Jogging is one of my ways of unwinding these days...quite surprising for people who are aware of the particular revulsion I have for perspiration (I seem to be blessed with an amazing tendency to perspire with the most minuscule effort you can imagine...(sigh)). A dear friend is responsible for this near miraculous phenomenon which find me thudding around a nice park adjacent to my apartment block. Somehow, he managed to convince me that it's fun and that the copious sweating isn't as distressing as I imagine! :D
This evening, as the ground beneath my feet felt the repeated pounding of my new running shoes, I saw something that made me think even as I huffed along. I was a large garden snail that was inching its way across the narrow path on which people walk/jog. I marked its progress each time I came near that particular spot on the track. At the end of 25 minutes, it was not even half-way across the (approximately) 3-feet wide path.
More than once I was tempted to just pick it off the ground and deposit it in the safety of the bushes for which it was headed. Towards the end of my jogging I nearly did so...but a thought made me hold back...
I thought to myself, that no matter how small this creature's consciousness is in our estimation, it still has enough intelligence to recognise danger and possesses the instinct for self-preservation. It is in constant danger of being crushed by the next careless oaf who comes lumbering along and somewhere in its tiny snail-mind it must be aware of this; but it still moves ahead, unshakable even in its acute vulnerability.
I think we have a lot to learn from the snail...do you?
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Friday, March 02, 2007
Kite-string
As I type these words, I look from time to time at the fine scar that marks one of the joints on my left index finger... an odd reminder of a very interesting afternoon that I experienced not too long ago.
Strange as it may seem, until the above mentioned afternoon, I had never experienced kite-flying (to be fair, that is technically still true...but let me come to that in a bit!). Somehow, my childhood never included the endless hours of fascination with a brightly coloured kite, that form an integral part of my father's memory of his youth. I had never regretted this absence...there were always a dozen other things to keep me occupied at any given moment.
However, I must admit, that when a good friend suggested that I try it, I welcomed the opportunity with no small measure of eagerness! There is something fascinating about flying a kite...watching it soar into the skies and guiding it's direction. I'd often watched children spend hour upon hour just running against the breeze in order to send a kite into the sky...and I'd wondered what it was like to feel the wind tug at one's kite and take it higher and higher in the direction of the heavens.
So, on the afternoon in question, I found myself on the roof of an apartment block, squinting on account of a fiercely burning sun and enjoying the droughts of wind that wafted over from the nearby lake. Two friend, both experienced kite-fliers, were there with me, busying themselves with the technicalities of whatever it is that goes into launching a kite. They discussed the various positions from which the kite would be best launched, the changing direction of the wind, the composition of the kite and even the way the string should be wound... a fascinating study for someone as inexperienced as myself.
Imagine my consternation, however, when not even one of us managed to get that kite airborne for even a minute! I realised that kite-flying might not be so easy after all, when I noticed that almost an hour had been spent in watching the poor kite crash repeatedly into just about everything on that roof (including us!). The incessant succession of failed attempts came to an end when an over zealous tug at the kite-string left me with a cut on my left forefinger.
Not the most productive afternoon, if you measure productivity by number of successes. But it was certainly one of the most enjoyable afternoons I'd spent in a while. You see, it didn't matter that I did not manage to get that kite into the sky or watch it go further and further in the direction of the clouds. What I relished each moment was the fact that I was experiencing something that I had missed for over two decades of my life. In a strange way, I felt a sense of completeness that had nothing to do with that kite...it was more about giving a treat to the child in me. I laughed at the kite as it came down again and again...and I shared the mirth of my veteran companions, who had no dearth of quips and jibes to make each time the poor kite plummeted earthward! It wasn't about achieving anything...it was about being in the moment, enjoying the time that we had together...which is something that adults lose so easily, even though it is something that comes naturally to their children. I felt my inner child laugh that afternoon. The kite may never have experienced the delight of being airborne, but my spirit flew high amongst the clouds, happier than the brightest kite you could imagine!
:)
Strange as it may seem, until the above mentioned afternoon, I had never experienced kite-flying (to be fair, that is technically still true...but let me come to that in a bit!). Somehow, my childhood never included the endless hours of fascination with a brightly coloured kite, that form an integral part of my father's memory of his youth. I had never regretted this absence...there were always a dozen other things to keep me occupied at any given moment.
However, I must admit, that when a good friend suggested that I try it, I welcomed the opportunity with no small measure of eagerness! There is something fascinating about flying a kite...watching it soar into the skies and guiding it's direction. I'd often watched children spend hour upon hour just running against the breeze in order to send a kite into the sky...and I'd wondered what it was like to feel the wind tug at one's kite and take it higher and higher in the direction of the heavens.
So, on the afternoon in question, I found myself on the roof of an apartment block, squinting on account of a fiercely burning sun and enjoying the droughts of wind that wafted over from the nearby lake. Two friend, both experienced kite-fliers, were there with me, busying themselves with the technicalities of whatever it is that goes into launching a kite. They discussed the various positions from which the kite would be best launched, the changing direction of the wind, the composition of the kite and even the way the string should be wound... a fascinating study for someone as inexperienced as myself.
Imagine my consternation, however, when not even one of us managed to get that kite airborne for even a minute! I realised that kite-flying might not be so easy after all, when I noticed that almost an hour had been spent in watching the poor kite crash repeatedly into just about everything on that roof (including us!). The incessant succession of failed attempts came to an end when an over zealous tug at the kite-string left me with a cut on my left forefinger.
Not the most productive afternoon, if you measure productivity by number of successes. But it was certainly one of the most enjoyable afternoons I'd spent in a while. You see, it didn't matter that I did not manage to get that kite into the sky or watch it go further and further in the direction of the clouds. What I relished each moment was the fact that I was experiencing something that I had missed for over two decades of my life. In a strange way, I felt a sense of completeness that had nothing to do with that kite...it was more about giving a treat to the child in me. I laughed at the kite as it came down again and again...and I shared the mirth of my veteran companions, who had no dearth of quips and jibes to make each time the poor kite plummeted earthward! It wasn't about achieving anything...it was about being in the moment, enjoying the time that we had together...which is something that adults lose so easily, even though it is something that comes naturally to their children. I felt my inner child laugh that afternoon. The kite may never have experienced the delight of being airborne, but my spirit flew high amongst the clouds, happier than the brightest kite you could imagine!
:)
Saturday, February 17, 2007
A Fork in the Road
Sometimes, no matter how much we would wish it to be otherwise, we find ourselves moving along paths that are different from those of the ones we love. The divergence could take any form; physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual even geographical. There are moments when we strain against ourselves and everything else we blame for this change, just so that we remain attached to our loved ones. Conflict occurs, pain well up from deep within...anxiety, fear, anger, resentment, despair, desperation...
Over the several years that I've spent in this life, I've experienced a few situations of this kind. Some of my dearest friends and relatives grew apart from me, our values and expectations becoming dramatically different. We made attempts to change this, trying to restore things to the way they used to be, but throughout those attempts we felt a curious sense of hollowness and self-deception. Sooner or later, we had to accept that things were different and we had no choice but to move on with our lives and on our different paths.
Today, I've come to realise that this was not a bad thing...I still care very much even for the ones that I moved away from and I'm quite certain that they requite my feelings as well. However, we are no longer "attached" to one another. The attachment was the cause of the pain we experienced when we found ourselves changing, because we had grown used to the energy of our interactions. We drew on each other for strength and positive feelings and when the time came to part ways, we felt afraid about whether we were anything substantial without one-another. Well, yes, we most certainly ARE beings of substance, worth and value, even by ourselves and even if there is not a soul in the world that would endorse this opinion!
The tricky thing about relationships is that we don't know when we get lost in them. It becomes increasingly difficult to tell where the individual is separate from the collective entity of the relationship...and that is where the trouble starts! You see, we change, evolve, transform, constantly over the span of our lives and so do the people we love. Experiences, insights, memories, come together to effect alterations in our perspectives...we just forget to consider that the way our perspectives change may not match the changes in our loved ones.
So, there came a time when I found myself brooding about the people that I had grown away from, feeling a little sorry for myself etc. when suddenly it struck me that I had NOTHING to really brood about! I saw life in a new light...one in which the confluence and divergence of paths is not an unfortunate but a marvellous phenomenon. I cherished each and every moment I had spent with the people who were now far from me and I appreciated the time I was spending (and continue to spend) with people who had come into my life, however recently...and it felt wonderful!
Each person who touches your life, gives you something...a part of himself or herself that you take and add to the fabric of your being. Even when they are no longer there with you, that part of them remains, and you remain a more wholesome person as a result. When one person moves away from you, it is certain that another person comes closer...it's just that you tend to be so caught up in clinging to the former that you take much longer to receive the latter. When you do open your mind and life to other people, however, the amount of love and positivity you receive is just overwhelming. You keep the happiness given to you by those who moved away and to it you add the happiness that you get from the scores of people to whom you open your heart. It's a win-win situation really! (Just for the record, I'd like to make it clear that I'm not suggesting a chain of emotionally dependent relationships here! What I'm saying is that even as we allow the flow of people in and out of our lives, we are the ones responsible for moderating the happiness we derive from them...and the best moderators are those who are happy in themselves. We are more than a fraction of our relationships...we are whole and we are full of potential. We have lived, loved and learnt from life and that in itself is something to be happy about. It is this core happiness that allows us to remain stable while we experience the ebb and flow of interpersonal relationships).
Letting go of someone you care about is easier said than done. It requires courage and the ability to care for that person unconditionally. More than anything, it requires the willingness to let go of one's resentment and other ill-feelings about the separation. But it CAN be done and above, I've outlined the way it works best for me. Maybe it'll work for you too!
God bless!
Over the several years that I've spent in this life, I've experienced a few situations of this kind. Some of my dearest friends and relatives grew apart from me, our values and expectations becoming dramatically different. We made attempts to change this, trying to restore things to the way they used to be, but throughout those attempts we felt a curious sense of hollowness and self-deception. Sooner or later, we had to accept that things were different and we had no choice but to move on with our lives and on our different paths.
Today, I've come to realise that this was not a bad thing...I still care very much even for the ones that I moved away from and I'm quite certain that they requite my feelings as well. However, we are no longer "attached" to one another. The attachment was the cause of the pain we experienced when we found ourselves changing, because we had grown used to the energy of our interactions. We drew on each other for strength and positive feelings and when the time came to part ways, we felt afraid about whether we were anything substantial without one-another. Well, yes, we most certainly ARE beings of substance, worth and value, even by ourselves and even if there is not a soul in the world that would endorse this opinion!
The tricky thing about relationships is that we don't know when we get lost in them. It becomes increasingly difficult to tell where the individual is separate from the collective entity of the relationship...and that is where the trouble starts! You see, we change, evolve, transform, constantly over the span of our lives and so do the people we love. Experiences, insights, memories, come together to effect alterations in our perspectives...we just forget to consider that the way our perspectives change may not match the changes in our loved ones.
So, there came a time when I found myself brooding about the people that I had grown away from, feeling a little sorry for myself etc. when suddenly it struck me that I had NOTHING to really brood about! I saw life in a new light...one in which the confluence and divergence of paths is not an unfortunate but a marvellous phenomenon. I cherished each and every moment I had spent with the people who were now far from me and I appreciated the time I was spending (and continue to spend) with people who had come into my life, however recently...and it felt wonderful!
Each person who touches your life, gives you something...a part of himself or herself that you take and add to the fabric of your being. Even when they are no longer there with you, that part of them remains, and you remain a more wholesome person as a result. When one person moves away from you, it is certain that another person comes closer...it's just that you tend to be so caught up in clinging to the former that you take much longer to receive the latter. When you do open your mind and life to other people, however, the amount of love and positivity you receive is just overwhelming. You keep the happiness given to you by those who moved away and to it you add the happiness that you get from the scores of people to whom you open your heart. It's a win-win situation really! (Just for the record, I'd like to make it clear that I'm not suggesting a chain of emotionally dependent relationships here! What I'm saying is that even as we allow the flow of people in and out of our lives, we are the ones responsible for moderating the happiness we derive from them...and the best moderators are those who are happy in themselves. We are more than a fraction of our relationships...we are whole and we are full of potential. We have lived, loved and learnt from life and that in itself is something to be happy about. It is this core happiness that allows us to remain stable while we experience the ebb and flow of interpersonal relationships).
Letting go of someone you care about is easier said than done. It requires courage and the ability to care for that person unconditionally. More than anything, it requires the willingness to let go of one's resentment and other ill-feelings about the separation. But it CAN be done and above, I've outlined the way it works best for me. Maybe it'll work for you too!
God bless!
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Homage to the Hand that Rocks the Cradle
A few days ago, I saw one of the simplest, yet most charming sights that I have ever seen till date. I was enjoying a brisk evening walk, in the beautiful garden that adjoins my apartment block, breathing in a delightful breeze that had the barest hint of a nip in it (just the way I like it!). I'd taken several rounds, quite oblivious of my surroundings on account of some particularly good music that I was listening to, when I saw this spectacle that just stayed with me.
Seated on one of the park's wooden benches was a lady, holding a cherubic baby girl on her lap. She was probably in her thirties and wore a loose-fitting outfit. A simple hairband kept her glossy hair from falling on her face. It was the face that caught my attention...a face that wore an expression of the most perfect contentment and happiness. More than her fair skin and radiant complexion, it was her smile that made my slow my pace, just so I could observe her and her infant for a while longer.
