Bhag Aviv

Black Himalayan hash. The really good stuff. Did you know that if you blow smoke from it on insects of almost any sort, they lose their orientation? It’s quite a funny pastime.

After a traumatic voyage from Rishikesh, the indignities of which defy description, after a detour through Jammu and Kashmir, the Schedule Sisters and I arrived at long last in Dharamsala. Alas, the schedule collapsed and we have gone on to different things, meeting now only once in a while.

Dharamsala is a hill station high in the green-forested Himalaya Mountains, cutting through the clouds in the thin, crisp mountain air. In every direction, slopes jut and valleys plunge, with houses nestled in the corners. It’s cool and rainy, a most pleasant respite from the monstrously hot weather I had encountered thus far.

The Dharamsala region, in Himachal Pradesh state, includes the town itself, home of the Dalai Lama and the nearby seat of the Tibetan government in exile. Further up, there is McLeod Ganj, the tourist town a few kilometers up, as well as a number of other satellite villages, including Bhagsu, where we are staying. Bhagsu is overrun with Israelis. They are probably 90% of the tourists here. Mostly young people just out of the army, but a few parents of the young people, and a number of older types too, kibbutz matrons mostly.

People come to Dharamsala for many reasons, as there is so much to choose from. The agreeable weather is motivation in itself. The 100,000 plus strong Tibetan exile community is fascinating. Yoga, meditation, language, Buddhism, healing, music, art, massage courses abound.

After spending a good five solid days or so enjoying black hash in the most relaxing atmosphere I have ever encountered, I had (almost) enough and set about continuing my Hindi lessons with my new teacher Sunil. He’s really good, and his English is much better than my previous tutor. The emphasis is on drills and conversation exercises, which is exactly what I need now. I now have the main points of the grammar, and just need to practice reproducing correct sentences of increasing complexity. And then obviously to fill in the blanks with vocabulary, although that depends far more on me than on Sunil.

I am also taking a course called Power Meditation, given in Bhag Aviv’s Asho Institute by Guruji Hardesh. It’s basically yogic breathing exercises and meditations on the chakras to increase energy for health and healing. I reckoned I wasn’t ready for 10 straight days of Vipassana, more because my back probably wouldn’t hold up, rather than the actual silence. Instead, after Power Meditation finishes next week, I’ll do three days of Transcendental Meditation in McLeod Ganj.

I have met up with Sivanushka whom I know from Tel Aviv through Josh-bhai. Francois (see Dead Sea photos) has finally turned up as well. There are a surprising number of Canadians and Americans in McLeod Ganj. Cool ones.

This place has really good vibes. With so many Israelis, Chabad and the Breslevs can’t be far behind. The Breslevs have a course in Jewish Meditation, which I’d like perhaps to check out.

At each point in my trip, opportunities have presented themselves that would have effectively terminated the tourist portion. After Rishikesh, I began to think that I had just about had enough of India. But now more than ever, I feel inclined to stick around.