Bliss At Your Fingertips

Healing fingertips trace gentle circles on my head, coaxing the oil deep into each thirsty pore. Patch by grateful patch, my scalp welcomes the warmth, the moisture, the tender touch. The forehead next, the face, then down the length of the neck…Slowly, each limb, each joint, every cell of my body is soaked in bliss.

No, I haven't checked into an expensive spa. The healing fingers are my own, and I am sitting in my bathroom on a hectic Monday morning, playing my own masseuse and therapist before I rush to work.

I first tried self-massage on the recommendation of an Ayurvedic physician. '15 minutes,' he said. 'That's all it takes. Try it just a few times and see the difference.' I did. Within days, my skin was glowing, and I had energy to give away. Now, I look forward to my morning massage as eagerly as I await my first cup of coffee.

Called 'abhyanga' (a Sanskrit word meaning 'moving energy into the body'), the 3000-year-old practice of self-massage has been extolled by Ayurvedic texts for its countless virtues. Here is a sampling:

Massage works through the power of touch. When your fingers caress your skin, lavishing it with lubricant, they communicate to your body the one vital message it craves: that you care for it.

The rubbing and stroking action dislodges accumulated toxins, which then move out of the body through the digestive system. The result: all the three doshas--Vata, Pitta, and Kapha--gradually regain their balance.

v Massage stimulates circulation and improves the flow of blood, nutrients, and oxygen throughout the body. This makes you feel wonderfully energized.

A regular oil massage is an excellent beauty treatment because it replenishes the skin with moisture, so essential for that youthful glow.

The gentle action of massage relaxes the nerves, making you feel calm while simultaneously filling you with energy!

The Practice
Choose a cold-pressed, chemical-free and organic massage oil. Sesame oil, neither too heavy nor light, suits all types of skin and body.

First, 'cure' your massage oil by heating it. The warmth makes it easier to absorb, and enhances its antioxidant qualities. The method is simple: pour about a quart of the oil—which should last you about two weeks—into a pan, and put it on a low flame until it begins to boil. Now sprinkle a drop of water into the oil. Do you hear a “pop” sound? If yes, the oil is cured. Let it cool a bit, and then pour it into an easy-squeeze, flip-top bottle. Take care: do not leave the oil unattended while heating, do not heat it on a high flame, and do not pour hot oil into a bottle.

When you are ready for the massage, reheat the oil, simply by holding the bottle under the hot water tap for about two minutes. Now remove all clothing and jewelry, and sit down on an old towel so that you don’t slip or make a mess. Take a deep breath, and get ready for a wonderfully healing experience.

Start at the top: massage your head first. Pour a small quantity of oil into your cupped palm, and raise it to your scalp. Then, swiftly opening your palm, let the oil kiss the top of your head with a light “chapp” sound. This is your introduction to bliss. Now move your palm in circles, rubbing the oil gently but thoroughly all over your head. Part your hair from time to time so the oil seeps right into the scalp. Ayurvedic healers recommend spending maximum time on head massage, and for good reason, too. Ayurveda identifies 107 vital points just beneath the skin. Called marmas, they are believed to be connecting points between mind and body. Of these, 37 marma points are located in the head and neck area; so do lavish time and attention on this region while massaging.

Move down to your face, the outer part of your ears your neck—both front and back, your shoulders, and upper back. Rub gently, especially on the face. If you are too rushed to wash your hair, your massage can start at this point. You will find that massaging the ears feels particularly good.

Now dab some oil across the length of your arms, and then rub oil along them in long back-and-forth strokes. Rub around elbows and knuckles in circular motion, applying gentle pressure.

Take some more oil, and rub it up and down your chest. The breasts should be massaged in gentle circular strokes. When you reach the abdomen, make sure your strokes are in clockwise motion, for that is the direction in which your large intestine moves.

Treat the legs to similar strokes as the arms: back and forth along the bones, and circular strokes around the knees and ankles. Lavish some time on your feet—they are often the most neglected part of our anatomy, and absolutely love the attention.

By now, you should be experiencing a unique feeling: that of being deliciously rested as wonderfully refreshed. You might want to allow the oil to soak into your pores for a while, and that is an excellent idea. Use these few minutes to relax your body and mind. Listen to music, read a book or simply close your eyes and think happy thoughts.

Afterwards, using a mild oil-based vegetable or herb soap, wash the oil away in a warm shower. If your skin is not very sensitive, you can also use barley or chickpea flour to gently lift the oil—and with it, dead cells—from the surface of the skin. In that case, gently wipe excess oil from your body using your old towel before you step into the shower so that you do not clog the drain.

On a weekend, you can treat yourself to a warm bath for even greater relaxation. Take care: The hotter the water, the dryer it will leave your skin—so let the water be as cool as you can tolerate. Also, leaving the oil on the skin for more than 45 minutes can clog the pores and make you feel sluggish, so do take your bath within that time.