Her smile was the kind that lights up your soul, regardless of whether or not it is meant for you. A pure, unaffected expression that shone through her entire face, beaming down at the baby who reciprocated in kind. She was singing a little song that would sound perfectly nonsensical to "mature" ears, but in that moment, there was nothing that made more sense. Gently, she bounced her daughter on her knee, singing her funny little song, the two of them completely lost to the world. In perfect tandem, the baby's delighted gurgles rippled between the lyrics, especially when her mother gave her the gentlest of tickles.
In those few moments, there was nothing that had more meaning for me, than the sight of this little interaction that I witnessed. It sent my mind racing into the past, awakening some of my oldest memories, in which I shared similar moments with my mother. I saw myself in a bright room (in my old home in Calcutta), making my first attempts at writing. My mother stood behind me, leaning over my chair, her gentle fingers closing over my hand, showing my how to hold the pencil steady. I remember the sweet smell of her perfume and the feel of her soft curly hair against my cheek. Together, we wrote my first letters as she sang a little song that she made up to guide my learning: "Up above the red line, down to the blue line..." In this way we formed each and every member of the alphabet on those old four-lined exercise books in which children learn to write.
Today, I type more than I write, but had it not been for those moments spent with her, the alphabet would have been no more than a bunch of odd shapes and most of the world would not have made any sense!
A mother's hand is one of the first things that the infant feels and it's touch becomes an unmistakable sensation. Powerful, gentle, protective, steadying and more...she communicates all these qualities with no more than her touch. It is this touch that guides us throughout our time together, an unshakable reassurance of unconditional love that comforts us even when it is a memory.
Over the span of all the years I have spent in this life, I've observed an evolution in the relationship that I share with my mother. I began life as her eager student, soaking in all she had to teach like a dry sponge that has just been shown under a gushing tap! As the years progressed and I acknowledged the presence of different people in my life, I learnt new things, expanded my horizons in even more directions. This does not mean I abandoned my mother's paths (till today she remains my expert-of-choice on a vast range of topics)...what I'm saying is that I realised that there were many things that I could learn and share with her...things that even she did not know. I realised that we are both students in this enormous school called Life...that we are both looking for something...and that she is my senior, but she is willing to learn each time I find something that she is unaware of (and vice-versa).
We are now partners in the journey of our existence...Children of the same Universe...rivers meandering towards the same ocean. Sometimes we are hand-in-hand and at sometimes we do things a little differently, but an undying love binds as at all times. It began even before I came into existence in her womb and will remain even when we are no longer there in this world...for that is the glory of a mother and her child.
Here's to all our mothers! :)
God bless!
Seated on one of the park's wooden benches was a lady, holding a cherubic baby girl on her lap. She was probably in her thirties and wore a loose-fitting outfit. A simple hairband kept her glossy hair from falling on her face. It was the face that caught my attention...a face that wore an expression of the most perfect contentment and happiness. More than her fair skin and radiant complexion, it was her smile that made my slow my pace, just so I could observe her and her infant for a while longer.
Her smile was the kind that lights up your soul, regardless of whether or not it is meant for you. A pure, unaffected expression that shone through her entire face, beaming down at the baby who reciprocated in kind. She was singing a little song that would sound perfectly nonsensical to "mature" ears, but in that moment, there was nothing that made more sense. Gently, she bounced her daughter on her knee, singing her funny little song, the two of them completely lost to the world. In perfect tandem, the baby's delighted gurgles rippled between the lyrics, especially when her mother gave her the gentlest of tickles.
In those few moments, there was nothing that had more meaning for me, than the sight of this little interaction that I witnessed. It sent my mind racing into the past, awakening some of my oldest memories, in which I shared similar moments with my mother. I saw myself in a bright room (in my old home in Calcutta), making my first attempts at writing. My mother stood behind me, leaning over my chair, her gentle fingers closing over my hand, showing my how to hold the pencil steady. I remember the sweet smell of her perfume and the feel of her soft curly hair against my cheek. Together, we wrote my first letters as she sang a little song that she made up to guide my learning: "Up above the red line, down to the blue line..." In this way we formed each and every member of the alphabet on those old four-lined exercise books in which children learn to write.
Today, I type more than I write, but had it not been for those moments spent with her, the alphabet would have been no more than a bunch of odd shapes and most of the world would not have made any sense!
A mother's hand is one of the first things that the infant feels and it's touch becomes an unmistakable sensation. Powerful, gentle, protective, steadying and more...she communicates all these qualities with no more than her touch. It is this touch that guides us throughout our time together, an unshakable reassurance of unconditional love that comforts us even when it is a memory.
Over the span of all the years I have spent in this life, I've observed an evolution in the relationship that I share with my mother. I began life as her eager student, soaking in all she had to teach like a dry sponge that has just been shown under a gushing tap! As the years progressed and I acknowledged the presence of different people in my life, I learnt new things, expanded my horizons in even more directions. This does not mean I abandoned my mother's paths (till today she remains my expert-of-choice on a vast range of topics)...what I'm saying is that I realised that there were many things that I could learn and share with her...things that even she did not know. I realised that we are both students in this enormous school called Life...that we are both looking for something...and that she is my senior, but she is willing to learn each time I find something that she is unaware of (and vice-versa).
We are now partners in the journey of our existence...Children of the same Universe...rivers meandering towards the same ocean. Sometimes we are hand-in-hand and at sometimes we do things a little differently, but an undying love binds as at all times. It began even before I came into existence in her womb and will remain even when we are no longer there in this world...for that is the glory of a mother and her child.
Here's to all our mothers! :)
God bless!
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Darbari
Leave my side, O Kanha!
Speak to me no more...
Sweet words shall not move me
And caresses will not heal my pain.
Thus speaks the grieving Radha,
With angry tears in her eyes,
And her voice trembling with sorrow,
As she turns her face from her beloved...
Heedless, the Lord embraces her,
Even as she strains against his touch,
His breath whispers in her midnight hair,
And His fragrance fills the air she breathes...
Weakening in her pride, she struggles still...
A candle flickering in the gale of his affection,
Defying his love with all her might,
Furious at herself for seeing her own folly...
But He is as unrelenting as the wind,
His love swoops on her from all sides,
And her resolves crumbles against his smiles,
Even as he wipes the kohl from her fair cheeks...
In wonder then, Radha gazes at Him,
Krishna, revealed in his infinite form,
Space disappears, Time ceases and the Self dissolves,
Only Love remains...eternal...unchanging...
_______________________________
This poem was written to express sentiments that the Raag Darbari evoked in me, as I basked in Ustad Rais Khan's spirited rendition of the same. I witnessed the performance of the sixty-six year old maestro a few weeks ago, at Mumbai's famous Nehru Centre.
The theme of Radha and Krishna's love was used as a metaphor for something that many people experience in their lives. I have experienced it myself on many occasions...even on the day of the recital that inspired this poem...
You see, I had not made any plans to go for this programme. The passes for the show were given to me by some well-wishers all of a sudden and I quickly had to make some plans to reach the venue soon after I finished at the office. What happened however, was that a carefully constructed plan to reach the auditorium on time, collapsed most miserably and I reached a full hour late. My plight on the way there was quite pathetic. I was under the impression that I would reach too late to attend the Ustad's performance and would instead have to sit through only the second recital, which was by an artiste for whom I have no real liking! I fumed silently, until I got there, silently reprimanding the Universe for setting me in the thick of Mumbai traffic.
Imagine my surprise however when I walked into the hall and realised that the Ustad had not yet performed! Instead the stage was occupied by the other artiste, who was coming to the end of his recital (and with due respect to his knowledge of music, I was glad to have missed most of it, since I don't like his way of presenting the Raag!). I was perplexed, because even the pass had made it seem like the Ustad was performing first...I still don't know what happened, but the fact remains that I got to witness his entire performance soon after...and was left week in the knees, because of the sheer artistry to which I was exposed.
Darbari is a Raag that evokes a feeling of despondence, sorrow and reluctance in the beginning, but gradually takes the listener towards a sweet realisation and even ecstasy. Oddly, this is quite similar to what I experienced in the process of reaching the auditorium so horribly late, only to find that I had missed nothing. In fact, now that I think more about it, I think the scheme of things conspired to keep me away from the performance that I would not have liked and showed me the one that I will remember forever! :)
Similarly, the poem I wrote is woven around Radha's anger at Krishna, for some action of his that annoyed her. She is angry with him for having done something and decides to reprimand and punish him for the same. Nevertheless, she is unable to hold on to her disgruntlement and sadness for long because Krishna loves her unconditionally; in the face of his ceaseless affection and goodwill, her negative sentiments fade into nothing.
The Universe/God loves us unconditionally, even when our lack of understanding causes us to question this love. Sometimes circumstances make us question the grand scheme of things and we accuse the supreme of abandoning or neglecting us. However, we have usually only to wait a little before things happen that make us realise that despite our misgivings, there was plan and reason behind the occurrence of events in our lives. Somehow, and sometimes in a very convoluted way, each event in our lives has a meaning, shaped ever so carefully by the hand of the divine.
I know it's not necessarily easy to accept these words, especially if events in your life have led you to question the role of God in your life. Nevertheless, I hope and pray that positive change occurs in your life, driven by your hopes and prayers... and that you remember this offering of mine when the grand plan of your life unfurls before you.
God Bless!
Speak to me no more...
Sweet words shall not move me
And caresses will not heal my pain.
Thus speaks the grieving Radha,
With angry tears in her eyes,
And her voice trembling with sorrow,
As she turns her face from her beloved...
Heedless, the Lord embraces her,
Even as she strains against his touch,
His breath whispers in her midnight hair,
And His fragrance fills the air she breathes...
Weakening in her pride, she struggles still...
A candle flickering in the gale of his affection,
Defying his love with all her might,
Furious at herself for seeing her own folly...
But He is as unrelenting as the wind,
His love swoops on her from all sides,
And her resolves crumbles against his smiles,
Even as he wipes the kohl from her fair cheeks...
In wonder then, Radha gazes at Him,
Krishna, revealed in his infinite form,
Space disappears, Time ceases and the Self dissolves,
Only Love remains...eternal...unchanging...
_______________________________
This poem was written to express sentiments that the Raag Darbari evoked in me, as I basked in Ustad Rais Khan's spirited rendition of the same. I witnessed the performance of the sixty-six year old maestro a few weeks ago, at Mumbai's famous Nehru Centre.
The theme of Radha and Krishna's love was used as a metaphor for something that many people experience in their lives. I have experienced it myself on many occasions...even on the day of the recital that inspired this poem...
You see, I had not made any plans to go for this programme. The passes for the show were given to me by some well-wishers all of a sudden and I quickly had to make some plans to reach the venue soon after I finished at the office. What happened however, was that a carefully constructed plan to reach the auditorium on time, collapsed most miserably and I reached a full hour late. My plight on the way there was quite pathetic. I was under the impression that I would reach too late to attend the Ustad's performance and would instead have to sit through only the second recital, which was by an artiste for whom I have no real liking! I fumed silently, until I got there, silently reprimanding the Universe for setting me in the thick of Mumbai traffic.
Imagine my surprise however when I walked into the hall and realised that the Ustad had not yet performed! Instead the stage was occupied by the other artiste, who was coming to the end of his recital (and with due respect to his knowledge of music, I was glad to have missed most of it, since I don't like his way of presenting the Raag!). I was perplexed, because even the pass had made it seem like the Ustad was performing first...I still don't know what happened, but the fact remains that I got to witness his entire performance soon after...and was left week in the knees, because of the sheer artistry to which I was exposed.
Darbari is a Raag that evokes a feeling of despondence, sorrow and reluctance in the beginning, but gradually takes the listener towards a sweet realisation and even ecstasy. Oddly, this is quite similar to what I experienced in the process of reaching the auditorium so horribly late, only to find that I had missed nothing. In fact, now that I think more about it, I think the scheme of things conspired to keep me away from the performance that I would not have liked and showed me the one that I will remember forever! :)
Similarly, the poem I wrote is woven around Radha's anger at Krishna, for some action of his that annoyed her. She is angry with him for having done something and decides to reprimand and punish him for the same. Nevertheless, she is unable to hold on to her disgruntlement and sadness for long because Krishna loves her unconditionally; in the face of his ceaseless affection and goodwill, her negative sentiments fade into nothing.
The Universe/God loves us unconditionally, even when our lack of understanding causes us to question this love. Sometimes circumstances make us question the grand scheme of things and we accuse the supreme of abandoning or neglecting us. However, we have usually only to wait a little before things happen that make us realise that despite our misgivings, there was plan and reason behind the occurrence of events in our lives. Somehow, and sometimes in a very convoluted way, each event in our lives has a meaning, shaped ever so carefully by the hand of the divine.
I know it's not necessarily easy to accept these words, especially if events in your life have led you to question the role of God in your life. Nevertheless, I hope and pray that positive change occurs in your life, driven by your hopes and prayers... and that you remember this offering of mine when the grand plan of your life unfurls before you.
God Bless!
Monday, January 01, 2007
Hello 2007!
There are just about 15 minutes to before the date changes to 2nd January 2007...so let me finish this fast!
This is the first of many posts that will find themselves on LifeStrings in the year 2007. I don't have a specific topic in mind, yet...at present I'm still revelling in the odd excitement of having entered the new year. I don't know what it is that always gets me so excited about the first of January (it's something like the thrill I used to feel on my birthdays, when I was much younger and believed that we only grow taller on our birthdays!).
