The daily vagaries

The tiny little steps

2010-09-21T23:51:00.006+05:30

Yesterday, little Aaryan surprised me by standing up on his own; I almost had tears in my eyes - Aaryan, you were so happy on your act that you simply laughed and smiled incessantly. My little son is growing up ..soon you shall be walking on your own. Well you walk even now but you like to hold my finger all the time; sometimes I feel I need your hands to hold my fingers more than you need mine ...

How shall be the day when you will walk away from me? It shall be lovely, of course, to see you from a distance - to see you to the heart's content but will my hands be able to bear the separation....?

Few months back, I wanted to write about our days more and more often - to capture your days and little wonders that you create. As the days passed, I realized I no longer wanted so because it was much more important to spend even those moments with you. Soon, you are gonna be 14 months ... and really growing fast :) Sometimes, I want the time to stop, here and now with you in my lap, with me nibbling or ticking at your toddler's feet which fit in the palm of my hands.

We both dress up as you are eager to get out in the street. You jump down from my lap as we get down and wave to your guard uncle with your finger pointing to the nearest parked motorcycle. We clearly hear the sound of "Burrrr" - from sweet you signalling the start of motorcycle and I can see that you are ready to venture out in the world. You look at me as if you say "I am ready, Dad". I want to say "Oh..yes, but wait..let me see, I am not ready yet". But instead I smile and hold your hands and let you go...there, on your tiny little steps, with all my love.

My little munchkin

2010-02-18T20:15:00.000+05:30

Well, to think of it - Aaryan, you were gifted into our arms 6 months ago and could we have imagined as how much this little baby shall change our lives - with his love, with his innocent charm and ofcourse with his strong likes & dislikes. Just yesterday, we pulled out our car in the evening to go to supermarket and Aaryan, yes Nannu, you - simply refused to go. Although you are always such a smiling, accomodating and playful child - sometimes you do assume the cloak of a spoilt brat; or a "crying glory" especially when we take you out on our car. For sure, now I know that you love bikes and cars do not fancy you even a little. Ofcourse, we parked the car right back and took you back in our loving arms - inside our little cozy nest and you smiled and smiled and smiled as if to the delight of loving gods.

In the last few days, perhaps a month - you seem to have grown so much. Now you want to keep playing, you don't want to sleep in the day time anymore, you like the sound of bikes and even want to ride one :), you stand erect on your feet and take few steps when I put you on my stomach ...... I am excited to be there with you each and every moment ... but sad as well as you seem to be leaving this wonderful childhood fast behind. I keep telling myself - nothing to worry, I shall save each moment as a sacred reverie in my mind and hold it afresh with all the purity of my heart ... I am happy for what you are becoming to be, I am happy for what you were and what you are leaving behind - my lovely little Nannu.

We love you to the pieces dear Aaryan .....We love you a lot !!!

Hai Na Bolo Bolo

2010-02-11T01:00:00.008+05:30

Its early morning time - everyone at home seems to be running around the kitchen, the bathroom, the dining area as if millions is at stake while a little one basks smilingly in my arms, apparently silently. Aaryan needs to be massaged, Aaryan needs to be bathed, fed breakfast and then out to sleep .... a regular morning schedule which is getting into the veins of me, Ganga and Aaryan and we are knowingly unknowingly looking forward to it each day. Aaryan shall go for milk at the time of massage, for the mug of water at the time of bath and very interestingly for the bowl of apple puree at the time of breakfast. To imagine that he is just 6 months into this world .... he sure has grown up fast.

Time flies .... Around a month ago, we discovered Aaryan's love for music when we found that he loves to watch the song "Hai na Bolo Bolo, Papa ko Mummy Se"
...and breakfast goes smooth when we play this song on our laptop. Now we find that Aaryan has shifted his loyalities to "Lalla Lalla Lori....Dudh ki Katori"....

Today we found him smiling at every instance of start of song "Chanda hai Tu, Mera Sooraj hai Tu" and getting into a trance at the tune of "Do Dil Mil Rahe hain...."