MASSAGE MATH
How much time should you spend on your daily massage? Ancient ayurvedic healers pondered this question quite deeply. Dalhana, a sage, recorded the calculations of Susruta, one of Ayurveda’s founding fathers thus: “300 matrakalas are needed for oil to seep into the roots of hair. In 400 matrakalas, oil penetrates the Rasa dhatu. Similarly, oil reaches 500 matrakalas to seep into the Rakta dhatu, 600 matrakalas to reach Mamsa dhatu, 700 for Medha dhatu, 800 for Asthi dhatu, and 900 for Majja dhatu”

This seemingly unintelligible calculation becomes instantly clear when you learn that a matrakala is 1/3 of a second, and the dhatus are essentially the principles that sustain various body tissues.

Rakta dhatu supports blood plasma
Rasa dhatu sustains the channels of nutrition—such as red blood cells.
Mamsa dhatu supports muscle tissue
Medha dhatu supports adipose or fatty tissue
Asthi dhatu upholds bone tissue
Majja dhatu sustains central nervous system and bone marrow
There is a seventh dhatu called the Shukra dhatu which sustains reproductive tissue, but that is not penetrated by massage oil.

So in effect, the sage is saying that a thorough massage should last five minutes at the very least. Ideally, 10 to 15 minutes are perfect, but if you are rushed for time, give it five minutes, which is better than skipping it altogether.

This article was published in Yoga International magazine, now rechristened Yoga Plus.

Easy Peasy Ayurvedic Recipe

One of the simplest Ayurvedic recipes is 'raita': grated cucumber stirred into plain yogurt. Spike it with roasted and ground cumin seeds (zeera), add a little salt, and yo! you've got the perfect, digestion-firendly, light-but-luscious summertime delight. You can add a few finely chopped fresh mint leaves and coriander leaves, but those are optional. Enjoy raita with freshly cooked dal and hot chapatis.

Practising Ayurveda isn't tedious at all: for a good part, it involves dishing up these quick, healing dishes. Stay tuned for more tips and recipes.

Ayurveda strongly believes that food is synonymous with life. If you want to brim with life and energy, you should stay away from the following:

Fermented, canned and frozen foods: which have been 'disconnected' from their source for a long time, and are devoid of natural life-force or “prana”.

Meat and fish: which are associated with violence. Red meat is also heavy to digest, so if you cannot give up meat, it is best to eat it for lunch, when digestive power is strong.

Microwaved: cooking in the microwave does not employ 'real' heat from fire—and food cooked without “agni” is, to Ayurveda, lacking in “prana”.

Leftovers: foods that sit for long periods in the fridge undergo chemical changes, which makes them heavy and hard to digest. Such foods cause toxic residue, called 'ama', to build up inside you. Avoid them: cook in small batches.

Processed foods: this includes yeast-based foods that are not natural and hence cause ama build-up.

Mushroom: which is not really a vegetable, it is a fungus—Ayurveda does not recommend eating fungus of any kind.

Genetically engineered foods: interference with the very structure of foods saps them of their natural intelligence, rendering them undesirable—even unsafe.

Feel free to ask questions about any or all of this. I'll be happy to answer them to the best of my ability.

Delicious Rice with Ghee

Rice and Ghee

Few pleasures on earth rival the taste of freshly cooked rice lightly flavored with ghee. Maharishi Ayurveda makes premium-quality ghee in a variety of flavors: among these, the garlic, fennel and basil flavored ghee work very well with rice. How to cook your rice with ghee:

Ingredients:
1/2 cup rice
1 cup water
1/2 tsp. Ghee

Directions:
Rinse rice with water. Boil water. Add rice and Ghee, stir once, turn heat down to low and cover. Simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, until rice is fluffy and water is almost evaporated. Remove from heat and let it sit for 5 to 10 minutes. Put rice into serving dish. Lightly fluff with fork.


Spicing Your Rice

Directions:
Prepare rice by following the steps above, but omit the Ghee. Heat Ghee to melting in a separate pan. It is done when a tiny drop of water sputters across the top of the Ghee. Put your recommended spice blend in the Ghee. Heat and stir until the spices release a sudden burst of aroma. Put into rice, mix gently and serve immediately.

The complete article is on http://healing.about.com/od/nutrition/a/riceday.htm

Full of Beans!

