On a breezy, cool December afternoon, an Express train chugs out of Pune…
In the S5 compartment, among the many occupied seats, there is an unoccupied one. Curious passengers eye this seat wondering whether the passenger may board the train at the next station. Or better still, whether this seat is available!
After an hour or two, the TC hands the empty seat (and berth) over to a waitlisted passenger and makes some quick money out of it. This was a train ticket not cancelled…
The waitlisted passenger puts his feet up; he is happy. Perhaps, he was in a last minute rush and could not plan his journey. Maybe some untoward incident happened and he is trying to make it in time. And this time, he got lucky.
The TC and the seat-buyer thanked the passenger who did not cancel the ticket. There sure must be some story behind this, right?
You bet there is.
Monday, December 20, 2010
What is life?
God. Enlightenment. Truth. Shunyata. Mounam.
All these concepts… They’re like defined spaces among undefined spaces. And all that has been defined exists in our mind(s). Outside, these concepts have no validity or utility.
Not able to write more… It is so tough to write what you ‘know’. So much easier to write what you don’t know, or what you understand, or at least, pretend to understand.
All these concepts… They’re like defined spaces among undefined spaces. And all that has been defined exists in our mind(s). Outside, these concepts have no validity or utility.
Not able to write more… It is so tough to write what you ‘know’. So much easier to write what you don’t know, or what you understand, or at least, pretend to understand.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Alandi beckoned
Sant Dynaneshwar. I had heard of him and his contemporary saints way back in school first. I think, in 4th Std. My memory fails me. Sant Tukaram, Sant Ramdas, Sant Eknath, et al.
Visiting Alandi was on my mind ever since I came back to Pune last year. Somehow, the calling came on October 30 (Saturday) and I found myself biking towards Alandi.
The town reminded me of Thiruvannamalai though Alandi is still not as commercialized as Thiruvannamalai. And thank God for that!
Headed straight to Mauli’s Sanjeevan Samadhi (samadhi while still alive) spot. Sant Nivrittinath, Sant Muktabai, and Sant Sopandev (Mauli’s siblings) were all present when he took his Samadhi along with many other devotees and followers. Mauli (mother) was what Sant Dynaneshwar’s contemporary saints called him.
After pradakshina, bought the Haripatha and the Pasayana and began reading them in the blessed company of Varkaris. Thereafter, had bhojan prasad.
From what I could gather, the Varkaris were/are like “singing saints”… similar to the 63 Nayanars, I guess. Mauli had resurrected the Varkari sect/movement in the 13th century in only a brief span of 21/22 years that he lived…
Sitting under the Peepal tree near Mauli’s Samadhi is pretty much the same as sitting inside Virupaksha cave.
Nothing more to say.
Visiting Alandi was on my mind ever since I came back to Pune last year. Somehow, the calling came on October 30 (Saturday) and I found myself biking towards Alandi.
The town reminded me of Thiruvannamalai though Alandi is still not as commercialized as Thiruvannamalai. And thank God for that!
Headed straight to Mauli’s Sanjeevan Samadhi (samadhi while still alive) spot. Sant Nivrittinath, Sant Muktabai, and Sant Sopandev (Mauli’s siblings) were all present when he took his Samadhi along with many other devotees and followers. Mauli (mother) was what Sant Dynaneshwar’s contemporary saints called him.
After pradakshina, bought the Haripatha and the Pasayana and began reading them in the blessed company of Varkaris. Thereafter, had bhojan prasad.
From what I could gather, the Varkaris were/are like “singing saints”… similar to the 63 Nayanars, I guess. Mauli had resurrected the Varkari sect/movement in the 13th century in only a brief span of 21/22 years that he lived…
Sitting under the Peepal tree near Mauli’s Samadhi is pretty much the same as sitting inside Virupaksha cave.
Nothing more to say.
Borrowed sorrows
Kuch baatein aisi hoti hain,
Kuch rishte aise hote hain jinke naam nahin hote;
Hote hain, toh sirf paigaam...
Warna sirf jaam.
Aap ne aisa jaadu kiya, ke hum hosh kho baithe.
Phir, aap ne aisa jaadu kiya, ki hum humko kho baithe.
Kuch rishte aise hote hain jinke naam nahin hote;
Hote hain, toh sirf paigaam...
Warna sirf jaam.
Aap ne aisa jaadu kiya, ke hum hosh kho baithe.
Phir, aap ne aisa jaadu kiya, ki hum humko kho baithe.
Just another day in paradise
It’s one of those days… When you hum a classic song sung in your mother tongue. No matter how much you think and write in English, it sometimes can never relate to your ‘native’ anguish.
Have been humming (trying really hard) Engane njaan urakkendu and Kaliveedurangiyallo..kalivaakkurangiyallo from Deshadanam since morning. Though there is some cathartic effect, the anguish does not break away. It keeps gnawing like a hungry rat trapped.
Just now, another song walked into the remote crevices of my godforsaken mind… Vaalkkanezhuthiya makaranilaavil maamboo manamozhuki from Paithrukum.
