Osho's Pune

Pune, once famous for its Tigers, and now with two remaining species in the city zoo. Known by the locals as the old colonial name of Poona, and invaded by neo-colonials after the fame of Osho and Iyengar. Tourists walk the streets in a hippified daze, dressed in the uniform one piece maroon robes, some without shoes and all seeking something which whether or not they find it, costs them an incredible amount of cash. The Osho international meditation ashram was established in 1974. To enter not only requires a sustainable bank account but also an on the site HIV and hepatitis test. As for the Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute – I would love to study in one of the ashrams of the founders of modern day yoga. The ashram charges $450 a month and there is a 18 month waiting list.

In the city of Pune, a very different life style unfolds. One of shopping malls and designer shops. The young generation of women wear tight jeans and t-shirts, turning my head but no one else's. I feel a little freer to walk around without the eyes of all whom I pass observing me. The bookstores are incredible forts full of knowledge, and the local business industry is providing a healthy source of income to the cities college graduates.

A new outdoor climbing wall is about to be opened, after the battle between the politicians has been resolved as too who will cut the red ribbon. Young men and women spend their weekends re-bolting climbing walls in the area. At the blind school, I meet many local volunteers who come to play sports with the kids after work. Part of the city is dominated by military barracks, and huge sprawling houses are set in green well irrigated gardens. Sign painters are busy re-writing the name of recently relocated Generals and Sergent Majors on the bordering gates.

But despite the modern feel of business city life, adventure shops, sports clubs and jam-packed McDonalds, children in tatters continue to pitter patter by my side, an outstretched hand leading their way. Women with babies wrapped to their chests and a pile of belongings stacked on their heads take food from shop stalls, walking away before they are asked for the money which they do not have. Limbless lepers sit on the pavements, and mentally disabled boys begs knock on the windows of passing chauffeur driven cars. Although the poverty is not as extreme as in Kolkata, partially because the city itself is much smaller with a population of four million, the contrast between the modern and affluent India which the young generation so much want to believe in and the old generation are so proud of, is marred by the separation of the society into those that have and those that never will.

The more I look around the more I see two totally different groups of people; it is even physically obvious and not just through what I come to think of as the 'Bollywood' look of trendy clothes, fashionable hairstyles, piercings and tattoos, but through different physiques. There is a distinct separation between a young generation with a solid muscular build who are tall and athletic looking, showing their commitment to their gym memberships and with their pulse on modern fashion. Their parents are generally well dressed with designer watches and fine saris and suits. They are also generally overweight (easy to do when the food is so delicious and varied). At the other end of the scale there is an eternal generation of those with a much shorter life span, shorter statue, thinner and blacker. The women are incredibly skinny, and the middle aged men never seem to put on more than a pot belly onto their teenage boy's stick like figure. I know this is a dangerous generalisations, but the two groups are so stark that as an observer it is an easy generalisation to make, and it leaves me wondering what of those who are left straddling the two worlds – trying to make a living in modern India, while being tied to their social status and never ending burden of a dependent extended family.

Pune provides a vision of a India built on a history of successful trading and fuelled by a booming business sector, leaving in its wake a trail of Western seekers in search of a commercialised spirituality and a thick fringe of corrugated iron roofs, plastic sheetings and hungry bodies waiting for the chimera of a trickle down.