In Ayurvedic nutrition, legumes are often a part of almost every meal of the day. They are also used to make desserts and snacks. The protein in legumes is a very different protein from that which is found in meat products, cheese, eggs, and fish. Vegetarian protein from legumes requires some effort to digest and individuals new to legumes will find it very helpful to use spices that help digestion such as asafetida, cumin seeds, fresh ginger, and black pepper. Adding these spices to legume dishes will help to reduce any side effect such as bloating or gas that beans are often associated with.
It is best to add legumes gradually to your diet if they are new additions to your diet. With regular intake, your body will adapt to them and enable you to digest them better and better. You can slowly increase your intake over time to levels that are comfortable for you.
The easiest to digest of all the beans is yellow split mung dal. Yellow mung beans are green mung beans that has been hulled and split. This dal helps to balance all three doshas and is the quickest cooking of all the dals. It takes only 20 minutes to cook without any soaking time. Be sure to properly rinse the beans with water before you use them and look out for small pebbles or twigs.
There are three basic ways to prepare and use legumes:
1. Legumes are soaked in water overnight and then cooked the next day by being boiled in water. Spices can be added while cooking or lightly fried in oil or clarified butter after cooking. Vegetables and grains may be added while cooking to create hearty stews. These legumes can be poured over rice or used for dipping flat breads such as Indian chapati bread or Middle Eastern pita bread.
2. Legumes can be soaked for several hours and then ground into a paste with a food processor to make dumplings, fritters, and desserts.
3. Legumes can be ground into flours to make dough for breads and for desserts and puddings.
If you plan to make legumes a regular part of your diet, I'd suggest investing in a pressure cooker, which will help speed up cooking times and cook many dahls without pre-soaking. It also helps cook legumes to butter-soft consistency, which Ayurveda recommends for easier digestibility. Different pressure cookers have different time mechanisms, so you will have to experiment to figure out ideal cooking times for each variety of beans or lentils you cook.
The following is a list of commonly used legumes:
split mung dahl
whole mung bean
chick peas or garbanzo beans
split chick peas (channa dal)
black bean, whole or split
black eyed peas
brown lentils, whole or split
toor dahl
pinto beans
navy beans
lima beans
kidney beans
soy beans
Here are some recipes that demonstrate the versatility of legumes:
Fresh Bean Sprout SoupServes four
1 carrot chopped in 1/2 inch pieces2 sticks of celery chopped in 1/2 inch pieces1 Tbls. Oil or clarified butter1/2 teaspoon ajwain seeds (available at Indian grocery stores)1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds1/2 teaspoon black mustard seeds1 inch fresh ginger minced3 cups fresh mung sprouts3 cups fresh lentil sprouts or other sprouts of your choice2 tomatoes diced3 cups vegetable stocksalt and pepper to taste
In a stainless steel soup pot, heat the oil or butter. Add brown mustard seeds. When they start to pop, add the cumin and ajwain seeds. After one minute add the fresh ginger, celery, and carrots. Cook for 5 minutes and then add the sprouts. Stir and cook for several minutes. Then add the vegetable stock and tomatoes. Slowly bring to a boil and then back to a slow rolling boil. Cook for about 30 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Puree in a blender and garnish with fresh sprouts.
Kidney Bean SoupServes four
1 cup dried kidney beans5-6 cups of water2 inch piece ginger, grated2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped2 tablespoons clarified butter or olive oil1 teaspoon black mustard seeds1 teaspoon cumin seeds1 teaspoon freshly ground coriander seeds5 curry leaves (available at Indian grocery stores)1 pinch hing (asafetida)1/2 teaspoon ajwain1/2 teaspoon turmericone pinch cinnamon1/2 cup carrots, diced1 celery stick, chopped into 1/2 inch pieces1/2 cup fresh spinach leavessalt and pepper to taste
Soak beans in water overnight. Drain and discard water. In a large soup pot, melt the clarified butter. Fry black mustard seeds until they pop. Add cumin, hing, ginger, ajwain, coriander and curry leaves. Sauté for about one minute. Add the beans and stir once. Add the fresh water, turmeric, cinnamon, carrots and celery and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a low boil and cook about 25 minutes or until the beans are soft. Add the spinach and salt and pepper to taste. Cook for about 10 more minutes. Garnish with fresh cilantro and serve with rice.


Note: you can read this article on vegsource.com as well, and email it to your friends if you find it worthwhile. Thanks!

Ta-da, Ta-da-da: it's really all about rhythm!

Ayurveda gives you some very happy messages. It tells you that you are, quite literally, one in six billion, because you—complete with your looks, build, skin texture, food preferences, reactions to situations, talents, emotions, and ideas—are like no other in the world. And that is why, you can understand and heal yourself better than any physician or one-size-fits-all prescription can. (An ayurvedic physician, known as a vaidya, doesn’t specialize in any one aspect of your physiology or psychology—he is dentist, dermatologist, cardiologist, neurologist, and counsellor—all in one. A holistic healer, whose laboratory is the earth and whose pharmacy is Nature.)

More than anything else, Ayurveda awakens you to the concept of rhythm.

5000 years ago, sages roaming the jungles of India slowly homed in on a simple connection: just like nature had a rhythm—sunrise, noon, eventide and night; summer, winter, autumn, spring—human life also followed a set pattern: birth, growth, old age, and death.

But while the sun never decided to stay a little longer on the horizon, and the birds always returned to their nests at eventide, human beings tended to stray from their natural rhythm quite often—staying awake till late, pushing themselves hard, eating at odd times—causing themselves all sorts of discomfort and ‘dis’ease. A large part of ayurvedic teaching focuses on ways to reset this timeless rhythm.