Have been humming (trying really hard) Engane njaan urakkendu and Kaliveedurangiyallo..kalivaakkurangiyallo from Deshadanam since morning. Though there is some cathartic effect, the anguish does not break away. It keeps gnawing like a hungry rat trapped.
Just now, another song walked into the remote crevices of my godforsaken mind… Vaalkkanezhuthiya makaranilaavil maamboo manamozhuki from Paithrukum.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Change
Evolution changes choice.
Choice changes evolution.
What changes the change?
Is there more to this than what meets the eye? Is this cyclical or linear? Do we know or as usual merely pretend?
As long as you have not grasped that you have to die to grow, you are a troubled guest on the dark earth. – Mircea Eliade, Romanian writer.
Choice changes evolution.
What changes the change?
Is there more to this than what meets the eye? Is this cyclical or linear? Do we know or as usual merely pretend?
As long as you have not grasped that you have to die to grow, you are a troubled guest on the dark earth. – Mircea Eliade, Romanian writer.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Gone?!
Gone are the good morning mornings and the good night nights. Each moment, a part of me dies and a part replaces it: trying to live.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Grrr...
Karta: I want to be inside Virupaksha cave right this moment. It is the only cocoon that protects me from the world. Protects the world from me.
Sakshi: What a deep level of attachment! Still have a long way to go...
Who am I: Who is observing the observer observing the observed?
Sound: Grrr...
Sakshi: What a deep level of attachment! Still have a long way to go...
Who am I: Who is observing the observer observing the observed?
Sound: Grrr...
Sunday, October 03, 2010
Once more...
Sudden lovebursts and longings in every heartbeat I hide…
Yet, your deep, loving eyes won't say:
I'll stay.
Your deep, loving voice somehow careless of my heartbreak.
Yet, the broken heart whimpers, whispers, sighs and sings:
Our hindi love song.
Just love me...
At least, lie to me:
once more.
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Mein aur meri tanhayee;
Mein jaanu aur meri khuda jaane.
Yet, your deep, loving eyes won't say:
I'll stay.
Your deep, loving voice somehow careless of my heartbreak.
Yet, the broken heart whimpers, whispers, sighs and sings:
Our hindi love song.
Just love me...
At least, lie to me:
once more.
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Mein aur meri tanhayee;
Mein jaanu aur meri khuda jaane.
Koi khalish hain hawaon mein…
Flowers have been nipped in the bud. Just before they could bloom together.
However, these flowers shall bloom again. When the cold-hearted winter gives way to sunny spring and summer…
Interestingly, there is no pain this time.
Maybe it’s the realization that promises can be broken even before trying to keep them.
Maybe it’s Thiruvannamalai healing me from afar.
Maybe it’s my belief that God is in his heaven and all is well on earth.
Maybe the love went deeper than my sore and numb nerves.
The sun shall rise tomorrow and I shall not dwell in the dark tonight. Every dawn, I meditate facing the east awaiting my sunrise.
I pray to God everyday that I may never get Alzheimer’s. For I believe that I live in my memories. They, along with hope, keep me alive. They provide the courage to love once again.
Once again, a part of me has died. It shall resurrect though. For I shall be reborn; and so shall you.
However, these flowers shall bloom again. When the cold-hearted winter gives way to sunny spring and summer…
Interestingly, there is no pain this time.
Maybe it’s the realization that promises can be broken even before trying to keep them.
Maybe it’s Thiruvannamalai healing me from afar.
Maybe it’s my belief that God is in his heaven and all is well on earth.
Maybe the love went deeper than my sore and numb nerves.
The sun shall rise tomorrow and I shall not dwell in the dark tonight. Every dawn, I meditate facing the east awaiting my sunrise.
I pray to God everyday that I may never get Alzheimer’s. For I believe that I live in my memories. They, along with hope, keep me alive. They provide the courage to love once again.
Once again, a part of me has died. It shall resurrect though. For I shall be reborn; and so shall you.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
In a song
We are two teardrops in a song. We'll flow with the music. But eventually, we will dry up somewhere near smiling lips.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
An umbrella story/ Two mornings/ Mornings
Yesterday morning, she came late; drenched to the bone. Aakash was waiting for the maid. He was getting late for work. It was already 8:30am.
“What happened? Why are you late? And wet?” asked Aakash. “I don’t have an umbrella; my daughter uses mine to go to college,” Sunita replied sheepishly. She started her daily routine of sweeping and mopping the floor.
Just before she was done with her work for the day, Aakash walked to his bedroom, took his umbrella from the table, folded it neatly, and gave it to her.
Sunita replied, “Thanks. I’ll return this tomorrow morning.” Aakash retorted nervously, “No; it’s for you to keep. It rains heavily nowadays. You’ll get sick if you get wet like this daily.”
Today morning, Sunita arrived at 7:30am sharp. Aakash noticed that she had an old and abused umbrella in her hand. She was soaking wet from the heavy rain outside. Obviously, this umbrella was of little help.
Aakash asked, “What happened to the umbrella I gave you yesterday?” Sunita (proceeding towards the broom) replied matter-of-factly, “I gave it to my son; he took it to school.”
