Schrodinger and other cats

Jeba, a great friend, lent me a book: In Search of Schrodinger’s Cat by John Gribbin. Usually, the Batman never lends books and movies but in my case, he made an exception. I am honored.

It was a wonderful reading after The Short History of Nearly Everything. I mean, there is so much out there and we are only beginning to even see it.

This book has quite enough of theoretical physics which would have been great for my mind had I read it in school. I know that these two books would have changed my outlook to physics and science in general.

I need to read more such stuff. At least I will know for sure that I don’t know much. That nothing is real, and that all scientific appliances work not because we know why but because we think we know why.

Like we don’t know whether there are electrons, protons, and neutrons. We assume because then our theory works. Light acts both as a particle and as a wave because in certain situations, it acts like a particle and in others, like a wave!

We have made great industrial advances and applications based on constants in equations. We have had lifelong debates between Bohr and Einstein over theories which were just peeping down the rabbit hole.

Physics is like getting cats out of a hat. Each a mystery, each a magic.

Ranga, I think you should definitely read these two books. By the way, I am reading Surely, You Must be Joking, Mr Feynman for quite some time now. And Ranga, you may feel bad about this: it is one of the most boring books I have ever come across. But I will finish it. I owe that much to Feynman and to you too, I guess ;-).

A Short History of Nearly Everything

After a long time, I am reading regularly once again. This time, the book that has impressed me very much is A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson.

This is a book that covers all of life, literally and figuratively. In its own right, reading it is like revisiting my schoolong days! When I studied about cells, prehistory, anton von leewenhoek, john Dalton, lyell, Lavoisier, etc… about what they discovered and what they invented… but never knew them as a mix of eccentric, shy, furious, amusingly strange, funny, and absent-minded personalities…

I seldom was amazed about the world we live in, our planet, our solar system, its majesty, the thin red line between classifications of life forms… The book has such beautiful facts, descriptions, similes, and metaphors that I now look at everything around me with more curiosity and amazement.

The book kind of reveals how less we know. It kind of tells you what many masters attempted. The book tells about the duality principle of light and that all life is one but each life form is unique.

It reveals in amazing ways how things were, how they are, and sometimes, tries to predict what can and may happen. Some of these predictions are scary. It led me to question our very existence, our purpose. It’s like we are just a body for our DNAs and cells to pass on data and reproduce. There is no other purpose for life.

We learn that 99 per cent of DNA in all life forms matches one another. It’s only the remaining 1 per cent that makes us all unique living beings! Imagine!

It leaves me amazed at worlds within worlds, parallel universes, sizes of atoms, functions of mitochondria, forms of energy, how things work, the world of the very small and the world of the very big… how we need different sets of “theories” for each…

This book puts me in my rightful place. Just another slice of life…

After reading this book, I think about god and related concepts in a new light. I have a lot of “what ifs” in my atoms and cells.

All our gods, morality, ethics, and concepts are just created by us so that we think we can live or co-exist better on earth… all our theories just help us feel better. There is neither heaven nor hell. There are no sins and no penances. There is no meaning to our lives. No big purpose. There are no coincidences or miracles. Things just happen because they happen. Nobody controls anything. We just happen to be.
Now, that really gels well with Zen and Sanatana Dharma (Hinduism in its essence) sayings and teachings.

We really don’t know anything about anything. The best part is I really don’t care. I mean, there is actually no need to find answers because we actually don’t need any.

The only truth that we know (while the moon slips away from the earth’s gravity at the rate of 5 cm. per year) is that we all live.

We will live till:
The Yellowstone erupts
A meteor strikes us
The ground beneath our feet gives way
The next ice age

We can become extinct at the drop of a hat. Nothing is constant. The world of the really small and the world of the really big are both in constant flux. Nothing is permanent.

As of now, it’s a great feeling… to be alive (whatever that really means), to know nothing about anything.

This book actually emptied me while I filling me with all kinds of interesting data. Go on; read it before it’s too late!

I read an eBook on books

I had tried reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams as a .chm file… but could not go beyond two chapters…

And I have read the MSTP and CSTD in parts, fragments, and search results… but won’t call it reading.

So the first eBook I read completely… at a stretch, ironically, is: Books I have Loved
An eBook about books.

