This morning again started early – but in editing.

With Rachit’s help (it turns out he’s quite an accomplished editor, amongst his other talents) I’m putting together an edited excerpt of the astrologer’s prediction – how if I go to Dallas on November 23rd, immense wealth will begin to rain down on me.

That edit should be completed by tomorrow, and I’ll put it up on a link for you all to see.

We then drove to a nearby monastery where I did a wonderful interview with a Buddhist monk and scholar, who gave it to me straight about the voice. He knew what it was, and where it came from.

And when I asked him WHY? he told me that it wasn’t my time to go because my work on this earthly plane was not yet done. Of course I asked him what work, and he said good work, for humankind. But it was up to me. He said I’d been given an opportunity, and now it was up to me to make good use of that opportunity.

it was quite a wide ranging interview, and I found it fascinating talking to this esteemed monk – and later when the film is done I’ll probably offer the entire interview in special features.

We then filmed in the Tibetan Studies Library and Archives – where they store Buddhist scriptures that go back to the 1500s. The Archivist brought out some of the records which were so old we couldn’t touch them without them crumbling.

Right now I’m sitting in a little cage while it pours down outside. An elderly Tibetan lady came to our table selling bangles and souvenirs. Much as we didn’t want or need any of what she was selling, we still brought some stuff because it was a way of giving her some money with dignity.

She then sat down with is and Jennifer showed her some of her photos of Tibetan textiles which shed taken. They sat laughing and chatting until the lights went out.

A little story to finish: while in Delhi I had an intuitive flash that we should change hotels and stay at another place called The Lalit. I’ve stayed in The Lalit before – it’s a big luxurious hotel near to where we’re staying in Connaught Place.

I always choose where we’re to stay by following my PGS, and I got this impulse to stay at the Lalit when we come back to Delhi. It seemed odd because I’ve been making hotel choices in part based on price – its inappropriate on this film to stay at fancy digs, and so this impulse was odd.

Having stayed at The Lalit before, I knew that I could probably get a big discount and so the price would not be an issue – so I mentioned it to Jennifer. She told me firmly that we should not stay at The Lalit, and we should keep our booking at the Raddison and not change it.

This morning I got a call out of the blue from my billionaire mate. He told me he was coming to Delhi tomorrow and he was staying at The Lalit – and asked where I was staying, when I told him he admonished me, and said I should be staying at The Lalit, so it would be easier for us to meet and talk.

Huh.

Id had that impulse but Jennifer had overruled it.

When I mentioned this, she was floored. And she vowed she would never interfere with my PGS again. And I made a quiet vow to myself that I should follow my impulses and not be swayed by anyone else – even Jennifer.

In the whole scheme of things, whether we stay there at the Lalit or not is no big deal, but if you acknowledge that everything is a sign, which is what Swamiji told me in Rishikesh, then perhaps this is a precursor sign – to remind me that I must stick to my intuitive guns.

I don’t know.

As they say, the more I know the less I know…

I'm sorry that I haven't been more immediately responsive to your comments.

Dodgy internet is part of the problem, but mainly each day has been flat out, and there simply hasn't been the time.

Yesterday for instance started before dawn, and we didn't get back to the hotel from filming at the monastery until 7pm. Last night I literally kept falling asleep while doing the blog, and I didn't finish until after 11pm.

The blog usually takes me between an hour and an hour and a half –

I'm slow, I know…

Anyway I have a bit of time this morning before we head out.

Today we shoot at a smaller monastery on the outskirts of town – and I'll be interviewing a Buddhist monk – a scholar from the Institute of Buddhist Studies – who has some very interesting views on intuition.

Even though I didn't get to interview His Holiness the Dalai Lama (yet!), the trip to Dharamsala has been very worthwhile. It's like a different country to India – more like Tibet – and importantly for the film, it's allowed me to get a Buddhist perspective on intuition, which is quite different to Hinduism.

Anyway, now I'm going to reply to your comments. And again my apologies for my tardiness.

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I woke early this morning – before sunrise – because I wanted to see the Dalai Lama's Temple at first light.

I stumbled down a rocky path in the dim pre-sunrise gloom, and finally found myself outside this gated compound that looked like anything but the Residence in exile of a banished national and spiritual leader.

