Shwetal's Space

Blast from the past

2011-05-12T13:32:00.000+05:30

Drifting away into never never land right after lunch while Geography ma'am would drone about crops grown in various continents. Snatching a bite from your classmates lunch box, especially when seated at the famed back benches. Passing chits around the classroom. Memories of many more such school time mischiefs bring a smile on our faces. However, what really made me smile today was the memory of a poem we learnt at school. Little did I think that remembering something I studied at school would give me such pleasure... Here is what brought the smile...

“Nav Kiran ka Raath saja hai
Kali kusum se path saja hai
Badalon se aanucharon ne,swarn ki poosak dhari
Aa rahi Ravi ki sawari

Vihag bandi aur charan
Ga rahe kirti gayan
Chood kar maidan bhagi, Tarkoon ki fauj saari
Aa rahi Ravi ki sawari

Chahata uchloon vijay kah
Par thithakta dekh kar yeh
Raat ka raja khada hai, rah par ban kar bhikhari
Aa rahi Ravi ki sawari”

What a wonderful poem by Sri Harivansh Rai Bachchan ji. I've always been inspired by his writing- extremely empowering, profoundly deep thoughts, fantastic language, brilliant meter and rhythm. :)

While I relive in the memories of this poem and many more... you feast your literary senses :)

Tera Main...

2011-05-06T17:48:00.001+05:30

Bangalore in the month of May, over a decade ago. A cobbled winding pathway guarded by lush green trees in full bloom. The silver of the moonlight meandering and finding it's way through the thick canopy. A cool breeze bringing with it the smell of damp soil. About 50 people dressed in crisp whites standing on either side of the pathway holding candles. A sense of anticipation, peace, excitement and joy in the air. A smile on every face and a song on each lip. Even as my eyes feasted on this sight (something that even personalized private paid holidays cant always create) I saw a petite figure in flowing white robes glide along the path, we were standing. There was a smile for everyone, a pat, some flowers and love that was freely oozing for all to soak into. The whole event lasted no more than 2 minutes, but left a lasting and deep impression in my heart.

The silence of the night was quickly broken as the group jolted to follow the man in white flowing robes, with a twinkle in his eyes and smile on his lips... I was in all senses an outsider (it was my first time at that place and with these people in white) but something inside me propelled me to join the group into the hall. It was the first time that I had stumbled across the phenomenon known as Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and little did I know that I was soon to be swept off my feet straight into a whirlwind of knowledge, love and life.

Read the rest of my post on The South Reports. Await your comments and views :)

Played out Live

2011-05-03T00:06:00.002+05:30

(This is my first attempt at short story writing... wrote this a while ago but posted it only now. Would love to hear from you about this attempt)

She was wailing outside; she and the rest of the women in the neighborhood. He heard the cameras flash- the 3rd time in 3 months. He was sick of it. He had participated in the drama playing out on Television sets twice before- hoping that someone would hear. He had enough of this. He would not go out. He wasn’t the only one, those news hounds would find many like him in the neighborhood. Yet they kept coming back to him- he was the only English speaking person in the village. They needed him.

The wounds were still fresh. Tears would well up naturally. But his grief was his own. He wouldn’t let this become entertainment for others. It was about 5 years ago, yet he remembered it like it was yesterday. He was 15 yr old - his father had taken another wife- his step mother, young and beautiful- less than half his father’s age. Not that the old man was a lecher, but he needed the money- dowry was the only way he could make up for all that he had drowned in illicit liquor desi daru. Habit could be a life taker he realized, when his father couldn’t stay away from alcohol in spite of the young and beautiful wife. Only last month, his father had gone out to have his evening drink- the draught notwithstanding, their little savings were lavishly given away at the local wine shop. He never came back. The next morning, the health officials found out that the liquor was contaminated. 40 men (over half the earning population of the village) had succumbed. Ever since, the media onslaught had only increased.

It had been a month. He had moved on. It wasn’t only about his father’s death. This year, mother earth had been cruel. No rains, no water, only dry barren and parched land; tilled land that couldn’t be sowed. He knocked on every door possible to get some help- some water. If this crop failed, he was doomed. The family was doomed. If they couldn’t repay the landlord, life as they knew it would crumble. He only wished that they women in the neighborhood used their endless tears to water the fields instead of entertain the camera. But he knew better.