Osho’s Books I have Loved takes you on a journey towards men of letters, language, fragments, madness, spirit, confessions, theologies, and principles.

He talks of those who know that the very existence of us is a joke; some so serious that they won’t close their eyes even when they die.

To top it all, Osho’s own comments and feelings for the authors and their books. Also, in some cases, his dislikes, his likes, his loves, and his own experiences. His opinions are very absurd and very open.

Alan Watts, Irving Stone, Buddha, Solomon, and so many more… some names he can’t even pronounce. Remember that Books I have Loved is not a book in the “written by” sense; it is notes on the discourses given by the rascal Rajneesh ;-)

Oh God… the world is full of ideas, letters, languages, and men who know what to do with each… as Osho says, each one great, each one unique… that even at the heights of your talent and mysticism, there is a rival, a competitor… a first among equals…

Ha ha ha ha ha! And here, I see corporate white collars trying to one-up others. Begging for a higher appraisal, a better designation… Ha ha ha ha!

I now have a lot more of reading to catch up on. But, I guess, I never can catch up with this one man who really must have read more than any other human in history.

I love Osho; in him I see a mirror which does not reflect me.

On to my second eBook: When the Shoe Fits.

Back to square one...

Back to square one… one and half rains ago, I had left this arty city for humid and unknown Madras, like a hot and humid summer. The summer topsy-turvied my life. Sometimes, like Aquin says, don’t wish for something really bad, you just might get it!

I got it; I lost it. After a roller coaster ride, am back to this city where most of it began…

As I now remember, back then, E-Square was the best multiplex I had ever been to… it still can compete with the best in the country. Though I guess in forms of pure cinema, cinema festivals, and the blind date movie concept that they offer, Sathyam Cinemas wins hands down… I miss you, Sathyam. I discovered budget cinema at Sathyam (watch any movie in a/c confines, in the best of seats, for just Rupees 10 a ticket; believe it or not!) too late! But I did pass on the secret to a few friends who are as passionate about movies as I am.

Now, the marg that takes you to E-Square is so bumpy you would think you’ve riding the first manned device on lunar surface.

But once you are inside E-Square, away from all the dust, grime, and noise of Pune, you automatically march towards just beans, the coffee shop with mirrors everywhere and have that splendid cold Irish coffee once again.

You stroll in the food court which assimilates just about all kinds of food that you can think of for a normal dinner, look at the sweets, check out the sketch express photo counter, and the gift shops selling curio stuff!

Not to forget the Crossword book store. Though it is a mini crossword store and does not have half the collections it should, it still is delightful walking amongst piles of books…

I am still searching for When the Shoe Fits by Osho, arguably the most outrageous rebel spiritual leader of all times, in Pune.

Pune always instills the fire of art, passion, and pursuit inside me. I feel uneasy here. I see lots of paths, I eat less, sleep even lesser…

You don’t choose art; art chooses you.

Abhilash Warrier
September 19, 2006

PS: Here, I am back to an ID Skill Head who has the skill and the head to deliver… and an office where I can dial local phone numbers once again.

:-p to godfather, big b, and who cares!

Somebody: (washing face vigorously in the restroom) Hari, what say?
Hari: (midway between releasing more ammonia on to earth; rolling in laughter…) Ha Ha Ha Ha

Legacy, not yet...

I am back in Pune:
Where I met Soma and Sunil.
Where the literary club was born.
Where I had my first Barista coffee.
Where I saw my first multiplex movie.
Where it had rained incessantly the last time I was here.
Where people walked between us and doors opened and closed leaving us in a spectrum of light and darkness when we talked while you were leaving.
Where we made cold calls to probable candidates one fine Sunday.
Where we saw the moon like never before.
Where Leena came down to meet me and we went to Mumbai.
Where Jeba, Anish, Sashi, and I had a blast watching Malena and S & L on a projected screen in our flat.
Where we walked and talked and dreamed of things beyond us.

I was downloading few more e-books (Ones that I had always wanted to read. Never got paid enough; never saved enough.) from the Project Gutenberg collection on the Net.

