, uštekala gitaru. Nisu mi je uključili na razglas. Kolega me
pogurao da pod hitno odsviram nešto, pa sam pod pritiskom i stresom brzinski
započela stvar koja mi se nije svirala, niti je bila ta na redu (i kod nas i u
Indiji postoji određeni red koji se bhajan svira slijedeći, svugdje je malo
drugačije). Tako da sam počela večer nekako zbrljano, jer sam znala da sviram
krivi bhajan, gitara mi nije bila uključena i nisam htjela to pjevati. Malo
kasnije su se pojavili ti neki ustoličeni metuzalemi koji ne ustupljuju svoje
mjesto ni pod kojim uvjetima. Zatim me jedna teta poticala da pjevam back
vokale za slijedeću stvar, dodavajući mi mikrofon, pa se jedan od metuzalema
izvikao na nju da što ona ima biti satsang koordinator sad odjednom. Sve je to
rekao na Hindiju, no razumjela sam, jer sam darovita i bilingvalno dijete, pa
upijam jezike kao spužvica. To mi je sve već bio potpuni stres. Zatim je jedan
kolega svirao bhajan kojeg Indijci ne znaju, i netko je trebao pjevati back
vokale, uto se pojavila još jedna metuzalemka, pa tko će se dići da joj ustupi
mjesto – balava internacionalka. Kako sam već imala mikrofon u rukama, nije mi
bilo ni na kraj pameti da ga predam, ali kabel je bio kratak, nisam imala gdje sjesti,
pa sam se po indijski uvalila između dvije ženske gdje nije bilo mjesta – morale
su se razmaknuti. Pokušale su me izgurati, ali bila sam kao kip. Imam mikrofon,
pjevam i ne mičem se. Pred kraj pjesme su mi pokušale oteti mikrofon ne bi li
osigurale nekom drugom da pjeva slijedeću stvar, no nisam ga dala. Kad je
pjesma do zadnje note završila uslijedili su komentari kako je pjevač pjevao
predugo, spojio nekoliko pjesama zajedno itd. To je za mene značio kraj ionako
kratkog fitilja tog dana, pa sam se lijepo pošteno izvikala na svih da su
bezobrazni i da tu sjede već godinama i godinama svaki dan. Nisam propustila
napomenuti da sam tu živjela godinu dana, svaki dan sjedila s bendom i ni jedan
jedini put nisam pjevala ni svirala dok je Guruji bio na satsangu.
Demonstrativno sam se ustala i sjela malo podalje, jer ionako nije više bilo
mjesta.

Pričam priču na
svoj način, iz svog kuta gledanja, dok će je svatko ispričati na neki svoj
način, proglasiti me nepristojnom, agresivnom i ludom (ne lažem se da nisam).
No, i dalje tvrdim da usprkos tome što satsang treba održati neku kvalitetu
izvedbe, da treba dati drugima priliku da pjevaju i sviraju svom Guruu. Većinom
su ti pjevači i svirači koji se pojave uistinu dobri, a pogotovo im treba dati
priliku kada je puno više internacionalaca u ashramu, treba se malo
prilagoditi, jer nitko ne može pjevati toliko glazbeno i tekstualno
komplicirane pjesme koje se pjevaju.

Poanta satsanga
je da svi zajedno sviramo i pjevamo i da netko vodi da se sve skupa ne razvodni.
Ovo ovdje je koncert, a ne satsang. Cijela ova priča je u meni buknula, jer sam
se žešće uželjela satsanga. Vrlo kratko nakon ove cijele epizode mi se želja
ostvarila, i svirali smo satsang ispred prekrasne meditacijske dvorane, dok su
ljudi stajali okolo i čekali Gurujija da izađe iz iste. Mjesečina, hladan
mramorni pod, večernji povjetarac, u čežnji i ljubavi se pjevalo i plesalo. U
ashramu se po kratkom postupku ostvaruju želje…

Na kraju krajeva,
zaključila bih – dogodilo se što se dogodilo, i to je za mene istinito, no
postoji i ono što se dogodilo ispod površinske priče: te godine kada sam
živjela u Indiji nisam imala dovoljno sigurnosti u sebe pjevati pred svima dok
je Guruji na satsangu, zato vjerovatno nisam ni dobila tu priliku. Tu večer kad
sam se na svih nadurila je možda samo izraz toga kako sam zapravo bila ljuta na
sebe što se nisam «izborila» da sviram, nego sam opet bila slaba i popustila,
kakva god da se situacija složila.