I am waiting for more surprises of tomorrow :) while my dear munchkin snuggles cozily in his bed, deep into a lovely dreamland.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

2010-01-10T01:43:00.002+05:30

It is a starry night and I gaze far into the deep sky, staring at the patterns formed by shining little stars. I hear the sweet lullabies of my mom who holds me closer to her chest, wrapping me with her loving arms and without knowing it, I fall asleep. Now someone is picking me up, I feel myself being carried, and from his strong arms I know it's my father. He has always been there around me, protecting me and loving me. I love him too ... a lot. He puts me in my bed, and before I feel him kiss me, I'm asleep again. -- Aaryan

I am writing this blog after a long gap since on July 30th 2009, Aaryan was born to us and our lives have been completely and solely devoted to him since then. Every moment since then has been worth recording for us and so I have been at a loss to write anything itself :) Perhaps, I shall slowly be coming back more often to the blog site in coming days - to capture the time in words so as to give these transitory moments a little more permanence.

The dance of time

2009-07-26T23:58:00.004+05:30

Memories - It is a wonder as how they get recorded and how they re-appear. When you think back, you might see flashes in your mind - of a certain day, or a certain moment or a certain person. Memories are queer things, really. Ever wondered, how they are formed? Sometimes, even an insignificant detail gets recorded in our brain cells whereas sometimes, there is no visible imprint of something we promised ourselves to remember life long. I was surprised yesterday when I stumbled upon an old school photograph and I could not recall the name of my favorite teacher. It is equally queer to know as how the memories get activated - sometimes only by a smell, sometimes by a touch Or by a sound - even a taste and of course by the visuals. Music brings my memories alive - to the strongest level. Few songs that I heard till the cassettes broke down :) - if I hear them again, possess the power to travel me back right there, back in time and flying in space.

But hold on - these memories have a strange quality. They bind us to the past and stop us from living in the present. The meditators never cling to memories. Ever heard - "those golden days"? :) Well - especially like "golden days of my school”!! It is very easy to glorify the past though I know deep down that when I was living those past times - I was equally in hell (or maybe more then). Very interestingly, when we were actually living the past, we may not have enjoyed that much because then our mind was stuck in what happened before. It is all in mind and the trick of mind that keeps our inner skies dark with the clouds of past times (memories).

We must die to the memories.......

I sometimes wonder - do memories also stop my mind from thinking? Are they also hindering the flow of life? Is our mind also a function of what is stored inside? I know for sure that mind is an economist - a miser one. It does not want to spend much and likes to fall into habits fast. Perhaps it takes recourse to what happened in past - too easily, without even letting me know and thus not taking the pains of thinking again creatively. It does not utilize the learning of later life to make a better decision next time - thus failing my intelligent self and proving me a fool again :).

Listen to this - a friend of mine had a bad time in a relationship. After the worse was over and he was free again to make fresh choices in the life - what did I know that he did not? I knew that he would love the same girl again while he did not. How does it matter if this time she will carry a different name - the type is the same? Man is almost a machine. You may change places, you may change the things, you may change the friends - within few days, you will recreate everything. And take note here - MIND forgets the MISERABLE part but remembers diligently the pleasurable part. So my friend suffered from the loneliness, and finding the same woman again thought it is better with her than being alone - forgot the misery and recalled only the pleasures. Very interestingly, memories can be very short as well and at different times for different kind of events.

Who holds all the strings of this musical instrument, O Krshna!!

O ye, who see perplexities over your heads, beneath your feet, and to the right and left of you; you will be an eternal enigma unto yourselves until ye become humble and joyful as children. Then will ye find Me, and having found Me in yourselves, you will rule over worlds, and looking out from the great world within to the little world without, you will bless everything that is, and find all is well with time and with you. KRISHNA.

When 2+2 gets to be 5

2009-06-29T00:50:00.008+05:30

You don't believe it? Well, I too did not before I realized this equation invariably goes unchallanged by us; almost daily. We are more and more accepting the unreasonable without being assigned the right to reason; being pushed to the corner daily to be converted to the ones who would simply accept the authorities even if they tell us that 2+2 makes a big 5. Consider this:

1. Vaccinations
How many of us really know what these vaccinations are all about? Where do we get informed about what really goes behind the doors of the pharma companies doling out vaccines after vaccines for our children & whether these vaccines are really safe? Still - the so called "educated class" invariably is getting vaccinated on its own. Any investigative questions on vaccines are either met with a harsh rebuff Or a simplistic "Why can't you follow like others" attitude. For those looking at this text with a questioning eye; for those who are reading about it for the first time - get some more information at http://www.vaclib.org/docs/myths.htm and http://vaccinetruth.org/

It is interesting to note that whereas the educated lot of our world follows the mass almost superstitiously; the illiterate population still carries their capabilities of raising questions about it and is still able to stay clear of such mess of modern times.