This year has opened itself with an inspiration for hope, prayers and conviction. Hope for the joy, love and compassion that I will find in the days to come, prayers to spread such thoughts and actions in all areas of my life and the conviction that I will indeed do so, no matter what!
This evening, as I took a walk in the deliciously cool breeze, I suddenly found myself thinking along such lines...and almost on cue, a dozen sparklers flew into the dark sky, exploding with their jubilant hues (apparently there was a celebration of some kind in a nearby building, where the residents were lighting these firecrackers). On and on they went, streaking up in golden trails and filling the night with their colours...and somehow I knew at once that the Universe had conspired once again...giving me an indication of the happiness that is to come.
I welcome you to the new year of posts on LifeStrings...more shared experiences, thoughts, insights and love. :)
God Bless!
This is the first of many posts that will find themselves on LifeStrings in the year 2007. I don't have a specific topic in mind, yet...at present I'm still revelling in the odd excitement of having entered the new year. I don't know what it is that always gets me so excited about the first of January (it's something like the thrill I used to feel on my birthdays, when I was much younger and believed that we only grow taller on our birthdays!).
This year has opened itself with an inspiration for hope, prayers and conviction. Hope for the joy, love and compassion that I will find in the days to come, prayers to spread such thoughts and actions in all areas of my life and the conviction that I will indeed do so, no matter what!
This evening, as I took a walk in the deliciously cool breeze, I suddenly found myself thinking along such lines...and almost on cue, a dozen sparklers flew into the dark sky, exploding with their jubilant hues (apparently there was a celebration of some kind in a nearby building, where the residents were lighting these firecrackers). On and on they went, streaking up in golden trails and filling the night with their colours...and somehow I knew at once that the Universe had conspired once again...giving me an indication of the happiness that is to come.
I welcome you to the new year of posts on LifeStrings...more shared experiences, thoughts, insights and love. :)
God Bless!
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Farewell, 2006!
If you're reading this, thank you, yet again, for sharing my life, even if it's only by means of reading LifeStrings. It means a lot to me.
This is my last post for 2006, which has been a most remarkable year, as far as I'm concerned. It was a period in which I found knowledge, overcame barriers from within, got my first job, forged new friendships and above all, experienced love and compassion in a hundred different ways.
So, to mark the end of this year, I decided to write a post that would create a sense of closure (mostly for myself!) and appreciation for all that has happened over the last 365 days. My post takes the form of a list of lessons that I've learnt over this year. Many of you will have been directly involved in the experiences that have led to the thoughts I now express. Perhaps you will even be able to sense where you contributed to my learning :)
This is my last post for 2006, which has been a most remarkable year, as far as I'm concerned. It was a period in which I found knowledge, overcame barriers from within, got my first job, forged new friendships and above all, experienced love and compassion in a hundred different ways.
So, to mark the end of this year, I decided to write a post that would create a sense of closure (mostly for myself!) and appreciation for all that has happened over the last 365 days. My post takes the form of a list of lessons that I've learnt over this year. Many of you will have been directly involved in the experiences that have led to the thoughts I now express. Perhaps you will even be able to sense where you contributed to my learning :)
- The greatest strength we can find is within ourselves
Nothing can surpass the potency of the human spirit, once it has committed itself to a positive pursuit. This year, I found strength and determination when I needed it the most, in order to overcome indecision, apprehension and certain anxieties. I don't think these three obstacles were very different from what we all routinely experience in the course of life, but I tend to observe that we prolong their duration in our consciousness by waiting for their dismissal to come from something external.
What I found, over the last several months, was that the greatest light and energy source that we can hope to harness come from nothing other than our own souls. It manifests itself in our prayers, in our thoughts and in our actions, when we decide that we will mobilize all our resources for the good of ourselves as well as others. There is nothing that this power cannot accomplish. Hope unlooked for, comes into the lives of the hapless, small miracles happen to adjust the larger scheme of things most pleasantly and the Universe starts making sense.
So, we need to believe that we are worthy of positive change, believe that we deserve good things to happen to us and we must love ourselves. Three little fragments of a sentence, but each carrying the weight of an unshakable mountain once established within the human heart. Do you think you can do it? I know you can... - There is a Big Picture and we're all a part of it
The Universe has a plan, it unfurls as we speak, and we all belong to it. Our lives have a meaning and purpose, each contributing to the way in which the we and our worlds shape themselves. Our thoughts and affirmations have power...they make things happen. They don't say "faith moves mountains" for nothing, you know!
More than once this year, I've seen how the thoughts I've sent out have shaped my present and future (apart from helping me resolve issues of the past). The Universe responds to our thoughts with similar energies and experiences. So the little secret is to think about and visualise what you want from life, as clearly as you possibly can. Think it, see it, feel it and let it fill your being. It doesn't matter if it's something material or something abstract. It will come to you once you need it and believe that you will get it.
[A small tip: It's usually a good idea to ensure that your thoughts for self-development are flavoured with some thoughts for the enhancement of others. Ask for anything you want but make sure that you affirm that it happens in the best interests of all concerned beings. Basically this means specifying the end and not the means (leave those to the Universe!). You see, there are many occasions in life when we want something and think about how we can get it, regardless of who or what that process might damage. So effectively, we're asking for something that goes against the interests of others...and in the process our thoughts and prayers conflict with those of other people. Ultimately it means delayed responses for everyone, and where's the good in that?
Include the best interests of all others in your thoughts and the Universe acts so fast its unbelievable! Just try it sincerely a few times (even if it's just to humour me!)]. - Something good can be churned out of any situation
Recently, a colleague left me speechless with appreciation when he spoke about Swami Vivekananda saying that no misery is undeserved. It suddenly struck me most poignantly that everything happens for a reason (I tend to attribute all those reasons to the Cycle of Karma, which I believe in very strongly)...the best and the worst. We have to be able to rejoice in the former and accept the lessons that are embedded in the latter.
There are lessons to be learnt from even the worst experiences of life...even those which we think we have done nothing to deserve. There are two ways of looking at such situations: The first is the maladaptive way of thinking that we have been wronged and must now make all efforts to escape. The second is the path of conviction in which we believe that misfortune may have befallen us, but we still have the chance to stand our ground and we have the power to eliminate all the effects of that misfortune. It may take months and years, but we can and will do it.
Writing this down is a lot simpler than putting it into practice, but I speak from experience... - Sharing one's heart is never in vain
There are few things comparable to the joy that comes from finding that you have what it takes to reach out emotionally to another person. There is so much suffering out there, in the lives of people we care about and also in the lives of those we may never meet. We might not be able to reach everyone, but we can make a huge difference in the lives of those we can reach.
I'm not talking about material support here...I'm talking about emotional and compassionate help. To be able to help another person give release to their fears, apprehensions, distress and sorrows is a great gift. It is an ability that has to be nurtured with one's own evolution as a being. It comes from being able to make another sense that you care and that you will never use the knowledge that they give you for your own interests. Most importantly, it is an act of unconditional love that goes a long way in forging the most meaningful and affectionate relationships that one can imagine.
Elizabeth Kubler Ross says it best: "I have never met a person whose greatest need was anything other than real, unconditional love. You can find it in a simple act of kindness toward someone who needs help. There is no mistaking love. You feel it in your heart. It is the common fiber of life, the flame that heals our soul, energizes our spirit and supplies passion to our lives. It is our connection to God and to each other."
So, with these little offerings, I share with you some elements of what my mind and heart have learnt over the last year and hope that you find something sustaining in them.
Happy New Year to you all!
God Bless!
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Yaman
Twilight stretches its arms across the sky,
Kalindi robes herself in swirling shadows,
A gentle breeze whispers sweet nothings to all ears that listen...
On the riverbank sits the moon-skinned Radha,
Brighter than pearls, a tear gleams on her fair cheek,
Kanha fills her thoughts and she aches for his touch...
But He is a trickster, wily and unrelenting,
In hiding, he watches his beloved with mirth in his eyes,
And listens with amusement to the longing in her sighs...
Soon, he will cast aside his concealment,
And gleefully approach her on soundless feet,
His sudden embrace will startle her and his laughter will ease her cares...
Then tears shall be wiped, sighs shall become loving murmurs,
And songs of love will be whispered into the playful breeze...
_____________________________________________
The above poem came to me a few nights ago, when I was listening enraptured to Ustad Usman Khan's sitar recital. The aged maestro played Raag Yaman, which is particularly close to my heart because it is the first Raag I learnt from my Guru. Over the hour-long recital, the images associated with this poem flowed freely in my mind...writing them later took almost no effort...
Yaman is the quintessential twilight melody...the music of a silent yearning that morphs into devotion and hope. It reminds the performer and listener alike, of the elusive completion that all beings are searching for. The true beauty of the bandishes (lyrical compositions) of Hindustani music, lies in the hidden meanings of their words. To an unseeing mind, many of them will give voice to the passion and games of two lovers, describing their affection for each other. However, at a deeper and more abstract level, one can find the profound spiritual flavour that permeates all Hindustani music.
Radha and Krishna symbolise pure, unfettered love. With beauty that dwarfs anything else, Radha is the devotee who has submitted entirely to the divinity in Krishna. And despite his overt mischievousness and tendency to vex his beloved, Krishna is completely dedicated to her. Radha symbolises the human who yearns for spiritual awakening/realization and strives for this insight through devotion to a spiritual path. Krishna symbolises the awakening that lies at the end of that path, i.e. God. Krishna's little games and wiles mirror the way in which divinity permeates our lives with a hundred little coincidences that have no logical roots, but somehow make our lives brighter and more meaningful. The Universe tests us in myriad ways, but for those of us who have faith in the scheme of things, such tests always yield pleasant results.
Krishna tests Radha by delaying the moment of their union, but Radha, despite her sadness, never fails in keeping her mind fixed on him. In response to her devotion, he has no choice but to reveal himself to her. Similarly, Yaman tells the listener to maintain a focus on the supreme, despite the distress that comes from not achieving a speedy realisation of it...for once the mind is focused, there is no way that the divine will be able to ignore it.
God Bless!
PS. If you are interested in listening to something in Raag Yaman, the best thing to do would be to purchase its rendition by an acclaimed artiste. My favourite Yaman recitals have been by Smt. Kishori Amonkar (vocals), Pt. Bhimsen Joshi (Vocals), Gundecha Bandhu (vocals) , Ustad Vilayat Khan (Sitar) and Ustad. Amjad Ali Khan (Sarod).
You can also listen to some clips of Yaman on the following websites:
Kalindi robes herself in swirling shadows,
A gentle breeze whispers sweet nothings to all ears that listen...
On the riverbank sits the moon-skinned Radha,
Brighter than pearls, a tear gleams on her fair cheek,
Kanha fills her thoughts and she aches for his touch...
But He is a trickster, wily and unrelenting,
In hiding, he watches his beloved with mirth in his eyes,
And listens with amusement to the longing in her sighs...
Soon, he will cast aside his concealment,
And gleefully approach her on soundless feet,
His sudden embrace will startle her and his laughter will ease her cares...
Then tears shall be wiped, sighs shall become loving murmurs,
And songs of love will be whispered into the playful breeze...
_____________________________________________
The above poem came to me a few nights ago, when I was listening enraptured to Ustad Usman Khan's sitar recital. The aged maestro played Raag Yaman, which is particularly close to my heart because it is the first Raag I learnt from my Guru. Over the hour-long recital, the images associated with this poem flowed freely in my mind...writing them later took almost no effort...
Yaman is the quintessential twilight melody...the music of a silent yearning that morphs into devotion and hope. It reminds the performer and listener alike, of the elusive completion that all beings are searching for. The true beauty of the bandishes (lyrical compositions) of Hindustani music, lies in the hidden meanings of their words. To an unseeing mind, many of them will give voice to the passion and games of two lovers, describing their affection for each other. However, at a deeper and more abstract level, one can find the profound spiritual flavour that permeates all Hindustani music.
Radha and Krishna symbolise pure, unfettered love. With beauty that dwarfs anything else, Radha is the devotee who has submitted entirely to the divinity in Krishna. And despite his overt mischievousness and tendency to vex his beloved, Krishna is completely dedicated to her. Radha symbolises the human who yearns for spiritual awakening/realization and strives for this insight through devotion to a spiritual path. Krishna symbolises the awakening that lies at the end of that path, i.e. God. Krishna's little games and wiles mirror the way in which divinity permeates our lives with a hundred little coincidences that have no logical roots, but somehow make our lives brighter and more meaningful. The Universe tests us in myriad ways, but for those of us who have faith in the scheme of things, such tests always yield pleasant results.
Krishna tests Radha by delaying the moment of their union, but Radha, despite her sadness, never fails in keeping her mind fixed on him. In response to her devotion, he has no choice but to reveal himself to her. Similarly, Yaman tells the listener to maintain a focus on the supreme, despite the distress that comes from not achieving a speedy realisation of it...for once the mind is focused, there is no way that the divine will be able to ignore it.
God Bless!
PS. If you are interested in listening to something in Raag Yaman, the best thing to do would be to purchase its rendition by an acclaimed artiste. My favourite Yaman recitals have been by Smt. Kishori Amonkar (vocals), Pt. Bhimsen Joshi (Vocals), Gundecha Bandhu (vocals) , Ustad Vilayat Khan (Sitar) and Ustad. Amjad Ali Khan (Sarod).