It was meant to be a palace. I was expecting something grand – something with gleaming spires and colourful Tibetan flags snapping in the morning breeze, and golden rooftops.

Instead I got a jumble of buildings that looked like government offices, built in the early 1950s. It was very disillusioning.

And then I thought of the Buddhist doctrine of non attachment – and it all made sense. His Holiness does not need to live in a fancy palace with gold plated taps and marble floors. Where he lived was in absolute keeping with his beliefs.

Here's another freaky intuitive moment on this film: our assistant's name is Rachit. Every time I say his name, I'm terrified I'll call him Ratshit. Anyway, unknowingly to me, the weekend we arrived in Rishikesh, he traveled up to Dharamsala to spend three days in a remote Buddhist monastery, doing a retreat.

This film is definitely calling the shots.

We went to the remote monastery today. It took us two hours to drive 40kms. That's how crazy the traffic was. And how bad the roads were.

We stopped at roadside dhaba which would have freaked out most people with its lack of hygiene – however it looked ok to me and we sat down and ordered thali – a mixture of curries and dahls and tandoori roties. You're given a silver tray and someone comes around with a sausepan and ladles out your curries. You can eat as much as you like. It costs 40 Rps, or approx 80 cents Australian.

Even though it all looked very scary dirty, it tasted delicious – one of the best curries I've ever had.

On the way through to the monastery we passed a car taking school kids home. I counted 12 kids in the car. And the car was tiny. Can you imagine trying to do that in Australia? You'd get locked up!

We got to the monastery and all the monks were involved in a teaching. But it looked magnificent. And we shot a great sequence there.

Tomorrow we're doing an interview with the Director of Buddhist Studies, just on the outskirts of town, and we've also been allowed to shoot in their library, which contains texts and discourses dating back to the 1600's.

It's a shame the Dalai Lama's not here, but I'm going to make another attempt when we come back to Delhi.

Even without him though, we're still getting some very solid stuff that is supporting the underline narrative we're shooting to.

All afternoon while driving out to the monastery, and while filming, my son Clancy kept sending me text messages about the Preliminary Finals, in which my team The Sydney Swans, kicked enormous butt to win convincingly.

This means we're into the Grand Finals – ou rAFL equivalent of the Superbowl. Buddha, hang with me one more week mate, that's all I need…

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Today it took 8 1/2 hrs to drive 240kms.

I’m not joking.

That’s what Indian roads, and traffic, are like.

We stopped for lunch for about half an hour – so that’s averaging 30kms per hour.

Unbelievable. But always fascinating, and never boring.

Our day stated at Chandigarh’s arcane Sikhs Institute, and an interview with one of the heads of the organisation – a venerable academic and scholar, who spoke about how you could train your mind to become more intuitive.

After that we headed off to Dharamsala, right up north, on the border of Tibet. As we drove in, the town shrouded in evening mist, the elevation is so high here, it really did feel like we’d driven into another country. It’s so vastly different to the India I know.

The only two really interesting things in the drive were the place we had lunch – a Punjabi “dhaba,” which so erred the most glorious food, even though it loked pretty ordinary as we pulled in. And it had one of the most disgusting toilets I’ve seen in al of India, which probably means in all of the world.

But the food more than compensated – with piping hot roti and naan coming to the table straight out of the clay tandoori oven.

The second interesting thing was the police bribe. We drove around a corner and right in front of us was a police roadblock. The driver slammed on his brakes, and the cops gestured for him to present his papers and get out of the vehicle.

He did so, then came back to me and asked if he could have some cash, because the cops were lumbering him for not wearing a uniform. Evidently when you drive a tourist vehicle like the one he had, you have to wear a uniform, but no one does. The cops were just scamming. 1000 rupees later, paid in a bribe, and it was all sorted, and we were on our way.

Again I’ll have to post today’s pics tomorrow – but here are some shots taken this evening in Dharamsala.

Here are the missing pics from yesterday.

Breakfast with the Sharmas in Deradhun – the Ganges – and shots of the wonderful rickshaw man who gave me a ride back to my hotel.

This morning we packed up and left the ashram, and began our journey up north.