2. GM food
Heard about BT Brinjals? Well, the money-minting corporations are right at our door steps, ready to contaminate our platters with poison under the garb of "technology". Firstly, it was green revolution that took years & decades to discover that 2+2 could not be 5 :) It filled our food with insecticides; brought down the water tables of our land drastically; brought down the fertility level of our soil by moving farmers to High yielding crops; caused the suicides of hundres/thousands of farmers by bringing them in the spiral net of increasing debts required to buy expensive pesticides...and if that was not enough - here we have the latest Candy from big corporations like Monsanto and Bayer - the GM food. News to your ears?? Sure - because this is not the agenda of our welfare states to have well-informed citizens. It needs just the "state-educated" citizens who will conform and hear only what "they" want to say. Much thanks to Mahesh bhatt and Co. for bringing out this excellent documentary however - Poison on the platter. Checkout at youtube and videos.google.com for more details.

Sad but true, the list of such "modern day superstitions" continues and can fill up entire time and space that we have :( .... I will surely followup with more in times to come !!!

A very rare live interview - of Shiv Kumar Batalvi

2009-04-04T00:16:00.006+05:30

Amazed to find such an excellent and rare video on internet today. None other than Shiv himself - and I am seeing him for the first time although I have been reading his poems since long and singing his wonderful songs since ages. It is quite a treasure :) and so sharing it with its worthy audience

Songs & Reveries

2009-03-27T17:22:00.004+05:30

The magic of bollywood and oldies of yesteryears - is as exotic as it can get. While these songs of Kishore Kumar and Hemant Da throw you back in those 1970s when Rajesh Khanna swept the nation with his "emotive eyes" and Dharmendera was the dream man of every dream girl. Today again, we are in singing mood and we recorded these wonderfuls songs .... (look up in the video bar at the top of the page)

The fabric of life

2009-03-15T15:27:00.006+05:30

There are days when despair surges up within me; when the fabric of life seems shorter and stifling - the days when the fledgling self wants to take a flight out in the open sky knowing there are risks of vultures and preys but opting for the sense of freedom nevertheless. These days, I realize, make everyone around me feel very concerned and worried. They want to see my happy face again and I am given numerous doses of motivation and positives of life :).

I know now - albeit only after few failed but brave attempts - it is difficult to make them understand that sickness is not a "bad thing" to have. This "sickness" is generally the starting point of changes in life; it might hold the key for the future by prompting oneself to cleanse himself of the "rotten waste within" and lay foundations for a new beginning.

With this sickness, although I am restless throughout the days - somewhere inside, I know that this is also only a "phase" and it will pass but only such phases are the "potential productive" phases of life since in the regular days, life is just moving on without any higher intelligence. I do look forward to this sickness since it will cleanse me of recently collected dust within my heart; it will suck the impure blood of my veins and it will quench its thirst from the tears of my eyes but then it might reward me with purity, help me regain my lost "sensibilities" by removing the layers of dust off it and make me feel more human than an automaton.I just feel that it is a bit hard upon us not to allow our fellow being to "cry"; to go deep into "despair"; to feel "bad" about what we have become.

Should we not all celebrate life in all forms? And let it flow - be it happiness or sadness? I just wonder of my stifling and ever narrowing fabric of life while the bird at my window looks far ahead into the sky, mocking me before embarking on yet another of those bouts of high, curvy flights into the open skies.

Love Story - of the youngistan, Meri jaan :)

2009-02-22T13:16:00.003+05:30

Posted at scribd one of the fun stories written by me around 8-9 years back. It is a bit silly one :)
Love Story - of the Young one

Publish at Scribd or explore others: Humor Creative Writing love language

Notes from the past

2009-02-22T10:30:00.003+05:30

Scraping through my old notebooks, today I stumbled upon some interesting piece-meals of notes - written on the way of "learning to write" and ofcourse they carry a deep impression of writers that I was reading at that time (almost copying the style :) ) but this scene did come about okay, isnt it?