You can also listen to some clips of Yaman on the following websites:
- www.itcsra.org (click on "Samay Raga" on the right side of the landing page and then select Yaman from the rotating display that appears).
- www.swarganga.org (click on the Raagabase link in the left navigation and locate Yaman in the database that appears)
- http://www.sawf.org/music/articles.asp?pn=Music this is the music section of www.sawf.org, which consists of brilliant articles on Indian Classical Music, written by Rajan Parrikar. Select the item called Kalyan, from the table of contents that appears.)
And remember...(especially if you are the sort of person who grumbles about not being able to 'understand' the words in a song)...in the words of Ustad Usman Khan...there is nothing to understand in this music, but there is a lot to feel! :)
Sunday, December 10, 2006
M, G, R: A Trinity to Remember
It's been quite a while since I wrote something about a person. So, I thought, why not make this post special and write not just about no less than three amazing people. These are people who made a difference in my life...spending time with them has shaped my mind in many ways. Today, by writing about them, I get to express what each of them taught me...
To be able to teach well is an incomparable gift. Exceptional teachers facilitate the expansion of their students consciousnesses. They makes their pupils integrate all kinds of knowledge into a wholesome constellation of thoughts about the world. By example, they demonstrate ethics and principles that last their students for entire lifetimes. I'm blessed to have had many such teachers in my life and today, I want to tell you about three individuals who shine most brightly in that group. In a way, this is also a sequel to the last post on Xavier's because all three of them have been professors who taught me during my undergraduate studies...interestingly, they are all Xavierites themselves! :)
***
M
A single-minded dedication to one's work and striving for consistently high standards is what I learnt from M. I studied all three of the papers she taught and what never ceased to amaze me was the sheer enthusiasm and passion with which she taught papers which are often clubbed in the more technical and dry sections of psychology. I can't speak for everyone else but that passion rubbed off on me...not just for those papers, but in general for any work that I undertake. Above all the theories, formulae and testing nuances that she imparted, what she taught me was to do my best to grasp all kinds of knowledge and form relations between them. If there was ever a stickler for quality as well as quantity, it was M. Without really over-emphasising it, she managed to make us try and write lengthy answers to her questions, with as many different points as possible. There were only one or two people who could develop the physical skill of writing those enormous answers in a given span of time, but what almost everyone learnt was the content of those answers, regardless of whether or they were written completely on the answer sheet. When I look back on those days now, when college is over and those examinations seem so inconsequential in the scheme of things, I realise that getting that answer down pat was not the most important thing...the goal was the absorb all the knowledge that it required. That knowledge and its resultant perspective are what will last me a lifetime...not a few marks in some old exam!
M was someone who immersed herself in her studies with the intensity of an eagle swooping on its prey. She had several enormous tomes of psychology at her fingertips, her extempore citations gliding between those voluminous works with ease that belied the long hours she spent covering them. As students we got the benefit of having a living database who dictated a bunch of wonderfully compiled notes and spared us the trouble of poring over those books (which were in limited supply). Nevertheless, M never ceased exhorting the value of exhaustive reference work and pushed us to explore as much as we could, whether in books or on the Internet. Today, if people tell me that I have a tendency to want to go deeper and deeper into a given domain, I attribute a large part of it to her.
***
G
G challenged every stereotype, irrationality and dogma in my mind. I will never be able to thank her enough for the perspective she gave me over my second year in Xavier's, in which she taught a paper on gender studies. For the first time in my life, I found myself questioning everything that goes into establishing masculinity and femininity in an individual. Most importantly, I transcended the barrier of man and woman to reach the level of a Person. With a ruthless intensity she dissolved the schemas of gender stereotypes in her students, on a dazzling array of topics such as colours, emotions, displays of affection, menstrual cycles, career opportunities and education, sports, responsibilities etc. She knew just which topics to pick on, which givens to challenge and which fallacies to wring and hang up for drying. Religion, communalism, parenting standards and socialization were attacked with a surgical precision which suddenly showed me how much harm we do our children by forcing them into gendered compartments when indeed androgyny is the standard that we need to aspire to. Masculinity and femininity are required in all people, regardless of there sexual characteristics. She showed us why this was so and how to strive to instill androgyny in ourselves as well as the future generations we will rear.
Counselling was another discipline which G taught with an infectious passion. For the first time, I found myself floundering as I tried to make an empathic response to her statement, while she simulated a client. I realised in that moment, the difference between theory and application and began my attempts to bridge that gap at once! She showed us by example and in several heated discussions on all kinds of issues, how to go beyond textbook definitions and actually respond to human actions, which is the first step in becoming a good counsellor. G was all about being able to actually do what the books said. She wanted to see us develop the skills to create an empathic and genuine atmosphere in a relationship, to be able to zero in on the root of another's distress and then devise a way to help him/her confront and resolve it. Despite the fact that this was beyond the scope of her paper, she took the time to show us glimpses of how it is done and those of us who are considered good counsellors today, owe her quite a bit of the credit.
There's another small thing about G that deserves mentions...her impeccable sense of style and personal grooming. I've yet to come across someone who is so tastefully attired. Whether her outfit was Indian or Western, there is never a thread out of place. Her jewellery and clothes are picked to be understated but extremely elegant. I know that there was more than one girl in my class to took tips from her clothing habits and the way she carried herself...perfectly poised and radiating professionalism!
***
R
"And remember, Santa doesn't necessarily wear a red suit!" These were R's parting words for me, when we last had a small chat over the phone, just yesterday. To be quite frank, they capture her essence perfectly.
Cheerful, (genuinely) optimistic beyond belief, someone who always manages to get time for everything she cares about (and believe me, that is no small bunch of things!), perfectly organised and marvellously in tune with her inner child. That's only a small part of the complex human phenomenon that is R.
In class, she would begin by sketching a detailed outline of the chapter on the blackboard. Once that was in place, it was really simple for a student figure out the exact sequence in which information was to be understood. That, and the fact that she has the most superb blackboard handwriting that I have ever seen...honestly, I put it only second to blackboard calligraphy (which I have yet to see).
At the end of several lectures, she read out something inspirational...a poem, something from a Chicken Soup book, a funny but meaningful anecdote etc. It was always chosen to emerge seamlessly from the academic topic we had been discussing, but by the time it was over we had absorbed some learning for life. There was so much of her spirit infused in those stories...they just stayed with you!
"Bright", is another word that describes her. She was never one for the sober look...a trademark ponytail, colourful t-shirts and jeans, trendy kurtis and a loud and unreserved laugh made her stand out wherever she went. Remarks about her appearance being more like a student than a teacher were as good as water on a ducks back because she is a person who thrives on her individuality and free-spiritedness. Whilst more than one astonished head may turn when she walks by, her bearing overflows with unflinching ease and self-confidence. She's all about being comfortable in your own skin, and that is something that I think everyone should strive for!
One of the nicest experiences I've had as a student was brought about by her, near the Christmas holidays. On such days she would wear a Santa hat on her head the whole day, just revelling in the happiness that it gave her. She also made it a point to infuse the Christmas spirit into her classes on that day, in whichever way possible. On one of these days, she had arranged for all her students to pick chits out of a box. Each chit had the name of another student from the class. Each person's task was to get a gift for the person who's name was on the chit, without ever letting that person know who had got his/her name. The gifts were all supposed to be very inexpensive but as meaningful as could be managed within that stipulated amount. In the next class, we all put the gifts we had bought in a single place from where she handed out the presents to each person in her class. I will never forget how good it felt to overhear the recipient of my gift telling someone else how touched she was by the little present that I had bought for her. It made me feel wonderful and I knew that R was entirely responsible for it.
Yes, Santa does not necessarily appear in a red suit. Santa comes in myriad forms, but makes a consistent appearance in R, whenever Christmas comes and oddly even otherwise! :)
****************
So that was my tribute to three exceptional people who've influenced my life in goodness knows how many ways. I hope in some way this post reminds you of great teachers in your life...and in case it does not, then I hope that you get to know people like them very soon!
God Bless and Ho Ho Ho!
To be able to teach well is an incomparable gift. Exceptional teachers facilitate the expansion of their students consciousnesses. They makes their pupils integrate all kinds of knowledge into a wholesome constellation of thoughts about the world. By example, they demonstrate ethics and principles that last their students for entire lifetimes. I'm blessed to have had many such teachers in my life and today, I want to tell you about three individuals who shine most brightly in that group. In a way, this is also a sequel to the last post on Xavier's because all three of them have been professors who taught me during my undergraduate studies...interestingly, they are all Xavierites themselves! :)
***
M
A single-minded dedication to one's work and striving for consistently high standards is what I learnt from M. I studied all three of the papers she taught and what never ceased to amaze me was the sheer enthusiasm and passion with which she taught papers which are often clubbed in the more technical and dry sections of psychology. I can't speak for everyone else but that passion rubbed off on me...not just for those papers, but in general for any work that I undertake. Above all the theories, formulae and testing nuances that she imparted, what she taught me was to do my best to grasp all kinds of knowledge and form relations between them. If there was ever a stickler for quality as well as quantity, it was M. Without really over-emphasising it, she managed to make us try and write lengthy answers to her questions, with as many different points as possible. There were only one or two people who could develop the physical skill of writing those enormous answers in a given span of time, but what almost everyone learnt was the content of those answers, regardless of whether or they were written completely on the answer sheet. When I look back on those days now, when college is over and those examinations seem so inconsequential in the scheme of things, I realise that getting that answer down pat was not the most important thing...the goal was the absorb all the knowledge that it required. That knowledge and its resultant perspective are what will last me a lifetime...not a few marks in some old exam!
M was someone who immersed herself in her studies with the intensity of an eagle swooping on its prey. She had several enormous tomes of psychology at her fingertips, her extempore citations gliding between those voluminous works with ease that belied the long hours she spent covering them. As students we got the benefit of having a living database who dictated a bunch of wonderfully compiled notes and spared us the trouble of poring over those books (which were in limited supply). Nevertheless, M never ceased exhorting the value of exhaustive reference work and pushed us to explore as much as we could, whether in books or on the Internet. Today, if people tell me that I have a tendency to want to go deeper and deeper into a given domain, I attribute a large part of it to her.
***
G
G challenged every stereotype, irrationality and dogma in my mind. I will never be able to thank her enough for the perspective she gave me over my second year in Xavier's, in which she taught a paper on gender studies. For the first time in my life, I found myself questioning everything that goes into establishing masculinity and femininity in an individual. Most importantly, I transcended the barrier of man and woman to reach the level of a Person. With a ruthless intensity she dissolved the schemas of gender stereotypes in her students, on a dazzling array of topics such as colours, emotions, displays of affection, menstrual cycles, career opportunities and education, sports, responsibilities etc. She knew just which topics to pick on, which givens to challenge and which fallacies to wring and hang up for drying. Religion, communalism, parenting standards and socialization were attacked with a surgical precision which suddenly showed me how much harm we do our children by forcing them into gendered compartments when indeed androgyny is the standard that we need to aspire to. Masculinity and femininity are required in all people, regardless of there sexual characteristics. She showed us why this was so and how to strive to instill androgyny in ourselves as well as the future generations we will rear.
Counselling was another discipline which G taught with an infectious passion. For the first time, I found myself floundering as I tried to make an empathic response to her statement, while she simulated a client. I realised in that moment, the difference between theory and application and began my attempts to bridge that gap at once! She showed us by example and in several heated discussions on all kinds of issues, how to go beyond textbook definitions and actually respond to human actions, which is the first step in becoming a good counsellor. G was all about being able to actually do what the books said. She wanted to see us develop the skills to create an empathic and genuine atmosphere in a relationship, to be able to zero in on the root of another's distress and then devise a way to help him/her confront and resolve it. Despite the fact that this was beyond the scope of her paper, she took the time to show us glimpses of how it is done and those of us who are considered good counsellors today, owe her quite a bit of the credit.
There's another small thing about G that deserves mentions...her impeccable sense of style and personal grooming. I've yet to come across someone who is so tastefully attired. Whether her outfit was Indian or Western, there is never a thread out of place. Her jewellery and clothes are picked to be understated but extremely elegant. I know that there was more than one girl in my class to took tips from her clothing habits and the way she carried herself...perfectly poised and radiating professionalism!
***
R
"And remember, Santa doesn't necessarily wear a red suit!" These were R's parting words for me, when we last had a small chat over the phone, just yesterday. To be quite frank, they capture her essence perfectly.
Cheerful, (genuinely) optimistic beyond belief, someone who always manages to get time for everything she cares about (and believe me, that is no small bunch of things!), perfectly organised and marvellously in tune with her inner child. That's only a small part of the complex human phenomenon that is R.
In class, she would begin by sketching a detailed outline of the chapter on the blackboard. Once that was in place, it was really simple for a student figure out the exact sequence in which information was to be understood. That, and the fact that she has the most superb blackboard handwriting that I have ever seen...honestly, I put it only second to blackboard calligraphy (which I have yet to see).
At the end of several lectures, she read out something inspirational...a poem, something from a Chicken Soup book, a funny but meaningful anecdote etc. It was always chosen to emerge seamlessly from the academic topic we had been discussing, but by the time it was over we had absorbed some learning for life. There was so much of her spirit infused in those stories...they just stayed with you!