A doctor friend of mine in Toms River, New Jersey said it best. “Say that you are a guitar. A beautifully made guitar with the best strings and the best seasoned wood. But, you’re not playing the most moving music, because you have been neglected. So, Ayurveda gives you a tuning fork. Bing! And then you say, ‘Oh, that’s what the E string is supposed to sound like. This is how C Minor goes. And slowly and steadily, you are back in tune and melody pours forth. ”

This ‘tuning’ is what Ayurveda does for you: a tweak here (going to bed just ten minutes before your usual time), a gentle tug there (drink a glass of warm water to get those toxins moving)—and you’re ready to make music!

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Awaken to Ayurveda

Today, a large number of people in North America and Europe know Ayurveda as a new, alternative system of medicine, popularized by gurus such as Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and writers such as Deepak Chopra. But in India, Ayurveda is the granddaddy of all healing traditions, having been lovingly developed over many laborious centuries.

Two Sanskrit words, ‘Ayur’ which means ‘Life’ and ‘Veda’ which means ‘Knowledge’ combine to make up the word ‘Ayurveda’, or the study of life and well-being’. This immense body of knowledge contains potentially life-changing guidelines on how to create and maintain perfect balance among the three pillars of your being—body, mind, and spirit.

What’s really wonderful about this science, often described as ‘Earth’s oldest system of healing’ is that its teachings are astonishingly simple at the core. Here’s a sampling of ayurvedic advice for a healthy day: try and follow an early-to-bed routine, and you’ll discover new reserves of energy within. Clean the surface of your tongue thoroughly every morning, and you’ll not only smell mint-fresh, but also find your appetite awaken! Sip warm water throughout the day to flush out accumulated toxins and improve digestion. Try a few easy asanas or exercises (yoga is a part of the ayurvedic tradition) to feel more relaxed or more energetic. Spend a few minutes in stillness every day, to reconnect with yourself .

All of these are gentle ways to heal the overworked body, the stressed mind, and the burdened heart. ‘Gentle’ is a keyword in the ayurvedic scheme of things. You’ll never be told to try vigorous workouts or drastic diets, because Ayurveda believes that forcing yourself to make big lifestyle changes can in itself be a source of strain, and hence, counterproductive to your well-being.

Interested in learning more about Ayurveda? Watch this space; I'll be back with tips and ideas that can change your life.

The Wise Man

"So, what's the vaidyaji's name?" Uma asks, but without waiting for an answer, exclaims, 'Ooh, look at that!" She's pointing to a herd of buffaloes immersed in a muddy pond. As we move deeper into the village, Uma finds plenty more to coo about: half-naked children playing gilli-danda, old men drawing at laid-back hookahs, brightly dressed women carrying earthen pots on their heads with the swagger of Parisian models. Vignettes of a simple life in a simple place, where the term 'rat race' would elicit a wide-eyed, "Really? How do you get them to do that?"

It is when we reach the vaidyaji's house that Manoj replies to Uma's question. "The locals call him Chhota vaidya, though he is nearly 90. That's because he is the youngest in a long trail--his great-grandfather was physician to the erstwhile king of Ballabgarh. Quite a man, as you'll see.'

I agree. Chhota Vaidya is a man of few words, but leaves a lasting impression.

His charming ancestral house is wearing a fresh coat of white clay. In the spacious verandah someone has drawn a rangoli, resplendent with flowers. Outside, on a brick-and-mud platform in the benevolent shade of an old neem, about a dozen turbaned men and dupatta-covered women await their turn. 'Oh no,' Uma says, glancing at her watch, 'How long will this take?" Being head of Sales and all that, she's unaccustomed to waiting. 'Relax, if it gets late, be my guest for the night,' says Manoj cheerfully, and we settle down on the steps with the others. Uma spends most of the time fiddling with her 40,000-rupee cellphone. About an hour later, it is our turn. Manoj stays put, chatting with the villagers, while I accompany Uma inside.

There he is. As always, Chhota Vaidya conjures up sage Charaka, the founding father of Ayurveda, for me: radiant body, restful mind. Seated erect on a cotton mattress, he motions to Uma to sit. She does, not quite managing the lotus pose but crossing her legs halfway there. She begins, in eager convent-school-accented Hindi, "Sir, basically I've come to you because…" He quietens her with a look, reaches out and takes her hand. Three fingers press firmly down on her wrist, in the place where her pulse beats. His eyes close.

This is how the vaidya's fingers are now placed:

We can put a simple Illustration of Pulse Diagnosis here, showing index, middle and ring fingers placed on wrist.

Uma throws me an anxious glance; I raise a finger to my lips. She shifts her gaze back to the vaidya. I watch her watching his calm countenance. I feel her feel a strange connection, an instant healing. This is exactly how I felt, that first time Chhota Vaidya took my pulse. Back then, I was as puzzled as Uma. Today, I understand.