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He sat amidst children’s party at her home. Though in exuberant surroundings, he felt too dull and aloof. Even in a group of children of his own age, he felt himself alone and different from all others. His silent watchful manner had grown upon him and he was rarely a participant in the games. The children were throwing knee slappers, inventing new games, dancing and chattering noisily, and though he tried hard to share their mirth, he felt gloomy. But then someone pulled him to the dance floor and he too tried some steps. After doing his part, he retarded safely to a snug corner and slowly he started to taste the joy of his solitude. The joy, which in the beginning of the party seemed useless to him, now seemed refreshing as he let the breeze pass through his spirits and absorbed deep down in himself. She was standing at the other corner of the room and his heart lighted up as her glance traveled towards his side crossing the myriad of dancers. Though she was far away, he was sure to have heard every word out of her mouth; to have lived a thousand lives in her eyes; to have known her in past and reveries. He felt excited, flattered, tainted and insulted by her glaring eyelashes and fairy smiles.

All were wishing her goodbye and putting on their cloaks: the party was over. She walked towards him and asked if they could walk home together. She took a shawl over her head as he put on his sweater and they both walked towards their home. It was dark outside and not many people were to be seen. A light rain had started. Her face glowed amidst falling drops of water. She walked besides him as he felt the warmth of her breathing, her arms brushing with his; his heart leaped at every movement of hers. He listened to everything that she said and he heard everything that she did not. The gentle tap of her sandals, the rain drops falling on her hair: he heard and saw those moments thousand times and knew he had been walking beside her since the life started. No sound broke the silence of the night save the barking of the stray dogs as she, feeling a bit afraid, clutched his hands. He knew she liked him. She would often come up to him for talks though most of the times they remained silent. He wanted to tell her how his heart too yearned for her.

Should I hold her in my arms, should I kiss her? He thought. But he did nothing as they approached the point where she had to turn for her home. He stopped as he still held her hands in his. She looked into his eyes and he heard all the thousand tales that they said beneath their cowl. She said thanks and slowly pulled away her hands. He saw her going away from him and had an urge to run towards her when she turned behind and waved her hands. He smiled and started his walk towards his home.

Musings

2009-02-11T01:10:00.007+05:30

I am musing over the world of arts - of literature, of music, of artists - wondering over questions and answers. How our mind tricks us into the hunt of answers that are nothing but the "golden deer" that even Rama could not recognize. Questions are eternal. Answers will always be found wanting at the high altar of eternal questions.

What is it that we want? Security? Love? Power? Well, nothing stands the test of time; everything keeps shifting ground. We live in a mire of our own mental pettiness and pull ourselves down every moment with the weight of our own self-destructive ignorance. Compromise is the word that we feed our souls on; Compromise on every single breath. Do we ever know what is it to let loose? To be ready to die in order to live?

But then we are too scared of death. So scared that we talk ourselves into accepting a compromise as if it is not what we know it is.

What is it that we want and what is it that we really need at this time - again an eternal question; I am waiting at your altar, O' higher one.

Story Of the Day - Buddhist Mendicant

2009-02-08T14:59:00.004+05:30

One morning, a buddhist mendicant went through the streets of Sravasti asking for alms. He sang aloud the praise of Lord Buddha, on whose behalf he was going abegging. From the palace of the King, jewels were thrown on his path, but he did not pick them up. Wealthy merchants and their wives opened the windows and showered gifts and gold, some took off their necklaces, some jewels from their hair. But the mendicant went on refusing the gifts and saying aloud - ‘Buddha, who is greatest of all men, has come to the city among you, so give him only your best’. He passed the roads, making his way through the jewel strewn path, till he reached the end of the city, where a poor beggar woman was lying on the ground...she also heard the call of the mendicant and bowing to his feet, she somehow took cover in the forest and took off her only garment and stretching her arm she dropped it on the ground in the path. The mendicant eagerly lifted the garment on his head and throwing up his arms, he proclaimed the glory of the one who could give her all.