It dawned that anything you own is kind of a legacy that you leave behind… Few love stories; short love stories; unrequited love stories; epic love stories; a manuscript with Busybee’s autograph in it; Soma’s strand of hair; coffees at Barista (not just any Barista, the one at Bandstand); Bigfish; stamps, books, movies, memorabilia, souvenirs, football jerseys, crockery, events, stories, fairytales, fables, those days in the rain…

I saw sights that brought back memories: sketch express photograph counter, phir milenge, E-Square, Shades, f-cube, Interiors, rupees 4,500 worth sunglasses, the bamboo plant, the vegetable vendor, Pashan-Sus Road, the HDFC ATM…

Pune has not changed much: It is raining heavily outside even now as I write this. Baner has more buildings; the rents have moved up the money graph; the road is in tatters. Signboards still scream: “Go Slow. Work in Progress.”

He is still the man I loved

He is a true yogi. He wakes up early every morning and does all the asanas. He reads the Bhagavad Gita and the Upanishads every other day.

During sunset, he loves reading and re-reading Ramayana…

He loves our two daughters, Trishna and Harini. He teaches them language and arithmetic in his own inimitable style.

They were days when we used to go trekking up unbeaten paths, when we used to sing aloud on solitary beaches, sleep under the sweet moon, blow flying kisses to each other… when he used to write me a love letter every birthday.

We used to get wet in the first showers when the sun was still up.

Now, there are utensils to clean, school uniforms to wash, TV serials to watch, and the occasional relatives to visit.

We talk through glances and nods. Through monosyllables when required. We don’t have too much time. There is too much of work. Those bills to pay: the house loan, maintenance, the car loan, the school fees, their shoes and books, the bloody workbooks, and extra tuitions in Marathi.

Sometimes, I sit during my afternoon breaks while the kids take a nap and think to myself, “What if?”

But, anyways, life goes on. I manage.

He is still the man I loved. I loved.

Just a short story

“So you can join work from tomorrow. You will be a trainee here till three months and you will be paid a stipend of five thousand per month. Welcome to Techpark Software!” said Leena, HR Executive.

“Thank you! This job means a lot to me. I’ll come in at 9.30 tomorrow,” replied Meera.

Selvam overheard this final part from outside the interview cabin of his office. He was as happy as a hummingbird; he could fly backwards if he wanted to.

He could stand still in mid-air. He loved Meera the minute his eyes saw her sitting impatiently in the lobby. Restlessly putting the dupatta to it place and playing with the ends of her salwar where loose threads hung!

Her hair nicely oiled back and her deep black eyes with kajal mesmerized him. Selvam had always waited for this moment in life when he can tell his friends about a beautiful woman in office. Maybe, even in his life.

Selvam was the star employee for Techpark ever since he joined them. He had created and developed lots of crucial programs and security software, which were a hit among their clients. To top it, he was great in creating sales pitches and entertaining clients and colleagues.

But he was not great when dealing with women; he had a weakness. During conversations with women, he always got a bulge in his trousers. He was always anxious that they would eye that and never talk to him after that. He always hid behind his desk or a cubicle if he was talking to a female colleague or client.

It saved his professional life. But he dreaded love. He dreaded marriage for what if the in-laws made him talk in private with the bride-to-be. So he told his parents, “no marriage, amma… till I am settled, no marriage.”

All this changed when he saw Meera waiting at the lobby. Something struck a chord in his heart. For the only time, he never felt any physical attraction towards her. She was charming. Only charming. And he was as happy as a lonely sunset with no observer.

He now bought new shirts and trousers to make sure that she noticed him. But, aaaahh, Leena from HR informed him that Meera would be in induction for a couple of days before she hits the workfloor.

He waited as two days passed by. The third day arrived. Selvam was in office at 9 am.

He had finished all his assignments yesterday. Today, he was free. He wanted to talk to Meera during breaks or at lunch.

Meera entered the lobby and smiled at people. She had this mystery behind her where Selvam could never understand why she smiled the way she did.

Selvam marched up to her and introduced himself. “Hi! Good morning, nice to see you here. So finally you joined us, eh. Remember, we had met when you had come down for the interview? I had given you coffee from the machine?”

Meera apparently recognized him. She responded, “Oh yes. I do. During my induction, the VP said that Selvam is my mentor and trainer for the first two weeks while I learn my coding.”

Selvam exclaimed, “Why not? Yours truly is here. With pleasure. I am Selvam and you are?” “Oh you are Selvam. I did not expect you to be so young. Am impressed. Well, I am Meera.”