"Bright", is another word that describes her. She was never one for the sober look...a trademark ponytail, colourful t-shirts and jeans, trendy kurtis and a loud and unreserved laugh made her stand out wherever she went. Remarks about her appearance being more like a student than a teacher were as good as water on a ducks back because she is a person who thrives on her individuality and free-spiritedness. Whilst more than one astonished head may turn when she walks by, her bearing overflows with unflinching ease and self-confidence. She's all about being comfortable in your own skin, and that is something that I think everyone should strive for!
One of the nicest experiences I've had as a student was brought about by her, near the Christmas holidays. On such days she would wear a Santa hat on her head the whole day, just revelling in the happiness that it gave her. She also made it a point to infuse the Christmas spirit into her classes on that day, in whichever way possible. On one of these days, she had arranged for all her students to pick chits out of a box. Each chit had the name of another student from the class. Each person's task was to get a gift for the person who's name was on the chit, without ever letting that person know who had got his/her name. The gifts were all supposed to be very inexpensive but as meaningful as could be managed within that stipulated amount. In the next class, we all put the gifts we had bought in a single place from where she handed out the presents to each person in her class. I will never forget how good it felt to overhear the recipient of my gift telling someone else how touched she was by the little present that I had bought for her. It made me feel wonderful and I knew that R was entirely responsible for it.
Yes, Santa does not necessarily appear in a red suit. Santa comes in myriad forms, but makes a consistent appearance in R, whenever Christmas comes and oddly even otherwise! :)
****************
So that was my tribute to three exceptional people who've influenced my life in goodness knows how many ways. I hope in some way this post reminds you of great teachers in your life...and in case it does not, then I hope that you get to know people like them very soon!
God Bless and Ho Ho Ho!
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Xavier's
Today, after what seemed like an eternity, I found myself driving through the roads of South Mumbai and suddenly, my spirits rose as I realised that I was very close to my alma mater.
Have I told you about Xavier's? I think not...and even if I have, I still want to write about it because today my heart sings with those memories and I can't resist the desire to express them. :)
It was probably one of the most blessed occsasions in my life when I walked through the main entrance of St. Xavier's College, Mumbai, knowing that I would be completing my undergraduate studies there. Life was to change forever once I set foot in those premises...
I had never been to Mumbai before. My life until then, had been spent in Calcutta and Delhi. When I shifted to Mumbai, it wasn't for a vacation, but for keeps...luckily, before I joined college, I had a couple of months to orient myself with the city, getting familiar with its people and its indomitable pulse.
Mumbai rapidly became my idea of home. I was comfortable with the people, quickly learnt the public transport system, savoured the seafood and took long walks on the beach. I found the weather agreeable and soon learnt to accept the overpopulation and fearsome traffic snarls with the singlemindedness of the regular Mumbaikar. Delhi, by comparison was cleaner, more spacious and had a lovely winter, but had never really made me happy. With the exception of a few wonderful friends I had there, there weren't many people in school that I could relate to. I spent over two years feeling like a misfit and doing much to avoid the attentions of the school bullies. When it was time to leave school, therefore, I did not feel any measure of sadness, but rather looked forward most expectantly to starting a life in Mumbai, where my folks were relocating.
Expectations can be tricky things...they often turn up at the root of most forms of unhappiness. I knew this but still preferred to think of Mumbai as an exciting new chapter in my life. I trusted in the Universe and believed that there was something magical waiting for me on the west-coast of India, where I had never walked before. The day I walked into my College, I realised that it was the magical gift that had been prepared for me.
How should I describe Xavier's to you? It was a feeling of oneness that I had missed for so long in Delhi. I did not know anyone in that college and was completely unfamilar with its classrooms and corridors, but something in the air whispered a welcome. Somehow, I felt very safe in that building...and I knew that the whole place wanted me to be there.
One of the first thoughts that spun through my mind as I walked through the ancient building was, "I'm in Hogwarts!" :) You see, I had just begun a studious devouring of JK Rowlings books and my imagination was brimming with their contents. So, when I walked through a myriad different passages and stairways, looked at strange gothic architecture, dozens of stone gargoyles and a generous sprinkling of faculty members (who had obviously been around for ages), there was a little part of me that was staring at the place with the wonder of a student entering Hogwarts for the first time!
Over the three years that passed, Xavier's steadily gave me some of the greatest gifts that life sent my way. A superb group of friends with whom I have enduring ties (even though they are now literally scattered across the globe!), an education that changed forever my view of things - broadening my perspectives, taking me within as well as without - and a desire to transcend intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. I found myself engaged in discussions with some of the finest minds that it has been my privelege to meet and in their presence I learnt to examine my own thoughts with fresh perspectives. We grew together as we touched each other's lives.
There's something about Xavier's that makes you want to make a persistent impression on the canvas of existence. It's not necessarily about achieving world renown (although there is no dearth of Xavierites who have achieved that)... it's more about touching the lives of people you come in contact with and somehow leaving them with something positive, no matter how small.
"Provocans ad volandum" - provoke to fly - is the college motto. As eaglets leave their eyeries and leap into the air - the wind beneath their wings and their eyes fixed on the gleaming sun - Xavierites leave their College at the end of their education, secure in the knowledge that no matter where life takes them, they have what it takes to ascend, to rise above the milling throngs of humanity and help others reach the same place...
Have I told you about Xavier's? I think not...and even if I have, I still want to write about it because today my heart sings with those memories and I can't resist the desire to express them. :)
It was probably one of the most blessed occsasions in my life when I walked through the main entrance of St. Xavier's College, Mumbai, knowing that I would be completing my undergraduate studies there. Life was to change forever once I set foot in those premises...
I had never been to Mumbai before. My life until then, had been spent in Calcutta and Delhi. When I shifted to Mumbai, it wasn't for a vacation, but for keeps...luckily, before I joined college, I had a couple of months to orient myself with the city, getting familiar with its people and its indomitable pulse.
Mumbai rapidly became my idea of home. I was comfortable with the people, quickly learnt the public transport system, savoured the seafood and took long walks on the beach. I found the weather agreeable and soon learnt to accept the overpopulation and fearsome traffic snarls with the singlemindedness of the regular Mumbaikar. Delhi, by comparison was cleaner, more spacious and had a lovely winter, but had never really made me happy. With the exception of a few wonderful friends I had there, there weren't many people in school that I could relate to. I spent over two years feeling like a misfit and doing much to avoid the attentions of the school bullies. When it was time to leave school, therefore, I did not feel any measure of sadness, but rather looked forward most expectantly to starting a life in Mumbai, where my folks were relocating.
Expectations can be tricky things...they often turn up at the root of most forms of unhappiness. I knew this but still preferred to think of Mumbai as an exciting new chapter in my life. I trusted in the Universe and believed that there was something magical waiting for me on the west-coast of India, where I had never walked before. The day I walked into my College, I realised that it was the magical gift that had been prepared for me.
How should I describe Xavier's to you? It was a feeling of oneness that I had missed for so long in Delhi. I did not know anyone in that college and was completely unfamilar with its classrooms and corridors, but something in the air whispered a welcome. Somehow, I felt very safe in that building...and I knew that the whole place wanted me to be there.
One of the first thoughts that spun through my mind as I walked through the ancient building was, "I'm in Hogwarts!" :) You see, I had just begun a studious devouring of JK Rowlings books and my imagination was brimming with their contents. So, when I walked through a myriad different passages and stairways, looked at strange gothic architecture, dozens of stone gargoyles and a generous sprinkling of faculty members (who had obviously been around for ages), there was a little part of me that was staring at the place with the wonder of a student entering Hogwarts for the first time!
Over the three years that passed, Xavier's steadily gave me some of the greatest gifts that life sent my way. A superb group of friends with whom I have enduring ties (even though they are now literally scattered across the globe!), an education that changed forever my view of things - broadening my perspectives, taking me within as well as without - and a desire to transcend intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. I found myself engaged in discussions with some of the finest minds that it has been my privelege to meet and in their presence I learnt to examine my own thoughts with fresh perspectives. We grew together as we touched each other's lives.
There's something about Xavier's that makes you want to make a persistent impression on the canvas of existence. It's not necessarily about achieving world renown (although there is no dearth of Xavierites who have achieved that)... it's more about touching the lives of people you come in contact with and somehow leaving them with something positive, no matter how small.
"Provocans ad volandum" - provoke to fly - is the college motto. As eaglets leave their eyeries and leap into the air - the wind beneath their wings and their eyes fixed on the gleaming sun - Xavierites leave their College at the end of their education, secure in the knowledge that no matter where life takes them, they have what it takes to ascend, to rise above the milling throngs of humanity and help others reach the same place...
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Blessed
I'm incredibly pleased to say that LifeStrings is one year old today! :)
Last year, on this very day, I discovered the Way of the Blog and signed on as an ardent follower. There's been no looking back since. LifeStrings is here to stay (unless the Internet or blogger.com cease to exist...in which case I have a back-up of all my posts anyway!). Incidentally, I also turned twenty-four a few days back, so there are two birthdays that I'm celebrating through this post.
Birthdays always excite me. The parties and the good food are definitely big attractions, but more than that it's the fact that we celebrate the life of someone we care about, and we thank the Universe for the day in which this person came out into the world and our lives. When I celebrate my birthday, what I'm happiest about is that I've completed another year in the company of the most amazing people, learnt several more of life's innumerable lessons and moved a little further along the path of completion. I'm just so thankful for the fact that there are so many people for me to share love with and there are countless reasons for me to smile... :) I'm blessed and I would shout it from the rooftops if I could...who knows, perhaps I will someday!
When I started with LifeStrings, I was not very certain about how long it would last. I took it as an exercise in creative writing which I would terminate whenever I got bored of it. Little did I know what I was getting into! Before I knew it, LifeStrings had becomes and entity by itself. It became the physical manifestation of a part of me that I didn't voice as much as I would have liked...and in the process it taught me how to voice this even in the "real world"! I cannot tell you how many times I've gained wonderful insights on my existence while listening to the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard. Similarly, so many people have enriched my sense of self with the comments that they left on my posts...they encouraged me to write more because they felt a connection with my ideas. What I felt in turn, is that a deep-seated part of my being was now connected to so many like-minded souls. The world shrank most remarkably and my life grew still brighter!
So, if you're reading this, thank you for being a part of my life...even if we've never met, LifeStrings connects us and you get a glimpse of my inner world in this way. It doesn't matter if you leave a comment or not (although I would be glad to read your thoughts!)...I want to thank you for just being there.
God Bless!
Last year, on this very day, I discovered the Way of the Blog and signed on as an ardent follower. There's been no looking back since. LifeStrings is here to stay (unless the Internet or blogger.com cease to exist...in which case I have a back-up of all my posts anyway!). Incidentally, I also turned twenty-four a few days back, so there are two birthdays that I'm celebrating through this post.
Birthdays always excite me. The parties and the good food are definitely big attractions, but more than that it's the fact that we celebrate the life of someone we care about, and we thank the Universe for the day in which this person came out into the world and our lives. When I celebrate my birthday, what I'm happiest about is that I've completed another year in the company of the most amazing people, learnt several more of life's innumerable lessons and moved a little further along the path of completion. I'm just so thankful for the fact that there are so many people for me to share love with and there are countless reasons for me to smile... :) I'm blessed and I would shout it from the rooftops if I could...who knows, perhaps I will someday!
When I started with LifeStrings, I was not very certain about how long it would last. I took it as an exercise in creative writing which I would terminate whenever I got bored of it. Little did I know what I was getting into! Before I knew it, LifeStrings had becomes and entity by itself. It became the physical manifestation of a part of me that I didn't voice as much as I would have liked...and in the process it taught me how to voice this even in the "real world"! I cannot tell you how many times I've gained wonderful insights on my existence while listening to the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard. Similarly, so many people have enriched my sense of self with the comments that they left on my posts...they encouraged me to write more because they felt a connection with my ideas. What I felt in turn, is that a deep-seated part of my being was now connected to so many like-minded souls. The world shrank most remarkably and my life grew still brighter!
So, if you're reading this, thank you for being a part of my life...even if we've never met, LifeStrings connects us and you get a glimpse of my inner world in this way. It doesn't matter if you leave a comment or not (although I would be glad to read your thoughts!)...I want to thank you for just being there.
God Bless!
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Light and Dark
I write my sixtieth post to mark Deepawali, the Hindu festival of lights. This year, while watching the preparations for this event, I started thinking about Light and what it means for us. In the process, my over-prosaic mind churned out a bundle of thoughts, which are offered below:
Deepawali is celebrated to mark the homecoming of Ram, the crown prince of ancient Ayodhya, who was exiled for fourteen years. On that evening, which also happened to be amaavasyaa (a moonless night), the people of Ayodhya lit row upon row of deeps (oil lamps) to light his path. Their attempt was to mark their joy by turning night into day. It is on this effort, that the little grey cells are currently focused.
Can any amount of oil lamps generate enough light to make the night seem like day? Even in the present day and age, do electric lights actually generate enough energy to make such an illusion possible? To the best of my knowledge, the answer is in the negative... What this means, therefore, is that the attempt to dispel the darkness is symbolic. It with this symbolism, that I am most impressed as well as inspired.
