from India: part 1
one year later: film photographs and words from my trip to India, February 2024
"The whole of India, taken together, is the body of Shakti” - India, Diana L. Eck
Shakti - life energy that sustains all existence
february 14th, 2024
i have arrived in India. the mother land. mother India. India Ma.
she has been calling me to her surface for all my life. how many of my ancestors’ bones rest in this soil? how many of their ashes were put in these rivers?
my feet walk upon her flesh as though she already knows me. my family once taken from these lands, and now i have returned. i look into the eyes of these people and i see my own eyes. i hear the language as it flows like blood in my veins. the spices grown and raised here spoke to me in dreams. and now i put them on my tongue and ingest them into my blood. slowly. like a prayer. fennel. turmeric. ajwain. ginger.
the birds greet me and i already know them. i am welcomed by a family and they feel like my family. they take me shopping to pick out a lehenga (traditional Indian formal garment) for the wedding. i pick one that is dark purple. i once had a palm reader tell me that purple was my power color. it’s probably the color i wear the least. purple. the crown chakra. the divine timing of it all sending tingles down my spine.
we have lunch of home made chutney. freshly made yoghurt from milk collected from their buffalo this morning. dishes with vegetables picked from the garden. pickled mango. roti formed by their hands. i ingest slowly. the grandmother doesn’t speak English, and i don’t speak Hindi. and yet there is an understanding in her smile. we talk of Ganga ma (mother Ganga - Hindi for Ganges river). of Vishnu. of different cultures. and of course, we talk about food. after lunch, we eat bits of jur - a post meal dessert made with pure cane sugar and spices to aid digestion. we talk of the difference in the food found in the west and in India.
we arrived in Rishikesh. this morning i woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep, so i went to a pre-dawn yoga class and fire ritual. the streets still dark as i walked the short distance from my music ashram. the sky slowly losing its ink as it transitions from black to a pale blue. i step onto the streets after class. my hair smelling of sandalwood. burning firewood still fresh in my lungs. i feel tired and i feel myself slowly unthawing my fingers to loosen my grip.
two days before i left on this trip i got news from my landlord that we needed to move out of our home, the owners wanted to sell. i am still feeling so bitter and free falling about it. it has put a weird taste in my mouth that has salted my trip. though the more steps i take on this land, the more i feel myself letting it go. the teachings and the movements and the lifestyle here. the timing does not feel happenstance.
Pluto is squaring my 4th and 10th house (houses of home/family and ambition, respectively). here i am on my ancestor’s land, my body craving to homestead and rest and start a family. and our home is being taken from us. i am breathing into these spaces that hurt. i move my body. today, i will put my body in the Ganges river for the first time in this life. and i will be with her. i will give thanks and i will let her wash away from me what i need to let go.
with open hands, unclenched fists. unclenched jaw. unfurrowed brow. the class today helped to build up fire and then let it go. i think about my ancestors who were taken from their home in India and brought to Guyana in 1838 as indentured servants - who were forced to re-establish home. and i think about my dad and his family who then left Guyana to make a new home again here in the states. i think about home instability and the weight on the scales of the world. there is a tipping in one way that does not favor the other side. the duality remains unbalanced. it weights heavy in my chest. i breathe into it. i remember how to breathe. today, i remembered how to move. and i will remember how to let go. there is this aching prodding feeling of good things leaving. and so, i practice acceptance of impermanence. because even in love, things change.
february 15th, 2024
~ ganga ma ~ she washes it all away she washes it all away i put my warm body in her cool embrace the chill plays with my spine in the most familiar way how long has it been since my ancestors came to her to pray? we were separated from our mother but now i have returned she greets me with a gentle hug as father sun shines overhead pops of orange marigold decorates her flesh jewelry of offerings like orange, yellow, pink, and white stones and to her grace we sing we put our bodies in her body and we release our sins no need for confession she teaches us of love. of lore. as she shakes and weaves her blessings her soft skin rippled to meet mine and all at once i release first slow steps just feet and then i plunge with my bitter and my rage with all the short comings and silent fury passed from generations before she takes my hands and i let them go a child brings me an orange marigold "a gift" he says and it melts my edges into softness and i bring the flower to our mother another jewel upon her skin
Ganga ma (mother Ganga) is “the essence of scriptures and embodied goodness of the gods” (India, p 161, Eck).
over 200 million people travel to meet her shores and bathe in her liquid shakti every year. it is said that Ganga Devi (goddess Ganga) fell from the heavens and connects this world to the divine and heavenly realms. it is where people bring their selves wholly as they are.
i have always felt kin to rivers more than any other bodies of water. there is a certain type of peace that floods me when i am at a river. even before meeting the Ganga river, i have associated river with mother. a place where i can just be. feeling the most myself as embodied shakti when i am with a river and putting my bare skin inside river’s current. allowing the coolness and movement to awaken a remembering. a knowing. every time i am with river i pour out my remembrance in the form of gratitude. in the form of prayer. always putting my hands to her face with tenderness and devotion.
when i arrived at the shore of the river Ganga, i wept with an immediate knowing. all the threads landed in place as the mother of all rivers greeted me with open palms. “welcome back home”. the light upon her surface indeed looked heavenly - a color unlike any i had witnessed. the potency of her waters sang to my own waters. i was alone at first, then a group of women sat by me to perform a ritual with Ganga. i joined them. entering in the waters with one of the women, putting my whole body in. she poured the liquid blessings over my head as i released tears. blending my own waters with hers. tears of grief. tears of gratitude. tears of love for the energies and synchronicities that present themselves that never cease to amaze me. i will hold close that moment and that feeling of reuniting with a river that once held my ancestors.
what i’m reading: i am currently reading Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler - an eerily haunting look into a future that seems not too far away. i also want to shout out the book that helped familiarize me with the myths and landscape and culture and tribulations of India: India by Diana L. Eck is so beautifully written and well-researched and speaks on the ancient beauty of India as well as the modern-day environmental and ecological issues that plagues her land.
what i’m eating: there are sooo many different types of rotis and naans and breads throughout India that are specific to whatever region you are in (i have a cookbook entirely devoted to rotis). keeping with the India theme, i wanted to share a recipe for sourdough naan that is super easy to whip up and requires less skill than a roti to form. sourdough naan recipe. i made these recently when hosting friends so i doubled the recipe. lovely to make a big batch and freeze so you have homemade naan on hand for your weekday curry.
mutual aid share:
The Sanabel Team - a community led project providing aid to the families affected by the genocide happening right now in Gaza. find out more and how to support here
Donate to The Amah Mutsun Land Tribe if you’re living on or near the California central coast. find out more about the efforts they are making to restore the land and pay your land tax here
song share: when i was in Rishikesh, i stayed at a music ashram that hosted performances from various artists. one of the musicians played a sitar on my last night there and i was reminded of the intricate beauty of that instrument. here is an 18 minute long song by arguably the most famous sitar musician and composer, Ravi Shankar, called “Morning Raga” - Raga meaning color or hue in Sanskrit, and refers to the melodic improvisation in Indian music. i also really like this definition of Raga found in the Yoga Sutra (a compilation written in Sanskrit of the spiritual and philosophical knowledge and practice of yoga dating from the 2nd BCE): rāga is defined as the desire for pleasure based on remembering past experiences of pleasure. recommended to listen to when in quiet contemplation, admiration, and presence to the beauty that is life… or while dancing [ ;
The photos are so beautiful! What an amazing trip <3 thank you for sharing I love your art