If the vaidya is like a detective trying to figure out the mysteries of your being, the pulse is his smartest informer. The moment he touches it, the pulse beat begins relaying all the vital information about you. Rate, rhythm, volume, amplitude, temperature, force--each is a significant clue. A slight increase in pressure, and deeper secrets start tumbling out: your tastes, habits, immunity, attitudes, hopes, fears and moods. Believe it or not, they are all there in the gentle throbbing of your pulse. Only a trained physician knows how to 'read' the code language. A code that has been passed on from Guru to shishya right down the centuries.

Thus, in about three minutes flat, the vaidya has collected a veritable dossier on Uma. She is, of course, stunned when he says, "Hmm, so you are deeply unhappy." She nods, and he goes on, "You are not feeling hungry, not sleeping properly, not getting along with those in your life. Yes?"

She stares at him, jaw wide open.

If Chhota vaidya has noticed her discomfiture, he does not show it. Instead, he lists out a few more Sherlock-Holmes style revelations, among them 'your temper shoots up like mercury', 'you cannot tolerate cold weather', 'you are highly possessive'…things I didn't know but are obviously spot-on because Uma nods vigorously each time.

By now, she is in sufficient awe of him to ask no questions. I know what she's thinking: all her life, she has seen doctors who wanted her to list her symptoms. Here, for the first time, is one reeling them off instead; that too as if he has known her all her life!

Chhota Vaidya says, " You are still young, child, and very strong within. You will overcome all of this, and be like new again. Take down your prescription, and follow it as faithfully as you can." This is said with a glance at me, so I quickly pull out a pen and paper from my bag. Uma stares as I jot down:

Vata-Pitta.
Needs tridoshic correction.
Sleep before 10 p.m.
Wake up before 7 a.m.
Have lunch at noon every day
Use dhania, zeera, saunf in cooking.
Cut down on chillies, garam masala, coffee
Drink lassi, lemon-honey water
Eat raisins soaked overnight
Practise abhyanga
Go regularly for walks or do yoga

"That's it," he says with a smile. "See me again in six months' time."

"Er, what about the medicines?" she inquires.

"No medicines," he replies, the indulgent smile still playing on his lips.

Uma and I walk out. Manoj asks, 'Done?" and we nod. On our way back to his house, Manoj and I wait for a volley of questions from Uma. They do not come. She is totally bemused. At last, she bursts out, 'How the heck did he guess? I mean, surely you didn't brief him about me? You couldn't have, anyway. And I certainly didn't get a chance to open my mouth. So how did he sum up my all problems, A to Z, so damn neatly?"

I decide to explain:

Vaidyas are trained to do just that, Uma. I was in the same daze as you, and before me, Manoj. Sharmaji isn't a magician or a mind-reader. It's just that he has studied a system of healing that is almost as old as civilisation: a time when there were no microscopes, scalpels or ready-reference medical texts, and healers had no choice but to learn from observation and instinct. So over the centuries, they have become masters of diagnosis: you walk in, and they start reading you like a book. Everything, from your height and weight to the thickness of your lips and the way you tilt your head to one side, tells them something about your personality. And pulse diagnosis: well, that's as intimate as an ultrasound, perhaps more!"

We have just entered the gate of Manoj's house once again. Walking towards the courtyard, Uma replies, "What can I say, it was..almost frightening, the way he took off. But what about this..prescription he made me write? It's rather like those lessons you learn in Class V, isn't it? Early to bed, drink water and all that? Does he really believe these simple things can cure you of your big troubles!" she said, releasing a sigh into the cool air.

Manoj takes up now.

"See Uma, I don't remember who said, it but someone did: 'Think simple; reduce the whole into the simplest terms, get back to the first principles.' Look at the simplicity of things in nature. Have you noticed how the sun sets and rises at the same time, day after day, year after year? How the birds leave their nest and fly back at the same time, rain or shine? And how winter always yields to Spring, and Autumn always follows Summer?

Uma is watching Manoj, her eyes filled with admiration for his poetic expression, the tenderness in his voice as he speaks. Unaware, he continues, "Even single-celled organisms obey this timeless rhythm. But we humans, we are not happy with simplicity. So we go ahead and break the laws of Nature. That's why, we are the only species that suffers all the deadliest of disease.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," says Uma. Her eyes are flitting here and there, a sign she's getting a bit restless with all this philosophical talk.

Manoj notices it too, and grabs her attention once again. 'You'll understand it better, Uma, if I present to you a slice of your own life. I haven't spent a single day with you, but I've been where you are today, so I can tell you exactly how you mock at Nature's rhythm, without even realising it:

Monday morning. You wake up at 6 a.m. and head straight for a shower. So far, so good. Now, in keeping with Nature's timepiece, you should be eating breakfast to fuel yourself up for the day ahead. But because your eye is fixed on the wall clock in your dining room, you gulp down a cup of coffee and rush off to work. The result? Your starving body is forced to run on the morning's momentum. Being young and resilient, it does so, but burns up critical energy reserves in the process. And finally, when it should be resting after a hard day’s toil, you throw buckets of coal into its dying fire--that is, a heavy dinner. The embers flare up, but the body engine isn’t going anywhere. Uselessly overheated, it creaks and groans all night, and in the morning, when it should be fresh and rested, it is reeling from last night’s assault.
And this is the consequence of just one among the many aberrations you commit, day after day, month after month, year after year. Is it any wonder that you are, if I may say so, on the brink of a complete breakdown today?