It was sad to leave Parmarth. It is a glorious place, run by wonderful people. Jennifer and I were made to feel very at home there. I’d like to come back some other time when the film is finished – and stay for a while and do some of the courses.

We drove most of the day – and as I sat in the vehicle marvelling at how calm I was, faced with the prospect of a fatal car crash at least four times a minute, I reflected on all the driving I’ve done (as a passenger) in India over the years.

I’ve been coming here now for eight years – and I must have visited the country at least a dozen times, maybe more, during that time. My longest stint here was when I directed a three part mini series for US television, shooting in Bombay for ten weeks. That was an extraordinary experience.

And then later my good friend and producing partner Anupam Sharma deftly orchestrated a series of TV commercials for us to shoot in India, which gave me a further opportunity to work with the crews here, but more importantly to get to better understand the complex culture and social mores from the perspective of someone who was born here and grew up here.

Anupam has been an invaluable resource – as well as a wonderful buddy – during my times here. We are planning a large budget feature film called DEFIANT, starring Toni Collette, based on a true story of a double honour killing. Eight years ago two young lovers eloped, and we’re hunted down by their parents and killed. (The film has a happier ending!) I happened to be in India at the time, read the story in the Times of India, and from that moment I knew I had to make the film.

PGS of course goes back much further – to 1999, in New Orleans. Yesterday I did a piece to camera at daybreak on the banks of the Ganges, musing at how that “voice” that saved my life so many years ago has brought me to Mother Ganga, to try and determine what it was. What it is. That voice.

In making this film I’ll explore intuition from a spiritual, religious, and scientific viewpoint. Apart from India it will take me to Italy, America, Hawaii, Japan, and God knows where else – because ultimately, as scary as it might sound, I AM making this film intuitively – and by that I mean I am being guided in what film I should make, and how I should make it.

That said, it will be a kick ass film. It will end up tight, disciplined, and engaging. if I may say so myself, I’m a bloody good storyteller, and I’ll be spinning a bloody good yarn.

Back to today: we stopped in Deradhun, about 90 minutes from Rishikesh, where Satish Sharma, the state’s Rupert Murdock (and the bloke who made me famous in his paper), shouted us to a beautiful Indian breakfast and very generously plied us with some more of the town’s famous sweets. Satish has been enormously helpful with our logistics, and a great supporter. And I thank him for it.

(Pictures of Satish and his son and partner at breakfast on the blog tomorrow)

Tonight we’re in Chandigarh, capital of Punjab – largely populated by Sikhs who follow the Sikhism religion – different from Hinduism. Sikhs don’t cut their hair, and the make variety are recognised by their turbans. They’re known to be honest diligent people with a strong work ethic.

They are brave, and make great guards, soldiers and warriors. They are also renown for their financial skills, and there are more banks in Chandigarh than I’ve seen anywhere else in the world, other than on the Swiss side of the Italian border, where there are three hundred different banks in one square kilometre, principally to launder mafia money.

Back to Rishikesh and Parmarth – here is an article done by a CNN journalist that’s worth a read…

pt1http://edition.cnn.com/interactive/2014/06/world/rishikesh/http://edition.cnn.com/interactive/2014/06/world/rishikesh

i can’t post any of the shots I took today unfortunately, because of internet issues – but I want to finish with a story-

After arriving in Chandigarh this afternoon, I went for a long walk. I needed to stretch my legs and think about how the film was coming together – but then I realised that it was getting quite late, and I had to be back to work with my new assistant Ratchit. I want to put up on Vimeo an edited excerpt of the lawyer reading my chart and telling me I had to go to Dallas for the cosmic rays to deliver me unbelievable wealth.

Anyway I saw a very elderly Sikh gentleman standing by a bicycle rickshaw. He was counting out a few ten rupee notes which he had. And it immediately occurred to me that there this fellow was, making maybe $2 a day (100 rupees) – his income not dependent on his effort or diligence, but on the whims of passengers, how many he was able to get, and how much they deigned to pay him.

So much as I felt uncomfortable doing this, I went over and asked him to take me back to the hotel.

I felt uncomfortable because I didn’t like an old man cycling me back when I could just as easily have walked – and the whole thing kind of irked me – I felt embarrassed. But I wanted to give him the work.