The dreams

2009-02-03T05:55:00.003+05:30

“Once there was a king .... “ and so starts another of those melodious stories, somewhere in the broken old voice of granny while somewhere in the rhythmic tones of a loving mother. Each moment somewhere a young one is waiting for another story to be told and retold; for what else has ever been more interesting in our lives than the flights of imagination and loving dreams. Isn’t that the reason that whenever we meet someone, we generally ask - “So what else?”, “What is new?”, or “what is the news?” - waiting to hear some other story whether old or new. Our mind is distilled down from school to high school to college but it seems that howsoever far the refinement may take place, there is one thing in us that never dies - “longing to hear another story”. While the memory of trigonometries and geographies goes down in our mind; the image of Krishna driving the chariot grows even clearer. Isn’t Duryodhana as real for us as Akbar is? Whether there is an evidence to prove it or not - does not really matter. For the mankind, story of Asoka is as true as the story of Buddha or for that matter that of Rama and Hanumana. And why not? What difference does it make whether it really happened or not? What matters is not the evidence but that “how pure the story is?”. History gets created by the gods while stories are created by man. They both combine to make a full human life. That is the highest truth of the mankind. Hanumana takes the history to an untold height when he jumps high in the air mistaking the sun as apple. Krishna brings out all the maternal love and tears in eyes when he is caught red-handed with hands full of stolen butter and eyes full of innocent tears.

Looking at children - weaving thousands of dreams in their little shining eyes when she was narrating them fables of kings, I realized how we adults have lost our innocence. How my heart will laugh at the fairy tales; how it will remind me ceaselessly that there is no flying horse waiting for this Prince out there. But look at these pure hearts - this little one who, sitting in the lap of loving elders, is looking out of the window into the still dark starry nights while he is led into the dreamy lands of princes and princesses, of fairies and demons; dreaming aloud as "I am that Prince", "I will save the Princess". He is already the little Prince riding on the back of the flying horse while I am like the Prince who alighted from the horse only to find the cruel heat of the urban land. There is no kingdom and no princesses here; Prince is caught in the petty trivialities and demonic insecurities of life. The Princess has no long tresses; she does not have any distinguished smile or a flowery complexion; she is like any nameless flower; a loveless star, which tries to hide itself in the shadows of moon and crowds of stars.

While I take a deep sigh, the little one rests his chin on his hands and looks out of the window again - at the stars, listening to the melody of events amidst shrills of cricket and an occasional cough of the grandma; and he thinks “I will be that Prince...”. I look at his shining eyes and am filled with a feeling of abundant love.

2009-01-19T02:23:00.001+05:30

Another day passed ...

2009-01-09T02:10:00.002+05:30

Such a wonderful phenomenon: every single individual that I meet - is as if he/she is an epitome of strong values, a keeper of truth, a moral and upright person but as soon as there is a group, this individual is lost. Individual easily hides behind the "anonymity" of the group and easily gives in to all the evil deeds that one can possibly think of & there he comes out clean again - as an individual. This world is wonderful :) with such so clear ambiguities. Just imagine - everyone is talking about "searching for the meaning in life" while the entire clan seems utterly clueless; everyone is talking about "we should have justice and peace" and the entire world is bleeding with voilence and power-play. I am not worried anymore to know this; not disappointed anymore. I will laugh with the life....

Education & Schooling

2009-01-02T14:33:00.004+05:30

Chanced upon an interesting article on a long and heavily debated issue: schooling and education. Putting the excerpt below with the link to full article

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By Deepti Priya Mehrotra

You could put your children in a school that hammers them into assembly-line products. Or you could choose an education that nurtures your children into creative, sensitive individuals. First of a two-part report from the leading alternative schools and their underlying philosophy

1965. All of four years old, I'm bursting with excitement as I wear my new uniform-red checked skirt, starched white blouse, striped tie. I've been longing for this day, green with envy as I see my sister go to the 'bada ( big ) school' every morning. Already I have tasted school-an experimental 'model school' in which I've played on swings and slides, built blocks, crayoned and painted to my heart's content. I imagine 'bada school' to be a bigger, brighter version of this.

The day, however, turns out to be probably the worst one of my life. I have to sit at a desk, one of a row of small uniformed human beings. Uneasy, required to be quiet. I feel faceless, nameless. The teacher looks at us with lethargy and disinterest. I am chilled by the cold, unfriendly atmosphere.