Selvam went on with work; coaching her whenever required. She was a smart student and a fast learner. He was upset that soon she may not need his assistance anymore.

And, magically, he never got the bulge again. He was cured of this mysterious ailment.

He kept an eye on Meera. Leena was his close friend so he got Meera’s details. She was Meera Iyer. She hailed from Madurai, this was her fourth job, she was a B.E. graduate, and was 30.

She loved making friends, traveling, reading, listening to Illayaraja, and sometimes also writing poetry.

Meera was very punctual at work. She came in at 9 and left dot at 6. No extended breaks. No nonsense.

Three months had passed. Meera and Selvam had become best friends. Together, they successfully executed a project too. The gossip-mongers in office had started talking about them because Meera never talked much to others.

Selvam was on cloud nine.

On a rainy August day, Meera was absent at work. She had not even called anybody or informed anybody the reason for her absence. Maybe, it is the rains, or maybe she is unwell, thought Selvam. However, he kept visiting the lobby every 15 minutes under some pretext or another.

As he was smoking outside the lobby, he noticed three old men walk in.

The receptionist led them to the CEO’s cabin. Selvam was passing by the reception and overheard one of the guy’s mention: “Meera… it’s about her.”

He was perplexed. What did these guys have to do with her? Were they her brothers? Had she run away from home? Was she married and were these guys her husband’s friends?

After half-an-hour, three guys walked out of the CEO’s cabin. They looked relieved.

Selvam knocked on the CEO’s door. “Please come in.”

“Arun, what happened? Who were these guys? I heard them mention something about Meera. I am her best friend here and I am concerned. Is there something I can do? I hope there is no problem.”

“Selvam, nothing to worry about. They were railway officials. Actually, Meera is married.”

Selvam’s heart stopped beating. His world went blank. Silence was all he heard.

“Are you ok, Selvam?” “I am fine, Arun. Go ahead.”

“Her husband is a taxi-driver in Madurai. He apparently troubles her a lot. So she finally left the town and came to Chennai seeking a better job and better life. She had only five thousand rupees with her, which she needed for food, clothes, and transport. The rest of the money she sends back home to her aged parents and a daughter who is in school.”

“Yeah, but why did railway officials come to meet you regarding her?”

“Because she has been living in the ladies waiting room at Chennai Central railway station for the past three months. They had tried to evict her but she refused to move out. Today, finally, they took her to the railway police station and got her ID, and dropped in here to inform us about her. So that is how all this came to light.”

“Will you help me in looking out for an alternative accommodation for her? A ladies hostel or something? We’ll pay the security deposit, and maybe, a part of her rent.”

“I will help you, Arun.” He remembered Meera’s first lines to Leena. And he thought he had a big problem.

- A fictitious story based on true events.

Interplay and intercourse

Thiruvannamalai… a place that haunts me. What brought me to this magnetic place?
My fate?
My destiny?
My curiosity?
My longing?
My seeking?

Or are these ours, not just mine?

Am I open enough to accept people who are closed?
Am I wise enough not to share what I think I know with people who don’t want to know?
Am I a teacher?
If I am, am I good enough?

What is life, if not an experience?
What good is it if I walk treaded paths? If I do, how do I leave a legacy behind? What about people related to me?

Do I have the right to follow my dreams at the cost of hurting or avoiding or neglecting their needs or wants or dreams?

Can we all co-exist? This question surely must have plagued all creative geniuses at some point in life. But, we know them because they followed their dreams.
What about all those people they hurt in the process of following their own dreams?
Could they not take them along?
Or, did they not want to go along their path?
Who is being selfish? The dreamers or their relatives?

I know I don’t owe anybody anything on earth but why the feeling to please them? To care for others?

What makes me a human? My heart? My thoughts? My actions? My soul? My religion? My god?

Are concepts more important than people? If they are, then these hardcore, fundamentalist terrorists are not at all bad people? Are they?

Who rules my life? Me or seven planets and the sun and the moon? Is this the interplay and the intercourse that I do not see?

If I rule, why bother about them? If they rule, why should I live?

Can I ask what is it that I want?
What is important to me?
Will I be truly happy without an impossible dream?
What is it that makes me a man?