Sada znam, a slijedeći put će biti drugačije, opet.

 ______________________________________________________________________

March 14 2016, Delhi

Guruji says how the
mind likes new things, and the heart old ones. When you have both in a
combination, then that is it. I am in Delhi, that is new to me, hanging out
with an old friend.

I am hungry! Have half
a kilo of grapes for (overcharged) 0,90 cents.

I am thirsty! A man is
in front of me, pushing his refrigerator cart, pulling out a litre bottle – for
0,15 cents.

I am bored! Walk about
and in 3 and a half seconds you will see a billion of interesting details.

I feel sleepy! Lie
down, sleep.

I am hot! Turn on the
AC or the ventilator or just throw yourself on the cool marble floor (or just
cool your bare feet on it). A shower? A cool soda, orange juice, sit on top of
a building at dusk, feeling the breeze…

The sun in Delhi is
just about right. A little hot during the day, but slightly. Enough not to be
too hot and just enough to be warm enough for you to wear very light clothes.

To have a good time in
India, one needs a bit of patience and a bit of knowing how things work. A
service is asked for and received in a different way. The attitude is that the
customer matters, but there is a line not to be crossed in demanding, because
you will not receive the service no matter how much you can pay.

We were the last ones
to leave the restaurant, it was almost closed. The man just started to have
food, and then needed to go three stories down to open the door to the street
for us and close it behind. We were coming down one by one, and as he waited
and waited he said: “Half of the chapatti is in my stomach and the other half
upstairs; one should earn money, but there should also be some comfort in
life”. Who knows how long he waited to be able to have that simple food with a
piece of bread (chapatti).

Delhi holidays came
and went rather quickly (one day). Next was the flight to Bangalore. A
low-budget airline. It was difficult to decide what all special offers make
sense and which do not. More leg space, pre-order your food, check-in first,
get onto the plane first, get your bag out of the plane first? Little costs
that sum-up. In Europe I do not even consider any of this, I know I am taking the
cheapest option and that is that. I would say a good recipe in this case is:
more leg-space (even though it is not much worse without) and pre-order the
food for more choices. Where I sit matters very little (window, aisle, middle),
and the baggage can be checked in on time, anyway you come early to the
airport.

I had a rescue mission
for some Russian ladies at the airport, ones at the check-in and others at the
hand luggage security check. It was real fun, as they really do not speak one
word of English, and just cannot grasp what is going on. I served as a
translator between English and a made-up Slavic language that I used and
Russian to English. It was not marked anywhere that you need to bring the
credit card you used to buy the ticket as an identity document along with the
passport. The Russian ladies had not had this card on them, and nor did I, as I
just shredded mine a day before, having a getting-rid-of-stuff fit, the card
was expired (when I was buying the ticket it was still valid). It was not very
complicated, I just needed to buy a new ticket and the old one would be
reimbursed (luckily I had money on me).

The other pair of the
Russian ladies had two pairs of hand scissors in their hand luggage plus one
extra bag. I asked one of the ladies if she had travelled in the last ten
years, because I could not believe she had missed all the security notices
about restricted items in planes. I was relieved of my hand scissors as far as
1999 when I ran away from Zagreb to Dubrovnik to visit my then boyfriend. So,
to continue the story, the lady had two pairs of scissors, and was denying to
have the other pair, and did not want to hand over the one pair they actually
located in her bag (obviously she was in grave need of scissors). They put her
bag in the x-ray thing twice, and in the end cancelled her boarding pass and
forced her to check-in the extra bag together with her weapons.

On the plane

Sky is grey, clouds
orange and brown.

Sun is lost in a
forest of dust.

One eye closes, then
the other following.

Only Sandhya – space
in between – ruling.

Nor awake, nor asleep.

Well fed, well
watered, looking forward to the hard ashram bed, boiling hot air filled with
mosquitos and dear people. I hardly wait to come home. I can hardly wait any
longer.

19 March 2016

4^th day of
the future yoga teachers course. I am just managing to write today the first
time, as there was hardly a minute to spare. Quite incredible how at most more
advanced Art of Living courses day to day one sleeps less, every next day is a
little tougher, and more packed, but you seem to be more alive and rested.