He beat his hands against the faded blue wall of the only bedroom in their home. Then, almost as a revelation, he knew what he needed to do to stop the impending disaster. He knew this plan wouldn’t fail. The media would get their meat. His family would get the money. His sister could get married and not be ravaged. All would be right. With a smile, almost of relief, he opened the door and walked past the media and the chest beating women. He walked into the empty granary. 2 hours later when he didn’t walk out, the women went to check on him and found him lying on the floor, convulsed in pain. He knew he didn’t have time. Consuming the pesticide was fatal. He knew that the consequence of this last action would bring relief and solace to his family- he smiled and whispered in a raspy voice “farmer suicide…. Draught…. government… Compen…ssaaaaa….tion.” Then, with a gasp that betrayed the trauma and distress he had been through he lay peacefully in deaths powerful grasp.

Love n Life

2010-12-13T15:26:00.000+05:30

Even if love knew bounds
I'd live unconstrained
Even if the wind knew direction
I'd live unconditional
Even if the sun knew limitation
I'd live to the fullest
And even if God exercised distrection
I'd love you beyond imgination...

Let there be light!!!

2010-11-06T22:57:00.004+05:30

A special Diwali message from His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji: -

Hearty Diwali greetings to all of you. Diwali is the festival of light. Light signifies wisdom. We need to globalize wisdom today. People of various cultures, religions and nationalities will have to come together and realize we are a part of one human family. Let us on this auspicious occasion of Diwali resolve to spread peace, to unite people in love and celebration and to bring prosperity in society. This is the occasion to let go of all past bickerings and misunderstandings and once again come together in a spirit of celebration.

All the best to everyone of you.

Nothing of Nothing

2010-10-29T14:59:00.000+05:30

A change has come upon me
a peace and quiet descended
No troubled waters, no hurricane
a joy with enthusiasm blended.

I can’t quiet say what’s happening
what’s happened or what will
A blissful peace has found its place
in creations mundane drill

Every curve, every contour, every breath
is so perfect
The silence has found its way
to the deepest depth

Nothing seems important now
nothing needs less respect
A nothing seems to have filled me
till nothing of nothing is left...

Me

2010-10-27T18:33:00.001+05:30

The strength of a woman with the grace she deserves
The levelheadedness of a man with the ambition he aspires

The innocence of childhood with the laughter of that image
The flamboyance of youth with the respect of age

The pictures that you see beholds me in its frame
A vibrant character in life's massive game...

How to succeed in business: Meditate

2010-10-22T13:25:00.001+05:30

Stumbled upon this fantastic piece in the Fortune Magazine... its old, but worth a read...

With hellish hours and info overload now the norm, the C-Suite set is turning to extreme meditation to cope, says Fortune's Oliver Ryan.

By Oliver Ryan, Fortune writer-reporter

July 20 2007: 9:05 AM EDT (Fortune Magazine) –

The crowd of Harvard Business School alums who gathered at their reunion to hear networking expert Keith Ferrazzi speak earlier this summer might have expected to pick up strategies on how to work a room, remember people's names, or identify mentors. But tactical skills, it turns out, aren't what turned Ferrazzi into a bestselling author or sought-after speaker.

Instead Ferrazzi let his fellow alums in on a little secret. The key to connecting, he told the group, is "not being an a**hole." And the most effective path he's found? Meditation. Exercise and prayer work too, he said, but meditation has been so effective that he now spends ten days every year at a silent meditation retreat. In other words, the man whose latest book is "Never Eat Alone" credits much of his success to alone time.

Meditation has been around for thousands of years, but not so long ago extended retreats or programs that banned speech were reserved for aging rock stars or college students on the ten-year plan. And while the practice isn't exactly mainstream in corporate America, more and more executives are open to anything that might help them thrive in - or temporarily disconnect from - today's BlackBerry-addled ADD business climate.

Meditation devotees include junk-bond-king-turned-philanthropist Mike Milken; Bill George, the former Medtronic (Charts, Fortune 500) CEO; ad industry mogul Renetta McCann; and NBA coach Phil Jackson. Silicon Valley is full of meditators, such as Marc Benioff, the CEO of Salesforce.com (Charts), and Larry Brilliant, head of Google's philanthropic efforts. Naturally, a crew of Google (Charts, Fortune 500) employees has organized twice-weekly open meditation hours, at which it has hosted Tibetan monks and a team of mind-science researchers.

C-Suite strategies

Particularly hard-core is Bob Shapiro, the former CEO of Monsanto (Charts, Fortune 500), who has done three ten-day silent retreats and is considering a 30-day tour. He must certainly be the first person to serve simultaneously on the boards of the New York Stock Exchange and the Center for the Contemplative Mind in Society.

