Anand Prakash Ashram, Rishikesh

Entrance to Anand Prakash Yoga Ashram

The road from Haridwar to Rishikesh rises steeply. To one side, can be seen the Ganges pouring down from the Himalayas out to the Deccan plains. On the traffic is steady in both directions. From time to time there are signs reminding drivers that “Elephants have the right of way.” Slightly more alarming is a sign further on which reads, “Beware of wild elephants.” On the sign is a picture of a large bull elephant shouldering a car off the road. In the event, my ride to Rishikesh is uninterrupted by elephants wild or otherwise.





I’ve come to my final stop on this three month trip to India. Apart from a section of sightseeing in Delhi, Jaipur and Agra, I’ve organized my time around visits to various intentional spiritual communities. The final one is the Anand Prakash Yoga Ashram. Despite years of yoga practice, I’ve never actually stayed in an ashram organized around the principles and practice of yoga. Some yogic traditions are handed on through a monastic lineage. Examples of this are the Sivanada tradition and Swami Rama’s Himalayan Institute. There is also a tradition of yoga as taught by householders, that is teachers with families. Having spent time at Aanmodaya Ashram in Kanchipuram, and being familiar with monastics generally, I’ve opted for an ashram led by Vishvketu who is married with children. He lived and taught for a while in Ottawa as well. Although I didn’t know him then, I know enough people who practiced and trained with him and who have given him the highest recommendations.  Anand Prakash and its founder are entirely worthy of the praise.

Laxman Jhula

Rishikesh itself has been described as the world capital of yoga. The Beatles made their way here to sit at the feet of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and learn transcendental meditation. The Maharishi has since died and the ashram itself is a deserted ruin (though something of a tourist attraction for Beatle fans). There are plenty of other ashrams however. It seems as though every second building has a sign offering yoga or Ayurveda. Central Rishikesh is not particularly interesting, but as you go further up the mountain the yoga studios, ashrams, and markets become more numerous and livelier. A central focus is Laxman Jhula, the Lakshmi Bridge, a great pedestrian suspension bridge that crosses the Ganges. On the far bank the Shri Trayanbakshwar temple rises up like a tiered wedding cake. As the wind moves down the river, it sets the temple bells ringing, their music joining in with the sound of devotional chants from CDs, merchants calling out to prospective customers, and warning honks from motor scooters that weave through the narrow streets of the market below. Monkeys treat the bridge like another set of trees, without the leaves.

Sri Trayanbakshwar Temple

Anand Prakash is a good place for Lent. The fare is vegetarian, meditation and other spiritual practice is encouraged. I do lack a Christian community with whom to gather on Sundays, but I pray the Daily Office and so feel still connected to the worship of the Church. I also have the opportunity to share in other devotional practices.

One of those devotions was a 24-hour fire puja, a prayerful honouring of that primal element fire. In the ashram yard is a kind of hut with a fire pit in the centre. Each morning fire arati is offered here as the new day is greeted with prayers for illumination. This case, however, is a day-long marathon of chanting around the fire. The chant is the Gayatri mantra, often considered the first and greatest of all mantras in India.

Om Bhur Bhuvah Swaha

Tat Savitur Varenyam

Bhargo Devasya Dheemahi

Dhiyo Yo Nah Prachodayat

Oh God, the Protector, the basis of all life, Who is self-existent, Who is free from all pains and Whose contact frees the soul from all troubles, Who pervades the Universe and sustains all, the Creator and Energizer of the whole Universe, the Giver of happiness, Who is worthy of acceptance, the most excellent, Who is Pure and the Purifier of all, let us embrace that very God, so that He may direct our mental faculties in the right direction.

 People sign up for shifts around the fire. I take my turn as well. At the end of each recitation of the Gayatri everyone throws in a pinch of fine wood shavings to add to the fire. At the same time, two people seated on either side ladle in a small amount of ghee. The slightly hypnotic effect of the chanting could keep me there without boredom, but my hips and legs start to protest loudly at being seated cross-legged on the floor. After about 45 minutes handling the ghee, thoroughly imbued with wood smoke, I creak up to standing and make my exit.

24-hour fire puja

What is perhaps most striking about this event is not the participation of Vishvketu, his family, and other resident Indians, but that of the visiting Westerners. When I arrived a 200-hour yoga teacher training course was drawing to a close. The participants all appeared to be in the 20’s. Those who have stayed on after the course took part in the fire puja, many spending almost 24 hours at it. Rarely have I seen Christians expend so much effort on their spiritual life. This is perhaps one of the great differences between Christianity and yoga. Christianity emphasizes grace and faith, while yoga emphasizes effort and practice. I don’t know what Church connection, if any, these young people may have back home. If they are like most people of that age in Canada and the United States, it is likely minimal or non-existent; yet their thirst and enthusiasm for spiritual practice is apparently boundless. Perhaps we err in not asking too much of people, but too little.

We had quite a different experience of worship when a group of us accepted the invitation to go a few kilometres down the road to the Hare Krishna temple. While much of philosophical Hinduism stresses the impersonal, formless nature of the divine, there is another tradition which encounters God as personal. This bhakti yoga is a yoga of devotion, love, and delight. When we arrived at the very beautiful temple, the place was already full of ardent devotees, both monks and lay people of all ages. While statues of Krishna were being honoured, the devotees poured out an endless stream of kirtan, call and response singing to the accompaniment of drums and cymbals. The chant would start slowly, but would quickly build in intensity and speed. People standing around the sides of the temple danced and leaped with joy. A group of men pulled me into their circle dance, spinning and crying out “Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna!” The only comparable worship I’ve known among Christians is found with some Pentecostal and other charismatic groups. It certainly bore little resemblance to the rather staid, even phlegmatic Anglican tradition! After the singing, the head of the temple sat down to address the congregation. I can only assume it was a good sermon – it was all in Hindi – as people were nodding, laughing, and apparently attentive throughout the half hour he spoke. What certainly seemed familiar was being taken downstairs to be given dinner, rather like many a church basement supper, albeit with much spicier food.