We got to a small hill and he struggled and got the rickshaw up as far as he could, then he got off and started pushing it. That was too much for me, so I got off and helped him push the rickshaw up the hill. He was astonished that I should do this. And when we for to the top of the hill he insisted I get back on.

He took me back to the hotel and I got off and asked how much. We hadn’t settled on a price before I’d taken the ride. I asked him how much because I wanted to see what price he put on his labour. But he wouldn’t tell me. He just laughed and shrugged, as if he was telling me that it was up to me.

So I gave him 200 rupees. The fare was probably worth ten rupees at the most.

He was so grateful, and blessed the two notes, thanked the Gods, then clasped his hands in prayer and stared into my eyes and thanked me. Again I was embarrassed.

I did this – took the ride – because I’d seen him counting out his meagre day’s earnings, and I felt that the best act of kindness I could do would be to pay him well for his labour. Yes I could have walked up and just thrust the money in his hands and walked away – and yes I could have given him far more – but in his terms it was a massive amount of money, and I don’t know that it would have meant as much to him, had he not worked for it.

I don’t know.

It’s just something I felt I had to do – and even though I felt awkward at first – it I seemed to me to be a very real act of paternalism and class differentiation – but at the end I felt good that I’d done it.

Maybe in a past life I was a member of the British Raj…

(Sorry – can’t post today’s pics. They’ll be up tomorrow!)

Staying at this ashram, I really have lost sense of time.

Amongst the chaos and craziness of India, it’s a calm tranquil oasis. I’d always been a bit intimidated by the notion of an ashram. The word conjured images of spartan places of hardship and discipline. But I could not have been more wrong.

This ashram is set in immaculate gardens, full of shimmering white statues of gods and goddesses. There is an easy going air about the place – a warmth and generosity of spirit that immediately presses a re-set button deep inside you. bringing you back to your default humanistic state of kindness and compassion.

Here are some pictures – including some shots of our room, overlooking the Ganges…

I’d also always been intimidated by the level of yoga I thought would be taught at these retreats – but filming a class this morning, I saw that it was easily achievable, even for beginners. There’s probably an elite class somewhere indoors which I haven’t yet seen, where you’re taught how to turn yourself into a pipe cleaner.

My routine while here has been to get up before sunrise so that I can shoot in pre-dawn and sunrise light – then by 8:30am the light has become too harsh so I have breakfast in a small cafe near the ashram. Jennifer and I have an Indian breakfast of simple dhal, curd, and freshly cooked roti. With masala tea. Beautiful. All for 100 rupees, which is $2.

Today though was really about the interview with Swamiji Chidanand Saraswati. He’s regarded in India as a living saint. And having met him now a few times, there’s no doubt that he is a true holy man and spiritual leader. The interview was set for 12pm – but midday came and went, and still we waited. At 1:45pm the beautiful Sadhvuji came out to say that Swamiji had reluctantly had to cancel, because he’s traveling overseas tomorrow and was overwhelmed with work.

I was disappointed of course, because the interview would have been the highlight of the trip so far – however Sadhvuji told us he will be in Delhi second week of October, where he’s to attend an event to celebrate the publication of a six million word encyclopaedia on Hinduism, which is a pet project that he’s brought to fruition. Sadhvuji said we I could interview him after that.

It means changing flights and accommodation and shifting things around in my schedule, but I feel strongly that this interview will be very important for the film – and not only that, but there might be other people at this event that could be worth interviewing.

Including possibly the Dalai Lama.

Interestingly, I received an email today as well to say that the Dalai Lama has had to leave Dharamsala, and won’t be back until later in the month. But he could be at this Hindu event, where he might be more accessible. His personal secretary, whom I’m liaising with, is being very protective of His Holiness, which is perfectly understandable. He’s an elderly and venerable man – one of the great leaders of the world – and it’s very presumptuous of me to believe I could get an interview with Him.

But equally, I believe very strongly that this film is going to have an impact – a big impact – throughout the western world, and spiritual leaders like His Holiness, and Swamiji, can offer great wisdom and counsel to us all.

Anyway, once again I thought it was strange timing that I’m informed that the Dalai Lama now won’t be where I thought he would be – but he’ll be somewhere else where I’m going.