Shapiro says that meditation has improved his ability to listen and to think creatively - and there's an increasing amount of scientific evidence to back that up. Dr. Richard Davidson of the University of Wisconsin at Madison has, among other experiments, used cranial electrodes and MRI scans to study Tibetan monks on loan from the Dalai Lama. His basic finding: The brain functioning of serious meditators is "profoundly different" from that of nonmeditators - in ways that suggest an elevated capacity to concentrate and to manage emotions. He calls meditation a "kind of mental training."

The retreat, however, is only the start. Back home, students are advised to meditate twice a day. Shapiro admits he struggles to find the time, but he also notes an old saying: "If you can't spend half an hour meditating, you need an hour."

Piecing the Jigsaw

2010-10-20T12:34:00.000+05:30

The prospect of living my individuality has always excited me. Painting my life with vivid streaks of my unique personality has been my most cherished dream. As a schoolgirl, I was perennially in awe of the strong, the bold, the fabulous, the rebel and the recluse. At 18, the threshold of a new life, I essentially wanted to be, a bit of all of these. A fabulous girl, rebel at heart, strong in the mind, bold in action and a recluse to the core. After my class 12 board exam and an unsuccessful attempt at making it into the country’s premier law institute, I thought that the dream to live my life-my way, was all but shattered. To cut a long story short, I realized like everyone does, that every cloud has a silver lining. To my amazement, the unfortunate events of the past had actually opened the door to a new life for me. The depressions of the recent past forgotten, I marched forward, to begin life in a hostel, in a different city far away from home!

The train chugged in on the platform bringing me to my destination- Pune. It’s just a 22 hour journey from Bangalore, not much actually. Yet, with this journey, life as I knew it- changed- now and forever! My new life at the ILS Law College breathed of my individuality, within the framework of the Paying Guest rules. From figuring out breakfast to what to wear- each day was topped with decisions I had to make. Mind you! I came from a school, where uniforms complete with the name badges were the norm even in class 11 and 12. If that wasn’t enough, I had a lovingly overprotective family which made most decisions in my best interests.

Soon enough though, everything was under my control- including the weekly call made back home. I was running my own life, on the modest monthly allowance given by my father. But I swelled in pride when I was budgeting and shopping. The weekly toilet cleaning, the hanging and picking of washed and dried clothes was stuff that I didn’t particularly enjoy doing. The rest, I did smiling and happy with many a song on my lips. Hostel life with its myriad experiences was enthralling to say the least.

It was one such rather busy day. We had Morning College so that gave me most afternoons free to research for various college activities or just enjoy an idyllic evening. That July afternoon, I didn’t feel like anything particularly. So, I decided to give the library and reading room a skip. I headed straight to my room. Dark clouds loomed large and thunder threatened to replace itself with huge water droplets. Hopping into one of those 6 seater autorickshwas, that Pune boasts of in plenty, I scurried back. It was a short walk from the auto stand to my room. Plenty of small eateries also known as the tapries, dotted the walk and of course, many grandpa gulmohar trees provided shade. The rain gods were exceptionally pleased that day. Knowing my love for them, descended in all their might and left me drench to the bone.

I scampered into my room and quickly changed into fresh clothes. I later opened my room door to view the small veranda and tall canopy of trees beyond. I’ve always loved the rains and the earthy smell of fresh, wet mud. This time, however, as I sat at the doorstep of my PG accommodation and gazed out, memories of home came flooding into my heart.

My brother and I would return from school drenched in the rains and splashed with slush, in spite of our raincoats. Mummy would frown disapprovingly but hand us fresh towels, nonetheless. Once we’d changed, a warm cup of milk and some pakodas or fried nuts would greet us. Anyone who has lived in Bangalore knows that when it rains in Bangalore it pours. The joy of a hot cuppa in the cool monsoon breeze with a few stray droplets dashing against your skin… aahhh Heaven!!! Here I was in Pune looking at the raindrops slid down the leaves of the jasmine and seep into the earth. Mummy wasn’t around to hand me hot milk, nor was brother around for us to jump in puddles. In that instant, I don’t think there was anyone lonelier than me. My heart ached for the familiar sights and smells of home. Just the thought of making me a cup of steaming hot soup seemed demanding. I felt a warm fluid run down my face… I was glad it was raining so no one knew if the trickle was tears or rain drops.

Later that evening, I called home- it was time for that weekly call anyway. I had overcome the emotion of that afternoon and life seemed to have reverted to normal gear once again. I said ‘hello’ like I always did- the first question I heard my mother ask me was if I was ok. She said I didn’t sound alright. At that moment, the shoddy job that I had done, of putting my heart together, came apart. I didn’t say much, but I heard. I heard a lot of things that went unsaid. I heard my heart say all those little things that had been locked away.