Why do I love and guard that child inside?
Why do I sometimes crave to be a child again?
Why do I lust for women and girls?
Why do I fantasize? Why don’t I feel the need to stop?
Why do I love making love and love loving it when most masters have renounced it? When did they feel the need? Why don’t I feel the need?

What is it that I am still looking for?
Why do I feel lost in a crowd?
Why do I feel alone in a city?
Why do I love villages?

Why is that dream of a small, self-sufficient farmhouse with a well and a windmill nearby such an elusive dream? I know I am not doing anything towards it. What is holding me back?

Why are words so important to me?
Why this urge to write?

Why is life an interplay between two extremes for me?
What is the importance of intercourse?
What is churning inside me?
What is evolution? Knowing and writing, or knowing and not writing?

Why do we search for symbols where there are none?

Am I a pendulum? Can I be a compass?

Why don’t I feel the need to proclaim: “My God is better than yours.”?

Just like that...

There is a lot you want to do; but most of all do nothing. Just sit idle by the windmill, slowly turning.

Sit by a river, and paint the world go by in the air.

Look into the black sky and think about which star came from where.

Look at the woman who's reading this and wonder where she was when I was in my school.

But, I think there are lots of "us-es" who never live the lives we want. Where really the head is held high and the heart sings without fear.

Where people never lie.
Where we don't know what is the truth. Because that is all there is.

Where love is lived.
Where a kiss is not considered to be "what are you doing in front of children?"

Where all the flowers from here have gone. Can we, one fine day, march hand-in-hand into such a place?

When I call, will you join me? Or, will you stay back?
This one life!

What do you do to want to be the person whom you want to be?

Meeting Sandeep

Meeting Sandeep PR has been a revelation. Just like a breath of fresh air. My saga of meeting and making at least one great friend (apart from my loves) everyplace I work continues.

I met Sajay at Bhavan’s College; Krishnadas at Vartak Polytechnic; Sunill at Maximize; Sachin at compassbox.com (he was there even at TIS); Gary at Lionbridge; Jeba at Brainvisa; Laxmi at Sify; and Gopu at Expertus. Gopu left Expertus for good.

Then, I met Sandeep: a wandering Business Development Manager. He is one of a kind. He is a seeker. He loves Thiruvannamalai. I love his love for theatre, ashrams, Zen, Buddhism, reading, writing, traveling, yoga, morning walks (no morning walks and yoga for me yet), poetry, and movies.

At 24, he is way ahead of his times. He is idealistic, and wants to change the world. He is a classical dreamer like me. But unlike me, he is a doer too.

Sandeep and I talk a lot in the cafeteria: books, women, my past, his past. All through, one thing stands out about him: he is a man of conscience.

Today, he is somebody to watch out for. Tomorrow, he will be somebody.

As time goes by...

As you drive down to this obscure but well-known village, you see a board that announces: “Welcome to East Village Peruvemba”.

Peruvemba… Kerala in its pristine state. Untouched; like a virgin. Kukgramam, as we Malayalees call it.

You lie down on the square under the Banyan tree which has entwined itself with a Neem tree. As the cool breeze fans your cheek, you watch a huge pond with lilies and lotuses blooming to your left. Across the pond, there is a temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. In front of you, across the lush green paddy fields, is the Lord Ganapathy temple.

Behind you, is the Ootukulungkara Bhagavathy temple. And this temple shares its compound wall with my dad’s wariam. Our ancestral home. To this day, all the temple chores except for the puja is done by the warriers of this wariam. Making paayasam for prasad, making garlands for the goddess, and lighting the oil lamps, etc.

The goddess is Sita. Yes, Lord Rama’s wife! This swayambhu idol is unique in nature. It sprung from under the Ashoka tree that shelters it till date. The goddess is still sitting with her legs spread straight in front of her… waiting for her beloved husband as she was waiting in Lanka.

As folklore and legends go, she loves chandattam, a black, acidic liquid made after boiling timber or teakwood. Truth is nobody knows what the recipe for this liquid is till date. It is supplied by a family which has passed on the secret of this liquid from one generation to the next.

The diluted form of chandattam is applied as paste to one’s forehead and remains there for three or four days. And you get a slight burning sensation there. I was amazed that it does nothing to the ashoka tree and the idol as litres of this liquid is poured onto the idol daily.