We’ll still go to Dharamsala even though HIs Holiness won’t be there, because the northern state is a centre for Tibetan Buddhism. I’d like to include in the film the Buddhists’ beliefs on intuition.

I’ll leave Parmarth Niketan Ashram tomorrow with great sadness, because in the short time I’ve been here I’ve been made to feel very at home. I love the ethos of the place, and of course I feel I have a strong leaning towards the yogic philosophies.

Tomorrow night is Punjab. Sikhs. Extraordinary people.
Isn’t life fascinating?

(here is a pic I took of Swamiji last night, during a Q&A on pollution in the Ganges.)

Today started at… 4:44am

Yes, I couldn’t believe it, as I left the apartment to begin filming on the Ganges before sunrise.

Jennifer and I filmed for three hours – witnessing the daily rituals of the townsfolk at the start of their day. The Ganges is certainly sacred to them.

I then did some filming around the ashram – and in the early afternoon did an interview with a young American woman who, like me, heard a voice that turned her life around. Up until then she was a graduate student in psychology – with no interest in religion at all – and she’d gone to India on a whim because she was a vegetarian, and she wanted to stay in a place where getting a vegetarian meal wasn’t such a big deal.

But while taking a short cut through the Parmarth ashram to the Ganges one day, she heard a voice telling her she must stay. She didn’t believe in “voices,” thinking that only schizophrenics and Joan of Arc heard voices. But like in my situation, the voice was insistent – telling her she must stay – so stay she did.

Eighteen years later she’s a Swami, and a renown spiritualist in her own right. She represents the ashram around the world at seminars and conferences, and tomorrow she leaves for South Korean, where she’s been invited to attend a United Nations conference on climate change. The Parmarth Niketan Mission has taken an active role throughout the world in addressing climate change.

These folk aren’t monastic scholars – they live in the real world, and are very active in humanitarian and environmental matters.

It looks like I will be doing the interview with Swamiji Chidanand tomorrow – and that should be fascinating. He is a true holy man.

This evening we’ll shoot the fire ceremony again – getting the closer shots I missed last time. As well as some more visuals around the Ganges at sunset. Our assistant comes in later this afternoon as well. He’s going to accompany us on our trip up to Dharamsala, starting Wednesday.

I could’t believe the clock this morning – 4:44am. One of the things that Sadvuji, the lady I interviewed today said, is that everything is a sign from the Divine. We can choose to acknowledge it as such, or ignore it. But, she said, if you miss the sign the first time around, the Divine will send you another sign. And another. And another. Until you get it. And if you don’t get it this lifetime, then hopefully you’ll get it the next.

Here now are some pictures to go with the Day 10 post…

Good news –

I’ve just come back to the room at the Ashram and received an email to tell me we have another investor on board – a fellow from the US who has responded strongly and immediately to the film, and what I’m doing.

Thank you sir!

I feel momentum building…

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My day started at 5:30am.

I walked down to the Ganges, down past a faded temple, past souvenir stalls that were yet to be opened like Venus fly traps, dodging wandering cows and half sleepy sadhus, until I came to a chai stall.

What caught my attention was an elderly man, dressed in white and wearing a turban. He had a low great pointed beard, piercing eyes, and a golden dot between his eyes.

I asked if I could take his photo and he noddd his acquiescence – but first he needed to re-tie his turban. He did this swiftly and deftly, and with turban tight and tidy, he then presented himself for the camera.

He had an extraordinary dignity.

I directed him so that I could get exactly the shots I wanted, and he was agreeable always – wanting to please. When I’d finished I offered him some money, but he resolutely refused.

He seemed quite offended that I would offer.

Instead he said I should join him in a chai, so from the old and dirty stall his friend quickly made me a fresh chai. He handed it to me in a glass that had only moments before been filthy – until he’d washed it in a pail of water.

I drank the chai and it was truly delicious. Twelve hours later my tummy is yet to react adversely – I think by now with all my traveling in India, I’ve developed a Delhi Belly immune system.

Touch wood.

I offered to pay the chain maker – ten rupees, which is generous for street chain. Bit again he refused. He looked to the old Sikh, who tutt tutted sternly and indicated that it was his shout.