Such is her love. Such is her life.
“What happened? Why are you late? And wet?” asked Aakash. “I don’t have an umbrella; my daughter uses mine to go to college,” Sunita replied sheepishly. She started her daily routine of sweeping and mopping the floor.
Just before she was done with her work for the day, Aakash walked to his bedroom, took his umbrella from the table, folded it neatly, and gave it to her.
Sunita replied, “Thanks. I’ll return this tomorrow morning.” Aakash retorted nervously, “No; it’s for you to keep. It rains heavily nowadays. You’ll get sick if you get wet like this daily.”
Today morning, Sunita arrived at 7:30am sharp. Aakash noticed that she had an old and abused umbrella in her hand. She was soaking wet from the heavy rain outside. Obviously, this umbrella was of little help.
Aakash asked, “What happened to the umbrella I gave you yesterday?” Sunita (proceeding towards the broom) replied matter-of-factly, “I gave it to my son; he took it to school.”
Such is her love. Such is her life.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
A tagged post
A friend recently blogged on Ameen Sayani. When I read this post, my trail of thoughts travelled to Binaca Geetmala, the most popular radio show in Indian history.
Then I remembered listening to radio stations at night because my mom was a big fan of music and songs. She primarily listened to old Malayalam songs but once in a while listened to Hindi songs as well.
I remember Ravi Mama coming home one evening, during those chawlwallah days, with new toothpastes that were out in the market then: Binaca and Cibaca. Light blue toothpastes. For the first time, I brushed my teeth with toothpastes that came in a color other than white!
A little boy back then, I had no idea about market wars. Binaca and Cibaca had threatened Colgate’s leadership and monopoly in the market back then. Now, we see Binaca and Cibaca written on cheap plastic toothbrushes that come free with Dabur Red toothpaste.
Such is life.
Then I remembered listening to radio stations at night because my mom was a big fan of music and songs. She primarily listened to old Malayalam songs but once in a while listened to Hindi songs as well.
I remember Ravi Mama coming home one evening, during those chawlwallah days, with new toothpastes that were out in the market then: Binaca and Cibaca. Light blue toothpastes. For the first time, I brushed my teeth with toothpastes that came in a color other than white!
A little boy back then, I had no idea about market wars. Binaca and Cibaca had threatened Colgate’s leadership and monopoly in the market back then. Now, we see Binaca and Cibaca written on cheap plastic toothbrushes that come free with Dabur Red toothpaste.
Such is life.
Friday, July 23, 2010
End of a dialogue
A child (looking out of a window): Wow! Look! The breeze is so cool; the raindrops spraying on my face is so refreshing.
An elder (peering into the morning newspaper): Close the window; the furniture will be spoilt.
An elder (peering into the morning newspaper): Close the window; the furniture will be spoilt.
The catalyst
Muse.
The very word is amusing. It lives in its own existence. A muse is to an artist what a catalyst is to a chemical reaction. Basically, what God is to creation or life. As Osho says: The catalyst does not cause any reaction or creation though without its presence nothing can be created; nothing happens.
The relationship between a muse and her artist is the most indefinable relationship.
The very word is amusing. It lives in its own existence. A muse is to an artist what a catalyst is to a chemical reaction. Basically, what God is to creation or life. As Osho says: The catalyst does not cause any reaction or creation though without its presence nothing can be created; nothing happens.
The relationship between a muse and her artist is the most indefinable relationship.
My desktop wallpaper
An ash-clad face with simmering piercing eyes. Sun-dried and wind-beaten long tresses. Agni surrounds him. He stares at me from my desktop.
Who is he? What is his journey?
All I know is that he was at the last Kumbh Mela (where some photographer captured his fiery gaze). Maybe that is all we need to know about him.
Who is he? What is his journey?
All I know is that he was at the last Kumbh Mela (where some photographer captured his fiery gaze). Maybe that is all we need to know about him.
kahin toh
Kahaan kho gayi mere ghar kii chaabi;
Kahaan khoye maine meri raah.
Kahaan jaaon ab taala dhoondne;
Chaabi se pehle taala jo kho gaya tha... Kabhi.
Kahaan khoye maine meri raah.
Kahaan jaaon ab taala dhoondne;
Chaabi se pehle taala jo kho gaya tha... Kabhi.
khoyi khoyi sii zindagi
Kuch kahin dur khoyi khoyi sii zindagi;
Kuch khayalaton mein basi sii zindagi.
Ab bahaaron mein baahar aayi sii zindagi;
Hasraton aur shararaton mein zindagi
Ab jeene lagi hain
Kuch kahin aur khoyi khoyi sii zindagi.
Kuch khayalaton mein basi sii zindagi.
Ab bahaaron mein baahar aayi sii zindagi;
Hasraton aur shararaton mein zindagi
Ab jeene lagi hain
Kuch kahin aur khoyi khoyi sii zindagi.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Random musings of workless days
I love reading what I had written earlier... just to not lose touch with my past. It is only through what I write that I can be in touch with my past. Be an observer and a witness.