To my mind, the visual phenomenon of darkness is not of much consequence here. Darkness is the absence of light, nothing more. Without light, the rods and cones of our eyes are unstimulated and the phenomenon of vision does not occur. From a physiological perspective this is obviously very important, but this discussion will not concern itself with the physiological world. Instead, it is the spiritual significance of Deepawali, that presents itself as a particularly delectable morsel for the mind! :)
Darkness, to me, is much more than the troublesome impediment that makes it difficult to find the bathroom door in the middle of the night. It is transitory at best and easily dealt with by turning on a bedside lamp. Real darkness exists not in the external world, but in the human mind. It consists of ignorance, hatred, fear, anger and unhappiness (to name but a few). It is far more persistent and (oddly) unpredictable in its assaults on our sensibilities that its physically manifest cousin. Deepawali, for me, is a symbol of the human pledge to fight and banish this darkness, that lurks in the consciousness of almost every person.
"Tamasoma jyotirgamayah" - "From darkness, take me to light" - is the second part of the ancient Sanskrit prayer to the divine, that asks for human consciousness to be guided towards truth, light and immortality. The light that it asks for is the radiance of knowledge, peace, joy and hope. These are the only weapons that banish darkness from our minds...they are the tools that can permanently achieve the phenomenon of turning night into day.
The way I see it, when Ram returned to his kingdom, his coming was the answer to the prayers of his people, who spent fourteen long years hoping for his return. They lit their lamps to mark the way in which his advent dispelled their sorrow and kindled in its place, the expectation of joyous days ahead. Ram took samadhi in the Sarayu river, thousands of years ago, but the tradition that his homecoming started, remains till today. When we light our lamps, turn on the endless chains of twinkling electric lights and burst lakhs of rupees worth of crackers (which I still think is a senseless waste), we symbolically use light and sound to dispel darkness. The real magic happens within our minds, when we pray for the new year, asking for knowledge abundance, prosperity and joy. We envision ourselves and our loved ones as revelling in these gifts. Our happiness and laughter is powered by these dreams, which is why it effectively pierces the night and spreads the message of Deepawali. On this day, when we are surrounded be people whom we care about...when we give and receive tokens of affection from our friends and relatives, we suddenly become aware of how much happiness we get from the company of these people. Their smiles ease our cares, when necessary their shoulders bear the burden of our tears, and every moment spent with them is a blessing in itself. Which oil lamp can ever match the brightness that they bring to our lives? :)
Yes, darkness is indeed the absence of light. On Deepawali we make a commitment to fight against darkness both within and without. Whilst movements of the sun and the earth make the latter an inescapable phenomenon, we vow to never stray from the path that banishes the darkness of the human mind. In gaining knowledge and spreading knowledge, cherishing our families and friends and doing those little things that speak volumes lies the key to our ultimate enlightenment.
Happy Deepawali to us all! God Bless :)
Deepawali is celebrated to mark the homecoming of Ram, the crown prince of ancient Ayodhya, who was exiled for fourteen years. On that evening, which also happened to be amaavasyaa (a moonless night), the people of Ayodhya lit row upon row of deeps (oil lamps) to light his path. Their attempt was to mark their joy by turning night into day. It is on this effort, that the little grey cells are currently focused.
Can any amount of oil lamps generate enough light to make the night seem like day? Even in the present day and age, do electric lights actually generate enough energy to make such an illusion possible? To the best of my knowledge, the answer is in the negative... What this means, therefore, is that the attempt to dispel the darkness is symbolic. It with this symbolism, that I am most impressed as well as inspired.
To my mind, the visual phenomenon of darkness is not of much consequence here. Darkness is the absence of light, nothing more. Without light, the rods and cones of our eyes are unstimulated and the phenomenon of vision does not occur. From a physiological perspective this is obviously very important, but this discussion will not concern itself with the physiological world. Instead, it is the spiritual significance of Deepawali, that presents itself as a particularly delectable morsel for the mind! :)
Darkness, to me, is much more than the troublesome impediment that makes it difficult to find the bathroom door in the middle of the night. It is transitory at best and easily dealt with by turning on a bedside lamp. Real darkness exists not in the external world, but in the human mind. It consists of ignorance, hatred, fear, anger and unhappiness (to name but a few). It is far more persistent and (oddly) unpredictable in its assaults on our sensibilities that its physically manifest cousin. Deepawali, for me, is a symbol of the human pledge to fight and banish this darkness, that lurks in the consciousness of almost every person.
"Tamasoma jyotirgamayah" - "From darkness, take me to light" - is the second part of the ancient Sanskrit prayer to the divine, that asks for human consciousness to be guided towards truth, light and immortality. The light that it asks for is the radiance of knowledge, peace, joy and hope. These are the only weapons that banish darkness from our minds...they are the tools that can permanently achieve the phenomenon of turning night into day.
The way I see it, when Ram returned to his kingdom, his coming was the answer to the prayers of his people, who spent fourteen long years hoping for his return. They lit their lamps to mark the way in which his advent dispelled their sorrow and kindled in its place, the expectation of joyous days ahead. Ram took samadhi in the Sarayu river, thousands of years ago, but the tradition that his homecoming started, remains till today. When we light our lamps, turn on the endless chains of twinkling electric lights and burst lakhs of rupees worth of crackers (which I still think is a senseless waste), we symbolically use light and sound to dispel darkness. The real magic happens within our minds, when we pray for the new year, asking for knowledge abundance, prosperity and joy. We envision ourselves and our loved ones as revelling in these gifts. Our happiness and laughter is powered by these dreams, which is why it effectively pierces the night and spreads the message of Deepawali. On this day, when we are surrounded be people whom we care about...when we give and receive tokens of affection from our friends and relatives, we suddenly become aware of how much happiness we get from the company of these people. Their smiles ease our cares, when necessary their shoulders bear the burden of our tears, and every moment spent with them is a blessing in itself. Which oil lamp can ever match the brightness that they bring to our lives? :)
Yes, darkness is indeed the absence of light. On Deepawali we make a commitment to fight against darkness both within and without. Whilst movements of the sun and the earth make the latter an inescapable phenomenon, we vow to never stray from the path that banishes the darkness of the human mind. In gaining knowledge and spreading knowledge, cherishing our families and friends and doing those little things that speak volumes lies the key to our ultimate enlightenment.
Happy Deepawali to us all! God Bless :)
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Dhunuchi
The Dhakis walked slowly around the semicircular enclosure, beating their differently tuned drums. In their midst, the devotee began to sway...a lady the world would label as well past her prime...large, overweight, middle-aged, hair coloured with henna to mask the abundance of grey in it. Her fine saree and glittering silver waistband were not enough to conceal the effects of age and maintaining a family, that had left her with but a shadow of what must have been a very striking woman several years ago.
Nevertheless, she hefted the heavy, wide-brimmed clay pots filled with dhuno (a smoking mixtures of camphor, incense, tinder and coconut husk) with the enthusiasm of an eighteen year old and began her dance to the accompaniment of the drummers and the ceaseless ululations of the audience. Her long hair swirled this way and that while beads of perspiration gleamed on her dusky skin. Her hands moved in gentle circles guiding the pots of dhuno in intricate patterns as her feet moved over the enclosure. Age seemed to fall away from her, space and time faltered in their ceaseless vigil as the drummers increased the tempo to a dramatically faster beat. In perfect tandem, the matriarch matched them beat for beat. Now she leaped in the air, her tresses flying behind her, her waistband gleaming like the sun on water, the pots of dhuno creating arcs of smoke along the paths traced by her hands. In apparent defiance of the limitations placed by her own body, this lady spun on the ground, tossed her head proudly almost daring the drummers to try and outdo her. When they finally stopped, she too came to a standstill; her chest rising and falling in deep breaths and her face aglow. Her eyes found the face of the Goddess for whom she had danced and she raised her hands in a gesture of the utmost devotion...
Nevertheless, she hefted the heavy, wide-brimmed clay pots filled with dhuno (a smoking mixtures of camphor, incense, tinder and coconut husk) with the enthusiasm of an eighteen year old and began her dance to the accompaniment of the drummers and the ceaseless ululations of the audience. Her long hair swirled this way and that while beads of perspiration gleamed on her dusky skin. Her hands moved in gentle circles guiding the pots of dhuno in intricate patterns as her feet moved over the enclosure. Age seemed to fall away from her, space and time faltered in their ceaseless vigil as the drummers increased the tempo to a dramatically faster beat. In perfect tandem, the matriarch matched them beat for beat. Now she leaped in the air, her tresses flying behind her, her waistband gleaming like the sun on water, the pots of dhuno creating arcs of smoke along the paths traced by her hands. In apparent defiance of the limitations placed by her own body, this lady spun on the ground, tossed her head proudly almost daring the drummers to try and outdo her. When they finally stopped, she too came to a standstill; her chest rising and falling in deep breaths and her face aglow. Her eyes found the face of the Goddess for whom she had danced and she raised her hands in a gesture of the utmost devotion...
*************
"Dhunuchi", the smoke-dance, is one of the most marvellous aspects of Durga Puja as celebrated by the Bengalis of India. At present, the 5-day Durga Puja is being celebrated by Bengali communities across India and I'm blessed to be living a stone's throw away from one such celebration. The above description is something that I witnessed while attending the festivities of the second day. It is but one example of a number of people, many of them in their late fifties at least, who discarded the trappings of age and status, to partake freely in the attempt to invoke the blessings of Durga through this dance-form.
"Durga" derived from the Sanskrit word durg (for fort), literally means the inaccessible one. She was brought forth with considerable efforts (for a few more details on this, read my post, "The Better Half", dated 30th May 2006) by the most powerful beings who themselves deferred to her. Her power has to be ceaselessly invoked by her devotees and even when she responds to their call, she does not stay with them for very long. She blesses them with exactly what they need and then departs, for her energy is too great to be borne by mortals, beyond the span of a few days.
The form of the Devi presents a contradiction of sorts. We call her "mother" and yet we see her adorned as a warrior, with many hands, each holding a weapon. At her feet lies the demon Mahishasura, grimacing in pain as her trident pierces him. Despite this, in most portrayals her face looks infinitely calm and loving. My point is, this is often, the way a mother is! She wears many 'hats', so to speak. At once, she nurturing, protective, vigilant, receptive, strong, punishing, forgiving etc. The calm look on Durga's face reflects the boundless love she has for her children/devotees. Her armed appearance is a human depiction of the complete power she has to protect us from all evil (each weapon she holds, has a meaning, but we will not get into that here!). The demon at her feet represents the greatest demon of all...the human 'ego'. Durga destroys the demon, just as submitting to her grace automatically quells human pride. The mother is ruthless in this action of slaying the ego, which is the greatest enemy of her children...and you can imagine the challenge of performing this task as the foe exists within her children, not outside them. To simultaneously wreck destruction and run the risk of hurting her child (for his/her own benefit), yet providing an unshakable support to him/her all along the road to recovery...this is the true power of Durga and the often unnoticed prowess of many mothers in this world.
Yesterday when I stood before her, mulling over the handful of ideas mentioned above, I was suddenly hit by wave upon wave of emotion. My tears flowed freely even as I gazed at her face. It was almost as if my entire life until that moment flashed before my eyes...the throngs of other devotees seemed to disappear and only the sounds of the Dhakis' frenzied drumming remained as I looked at her face...
My life, like that of most other individuals has been had its ups and downs. Some of the 'downs' have been pretty bad and many of the 'ups' have been correspondingly marvellous. However, through them all, I've felt something behind me, a stable, unchanging strength that has found a way to keep me centred. That strength, is what I interpret as the power of the Eternal Mother. She has been there for me, even when I didn't recognise her, responding to even my most unconscious calls. Many experiences in life left me considerably humbled, but she was there to make me learn my lesson and evolve from those experiences. People go to temples, often with the intention of asking for something special. When I went there yesterday, there was absolutely nothing I could as for (except a general well-being and happiness for my family and everyone else)...instead, I found myself brimming with thanks for everything that I had been through that had made me a better person. In that moment, I learnt what the Mother is, beyond the trappings of the idol which represents her. I won't forget this in a hurry!
God Bless! :)
Monday, September 18, 2006
One of those days...
Today was just one of those occasions when things don't go as planned and the air seems to sit heavily on one's shoulders. Something happened that did not sit well with me and I was a little off-colour for a while...quite a while, I should say! I was completely absorbed in some work that I was trying to mould into an acceptable shape after having discovered that it did not meet the intended targets on some counts. Being a little fussy about my work, I was in no mood to engage in small-talk or exchange pleasantries with anyone. Unfortunately, in my case, my face is an open book, it seems, for anyone who knows me even fairly well. I received a hail of enquiries, comments and suggestions from several people - the concerned as well as the amused variety - most of which I answered only half-heartedly or in feigned surprise and denial. Sometimes, when one is a little bothered, it is just plain aggravating if others come and ask the "What ails thee?" type of questions! More than once I was forced to bite back a response laden with a sarcasm, because I knew that the person who would receive them (in no small measure of amazement) meant me no harm! :)
My annoyance continued for several hours...the botheration giving way to a dull, exhausted irritation that would probably breathe its last when I resigned myself to a good night's sleep. However, it was one of the Universe's little charms that ensured that my vexation was shorter-lived than I had anticipated...