The Bhagavathy becomes stronger with each extra litre of chandattam poured on her. The idol still does not have a roof over her head. Only the tree shelters her.

Before I got married, I bowed to the goddess and asked for her forgiveness, peace, and understanding. I asked her to bless my wife and my family for a lifetime of togetherness.

As time goes by, I want to settle down in Peruvemba. Take care of the temple and do all the work there… milking the cow included.

As you leave the remote village, the same signboard says: “Thank you. Visit again.” We will.

Flowers and weeds

You see a bud…
You watch them bloom
Into what we call flowers.

You see a seed…
You watch it grow
Into what we call weeds.

Yet, you are sad
To see flowers fall
And weeds grow.


[Still trying to sing (or hum) in the same tune as "It's a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong!]

Aise hii...

Bas yuhi soch raha tha:

• What happens to the words after I erase them off a poem for better effect? Do they vibrate in a void? Do they still exist in an other world?
• How does it feel to make a movie for the first time? Is the experience the same as writing a poem for the first time?
• Why does the river flow? Why does it have to let go? Why does it never look back, except in nostalgia? Why is the river never guilty?
• What is spirituality? Is it an addiction just like drugs? Does it free you? Does it bond you? Doesn’t it make you feel what others tell you that you should feel? Do we have a chance to feel original and genuine?
• Is yoga a heightened sense of awareness? Are these things over-hyped?
• If you were given a life sentence but you always watched the ocean outside your prison window, were you free?
• What happens to the boy who is left orphaned, like a tear on his cheek, because of tidal waves or an earthquake? Does he see an ocean in his teardrop?
• What happens to the millions of sperms who never unite with the egg? Are they reborn? Do they face judgment day?
• What would it be like to hold discussions with Zoroaster, Confucius, Socrates, Khalil Gibran, Rumi, Guru Nanak, Pablo Neruda, Ayn Rand, Sheldon B Kopp, Paulo Coelho, Mahatma Gandhi, and Van Gogh all in a room?
• What if you could communicate to any of the departed greats through any medium?
• Why is water stronger than stone?
• What would it be like to listen to the Christ, the Buddha, and Krishna having a conversation?
• Whom/ on what does Lord Shiva meditate on?

Children... let them be

“We have brought you up; we know what is best for you!” Sounds familiar?

This is our parents’ mantra who have been where none of us have been before!

They know everything: whom we should marry, who is our actual best friend, when should we do something, when should we eat, what we should eat…

They want their children to follow the herd because they themselves had followed the herd! But they want their children to be the best!

They want their children to forever study something or the other because they never did it.

They never asked questions but always expect answers.

They failed many times but expect us to pass all the time.

They pass on all their expectations and dreams on to their children; they think that these are relay batons.

But life does not work so easy.

Children are gifted to parents, not born from them.

They are gods; parents make them humans.

They love making mistakes. They love to love.

They don’t know war from peace.

They are not behind life chasing some dreams which may not be fulfilled.

They live for the moment.

They know no fear.

They are Buddhas. They are in a constant state of flux.

They are flowers, not roots…

Like flowers, let them seek the sun, let them burn, let them pollinate, let them spread their own fragrance, let them wither, fall, and be born elsewhere.

Let them travel, let them be buried, let them float on rivers… let them be the source of another tree.

I will be a parent soon (in three years, I guess :-))… Let me be a child again.

To TVMalai

Early morning on Saturday, I headed out to Thiruvannamalai (TVMalai). In a PP bus for just Rs.55 one way!

This was my first trip alone to TVMalai.

It rained and drizzled all the way. I reached at 11.30am and took a rickshaw straight from the bus-stand to Guru’s temple. I was there just in time for the last aarti before he closed the nada.

It felt really good meeting him after such a long time. He had not changed a bit. He had slimmed down a bit… and I missed his long hair!

The innocent, charming smile, the happy-to-see-you look was there as usual.

I told him about all the recent developments (how she left me… how she told me that she can be my teacher and me her student; the idea of redefining the relationship… etc. etc.)

He laughed at that! He was shocked. He said, “I knew you both were in love, but I never disclosed that I knew it!” We smiled. We communicated in broken Tamil, English, Malayalam, a bit of body and sign language too! It was awesome communicating like that… and we understood each other so clearly…

Then, we had lunch together.