I keep staring at my cell phone every once in a while: maybe I am expecting a call. From the birthdaydigitswallah number. Maybe I expect to make a call. To the birthdaydigitswallah number. But I am avoiding the calling… don’t know how. Don’t know why.
The decision is already made, I guess. – Dated: February 15, 2010
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Why do people take offence for subtle acts of kindness?
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Ab aisa lagta hain kii kuch karna nahin;
Dur kidhar jhaake rehna nahin.
Zindagi ne khud bulaya hain;
Ab jeene se pehle maut kii tamanna nahin.
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Existentialism is the only permanent philosophy in life; it never deserts you no matter what path you take.
I keep staring at my cell phone every once in a while: maybe I am expecting a call. From the birthdaydigitswallah number. Maybe I expect to make a call. To the birthdaydigitswallah number. But I am avoiding the calling… don’t know how. Don’t know why.
The decision is already made, I guess. – Dated: February 15, 2010
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Why do people take offence for subtle acts of kindness?
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Ab aisa lagta hain kii kuch karna nahin;
Dur kidhar jhaake rehna nahin.
Zindagi ne khud bulaya hain;
Ab jeene se pehle maut kii tamanna nahin.
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Existentialism is the only permanent philosophy in life; it never deserts you no matter what path you take.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
My woman
My woman...
My goddess knows no fear:
She is Shakti standing on Shiva
Balancing her grace; balancing the world.
For if she falls, he shall be no more.
No more life; no more death.
No more what we know no more.
My goddess knows no fear:
She is Shakti standing on Shiva
Balancing her grace; balancing the world.
For if she falls, he shall be no more.
No more life; no more death.
No more what we know no more.
Unkept promises
The earth is scorched.
It is awaiting clouds that bring rain. Dark clouds are passing by. They are teasing the earth; they descend, hang low, and show promise of rain.
Maybe, they have no more vapours. Maybe, they are meant to rain elsewhere.
It is awaiting clouds that bring rain. Dark clouds are passing by. They are teasing the earth; they descend, hang low, and show promise of rain.
Maybe, they have no more vapours. Maybe, they are meant to rain elsewhere.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Sighs
A thousand sighs replace a thousand and eight names.
Untold, unspoken, unseen sighs. What should ‘I’ do?
Nothing more. No more.
Untold, unspoken, unseen sighs. What should ‘I’ do?
Nothing more. No more.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
A thulasi leaf
Sometimes the most important journeys in life are not begun by foot, by flight, or by sail. They start in the Heart.
Such journeys bring home new discoveries and visions. But more importantly they bring home truths; truths you seldom realized before.
Where is this journey taking me?
Yedh yedho kathayil Yamunayil oruganna
Uru thulasi dhalam aanu nyaan.
Such journeys bring home new discoveries and visions. But more importantly they bring home truths; truths you seldom realized before.
Where is this journey taking me?
Yedh yedho kathayil Yamunayil oruganna
Uru thulasi dhalam aanu nyaan.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Friday the 18th
Love entered Shiva's being from a far, far away land somewhere in the east near the sea... Where the Sun rises. Where it should rise. Where it shall never set.
He outstretched his arms and welcomed this addiction called life... :-)) Now, he has to journey a thousand miles before he can sleep in peace.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Who am...
The only spiritual texts that exist: Yoga Vasistha Sara, Ashtavakra Gita, Tripura Rahasya, and the Upanishads.
Mahavaakyas such as Tat vam asi, Aham Brahmasmi, and the way of Neti, Neti. The way of “Not this, not this”. And the way of “Even this, even this” blend in these dialogues and statements.
Note: The great maxims contained in four Upanishads of the four Vedas describe Brahman as:
Mahavaakyas such as Tat vam asi, Aham Brahmasmi, and the way of Neti, Neti. The way of “Not this, not this”. And the way of “Even this, even this” blend in these dialogues and statements.
Note: The great maxims contained in four Upanishads of the four Vedas describe Brahman as:
- Praajnam Brahman—Aitreya Upanishad of Rigveda, meaning “Intelligence or Consciousness is Brahman”.
- Aham Brahmaasmi—Brihadaaranyaka Upanishad of Yajurveda, meaning “I am Brahman”.
- Tat vam asi—Chandogya Upanishad of Saamaveda, meaning “That thou art”.
- Ayam aatma Brahman—Mandookya Upanishad of Atharvaveda, meaning “This Self or aatma is Brahman”.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Om Namah Shivaya
Early in the morning, lighting the lamp before the brass lingam starts my day. Om Namah Shivaya… the beeja mantra floods my body and mind.
A train of thoughts fade in and fade out:
A train of thoughts fade in and fade out:
- What metaphors the lingam conveys, I can only guess or imagine: Being Ardhanareeshwara… male and female… Lightness and heaviness… Yin and Yang… Being and non-being… Is-ness, here and now… Living in the three states and moving towards Turiya.
- Brahma, Vishnu, Maheswaraa… all imbibed in one. Even Devi is present in the lingam: engulfing the lingam in her yoni. This makes the lingam, for me, complete; not just a phallic symbol.