In my first monsoon in Pune, I realized that there was more to me behind the façade of running my own life and feeling proud about it. The strength I boasted of was not even skin deep and the individuality I craved for meant absolutely nothing. I was little more than a girl who wanted the warmth of home and her people. A child who wanted to be pampered and be part of the limelight. A grownup who still sought solace in sharing the small stories of the day. An adult who was scared of letting the torrents of time pave a new destiny. I learnt my first lessons of adult life; no matter how grown up I’ll be, there’s always a little child inside who seeks love and no matter where I look for it, there is no place like home and no support like family. No matter how harsh the trial or how deep the test, all I needed to do, is dip into that pool of unconditional love and strength that existed just for me.

That afternoon rain opened to me a new window of understanding life and the relationships we build. Here I was, young and energetic, looking forward to a new life and forging new relationships. While I did just that, what I also did was leave behind many of the old ones. With every relationship I put behind me, I lost a bit of myself on the way. Every new relationship built, showed me a newer, brighter tomorrow and a part of me, I had never known. Yet, when someday, like this rainy afternoon, I needed to piece the jigsaw together; I needed not just the new pieces, but the old ones as well.

We are what we eat

2010-09-16T16:29:00.002+05:30

It’s a story that has always fascinated me. A story in the Upanishad’s (ancient spiritual texts) which talks about a young boy asking his Guru (Spiritual Master) ‘What is brahaman?’ to which the Guru responds saying, ‘Anna Brahama’. Undoubting, the little boy goes and meditates upon this answer given by the Guru. The story goes on to say that, 4 more such one line answers later, the boy finally achieves enlightenment. The spirituality of the whole story besides, just that food can be equated with God or Godliness was something that amazed me. So, I decided to explore and experiment.

Being the foodie that I am, I loved this experiment. I ate different kinds of food on different days and saw what it did to my mind and body. Ate spicy stuff and saw my mood swing, ate stale food and saw my mind plummet, ate raw vegetables and saw energy spurts. After a couple of months of experimenting, I started observing others and seeing what food did to them. The results were startlingly similar to what I had experienced when performing the experiment on myself.

Read the rest of my post at www.n-zine.com/2010/09/we-are-what-we-eat.html

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans...

2010-09-06T11:06:00.000+05:30

I recieved this in an email forward... This one truly deserves a read... Hope this lifestyle/attitude culture moves forward - even if slowly.Don't know who the author is, but as long as the message gets conveyed, it doesn't matter......

It's been 18 years since I joined Volvo, a Swedish company. Working for them has proven to be an interesting experience. Any project here takes 2 years to be finalized, even if the idea is simple and brilliant. It's a rule.

Globalized processes have caused in us (all over the world) a general sense of searching for immediate results.. Therefore, we have come to possess a need to see immediate results. This contrasts greatly with the slow movements of the Swedish. They, on the other hand, debate, debate, debate, hold x quantity of meetings and work with a slowdown scheme. At the end, this always yields better results.

1. Sweden has 2 million inhabitants.

2. Stockholm has 500,000 people.

3. Volvo, Escania, Ericsson, Electrolux, are some of its renowned companies. Volvo even supplies NASA.

The first time I was in Sweden , one of my colleagues picked me up at the hotel every morning. It was September, bit cold and snowy. We would arrive early at the company and he would park far away from the entrance (2000 employees drive their car to work).

The first day, I didn't say anything, neither the second or third days. One morning I asked him, "Do you have a fixed parking space? I've noticed we park far from the entrance even when there are no other cars in the lot."

To which he replied, "Since we're here early we'll have time to walk, don't you think that whoever gets in late will need a place closer to the door?" Imagine my face.

Now-a-days, there's a movement in the world named Slow Food. This movement establishes that people should eat and drink slowly, with enough time to taste their food, spend time with the family, friends, without rushing. Slow Food is against its counterpart, Fast Food and what it stands for as a lifestyle. Slow Food is the basis for a bigger movement called Slow Down.

Basically, the movement questions the sense of "hurry" and "craziness" generated by globalization, fuelled by the desire of "having in quantity" (life status) versus "having with quality", "life quality" or the "quality of being".

French people, even though they work 35 hours per week, are more productive than Americans or British. Germans have established 28.8 hour workweeks and have seen their productivity driven up by 20%..

This slow attitude has come to the notice of USA , the pupils of the fast and "do it now" brigade.