We talked and lot of truths came to light. He said that at 32 (NOT 45) I’ll attain something… that will bring me fame and wealth and stuff like that. He said I’ll attain new levels of spirituality and meditation… but said that I’ll never become a sanyasi, as I did not have that yogam.

I specifically asked him whether it is 45 or 32… and he said 32! I asked will I have a so called affinity towards women till the age of 45, and he said, “no nothing like that!”

I realized that I had been misinformed earlier.

I asked him about the rituals I have to perform at Tiruchendur to remove the sarpa dosham. I noted the tasks in the order to be performed.

Then, I asked him to check my horoscope with respect to Leena’s horoscope, the woman who loves me (in spite of me being me). He did all the calculations… it turned out fine. “All 12 planets match,” he said!

He said, “I have just three years more; 2009 death. Then, I will take rebirth!” I was stunned. Something hit me. He continued, “I received signal from my guru… before that I have to conduct satsangs…”

We agreed, “Tatasthu! May the will of God prevail.”

Then, he asked me about Leena. Our story.

I told him:
“Leena waited for me because she knew that I’ll come back to her. Love, like God, works in strange ways… I don’t know whether I deserve her.

I went back to her not because I was afraid to start my life afresh but because I feel that everything happens for a reason. I crushed my ego and asked her whether she still loves me… and she said, “Come back to me.”

That was the most magnanimous gesture I have ever experienced in life and I could not say no. I knew I had to answer a lot of people and many would never understand… (because they have never been where you have been).”

He understood in his own silent way.

He talked to Leena over the phone and cleared all her hypothetical doubts and queries. They bonded over the phone, and he invited her to come and meet him personally. Such a nice man… he treats all equally.

He shares all his knowledge to all who seek. He was about to make Sri Chakra yantra for a person who had come to meet him. That guy belonged to his native place, Srirangam! He was staying in TVMalai for the past eight months and met him only on Saturday! Strange are the ways that God weaves his magic!

While my guru was busy with the horoscope calculations… he introduced me to Thyagu… Thyagu had worked as an officer with HSBC in Malaysia. He left everything and came to India seeking spirituality, peace, and oneness with nature.

Thyagu and I talked on world economics (I did not know I could talk about economics till then!), and nature, and philosophy. He asked me a queer question, “Do I look like a sadhu to you?” I did not answer.

Thyagu showed me a poem he had translated from my guru’s works:

Shiva is the divine father,
Devi is the divine mother,
Adi Shankara is the divine teacher,
And you and I are the divine child.

Wow!

I left feeling happy, relieved, and peaceful. My guru once cleared my doubts for me. He showed me the path and the truth. Oh, I was such a fool!

Anyways, like a zen master once said: “To be what you are, you sometimes have to be what you are not.”

I am sorry because in that process I hurt you, baby. And I feel so foolish… that I will never be able to forgive myself.

Before parting, I said, “Life is our only teacher!” “Avaladaan” he exclaimed!

Opposites

Every religious truth I have seen and experienced talks to me about union of:
• the male and the female.
• the light and the non-light.
• the positive and the negative.

The oneness of being is all that the yin and the yang depicts. The shiva linga engulfed in the yoni pitha shows the same. When two opposing forces meet and become one, the entire universe dances.

All of physics and chemistry shows how elements react with one another to become stable. To become a new identity altogether each losing its own properties in the process. To take on an entirely new set of properties.

What happens then: equilibrium or disequilibrium?

I don’t know.

But, I guess, it’s something like twilight. The skies express themselves in the most beautiful colors during twilight. I think it is rasa laya. Beautiful, incredible, unintelligible: full of friction, full of sweet poison, the love that consumes, the intercourse that never ends, two souls entwining to become one. Interplay of passion and desire.

One dies, loses oneself, and is born in the other’s self. Extension of self is what is depicted by shiva-parvati in the form of ardhanarishwara. Perfect process of ‘you’ in ‘me’; ‘me’ in ‘you’. Results in ‘us’.

Not just sexually, but in every aspect of life.

My first enlightenment was when I realized that sex, along with sexual intercourse, is the most intimate form of love, spirituality, and oneness that we can experience. Which is why it has since then been a very pure, holy, and sacred ritual for me.