- When you worship the lingam, you are worshipping the very concepts of existence: the life force. Harmony. All is one. Equilibrium. Sex to Super-Consciousness. Fountainhead. Left Hand of God.
- How many worlds it encompasses? How many emotions it kills?
Mind games
It’s that time of the year again when Moon and Venus are seen close to each other in the sky. Just like an enchanting, crescent-shaped smile and a beauty spot near the upper lip on a pretty woman’s face.
God knows what mischief these guys will be up to. What mind games will they play with us mortals?
God knows what mischief these guys will be up to. What mind games will they play with us mortals?
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Un-catchable
Seeking. Stopping.
Living. Dying. Every moment.
Do I know where one begins and the other ends? Should I? Could I?
Living. Dying. Every moment.
Do I know where one begins and the other ends? Should I? Could I?
Friday, April 30, 2010
Joys of working in Pune
I can sit at my PC, eat two hot vada pavs with spicy chilies, and drink a chilled cola at the same time.
Anybody feeling a bit jealous? Anybody from Bangalore, especially? :-)
Anybody feeling a bit jealous? Anybody from Bangalore, especially? :-)
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Seene mein jalan
Seene mein jalan aankhon mein tufaan saa kyon hain?
Is shahar mein har shaks pareshaan saa kyon hain?
Dil hain to, dhadakane kaa bahaanaa koi dhoondhe
Patthar kee tarah beheesa-o-bejaan saa kyon hain?
Seene mein jalan…
Tanahaee kee ye kaun si, manzil hain rafeekon
Taa-hadd-ye-nazar yek bayaabaan saa kyon hain?
Kya koi nayee baat nazar aatee hain hum me
Aaina hume dekh ke hairaan saa kyon hain?
This song from Gaman (1979) has been playing in my head today since morning.
I am reminded of my hardworking years in Mumbai:...
Of travelling to and fro in jam-packed trains. Of those soiled notes I received at the end of the month. Of the impulsive expenses I made. Of working late into the day-after-tomorrow.
Those uncertainties and dreams. Those opportunities I missed. Those statements I made. Those promises made to self unkept. Those walks in the rain.
That intense love fading into oblivion or some void. That longing becoming indifference.
Is shahar mein har shaks pareshaan saa kyon hain?
Dil hain to, dhadakane kaa bahaanaa koi dhoondhe
Patthar kee tarah beheesa-o-bejaan saa kyon hain?
Seene mein jalan…
Tanahaee kee ye kaun si, manzil hain rafeekon
Taa-hadd-ye-nazar yek bayaabaan saa kyon hain?
Kya koi nayee baat nazar aatee hain hum me
Aaina hume dekh ke hairaan saa kyon hain?
This song from Gaman (1979) has been playing in my head today since morning.
I am reminded of my hardworking years in Mumbai:...
Of travelling to and fro in jam-packed trains. Of those soiled notes I received at the end of the month. Of the impulsive expenses I made. Of working late into the day-after-tomorrow.
Those uncertainties and dreams. Those opportunities I missed. Those statements I made. Those promises made to self unkept. Those walks in the rain.
That intense love fading into oblivion or some void. That longing becoming indifference.
At least, I hope so...
Oh cloud, why don’t you just rain down?
Roar in thunder and rub in lightning?
At least for a moment, our existence will be noticed.
Ye wildflower on the country road, why don’t you bloom to your brightest in day?
Spread your petals and let us see the world inside you?
At least for a moment, our lives will be enriched.
My mundane life needs spectacular moments for me to feel alive… Clipping my grandmother’s nails made up for all those lost time that I could have spent with her… At least I hope so. After all she is the only living legacy my grandfather left behind when he passed away 12 years ago.
Footnote: On the morning of April 22, I wrote this piece; she passed away peacefully that afternoon.
Roar in thunder and rub in lightning?
At least for a moment, our existence will be noticed.
Ye wildflower on the country road, why don’t you bloom to your brightest in day?
Spread your petals and let us see the world inside you?
At least for a moment, our lives will be enriched.
My mundane life needs spectacular moments for me to feel alive… Clipping my grandmother’s nails made up for all those lost time that I could have spent with her… At least I hope so. After all she is the only living legacy my grandfather left behind when he passed away 12 years ago.
Footnote: On the morning of April 22, I wrote this piece; she passed away peacefully that afternoon.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Aarti
It was 4:30 pm.
A group of men had gathered in devotion. They were wearing uniforms: matching ties, shirts, and blazers. The huge wall-mounted speakers were blazing out “Sukh harta… dukh harta…” in full volume. The fragrance emanating from incense and dhoop sticks created a hazy and smoky hue in the dimly lit, air-conditioned environment.
All the uniforms were busy clapping their hands and playing the cymbals in tune with the aartis blaring out of the speakers. Some were singing along and singing aloud.
Jaydev jaydev…
Aarti Sai Baba…
Devotion amongst the waiters, the captain, and the hotel owner reached their crescendo with the DJ playing the last aarti fast and louder. The aarti ended around 5pm with distribution of prasad to all.
Now, it was time for Aartis, in their 20s and 30s, to come through the backdoor to please their Gods.