Uma gives a little shiver. The words have hit home.

Fresh Air

We turn off the busy Grand Trunk Road and enter a quiet, dusty track. The air smells clean and sweet. Tall trees stand on either side, like sprightly bouquets lined up to welcome us. Wispy white clouds fleck the blue sky. Uma rolls down the window, thirstily quaffing the forest-scented breeze.

'How far?' she asks.

'Any moment now,' I reply.

"You know what, I feel half healed just travelling to see this dude," she says, wrapping the blue dupatta around her head to avoid mussing her hair. It is obviously with the idea of being suitably dressed to meet a mantra-spouting healer that she has chosen to wear a simple cotton salwar-kurta today. I smile to myself.

A few minutes later, we reach Manoj's home, a small mud-walled cottage surrounded by a vast stretch of ground, beyond which lies a lush expanse of wheat fields. A giant tree towers above the cottage, its long knarled roots hanging down thick branches like an old man's knobbly fingers. "Wow," says Uma, with a little whistle.

"This banyan," I tell her, "is supposed to be more than 200 years old." The shapely eyebrows rise, impressed. For a few moments, Uma stands there, silently soaking in the scene: the hand painted mango and bird motifs on the front door of the cottage, the pubescent white sal blossoms sprinkled on the grounds, the Shivalik foothills in the distance, merging softly into the skyline. 'Such peace,' she murmurs. Then, perhaps unsettled by her own uncharacteristic enjoyment of this serene interlude, she turns to me and demands, "Where's he?"

It is a short walk to Manoj's 'clinic', right behind the cottage. The place smells overpoweringly of machine oil, hot tyres, cleaning fluid and engine fume. Smack in the middle of the cavernous machine shed stands an antiquated yellow car. Its bonnet is open, and Manoj is bent into the engine-housing. We both look at him. I see a man deep in meditation. By the look on her face, I know Uma doesn't realise this is the person we have come to see. "What the heck?" her eyes seem to say.

Manoj fits a part into place, and turns. We hug lightly. "Hi, this is Uma. Uma, Manoj."

I can see Uma blush a little. My nephew always has this effect on women, what with his angular features and tall frame. More than that, I think it is his eyes and his smile--they draw you to him.

Wiping his hands on a soiled duster, Manoj smiles warmly at Uma. "Hi, there. Good to meet you." She smiles back. "Likewise." I can see she is surprised that he speaks perfect English.

We follow Manoj into his courtyard, and settle down on stools fashioned from fallen tree stumps. Uma looks curiously around, taking in the big earthen bowls filled with aromatic herbs and spices, golden wheat grains drying on white cotton sheets, gleaming pickle jars soaking up the sunshine. A very old woman dressed in a bright red-and-green sari is sitting in a corner, energetically pounding something in a pestle and mortar. "Lassi?" Manoj asks, and when we nod eagerly, he asks the lady, whom we call Amma, to make the beverage.

Uma says, eagerly, "What can I say, this is just awesome, your place. How long have you been living here all alone?"

"Actually, I have way too much company here," says Manoj, smoothing back his tousled hair with still-greasy fingers. "I'm on first-name basis with most of the 100 people in the nearby village. I came here three years ago to sell this property off. But then I met this ancient vaidyaji. Next thing I knew, I was so hooked to Ayurveda that I decided to shift here. It's amazing how much I've picked up from him. Which explains why my aunt here thinks I can help you."

Clearly embarrassed, Uma says, "I…er, well, I've been under a lot of stress lately. I'm worried enough to have taken off work for the first time in five years. Looking at you, I've been thinking: maybe this is it. Just chuck it all."

Manoj leans forward. "The interesting thing is, Uma, that I haven't really chucked it all. I'm doing projects for companies in the US. I go regularly to Delhi to meet clients and catch movies. But yes, I have cut down on my commitments, so the stress-levels have dropped. I did the computer whizkid routine in Silicon Valley, spent a quarter of my life inside a glass office breathing stale air, earned fat paycheques. But I was burning out so fast I would have been extinguished by now."

"I always wonder," says Uma, "I have a decent job, a good managerial position. I do my best, I deliver. I should be happy, damn it. Why am I so stressed?"

Manoj takes a last swig of the delicious lassi, and arises, saying, "Come with me, I'll explain why." We walk back to the garage. He grabs a switch-panel hanging from the ceiling. A quick whoosh of compressed air, and the old Volkswagen rises gently. Once the wheels of the car are slightly above our heads, Manoj stops the lift. Touching the right front tyre, he asks Uma, "Do you see yourself somewhere here?"