A ritual to worship the Shakti in you. For you to worship the Shiva in me. Because without us, they don’t exist. They live inside us. Dying to become one with each other through us.

Through us, they experience themselves.

My linga and your yoni are the real windows to our souls. Our souls are our only connection to Godliness and consciousness.

- Abhilash Warrier.
Dated: 9.6.2005.

Moments...

Chingari koi bhadke toh saawan use bhujaye...
Saawan joh agan lagaye, use kaun bhujaye?

Koi yeh kaise bataaye ki woh tanha kyon hain
Woh joh apna tha wohi aur kisika kyon hain
Yehi duniya hain toh aakhir aisi yeh duniya kyon hain
Yehi hota hain toh aakhir yehi hota kyun hain?

Just heard these awesome, sublime lines from two awesome, sublime love stories... Amar Prem and Arth.

Sung by Kishore Kumar and Jagjit Singh, respectively... these songs now evoke a deeper understanding in me. I feel better when I listen to these songs... I did not sing along. I purely listened.

Life sometimes presents such beautiful moments. Moments, which you would choose to live or observe as a bystander?

In my life, I had never been a bystander. I had always lived each and every moment.

Now, I choose to be a bystander and:
look how life weaves its own pattern.
watch where my feet plant its footprints.
listen to my favorite songs, and not sing along.
ponder about poetry rather than read it.
seek inside rather than outside.

For the first time, I know what I want from life. I know what I want.

I was taken on a ride. My roller coaster ride is over.

I know I am free. Because I hold no grudges, no guilt, and no pity.

I realize that I should love what deserves love. I realize that I should believe in my own truth. For there is no other truth than my life, which is my only teacher.

Scary

Four days. Three deaths.
Who’s next? You ask.

Dad’s in the hospital.
Breathing heavy just like you.

Mom’s crying.
No one to call. To talk to.

You feel like the day you were born. All alone.
All your nightmares seem a heartbeat away.
Life goes on without a reason.

You pull. It pushes.
You cry and it laughs back.

Who’s out there?
Just a void.
Just a reflection.

Another apparition.
Another vision.
More voices.

Another black, dull evening passes by.
After a warm, humid afternoon.
Just like the day before.

You wait.

Nothing happens.
Nothing to say. Nothing no more.

You need money. Never wanted it before.
It doesn’t get scarier than this.

- Abhilash Warrier.
Dated: 23.2.2004.

A bridge fell down

Once upon a time,
I used to cross a bridge across
the railway tracks.

People from all walks of life
Crossed it to get somewhere, I think.

Lovers hatched conspiracies,
Friends met and laughed,
Some times, I think, the
Whole world crossed this bridge.

Across space and time,
It weathered,
Cracked and swung.

On the bridge.
A drunkard
Shouts at his wife.

A mother beats her child
On his way from his maddening school.

Another woman
Slaps a lecher.

I see this everyday.
Like a live motion picture.

This bridge was my home.

Today, the bridge fell down.

Taking down all:
The drunkard, the mother,
And the kid on his way back from school.

All, except me.

Why did the bridge fall down?
Why in the middle of the day?
Why not in the dead of the night?

Anyways, where is the nearest bridge?
My next home?


Dated: 13.05.2004.
- Abhilash Warrier.

Reborn

But...

(blankness)

(emptiness)

(shock)

Why...

What happened?...

But you said...

You thought...

You had all this so clear in your mind... I was your man. You had decided that I was not just a temptation, but your man for life...

Then, what happened?

Ananthakrishnan, our guru, had said that both of us would receive enlightenment when we are 37 and 32, respectively... I remember everything clearly.

You left me... it took me a long while to refocus. To realign my life. To rethink and digest the fact that you will never be a part of my life anymore.

It was a lovely time. It was a lovely dream in your words... shattered. But the river flows on... it moves ahead. Gathering strength from the slope of life... through the plains...

ranga, I will meet you when you come back to Chennai... but she won't be with me. Vandana, it's great meeting you again. Please do comment on my blog like you always wanted to.

Life, here I come back to reality from a shattered, awakening, soul-wrenching dream. But I am glad to be alive. But, I know a part of me has died... and

Now, I am reborn: stronger and wiser. I remember, life is my only teacher.