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Link to complete article: http://www.lifepositive.com/mind/education/alternative-education/education.asp

Fishing

2008-12-14T23:47:00.007+05:30

After many days, I again lay my hands on that "something" which I religiously avoid to be in contact with - newspaper. Especially, Indian newspaper !! you ask, why? Ofcourse, I would imagine so but do take a look at the main page of our typical indian newspaper (which day?? does not matter, really !!!). The top news stories go like this:

* XXX killed as bus falls off the bridge....

* Mumbai bundh called again on .....

* Navy captures pirates

* I am going for Jihad, he told mom

* Centre seeks states' views on adultery law change

I look at it again from the eyes of the watchman who stands at the gates of my apartment society. He is serving for a 12 hour duty, each night - somehow strains himself to keep awake, fight the night hours away, only to be able to earn a meagerly 5000 Rs per month (~100 USD per month). I look at the news again from his eyes - nothing makes sense. Why are buses falling off? Who are these pirates? What is this adultery law change?

Not one of these issues has any connection with the economics or welfare of a common person. Not one has any connection with the production of goods or services. Why are we so obsessed with politics and melodramatic events? Why is everyone hell bent on giving us the dose of melodramatic soap operas (thanks to Ekta Kapur) and a finer version of the same in the news paper stories? The answer perhaps lies with us all. Why do I seem more interested in idle gossip rather than any real action? Engaging in talks of politics or peripheral issues seems to attract all my energies. I am very enthusiastic whenever anyone in my group talks about Indo-Pak issues. but I am at total loss whenever there is something to be done on anything. Sadly but truly, our newspapers reflect our taste of life only. We, Indians, generally mistake talk for actions - and thats what our media publishers well realize. So here they bring -- a over dramatic representation of a murder story told in the terms of mother, son and a loving family. We are being served as per our palate.

As a nation, we do pay a huge price for the neglect of fundamental economic issues. We, by not having interest in the real issues and looking for sensationalism even in our newspapers - are the primary reason as why indian newspaper media seems to have grown a fetish with reports which spreads more sensation than knowledge, that requires more fishing for the reporters rather than research - fishing for trivia amongst the sea of travails.

Sad but true, I am getting shrouded by the darker thoughts and a deep trait of us - the fatalistic view "What is it to me? and anyhow what can one do alone?" ...... But No - somewhere inside I know that even one makes a difference. No newspapers for me please.

Timepass 2

2008-11-17T01:06:00.001+05:30

Torn between two directions ! Usual, isn't it? Such is the mental / emotional self - always pulling weaving and unweaving multiple threads at the same time. Mind is restless O'Krsna !

So what is the current dichotomy that is creating ripples in the deeper ocean of my mind? It is surely related to the feeling of time in my life. I realize that I am stuck alternate between two kind of mindsets - one which says "There is lots of time in life ahead. I have known a lot and what next can I do ...that will really bring something new to me. and is anyhow any learning going to make any difference now. Haven't i known by now that by the time, we learn - we are ready to die. The life is basically a tale told by an idiot. It is primarily a time pass and time pass only - rest all is a facade" and second which says "The life is too short and time is running away. I have lost so much of time already in sheer ignorance and procrastination - let it be no more. I cannot even afford to sleep. There is so much to know; to learn that one life time is short. I need people; more and more so that the work can be divided, after all how much one alone could be able to do. There is a strong need to empower ourselves and rest ye not till the truth is known".

I realize that I am operating in my day 2 day life keeping both the reasonings alive. How to gain true perspective on "time"? After all, what of these 2 is the truth? Which path will lead to the light and which one is leading me to darkness?

I had posed a similar question to someone, years ago. Visiting a beautiful place in Himalayas, he sensed that my mind was indecisive. I wanted to go back home as I felt perhaps homesick - and I wanted to stay back for few more days because the place was too good to be true. His golden words still jingle in my ears although I understood not even an iota of what he said at that time. His words would come alive to me much later. He asked me as what you understand by "Sadhana"? and then answered himself - "Sadhana is not something meant for only ascetics and priests. One is always in the state of Sadhana either awares or unawares. Life is always putting you at the cross roads and splitting your own self into multiple directions. You are being pulled from multiple sides and you are required to stand still in all such situations. Stand still and meditate. Only then the truth will emerge...."