Since having arrived
to the ashram, five days ago, I slept in average four and a half hours in the
night, one hour during the day; having breaks to eat, change and go to the next
session. In all this I manage to meet people, do a great lot of things in the
course, meditate 3-4 times a day, do yoga twice a day, learn anatomy, and
understand yoga as just partly being a physical exercise. Time miraculously
stretches in this place.

I had the feeling that
each day is at least three. Everything I have been thinking of all these months
floated up on the surface to deal with. I tried to use my mind and use advice
of others to get to the core of what is really going on, and what solution I
should apply. It seems to me that the mechanism that makes it possible for me
NOT to take responsibility and not do something I normally would like to do,
and in the way I would like to – is such that it disables me to see or
understand anything.

It is clear to me what
I want, but it is not quite clear how to make it work, and then I start
believing into what others are convincing me are good for me. The solution is
really a combination of many things, but I miss the opportunity to see it. That
is why I ask the Guru. He knows what is best. Or at least I imagine he is
telling me what is best for me plus reflecting what I might be hiding from
myself.

A week later – 26
March 2016

I got kicked out of
the Satsang band. I am the absolute cool. Not literally, an entire show came to
play. I arrived on time to sit in front and plugged my guitar in. They did not
put it on loudspeaker. A colleague pushed me to play something quickly;
stressed and pressured I started a song I did not want to sing, nor was it its
turn (Europe as well as India has a particular sequence of bhajan songs to be
played). The evening started in a mess, I knew I was singing a bhajan out of
place, my guitar was not even on and this was not what I wanted to play. A few
moments later these guys who are ALWAYS there, and never give up their spot
under any circumstance, showed up. A lady out of the band asked me to sing
backing vocals to a song she knew I know, and while offering me the mic, one of
the non-budging singers yelled at her for being a coordinator. He had spoken in
Hindi, but I understood, because I am talented and also bilingual, so I soak in
languages like a sponge. Everything so far had caused me the ultimate stress.
The next thing was that someone I knew played a bhajan Indians are not familiar
with, so someone needed to sing backing vocals. At that very moment another
non-budging elderly lady arrived (late!) – who is the one to make space for
her? The International kid, of course. As I was already holding the mike, there
was no way I would give it up, but the cable was too short, so I had no place
to sit. I pulled off an “Indian”, and sat in between two ladies where there was
no space, but they needed to move. They tried to push me out, but there I was,
not budging an inch. I am holding the mike, singing and not going anywhere. As
the song’s end was coming closer, they tried to take the mike from me, again,
to pass it on to the next singer that was chosen to sing, but I did not give it
up until the very last note was played. Comments came flying how he had sung
too long and what not. That, for me, was the end of it. Anyway that day was not
my day, and I was short-tempered, so I let go and nicely yelled at them all,
telling them how rude they all are and how they have been sitting there for
years and years not giving a chance to anyone else. I had not passed on the
opportunity of how I lived here for a year and not once sang or played in front
of Guruji. I stood up, left, and made space for others.

Of course I am telling
this story in my own way, from my point of view, while everyone has their own
version of events. They could call me impolite, aggressive and crazy (and I do
not pretend I am not all that). But I still stand behind the notion that
everyone should be given an opportunity to sing to their Guru, while upholding
a quality check for the performers.

Mostly the singers and
musicians showing up there are really good and should be given a chance,
especially when more Internationals are in the ashram. One needs to adjust a
bit, because the complexity of music and lyrics is not suitable for an
international audience.

The whole point of
satsang is that we all play and sing together, having someone to lead, as not
to loose the direction. What they do here is a concert, not a satsang.

I got worked up so
much around this because I was really missing satsang. Very soon after this
infamous evening my wish came true and we had a beautiful satsang on a patio in
front of the gorgeous meditation hall, while people were stading around,
waiting for Guruji to come out. The moonlight, cool marble floor, evening
breeze, singing and dancing in longing and love. In the ashram wishes come true
very soon…

At the end of it all,
I would conclude – what came to place, came to place, and it is true for me.
There is another dimension to it as well: the year I was living in Bangalore, I
had not had enough strength and courage to sing in front of everyone while
Guruji was in satsang, and that is probably why I had not got the chance to do
so. The anger that I felt this evening was most probably just the anger I had
for myself, for (again) not having the strength to fight my way into playing
for Him. I was again weak, and missed the opportunity.

Now I know, next time
it will be very different, again.