She shakes her head.

He says, ""See. This is the car, your Management, and this is the wheel assembly, your Workforce. The wheel takes the car places, but every little bump the wheel feels shouldn't be felt in the car. Otherwise, the Management will scream. That's why they have you: the shock absorber. All the weight of the car first rests on you, and then passes on to the wheel. You take the stress from both sides: the aspirations of the car and the frustrations of the wheel." He pauses, then asks, "Do you now see yourself here?"

And Uma does.

"That's it," he says. "No mystery."

"Oh, that's brilliantly explained," she says. "And you? What are you?"

"I used to be a cog in the wheel. But now I'm a lightning rod," he says. "I attract the energy but it seeps through me harmlessly to the ground. I don't earn as much as I used to, but I make enough to live well. For every demanding project, I have an old beauty to restore in my garage--revives not only the car, but me too. I may pig out on burgers in Delhi, but I return to Amma's food, which promises to keep me alive to a ripe young age of 120. And the morning after an all-nighter at the disco, I find solace in my little kitchen garden," he says, pointing to the ripe wheat fields. The stress hits, and exits!" The corners of his eyes crinkle into a smile.

"Sounds so perfect," gushes Uma, " How right you are about everything, but I…don't have a choice, Manoj. I can't afford to buy any kind of property at least for another year, maybe more. And I'll die before asking my parents. The biggest problem is, I grew up knowing I would work, and earn and achieve. I can't let go of that. Even on Sundays, when I should actually be welcoming the respite, I'm all tensed up by evening. And on Monday mornings, people tell me I should walk around with a sign saying, 'Highly Inflammable. Keep distance'. Maybe I'm doing it all wrong, but this is life as I know it".

Manoj says, "Uma, relax. As I said, you don't need to give it all up. That's one of the many wonderful things Ayurveda has taught me. You can run your rat race, and still dance at the end of the day. The trick is ridiculously simple: just tweak the little settings of your engine, learn how to fine tune it. I'm so good at it now that I know if I get back into the grind, I won't burn out, I'll shine." He pauses, watching the admiration in her eyes. "Let me show you a very simple way to feel better right here, right now."

"Um-hm?"

"Sit up straight," he says. "Fold your palms lightly in your lap, and take a deep breath. Through your nose. "

Both Uma and I inhale, drawing in as much oxygen as we can.

Manoj exhales, slowly, through the mouth, and we do the same.

"Repeat," he says. "Deep, and slow."

After just five repetitions, we feel incredibly fine, alive, alert.

"Now each time you inhale, say to yourself, "Hello, positive energy, breeze right in."

"And each time you exhale, say 'Goodbye, stress; adios, sadness."

The exercise takes us two minutes. At the end of it, Uma says, "It's amazing. I can feel a strange sense of well-being right here, deep inside." She touches her belly.

Manoj nods. "Exactly. I asked you do try this exercise because I noticed you were sighing from time to time. You might think it's because you're sad, but no. It's simply the body's way of forcing more oxygen into your lungs. When you are tired or under stress, you take shallow breaths and fall short of oxygen. In Ayurvedic language, we say you need more 'prana', or 'life-force'. Deep breathing gives you prana. See what I mean? You can do this anytime, anywhere. All it takes is a few minutes, and everybody has a few minutes. Even you! Try it and after a few weeks, you'll notice that you aren't sighing any more!"

"Now I can see why you brought me here," says Uma, turning to me. "I've absolutely never met anyone like this man." "If only," she adds wistfully, "I could spend some time here and learn a few of your Ayurveda tricks…"

"Oh you're always welcome," says Manoj, breezily. "But why wait until next time? Let's go meet vaidyaji right now!"
*

Uff, Uma

Why is Uma so striking? Well, she is sexy, smart, successful and thirty.

Everyday, you can see her lock her front door, step nimbly down the stairs, and slide into her new Ford Escort. Always in an immaculate business suit, Uma looks every inch the Senior Manager she is. I've never seen her return from work because we're fast asleep by 9.30.

But a few hours ago, something happened.

I was returning from my evening walk, when Uma's car zoomed past me. She braked hard, flung open the car door, and banged it loudly. Her handbag slid and fell to the ground. Instead of picking it up, she began kicking at the bag. Once, twice, thrice, and then a series of hysterical kicks, punctuated with the choicest profanities. She must have hurt her toe, because she clutched her foot and began yowling. I rushed forward to help her, and she buckled on to my shoulder. Had she not been the wafer-weight she is, I would certainly have fallen and cracked a few bones.

Uma was sobbing hard now, so I held her hand, retrieved her bag, and led her upstairs to my flat.

She sank on the couch in my living room and continued to release loud, piteous sobs. For a good ten minutes, the angst spilled out of her like long jammed-up phlegm. In the meantime, I got up to fetch her a glass of water.