I am standing still ... while the world moves round and round in circles.

Timepass

2008-11-04T01:27:00.001+05:30

July 2008

The world isn't kept running because it's a paying proposition. (God doesn't make a cent on the deal.) The world goes on because a few men in every generation believe in it utterly, accept it unquestioningly; they underwrite it with their lives – Henry Miller.

Today I kept one day off – off from the world, one day away from any kind of work; I call it “the real upavaas” (wherein when people go on without food for one day) !!! and I find it too less. The world around is so rich – the people, things, music, literature – rich of treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people; we just need to develop an interest in it and forget about ourselves for some time. It is very interesting to see how we elevate the importance of “I/myself” in our daily life and how big an issue we make out of ourselves each day – wherein the truth is that we are only a spark in the whole scheme of universe which is continuing since milleniums. In the whole perspective, our lives are only a momentary flash which rises of the dust and dies down as soon as it gets there. But we live a million lives in this moment of spark – life of a son, a sister, a friend, a husband/wife .... and so on. Still in each life – we make “I/myself” of such a big importance – which runs in absurd proportions to its actual being. Why so?

Perhaps, words make it seem so simple whereas this never turns out to be so; because it was never planned to be so. The world is full of contradictions; even our scriptures seem full of contradictions, and as soon as we resolve one set of conflict, another starts taking birth. This is how Asuras are depicted in our mythology – kill one and hundreds of asuras take form out of nowhere. But Asuras are not evil – evil is our lack of wisdom which recreates all these Asuras. A friend of mine said to me once – “No use of studying Gita when it is the same world outside. It adds to your hypocrisy. It is not practical as in the real world you need to make money and so need double standards...I will revert to it when I retire”. Interesting??? J What do you think here? At that point of time – I had no clear answer to him. But today I can tell him that this contradiction exists only in mind. Gita or any other such knowledge is not expected to create any outer difference in you – simply because then it again starts weaving a web of inflated ego. A yogi is the onle who is outwardly the same as any other person, but inwardly, he is full of flames, always reflecting upon himsef and always in yoga. You can carry out the same activities but there will be a difference which will be known only to you. Our main problem here is that this explanation does not give us an opportunity to be praised and so I find that people whom I tell this are no more interested J What is the use if no one comes and tells us that you are great !!! J So this is our actual state of mind wherein all is done with a dominant thought at the back of mind – appreciation, praise, fame, name !!! and thats how we burden ourselves all the times with so many unnecessary things while the real life passes by.

I remember one story in Buddha’s life which was just days before his “enlightenment”. He had spent 6 years of hard penance; giving such high torture to his body that it had reduced to the very bones. Then he sits down under a tree in a village and there comes a simple village girl – with a young baby in her arms – to offer food at the feet of the saint.Buddha sees such a happy glint in her eyes; full of love and joy, as if they had never been sad. Buddha asks her “Are you happy?” The girl replies “yes, and more so because you have accepted my offerings”. Buddha further asks here “Don’t you desire anything more in life, than you already have now?”. She smiles and shakes her head “I have a husband who loves me and a son we desired much for. I am therefore content and happy with my fate”. It amazed Buddha that such simple and profound truth should be conveyed to him by this unlettered woman of the village. Such is life – we are tormenting ourselves with such struggle to achieve something, to show something to others and we miss the joy in the simple and small things of life.

But yet again I say – it is not so simple. Because everything has to be experienced once before it has to be transcended. The challenge lies in not getting tied to a particular thought/life. Buddha would not have realized so much from this simple sentence, had he not gone though all the previous hardships. The reason why he progressed while others with him did not, was because he kept rejecting every truth that he formed at every stage. Truth keeps changing at all levels of consciousness and to be able to leap higher, it is important to admit that the previous truth is no more a truth now. One has to be humble enough to admit it. So to be able to appreciate the truth of Gita, it has to be a journey of self-experience, wherein truth will change numerous times, wherein self will be redefined all the times – but we will have to keep a faith in life and remember that “the world isn't kept running because it's a paying proposition. (God doesn't make a cent on the deal.) The world goes on because a few men in every generation believe in it utterly, accept it unquestioningly; they underwrite it with their lives”.