A group of men had gathered in devotion. They were wearing uniforms: matching ties, shirts, and blazers. The huge wall-mounted speakers were blazing out “Sukh harta… dukh harta…” in full volume. The fragrance emanating from incense and dhoop sticks created a hazy and smoky hue in the dimly lit, air-conditioned environment.
All the uniforms were busy clapping their hands and playing the cymbals in tune with the aartis blaring out of the speakers. Some were singing along and singing aloud.
Jaydev jaydev…
Aarti Sai Baba…
Devotion amongst the waiters, the captain, and the hotel owner reached their crescendo with the DJ playing the last aarti fast and louder. The aarti ended around 5pm with distribution of prasad to all.
Now, it was time for Aartis, in their 20s and 30s, to come through the backdoor to please their Gods.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Words seemingly from nowhere
Godliness.
Staying in the midst of society really does not help. Every relationship comes with expectations and obligations. Blessed are those who form relationships where only dharma (righteousness) is way of life:
• Swami Ramakrishna Paramahamsa and consort, Sarada Devi
• Sant Keshavdas and consort, Mother
Did I choose: Where was I to be born this life? The school I went to? My parents? My teachers?
Why did Brother Keane travel from Ireland to India and stay here so long? He had some ties and chains here. Maybe, some karma unfulfilled.
From where did I travel through all these lifetimes? To where am I travelling?
Am feeling an ache in my Heart for a long time now. Nothing makes me sad; nothing makes me happy either. Am in such a neutral state that if somebody bombed the earth, I may care two hoots before dying myself.
These words, they just flow. Seemingly coming from nowhere. Because I am not thinking these words or making up this stuff.
I am losing my memory, one remembrance at a time. Discarding all the rubbish in my mind makes my mind and Heart lighter. Maybe, this is what the Masters called as losing oneself. Because losing memory is losing what you are, what you mean to people.
What do you own? What can you possess?
How can I transcend sex, meditation, and all methods?
Oh Ramana, wherever you are, help me out. Push me a bit. Toss me around.
Some words you have to live to know what they really mean. Like, I am yearning now.
Somewhere at the horizon, words stop and silence begins.
In the great abyss of life, sorrows
have deeper burrows.
In this dark forest, a fine
next step may land on a landmine.
Why do you always feel like talking to somebody who’s left you with no one to talk to?
Okay, that is greeting card language.
Staying in the midst of society really does not help. Every relationship comes with expectations and obligations. Blessed are those who form relationships where only dharma (righteousness) is way of life:
• Swami Ramakrishna Paramahamsa and consort, Sarada Devi
• Sant Keshavdas and consort, Mother
Did I choose: Where was I to be born this life? The school I went to? My parents? My teachers?
Why did Brother Keane travel from Ireland to India and stay here so long? He had some ties and chains here. Maybe, some karma unfulfilled.
From where did I travel through all these lifetimes? To where am I travelling?
Am feeling an ache in my Heart for a long time now. Nothing makes me sad; nothing makes me happy either. Am in such a neutral state that if somebody bombed the earth, I may care two hoots before dying myself.
These words, they just flow. Seemingly coming from nowhere. Because I am not thinking these words or making up this stuff.
I am losing my memory, one remembrance at a time. Discarding all the rubbish in my mind makes my mind and Heart lighter. Maybe, this is what the Masters called as losing oneself. Because losing memory is losing what you are, what you mean to people.
What do you own? What can you possess?
How can I transcend sex, meditation, and all methods?
Oh Ramana, wherever you are, help me out. Push me a bit. Toss me around.
Some words you have to live to know what they really mean. Like, I am yearning now.
Somewhere at the horizon, words stop and silence begins.
In the great abyss of life, sorrows
have deeper burrows.
In this dark forest, a fine
next step may land on a landmine.
Why do you always feel like talking to somebody who’s left you with no one to talk to?
Okay, that is greeting card language.
Monday, March 08, 2010
Falsehood
Tamas and rajas dominate and direct my manas
When, not how, shall I attain sattva?
Is there a ‘when’ while I oscillate between the two?
Is the midpoint of my oscillation sattva?
Rajas and tamas obstruct sadhana.
How do I obstruct the obstructions?
How can I attain That?
When I say ‘I’ and ‘That’ together, my statement becomes falsehood.
When, not how, shall I attain sattva?
Is there a ‘when’ while I oscillate between the two?
Is the midpoint of my oscillation sattva?
Rajas and tamas obstruct sadhana.
How do I obstruct the obstructions?
How can I attain That?
When I say ‘I’ and ‘That’ together, my statement becomes falsehood.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Office conversation (pretty close but not verbatim)
C comes to C’s friends’ bay at 9:30 in the morning. They usually have breakfast together at Anna’s Cafeteria. C is really hungry. She has already expressed her hunger. Meanwhile, C’s friend gets interested in her jazzy pink specs.
C’s Friend (holding C’s spectacles in hand and examining them): “Hey, what’s the power in these? Must be between -1 and -2.”
C: “Yeah, -1.25 hain.”