At last, she looked up and said, 'I can't go on. I need to talk to someone. Help me out, please.'

How tormented her eyes were! Gone was the surefooted executive. This was a woman hurting. I took her hand, and said, "Tell me."

'I…was supposed to get my promotion today,' she began. 'VP, Sales. I slogged my hind legs off and exceeded my target. And what do I get? Nothing. An under-performing bitch is promoted over me, and now I've to report to her. Why, because she's sleeping with the boss. Never mind that Uma Hughes hasn't slept properly in weeks. She's nobody, nothing…'. She held her head between her palms, rasped a few residual sobs, and began stabbing at her temples with sharp coffee-coloured nails.

"Headache?" I inquired.

She nodded, kneading her forehead with spindly fingers.

"Would you like something to drink?" I said.

"I wouldn't mind some black coffee, please. Without sugar."

I hesitated. "Can I offer you chamomile tea instead? It's very soothing. Have you tried it?"

Before she could answer, her cellphone rang. Briefly distracted, she glanced at the caller ID, screwed up her face, and pressed 'No'. "They can all go f*** themselves," she hissed. "Oh, I'm sorry. Please don't mind the language."

"It's fine".

She smiled weakly, "No, I've never tried chamomile tea, but please, I would love some.'

Standing in the kitchen, I wondered how I could help Uma. It was while dipping the tea bag into the transparent cup, watching the water slowly turn a beautiful golden color, that it came to me.

When I returned, Uma was groping in her battered Gucci bag. She pulled out a strip of tablets, and tore one out of its casing. She picked up the glass of water.

"Aspirin?" I asked. She nodded, drank half the glass, and plunked the aspirin in the remaining water. While she shook it to mix it well, I asked, ""Doesn't it give you acidity?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, that's why I always keep antacids in my bag."

"Oh, okay. But I've heard that antacids kill your appetite."

She downed the aspirin and gave a wry laugh. "Appetite? I've forgotten what that is. I have such severe constipation that even the thought of food makes me feel bloated. Which is good in a way, I guess, because I don't have to worry about dieting for the time being. I have a real tendency to put on weight here, you know." She patted her flat abs.

For a little while, we just sat there, Uma and I. She sipped delicately from the cup and bit into the home-made coconut cookies I hade served, juicing the moment. At last, she said, "You know, this is lovely. In fact, I was so keyed up all day that I hardly ate a thing."

"Oh boy," I said, "But you work so hard! How do you last through your day without proper food?"

"I survive," she said, pulling out a slim cigarette from her Aladdin's cave of a bag. " For people like me, whose lunch is always iffy, multigrain bars are just the ticket. One and you're all set. And by the time I get back home, I'm just too dead to want to do anything but boil a packet of soup. If I'm feeling really good, I order pizza. Lighter?"

"Er, no. I'll get you a matchbox."

"No, that's fine. Please don't bother," she said, replacing the cigarette in its pack. "I should be going now. I've wasted a lot of your time."

"Not at all," I said. "I'm just glad you're feeling better. But I do want to say that food makes a real difference. Earlier, when I lived in the world of deadlines and headlines--as a TV reporter--I neglected it for years. But now I realise how important it is to…"

She cut me off. "I know, I know, right now I'm not exactly eating earth's healthiest diet. But then there's one thing I'm really regular with: my supplements. I've got this fabulous A-to-Z multivit, so it takes care of all my nutrition--vitamins, minerals, calcium, you name it."

"Nutrition, yes," I said, gently. "But what about nourishment, Uma?"

Her lovely blue eyes widened into a frank stare. "How do you mean nourishment?"

At that point, I decided to say it. 'You know what, Uma, when you have the time, I would very much like you to meet someone. You'll be glad you met him.'

"Doctors," she rolled her eyes, slinging her bag back on her shoulder, and getting up to go. "I don't see the point. I've taken every single medicine they can prescribe. And if you mean a shrink, then…"

"No, no, not a shrink, Uma. He is just a learned man, who offers very simple answers for those who seek them. There's something about him that makes you look at life with a fresh pair of eyes."

"Yeah, so is he one of those new-age gurus?" The mocha mouth had curled into a cynical smile.

"No," I said, patiently. " He doesn't dispense medicines, he doesn't spout philosophy, he doesn't seek fame. All he does is reconnect you to yourself, teach you to take the key of your health and happiness into your own capable hands."

I could see she was intrigued.

"Fine, I'm definitely not going to work tomorrow," she said at last, "Will he see me?"

"Of course. Can we leave at 10? I'll take an appointment, of course."

"Sure, 10 is great. And…er, thanks a million for everything. I'm sorry, I made such a fool of myself."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Everything happens for a reason."
*
Uma's story continues in my book, The 9 to 5 Yogi: How to Feel Like A Sage While Working Like A Dog

http://hayhouse.co.in/BookDetails.aspx?Id=rZPWIwVZzAc=