I clasped my two hands in the prayer position, bowed to his generosity and dignity, thanked him and moved on.

I made my way down to the river, and shot some footage in the early morning light. There’s something magical about Mother Ganga, particularly at sunrise and sunset.

I then climbed back up to the wire suspension bridge – the Laxman Jhulia bridge, and crossed over to the other side. As I was walking over the bridge I looked down and way way below me I saw a young man doing yoga on a landing by the banks of the river.

I made my way down and set up my camera. I was behind him and to one side – a perfect angle to get him doing his poses with the river in the background, looking upstream to where the early morning light was striking some ancient buildings.

The young man went through a series of serious yoga asanas. I know my yoga, and he was doing twisty headstands which requires strength, balance, and full concentration.

While he was going through his series of impressive poses, the Sikh gentleman at the chai stall came down for his morning wash. That’s how they clean themselves of a morning – by washing themselves in the river.

He took off his turban, and stripped down to his underwear, and entered the water. He was thin as a rake, but strong. He must have been mid 70s, but perhaps even older. Yet he moved like a young man.

I took his photo and he posed for me in the water, standing to a attention like he was on parade. Again, he radiated a dignity – even though he was half naked, his hair and beard dripping down his thin lined face.

By this stage the light had ceased to be interesting, so I made my way back to the hotel room, where Jennifer was still asleep. She’s capable of sleeping four days straight, I’m sure, if I didn’t wake her of a morning.

As I was downloading the footage there was a sharp knock on the door. I opened it to find one of the young hotel staff holding a newspaper, with a photo of myself on the front page.

This is you, he said, pointing proudly to the picture of me. You Re. Very famous man, he said, straightening slightly in my hallowed presence.

How did I get on the front page of a national newspaper?

North of Rishikesh is a city called Dehradun. It’s like India’s Boston – full of the country’s best universities and colleges. My producing partner on DEFIANT, Anupam Sharma, comes from Dehradun and several years ago he’d introduced me to Satish Sharma, the owner of the local newspaper.

Satish and I became friends, and when he heard I was coming to Rishikesh he drove down with his wife and daughter to meet me. He also took my photo, which went up on his paper, and was then syndicated nationally – for reasons that I can’t fathom.

Anyway, the young hotel worker left me the paper, believing that I would no doubt want to keep it and frame it, then scuttled away – no doubt intimidated to be so close to real star power.

Later as I checked out, the manager and his assistant wanted to have their photo taken with me – as if I was a Bollywood star. It’s the only time I’ve ever checked out of a hotel where the manager has wanted to grab me for a photo op.

Jen and I then took a cab to the ashram where we’re to stay for the next three nights.. We’d walked there the other evening and it was a 3km hike. By taxi it was fourteen kms, half an hour, and 500Rp.

I wasn’t sure what to expect with the ashram. I haven’t stayed in many ashrams in my life. In fact I’ve never stayed in an ashram, nor stepped foot in one. But after the crazy hotel, I was ready for a new experience.

Jennifer and I walked through beautifully manicured lawns and gardens, dotted with Hindu statues of gods and mythological figures, and made our way to the registration desk – housed in one of many large buildings.

Registration was like checking into a hotel – passport taken, forms filled out, papers to sign. While all this was happening I went through a range of wildly oscillating thoughts:

• what sort of room are they going to give me?
• Will it have wifi?
• If I don’t like the room is it cool to go back and ask for another?
• Why am I worried about the room? I should be grateful for whatever they give me…
• You’re a pilgrim after all…
• Will it have sea views? Err, I mean river views?
• Will there be enough power sockets to charge all my batteries?
• Bill, you’re going into an ashram. And it’s only three days. You can survive without all these things you think you need…
• Yes, but what about wifi?

As it turned out we were allocated a glorious room with views that overlook the River Ganges. Later Jennier and I walked around the grounds, and I felt an immediate sense of calm. Parmarth Ashram is regarded as one of the great yoga retreats of the world, and I could see why.

I asked later how much it was going to cost, and I was told it was on a donation basis – whatever I wished.

I know that two days here is not nearly enough time. It’s the kind of place where I could happily spend a very long time…

(Only iPad shots, because there’s no wifi…)

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