C’s Friend: “Ok. Why don’t you go in for laser vision correction. I had -8 power; I underwent the treatment back in ’97. It’s safe and it’s worth it. The treatment gives you freedom. No more lenses and specs…”
C: “I am OK with specs. Some people have issues maintaining specs and looking good and all. I have no issues.”
C’s Friend: “I underwent the treatment because that time I had been caught by the navy bug. I wanted to become a sailor. I had taken the written exams and physical test at INS Hamla; cleared both rounds and was awaiting medical test dates. So I had to get the correction done prior to the medical test.
My vision correction was a gift from my grandfather. He was a navyman, naa. It was his last everlasting gift for me.
He passed away in ’98.”
By the time I underwent the laser correction, I had to choose between literature and travelling. I had to choose: become a sailor or become a poet… And I chose the latter.”
C (nonchalantly turning to A, who’s been busy at her work all through this conversation): “Hey, chalna breakfast ke liye. Mujhe bahut bhook lagi hain!”
C’s Friend (holding C’s spectacles in hand and examining them): “Hey, what’s the power in these? Must be between -1 and -2.”
C: “Yeah, -1.25 hain.”
C’s Friend: “Ok. Why don’t you go in for laser vision correction. I had -8 power; I underwent the treatment back in ’97. It’s safe and it’s worth it. The treatment gives you freedom. No more lenses and specs…”
C: “I am OK with specs. Some people have issues maintaining specs and looking good and all. I have no issues.”
C’s Friend: “I underwent the treatment because that time I had been caught by the navy bug. I wanted to become a sailor. I had taken the written exams and physical test at INS Hamla; cleared both rounds and was awaiting medical test dates. So I had to get the correction done prior to the medical test.
My vision correction was a gift from my grandfather. He was a navyman, naa. It was his last everlasting gift for me.
He passed away in ’98.”
By the time I underwent the laser correction, I had to choose between literature and travelling. I had to choose: become a sailor or become a poet… And I chose the latter.”
C (nonchalantly turning to A, who’s been busy at her work all through this conversation): “Hey, chalna breakfast ke liye. Mujhe bahut bhook lagi hain!”
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Common dialogues in Malayalam Movies
- Nഅമ്മള്ക്ക് ഒന്ന് കുടണ്ടേ!?
Meaning: “Don’t we need to get-together?”
The context: Any situation can be an excuse for drinking: Marriage, tragic events, death of somebody close to the protagonist, the female lead leaving the hero for somebody else, etc. Reel life copies real life for sure in Malayalam. Thereafter, begins the great drinking sessions of നാട് ചാരായം or English rum, seeing which may make many of the uninitiated viewers puke!
- Hmm… നിന്നോടെആനു അഗറ്റ് പൂവാന് പരെന്യെദ്ധ.
Meaning: “It is you whom I told to go inside.”
Context: Chauvinist husband telling wife to go inside when he is discussing ‘important’ matters with any of the following: Relative(s), Friend(s), Villain(s), നാടുകാര്, ഓര് Drinking companions/ ശിങ്ങടിമാര്സ്
90 per cent of the time, the wifey will weep/sob, and obey the husband quietly. If only real copied reel?! Hehehehe!
Note: But in movies centered on women’s lib or where the wife is portrayed as ‘modern’, she will back answer him! How dare she? In this case, this scene may be followed by arguments and debates. She may even walk out of the house with two lightweight, well packed, clean suitcases!
- സഹായിചിലെങ്ങിലും ഒബുദ്രോഹികെരട്ദ്…
Meaning: If you cannot/will not help, please do not harass.
Context: Poor innocent man pleading with മോടലാളി /policeman. Famous example, Mohanlal to Shammi Thilakan in ഛെന്കൊഇല് (sequel to കിരീടം).
- ഏഎ കാല് വേനങ്ങില് ഞാന് പിടിക്യാമ?!
Meaning: I will fall at your feet, if needed.
Context: Bride’s father pleading with the groom’s father for failing to fulfill marriage terms and conditions. Or a person pleading with his debtors.
- നിങ്ങള് എല്ലാവരും സുഖം ആയിത് ഇര്രികണം. അധ മദി ഇന്നികെ. ട്രുപ്ടി ആയി.
Meaning: You all should be happy. That is all I desire. Am contented.
Context: Elder brother/father/mother telling the insensitive, ‘modern’ outlook city returned/ educated brother/son when the son does not value family values, traditions, togetherness, and other such boring & mundane stuff.
Strangeness in Pune
The other day, in the evening, I saw a PMC bus leaving the Balewadi Stadium bus stand. Between the bus driver and the windshield in front of him, there was a stray dog happily standing… and walking slowly from one end to the other! The driver was happily driving the bus! He looked like he was friendly with the dog!
Go ahead and adopt a stray, seemed to be his message to the world and the nonchalant passengers seated in the bus.
Yesterday morning, it drizzled and then rained in Pune. The cool morning outside, with the smell of wet earth, infiltrated and blended with the warm glow of the lighted brass lamp inside. I felt something unexplainable and out of this world.
I finished reading A Luminous Rebel… a short biography on Osho. Am halfway through Paul Brunton’s A Search in Secret India.