I had kept MSN Messenger on while working on my computer. Suddenly a little pop-up from the lower right hand corner of the screen announced that a good friend of mine had sent a message. Wearily I opened it, barely focused on its content...and then, in just a few sentences, I found the balm I needed for my aching thoughts! :)
My friend just stated in a simple and inimitable style that she had noticed my state earlier in the day and all she wanted to know was whether I was alright. Nobody else during the entire day, had expressed their observation in as straightforward, caring and affectionate a way as this friend of mine did...and without having to spell it out, she made it clear that she was there, waiting to listen to anything I had to say, to ease my cares just with her presence. Reading those lines was enough to take away every bit of botheration in my system. Before I knew it, I felt quite myself again! :)
There are times when you want someone to reach out to you...but you don't want it to be masked in sympathy, condescension or humour. You want someone to make you feel that they're there, right behind you, waiting to hold you should your steps falter, ready with a shoulder for you to cry on, should you feel the need to do so. You might not ever make use of these comforts, but you like to know that you will always have this option...that someone cares for you and will always call you by your name, even if you lose yourself in the ocean life...
May you all be blessed with friends like this! :)
My annoyance continued for several hours...the botheration giving way to a dull, exhausted irritation that would probably breathe its last when I resigned myself to a good night's sleep. However, it was one of the Universe's little charms that ensured that my vexation was shorter-lived than I had anticipated...
I had kept MSN Messenger on while working on my computer. Suddenly a little pop-up from the lower right hand corner of the screen announced that a good friend of mine had sent a message. Wearily I opened it, barely focused on its content...and then, in just a few sentences, I found the balm I needed for my aching thoughts! :)
My friend just stated in a simple and inimitable style that she had noticed my state earlier in the day and all she wanted to know was whether I was alright. Nobody else during the entire day, had expressed their observation in as straightforward, caring and affectionate a way as this friend of mine did...and without having to spell it out, she made it clear that she was there, waiting to listen to anything I had to say, to ease my cares just with her presence. Reading those lines was enough to take away every bit of botheration in my system. Before I knew it, I felt quite myself again! :)
There are times when you want someone to reach out to you...but you don't want it to be masked in sympathy, condescension or humour. You want someone to make you feel that they're there, right behind you, waiting to hold you should your steps falter, ready with a shoulder for you to cry on, should you feel the need to do so. You might not ever make use of these comforts, but you like to know that you will always have this option...that someone cares for you and will always call you by your name, even if you lose yourself in the ocean life...
May you all be blessed with friends like this! :)
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Forgiveness
I just watched a wonderful film that made me think about a whole range of topics. I won't give you details about the film (in case you're one of those people for whom even the tiniest hint about an unwatched film just ruins the story for them) but I will share with you some of my musings on an issue that the film brought up...forgiveness and the trial of asking for it.
Why are some of us so hesitant to admit that we made a mistake? Why are we still more hesitant to ask someone else to forgive our errors? These are the two main questions that the little grey cells are buzzing with at present...
"Pride" seems to be the answer that comes most readily to mind. Somehow, over the course of life, many of us have come to believe that admitting that we erred, is akin to "losing face" before others, being depleted of personal power and the losing the sense of being effective. The sense of self is threatened when one comes to realise that he/she was wrong and that someone else had it right all along, or at least did not make the mistake that one silently regrets (now)! When it actually comes to apologising, the sense of threat from within is even stronger...it's supremely difficult to summon the courage to apologise to someone because one is unsure of whether or not the apology will be accepted. Even worse, there is always the question of whether or not the other(s) will perceive one as being weak for having said ¨sorry¨ or having asked for forgiveness. All of the above comes under the function of the ¨ego¨, as we know it in lay terms.
The way I see it, most of the above are assumptions, made on the basis of things we experienced in life...past incidents where we either went through or observed the dynamics of the complex phenomenon that is admitting a mistake, apologising for it and asking forgiveness. We add to our world-view a general ´format´ (if you will) of how a typical incident of this kinds works out and we expect it to endure across situations and people. Most often, we don´t even bother to test this hypothesis and just behave in a way that is consistent with this view.
The result is often quite unfortunate...at the extremes of this dimension of our existence are the tendency to beg forgiveness for just about everything (regardless of whether one is responsible or not) and the opposite tendency to mulishly deny any chance of being in the wrong. Both these ends are maladaptive and need to be addressed...but Iĺl save that for another time!
What I´m mainly concerned with here, is what makes the act of act of genuine apology and the consequence of true forgiveness so valuable for us humans...
Several years ago, I did something that really hurt some people I care about very much. I had acted acted in secret to hide something from them, but my deception had been unearthed quite by chance. I was quite young at the time and in my child's perception, the action had not been so grave. For the older people it affected, however, it was quite unnerving...Even for a child, there are few things worse than seeing tears in the eyes of someone they love and to be aware of the fact that they put them there...remorse grips one's heart in a clutch of steel and there is nothing one can do to get away from that pain. Pride, fear and a boat-load of other inhibitions have to be overcome before a one can admit one's folly and request forgiveness.
What is equally incomparable is the experience of having the one you hurt (however inadvertently), put an arm around you, look you in the eye and tell you that they don't hold your actions against you...
Forgiveness is the vessel that takes a penitent mind to a new level of advancement. It liberates one from the harassment of one's own self-deprecation and substitutes it with the hope and motivation to make amends. We've all done some things that we cannot ever make ourselves believe were right...but not all of us have been able to make a heartfelt apology or receive genuine forgiveness. For all such people, I pray that they receive this precious blessing as soon as possible...and I trust that sooner than later, they will! :)
God Bless
Why are some of us so hesitant to admit that we made a mistake? Why are we still more hesitant to ask someone else to forgive our errors? These are the two main questions that the little grey cells are buzzing with at present...
"Pride" seems to be the answer that comes most readily to mind. Somehow, over the course of life, many of us have come to believe that admitting that we erred, is akin to "losing face" before others, being depleted of personal power and the losing the sense of being effective. The sense of self is threatened when one comes to realise that he/she was wrong and that someone else had it right all along, or at least did not make the mistake that one silently regrets (now)! When it actually comes to apologising, the sense of threat from within is even stronger...it's supremely difficult to summon the courage to apologise to someone because one is unsure of whether or not the apology will be accepted. Even worse, there is always the question of whether or not the other(s) will perceive one as being weak for having said ¨sorry¨ or having asked for forgiveness. All of the above comes under the function of the ¨ego¨, as we know it in lay terms.
The way I see it, most of the above are assumptions, made on the basis of things we experienced in life...past incidents where we either went through or observed the dynamics of the complex phenomenon that is admitting a mistake, apologising for it and asking forgiveness. We add to our world-view a general ´format´ (if you will) of how a typical incident of this kinds works out and we expect it to endure across situations and people. Most often, we don´t even bother to test this hypothesis and just behave in a way that is consistent with this view.
The result is often quite unfortunate...at the extremes of this dimension of our existence are the tendency to beg forgiveness for just about everything (regardless of whether one is responsible or not) and the opposite tendency to mulishly deny any chance of being in the wrong. Both these ends are maladaptive and need to be addressed...but Iĺl save that for another time!
What I´m mainly concerned with here, is what makes the act of act of genuine apology and the consequence of true forgiveness so valuable for us humans...
Several years ago, I did something that really hurt some people I care about very much. I had acted acted in secret to hide something from them, but my deception had been unearthed quite by chance. I was quite young at the time and in my child's perception, the action had not been so grave. For the older people it affected, however, it was quite unnerving...Even for a child, there are few things worse than seeing tears in the eyes of someone they love and to be aware of the fact that they put them there...remorse grips one's heart in a clutch of steel and there is nothing one can do to get away from that pain. Pride, fear and a boat-load of other inhibitions have to be overcome before a one can admit one's folly and request forgiveness.
What is equally incomparable is the experience of having the one you hurt (however inadvertently), put an arm around you, look you in the eye and tell you that they don't hold your actions against you...
Forgiveness is the vessel that takes a penitent mind to a new level of advancement. It liberates one from the harassment of one's own self-deprecation and substitutes it with the hope and motivation to make amends. We've all done some things that we cannot ever make ourselves believe were right...but not all of us have been able to make a heartfelt apology or receive genuine forgiveness. For all such people, I pray that they receive this precious blessing as soon as possible...and I trust that sooner than later, they will! :)
God Bless
Friday, September 01, 2006
The Best Kind of "High"
I often tend to get into brief (but somehow quite stimulating) arguments with people on the topic of alcohol consumption. The arguments are not very intense, and usually involve me explaining to people why I don't indulge in "drinking"... I decided to share this with you as well...feel free to let me know what you think!
I am not against drinking (although I take a strong objection to alcoholism and its related horrors) and I don't believe that the (so called) social-drinker is a bad person. What I most frequently have to talk about is why I personally avoid alcoholic beverages and refuse to accompany even good friends while they enjoy a peg or two.
My basic rationale is this... the various types alcohol (also nicotine and drugs) are substances that are ingested to alter one's consciousness. When consumed they make one feel lighter, more relaxed, altogether merrier (apparently there are other less mentionable effects as well, but nevermind those for now!) etc. So, they're usually the beverage of choice when people want to unwind and get rid of the stress and strain of work and a hundred other little things. Many people I know like to share a few drinks with some friends and spend some time enjoying the "high" that they get as a result. The "high" is the altered state of consciousness, reportedly very pleasant at the time but also the predecessor of a subsequent 'hangover' in most cases! :) While it lasts, people feel great...they can converse and share their thoughts easily, feel more comfortable letting their hair down etc. The reasons for which the prospect of this 'high' don't appeal to me are (a) I have to drink something that tastes ridiculously vile in order to achieve it (b) it's not something that I can't obtain through other 'no-need-to-swallow' means (c) I don't want any substance altering my consciousness, for better or for worse and (d) whatever "high" the drink is supposed to provide for me, I already possess in a more sophisticated, long-lasting and 'side-effect-free' form, as I will just explain!
To be conscious is a gift that must be nurtured from within. Happiness can only last if it's source is inside a person...anything joy that is rooted in externalities is bound to end, no matter how intense it is. How flippant and flitting is the happiness or the feeling of lightness that can come from just a glass-full of drink or a few puffs of smoke! It is a pallid and watery substitute for magnitude of the same feelings when they are generated from the divinity that is in us all. I have a friend who puts it very well, when she exclaims "I'm high on life!!!" I just love that line, because it sums up in four little words, an entire philosophy that she exemplifies. This friend of mine is the very picture of happiness and contentment. She can spread good cheer wherever she goes...fifteen minutes in her presence and people start feeling more at ease, communicate with steadily diminishing restraint and enjoy themselves thoroughly, regardless of whether or not there are drinks to be had. While she is special to me, I am certain that she is not the only person with this ability. She is just someone who has come to understand that nothing from the outside world can make her happy if she cannot draw happiness out of her own personal/internal world.
When I'm with a good friend, I'm entirely engrossed in how happy it makes me feel just to be with him or her. His/her presence and company is all that I'm interested in...his/her affection and involvement in my life is what I cherish. Each second of happiness that comes from our interaction feels more real and last infinitely longer (even when it is a memory to be retrieved later) that any drink possibly could. So, I absolutely refuse to let anything as meagre as a drink come in the way of that feeling...I mean, what on earth do I need that for? I can be high on friendship! :)
Besides my family and friends, I think that life is full of things that make you feel better than the most sophisticated alcohol ever could...music is one of them. My heart goes out to the musician who needs to down a few pegs or smoke-up before a performance. He/she has simply not been able to gain a true picture of what music is all about. Good music is the ultimate high...if you understand it well and can immerse yourself in it, music elevates your consciousness more than the finest of drinks ever could.
So, to sum it up, good friends, good music, good food, good conversation...these are the things I need to get "high", no intoxicant is ever going to come even near the sheer delight that I get from these things, which, with God's grace, are abundantly available in my life (my mother will be quick to point out at this point that I tend to overdo my 'high' when it comes to the food part! lol). :)
"Cheers!"
I am not against drinking (although I take a strong objection to alcoholism and its related horrors) and I don't believe that the (so called) social-drinker is a bad person. What I most frequently have to talk about is why I personally avoid alcoholic beverages and refuse to accompany even good friends while they enjoy a peg or two.
My basic rationale is this... the various types alcohol (also nicotine and drugs) are substances that are ingested to alter one's consciousness. When consumed they make one feel lighter, more relaxed, altogether merrier (apparently there are other less mentionable effects as well, but nevermind those for now!) etc. So, they're usually the beverage of choice when people want to unwind and get rid of the stress and strain of work and a hundred other little things. Many people I know like to share a few drinks with some friends and spend some time enjoying the "high" that they get as a result. The "high" is the altered state of consciousness, reportedly very pleasant at the time but also the predecessor of a subsequent 'hangover' in most cases! :) While it lasts, people feel great...they can converse and share their thoughts easily, feel more comfortable letting their hair down etc. The reasons for which the prospect of this 'high' don't appeal to me are (a) I have to drink something that tastes ridiculously vile in order to achieve it (b) it's not something that I can't obtain through other 'no-need-to-swallow' means (c) I don't want any substance altering my consciousness, for better or for worse and (d) whatever "high" the drink is supposed to provide for me, I already possess in a more sophisticated, long-lasting and 'side-effect-free' form, as I will just explain!
To be conscious is a gift that must be nurtured from within. Happiness can only last if it's source is inside a person...anything joy that is rooted in externalities is bound to end, no matter how intense it is. How flippant and flitting is the happiness or the feeling of lightness that can come from just a glass-full of drink or a few puffs of smoke! It is a pallid and watery substitute for magnitude of the same feelings when they are generated from the divinity that is in us all. I have a friend who puts it very well, when she exclaims "I'm high on life!!!" I just love that line, because it sums up in four little words, an entire philosophy that she exemplifies. This friend of mine is the very picture of happiness and contentment. She can spread good cheer wherever she goes...fifteen minutes in her presence and people start feeling more at ease, communicate with steadily diminishing restraint and enjoy themselves thoroughly, regardless of whether or not there are drinks to be had. While she is special to me, I am certain that she is not the only person with this ability. She is just someone who has come to understand that nothing from the outside world can make her happy if she cannot draw happiness out of her own personal/internal world.
When I'm with a good friend, I'm entirely engrossed in how happy it makes me feel just to be with him or her. His/her presence and company is all that I'm interested in...his/her affection and involvement in my life is what I cherish. Each second of happiness that comes from our interaction feels more real and last infinitely longer (even when it is a memory to be retrieved later) that any drink possibly could. So, I absolutely refuse to let anything as meagre as a drink come in the way of that feeling...I mean, what on earth do I need that for? I can be high on friendship! :)
Besides my family and friends, I think that life is full of things that make you feel better than the most sophisticated alcohol ever could...music is one of them. My heart goes out to the musician who needs to down a few pegs or smoke-up before a performance. He/she has simply not been able to gain a true picture of what music is all about. Good music is the ultimate high...if you understand it well and can immerse yourself in it, music elevates your consciousness more than the finest of drinks ever could.
So, to sum it up, good friends, good music, good food, good conversation...these are the things I need to get "high", no intoxicant is ever going to come even near the sheer delight that I get from these things, which, with God's grace, are abundantly available in my life (my mother will be quick to point out at this point that I tend to overdo my 'high' when it comes to the food part! lol). :)
"Cheers!"
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Ties
Over the last month and a half, I've been part of an intensive training programme, that is compulsory for new employees of the company I work for. When I joined the organisation, I did so with a great deal of optimism, but also prepared myself to start interacting with people at a level that would be less emotionally charged than the ties that I shared with friends from my student days. This was probably based on my observations of how older people conduct themselves with colleagues as compared to friends and family. I told myself that such a shift in interaction styles would be natural and in fact adaptive...but somehow I could not bring myself to believe those thoughts. A small voice whispered insistently that even in the workplace, one does not have to be bereft of an interpersonal closeness, colleagues can be as good as friends and one can find a way to rise above petty differences and evolve as a person when placed in a professional environment. I was not able to decide between the two viewpoints so I decided to simply go ahead and take one day at a time...
Today, I can safely say, with immense pleasure that the little voice emerged victor by a wide, wide margin! Over the last several weeks, the office became a place where I met some really remarkable people, watched intelligent minds blossom, felt my own horizon's expand, and above all, forged some friendships that I pray will last forever. I had never dreamt that I would experience this in a workplace, which I had envisioned as a sober, competitive and altogether "professional" environment! It's yet another of the Universe's blessings that I give thanks for each and every day.
Yes, there were some teething problems...the initial awkwardness of meeting people for the first time and being shut away in the training room with them for hours on end...waiting for someone to extend the first pleasantries only to find that they were probably waiting for you to do the same...watching others carefully maintain a guarded discretion in their conversations... But all that soon gave way as a steady closeness grew between different group members. Little cliques formed and shifted amongst the batch, but overall there was a sense of mutual understanding and cohesiveness. Countless spates of helpless laughter, muffled giggles, heated arguments, short-lived "cold-wars" and a sharing of each other's lives and experiences coexisted with the formal training that everyone was going through. Call it what you will, but I think of it as one of God's infinite miracles that happen in the subtlest yet most palpable ways...
This afternoon our batch said goodbye to one of its members,who had to leave in order to join another branch of the company. We had known from the start that she would be leaving us once the training was complete...what we had no inkling of, was how difficult it would be to say goodbye at the end of our time together. The human heart forms attachments so quickly!
We managed to get away for short while, so we could enjoy a nice lunch outside the office, as a kind of happy send-off for our friend/colleague. Lunch was a delightful affair, full of the usually peals and guffaws that characterise the times when all of us are together (there was good food too!). None of us seemed to be aware of the fact that we'd soon be parting ways with one of our friends, for a long time to come. It was only at the end of the meal, when she had to head for the airport and we had to make our way back to the office, that many of us felt a lump rise in our throats...before I knew it, some of us had silently let their tears fall, and the one who was leaving us was crying openly while exchanging hugs, handshakes and parting pleasantries (most of which sounded a bit garbled when delivered in choked voices). To my mind, this was yet another feather-in-the-cap for the "little voice" I mentioned earlier (which, by the way, is practically bellowing now!).
Affection is a curious thing indeed...you have absolutely no idea when and for whom it will form. The idea is to go with it, celebrate it and let it show...I will never forget the overwhelmed look on our friend's face when we gave her a small token of our affection...a painted clay figurine and a card. In that wordless instant I witnessed how strong the ties were that had been forged subliminally in just a couple of months. It was simply wonderful.
:)
Today, I can safely say, with immense pleasure that the little voice emerged victor by a wide, wide margin! Over the last several weeks, the office became a place where I met some really remarkable people, watched intelligent minds blossom, felt my own horizon's expand, and above all, forged some friendships that I pray will last forever. I had never dreamt that I would experience this in a workplace, which I had envisioned as a sober, competitive and altogether "professional" environment! It's yet another of the Universe's blessings that I give thanks for each and every day.
Yes, there were some teething problems...the initial awkwardness of meeting people for the first time and being shut away in the training room with them for hours on end...waiting for someone to extend the first pleasantries only to find that they were probably waiting for you to do the same...watching others carefully maintain a guarded discretion in their conversations... But all that soon gave way as a steady closeness grew between different group members. Little cliques formed and shifted amongst the batch, but overall there was a sense of mutual understanding and cohesiveness. Countless spates of helpless laughter, muffled giggles, heated arguments, short-lived "cold-wars" and a sharing of each other's lives and experiences coexisted with the formal training that everyone was going through. Call it what you will, but I think of it as one of God's infinite miracles that happen in the subtlest yet most palpable ways...
This afternoon our batch said goodbye to one of its members,who had to leave in order to join another branch of the company. We had known from the start that she would be leaving us once the training was complete...what we had no inkling of, was how difficult it would be to say goodbye at the end of our time together. The human heart forms attachments so quickly!
We managed to get away for short while, so we could enjoy a nice lunch outside the office, as a kind of happy send-off for our friend/colleague. Lunch was a delightful affair, full of the usually peals and guffaws that characterise the times when all of us are together (there was good food too!). None of us seemed to be aware of the fact that we'd soon be parting ways with one of our friends, for a long time to come. It was only at the end of the meal, when she had to head for the airport and we had to make our way back to the office, that many of us felt a lump rise in our throats...before I knew it, some of us had silently let their tears fall, and the one who was leaving us was crying openly while exchanging hugs, handshakes and parting pleasantries (most of which sounded a bit garbled when delivered in choked voices). To my mind, this was yet another feather-in-the-cap for the "little voice" I mentioned earlier (which, by the way, is practically bellowing now!).
Affection is a curious thing indeed...you have absolutely no idea when and for whom it will form. The idea is to go with it, celebrate it and let it show...I will never forget the overwhelmed look on our friend's face when we gave her a small token of our affection...a painted clay figurine and a card. In that wordless instant I witnessed how strong the ties were that had been forged subliminally in just a couple of months. It was simply wonderful.
:)
Saturday, August 12, 2006
A Very Special Birthday
Tomorrow, at the stroke of midnight, millions of people will raise their voices in a joyful uproar. Conches will be sounded, bells will ring ceaselessly, all kinds of drums will be beaten and the reverberations of countless dancing feet will be felt by the earth. A strange wave of enchantment will spread over India in that moment, when devotees celebrate the birth of Krishna, the eighth incarnation of Vishnu. I will be one amongst those people...
I've grown up on a literary diet of various accounts of Hindu mythology, a topic that I devour most voraciously even today, if given half a chance. From the common Amar Chitra Katha series to encyclopedias of myths and legends (and, of course, the eternal Ramayan and Mahabharath series that used to appear on Doordarshan), I sampled everything, leaping from the ocean of one imaginal world to the thrilling heights of another, in a tireless sequence.
Needless to say, the stories of Krishna were some of the most gripping and colourful narratives that a child could be entertained with. It didn't matter whether my grandmother recited them from memory or my father read them aloud to me from a brightly illustrated storybook, their effect on me was enduring. Each tale coloured my mind with fresh hues...fired my imagination with new ideas. Till date, they constitute some of the best memories that are associated with my childhood.
As a child, the aspect of these stories that captivated me, was their supernatural nature...the promise of magic and of the protagonist being able to do the unthinkable and thereby achieve a deified state. Today, these stories still hold me in their sway, but instead of their magical flavour, what binds me to them is the infinite learning that is woven into their symbolism. From the accounts of Krishna's life, for instance, I learn about leadership, self-awareness, statecraft, devotion and the value of unconditional love (amongst several other things). Be it in the legends of the feats he accomplished as a child those associated with his epic role in the Mahabharata, Krishna's life is brimming with lessons for any who would learn of it.
Krishna is one of the few deities whose life is described (in devoted details) right from birth to demise. It is perhaps because of this 'documentation' in prose, poetry, music, art, dance etc. that the cowherd of yore still maintains his hold over the hearts of millions, centuries after he shed his corporeal form. When you learn about his life, you can chase the vibrant toddler who made the courtyards of his home resound with the little bells he wore on his feet and waist, listen to the young cowherd play the flute in order to mesmerise all living things, travel with him on his demon-slaying excursions, listen to him enlighten Arjun on Kurukshetra and follow him as he balances the forces of good and evil on earth... There is something just about anyone can identify with, regardless of age, gender or any other tiresome demographics!
Some critics question the deified status of Krishna, preferring to believe instead that he was a charismatic politician and strategist. While I don't criticise their notions, I do believe that if any mortal can command the attraction and following that Krishna commands till this day, then that individual deserves to be deified. No politician, military general or religious leader has held the hearts of people for generation upon generation following his/her demise, in the way that Krishna has...this feat in itself is supernatural and admirable.
Just before I end this stream of thought, I would like to share (and translate) my Guru, Pt. Ashok Kumar's wonderful composition in Raag Malkauns which says:
He, who is an incarnation of Vishnu -the one who reclines on the cosmic serpent, Sheshnaag- is worshipped by the yogis. He is the epitome of pure, unconditional love, that the poet aspires to attain.)
God Bless!
I've grown up on a literary diet of various accounts of Hindu mythology, a topic that I devour most voraciously even today, if given half a chance. From the common Amar Chitra Katha series to encyclopedias of myths and legends (and, of course, the eternal Ramayan and Mahabharath series that used to appear on Doordarshan), I sampled everything, leaping from the ocean of one imaginal world to the thrilling heights of another, in a tireless sequence.
Needless to say, the stories of Krishna were some of the most gripping and colourful narratives that a child could be entertained with. It didn't matter whether my grandmother recited them from memory or my father read them aloud to me from a brightly illustrated storybook, their effect on me was enduring. Each tale coloured my mind with fresh hues...fired my imagination with new ideas. Till date, they constitute some of the best memories that are associated with my childhood.
As a child, the aspect of these stories that captivated me, was their supernatural nature...the promise of magic and of the protagonist being able to do the unthinkable and thereby achieve a deified state. Today, these stories still hold me in their sway, but instead of their magical flavour, what binds me to them is the infinite learning that is woven into their symbolism. From the accounts of Krishna's life, for instance, I learn about leadership, self-awareness, statecraft, devotion and the value of unconditional love (amongst several other things). Be it in the legends of the feats he accomplished as a child those associated with his epic role in the Mahabharata, Krishna's life is brimming with lessons for any who would learn of it.
Krishna is one of the few deities whose life is described (in devoted details) right from birth to demise. It is perhaps because of this 'documentation' in prose, poetry, music, art, dance etc. that the cowherd of yore still maintains his hold over the hearts of millions, centuries after he shed his corporeal form. When you learn about his life, you can chase the vibrant toddler who made the courtyards of his home resound with the little bells he wore on his feet and waist, listen to the young cowherd play the flute in order to mesmerise all living things, travel with him on his demon-slaying excursions, listen to him enlighten Arjun on Kurukshetra and follow him as he balances the forces of good and evil on earth... There is something just about anyone can identify with, regardless of age, gender or any other tiresome demographics!
Some critics question the deified status of Krishna, preferring to believe instead that he was a charismatic politician and strategist. While I don't criticise their notions, I do believe that if any mortal can command the attraction and following that Krishna commands till this day, then that individual deserves to be deified. No politician, military general or religious leader has held the hearts of people for generation upon generation following his/her demise, in the way that Krishna has...this feat in itself is supernatural and admirable.
Just before I end this stream of thought, I would like to share (and translate) my Guru, Pt. Ashok Kumar's wonderful composition in Raag Malkauns which says:
Gaavo hari naam,
Sundara Shyaam bhajata sakala,
Sura, nara, muni jana
Kamala nayana, Shesha shayana
Nita pujata jogi jana
Prema Rasiyaa ko prema dhaam.
(Meaning: The name of Hari (Krishna), the beautiful one, who is dark of skin, is sung by the devas, men and sages.
He, who is an incarnation of Vishnu -the one who reclines on the cosmic serpent, Sheshnaag- is worshipped by the yogis. He is the epitome of pure, unconditional love, that the poet aspires to attain.)
God Bless!
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