Aur inn sab ke beech main... bomb blast in German Bakery.
Go ahead and adopt a stray, seemed to be his message to the world and the nonchalant passengers seated in the bus.
Yesterday morning, it drizzled and then rained in Pune. The cool morning outside, with the smell of wet earth, infiltrated and blended with the warm glow of the lighted brass lamp inside. I felt something unexplainable and out of this world.
I finished reading A Luminous Rebel… a short biography on Osho. Am halfway through Paul Brunton’s A Search in Secret India.
Aur inn sab ke beech main... bomb blast in German Bakery.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
100
Just a personal note to all my blog readers: 100 posts up. This post being the 100th (Just noticed the milestone when I published the 99th post).
It took me five years (February 15, 2005: first post) to come up with 100 tidbits and slices from my life. Each post acted as a catalyst; each post put forth new questions and answers; each post killed some part of me; each post gave birth to a new me.
At this moment of my death and birth, I thank all my readers, who followed my posts through all these years: K, G, R, M, L, A, Eroteme, H, A, S, and all the Anonymous ones out there.
This blog would not have grown without you: my readers.
Thanks for all your valuable comments and feedback.
Thanks for your gentle persuasion... egging me to go on even when nothing came through.
Thanks for your patience and support.
Om Namah Shivaya! May He bless me to write more posts.
It took me five years (February 15, 2005: first post) to come up with 100 tidbits and slices from my life. Each post acted as a catalyst; each post put forth new questions and answers; each post killed some part of me; each post gave birth to a new me.
At this moment of my death and birth, I thank all my readers, who followed my posts through all these years: K, G, R, M, L, A, Eroteme, H, A, S, and all the Anonymous ones out there.
This blog would not have grown without you: my readers.
Thanks for all your valuable comments and feedback.
Thanks for your gentle persuasion... egging me to go on even when nothing came through.
Thanks for your patience and support.
Om Namah Shivaya! May He bless me to write more posts.
Dil toh baccha hain ji
Listening to this song for the last two days at my workplace, I have come to realize that not many songs have held this sort of magic for me.
The song from the movie, Ishqiya, is one of the best picturized songs that I have ever seen in Indian cinema. You just need to watch Naseeruddin Shah (just in this song) to know how subtle acting can be... Nostalgia, introspection, honesty: the song interweaves all these elements and more effortlessly.
Gulzar has pulled out yet another rabbit from his hat...
Rahat Fateh Ali Khan's voice brings out Khalujaan's hidden pathos and hope alive...
Vishal Bharadwaj's score is perfect.
Vidya Balan, as Krishna, can take the baton, with conviction, from Rekha as the new seductive temptress. The opening scene itself will take your breath away.
If you haven't watched Ishqiya already, then you should. Abhishek Chaubey is a director to watch out for; that is, if Vishal did not ghost direct the movie!. And watch out for this song...
Go, fall in love stupidly. Once more. All over again.
The song from the movie, Ishqiya, is one of the best picturized songs that I have ever seen in Indian cinema. You just need to watch Naseeruddin Shah (just in this song) to know how subtle acting can be... Nostalgia, introspection, honesty: the song interweaves all these elements and more effortlessly.
Gulzar has pulled out yet another rabbit from his hat...
Rahat Fateh Ali Khan's voice brings out Khalujaan's hidden pathos and hope alive...
Vishal Bharadwaj's score is perfect.
Vidya Balan, as Krishna, can take the baton, with conviction, from Rekha as the new seductive temptress. The opening scene itself will take your breath away.
If you haven't watched Ishqiya already, then you should. Abhishek Chaubey is a director to watch out for; that is, if Vishal did not ghost direct the movie!. And watch out for this song...
Go, fall in love stupidly. Once more. All over again.
Monday, February 01, 2010
A quantum leap of faith
“You never make any decision in life. Before you decide, the decision is already made. You feel/think you have choices in life when you really don’t.”
Words from the book I just finished: The Human Touch by Michael Frayn.
Free will has really been the most misunderstood concept among laymen, according to maharishis since time immemorial. Quantum physics is talking the same language as theirs:
- Each of us is actually “alone” in time.
- We live in the past. There is no future. You really never know what will happen tomorrow.
- All is one. The seemingly real boundaries of “I” are created by the body/mind complex. You can never point out and say where “I” ends and “Other” begins.
- None of the natural laws exist beyond our mind and thoughts. Things just behave the way they do.
- Time and space do not exist beyond our mind and thoughts. These concepts being purely brought into existence for our convenience and for us to relate to the world. Just like all measurement units.
- Language cannot express many truths. Language and our imagination are limited.
- There are no constants: π, speed of light, etc. All these are subject to change. In other words: relative.
- Physics has reached the realm of “inexpressible” and “unthinkable”. Equations will need to involve variable constants!
I am taking it all in. Standing and wondering at the meeting points between these two seemingly distinct schools of thought: mysticism (for lack of a better word) and Quantum Physics.
And right now, it is fun: Reading, relating, and laughing out loud at fallacies of my mind.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
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