This no-rush attitude doesn't represent doing less or having a lower productivity. It means working and doing things with greater quality, productivity, perfection, with attention to detail and less stress. It means re-establishing family values, friends, free and leisure time. Taking the "now", present and concrete, versus the "global", undefined and anonymous. It means taking humans' essential values, the simplicity of living. It stands for a less coercive work environment, more happy, lighter and more productive work place where humans enjoy doing what they know best how to do.

It's time to stop and think on how companies need to develop serious quality with no-rush that will increase productivity and the quality of products and services, without losing the essence.

In the movie, 'Scent of a Woman', there's a scene where Al Pacino asks a girl to dance and she replies, "I can't, my boyfriend will be here any minute now."

To which Al Pacino responds, "A life is lived in an instant."

Then they dance the tango!

Many of us live our lives running behind time, but we only reach it when we die of a heart attack or in a car accident rushing to be on time. Others are so anxious to live for the future that they forget to live the present, which is the only time that truly exists.

We all have equal time throughout the world. No one has more or less. The difference lies in how each one of us does with our time. We need to live each moment. As John Lennon said, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

Janamashtami- a new perspective

2010-09-02T16:41:00.009+05:30

That time of the year when Nand Ghar Anand Bhayo rings loud and clear. When butter and milk and kheer are wolfed down without guilt... Yesterday and today have been days and nights of celebration. Lots of singing and dancing to celebrate the birthday of one of the most colourful Hindu God- Krishna. While we wish Lord Krishna- A very happy birthday, its also good to know what the celebrations really mean... There is much more to the Janmashtami celebrations than just fasting, dancing, singing, feasting, listening to the Bhagwat (stories of Krishna) and meditating. This piece by Gurudev Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji gives a new perspective to the celebrations. Read on...

Janamashtami celebrates the birth of Lord Krishna. Ashtami is significant as it indicates a perfect balance between the seen and the unseen aspects of reality; the visible material world and the invisible spiritual realm.

Krishna’s birth on Ashtami signifies his mastery of both the spiritual and material worlds. He is a great teacher and a spiritual inspiration as well as the consummate politician. On one hand, he is Yogeshwara (the Lord of Yogas — the state to which every yogi aspires) while on the other, he is a thief.

The unique quality of Krishna is that he is at once more pious than the saints and yet a thorough mischief-monger! His behavior is a perfect balance of the extremes — perhaps this is why the personality of Krishna is so difficult to fathom. The avdhoot is oblivious to the world outside and a materialistic person, a politician or a king is oblivious to the spiritual world. But Krishna is both Dwarkadheesh and Yogeshwar.

Krishna’s teachings are most relevant to our times in the sense that they neither let you get lost in material pursuits nor make you completely withdrawn. They rekindle your life, from being a burnt-out and stressed personality to a more centred and dynamic one. Krishna teaches us devotion with skill. To celebrate Gokulashtami is to imbibe extremely opposite yet compatible qualities and manifest them in your own life.

Hence the most authentic way of celebrating Janamashtami is knowing that you have to play a dual role — of being a responsible human being on the planet and at the same time to realize that you are above all events, the untouched Brahman. Imbibing a bit of avadhoot and a bit of activism in your life is the real significance of celebrating Janamashtami.

Here's one among my many, many favorite Krishna bhajans. Click and Enjoy!

Nand Ghar Anand Bhayo Jai Kanhiya Lal Ki! Haathi Ghoda Palakhi... Jai ho Nand Lal ki!

Nature in my backyard...

2010-08-31T16:19:00.001+05:30

Laughter had tinkled across our classroom when in class 6 when we were taught about JC Bose and his experiments with plants. I laughed too yet, from that very evening I stealthily crept into the balcony and sang to my rose bush every day. Voila! It grew better than all the other plants in my sunny little balcony. This was amongst my best kept secrets until of course my brother caught me singing a lullaby and ridiculed me for being such a baby. It’s a vivid image- that healthy plant which I believed swayed to my cacophony. Sensing my interest in gardening, my mother and I slowly began our small kitchen garden- beans, mint, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots- you name it, we grew them. I noticed again, that if we spoke to our dear plants they grew better- healthier, yielded better produce. Not to discount the absolute necessity of good soil and great manure.

Today, many years later, I have my own small kitchen garden and am proud to say that I use no fertilizer. Just lots of good soil, plenty of sunshine, water and tons of love and great vibes- I have a rich harvest of curry leaves, mint leaves, tomatoes and many more in the pipeline… It’s a small step, but I believe it makes a difference. No fertilizers, means that the soil doesn’t get rancid and barren. It also means that I can replant and still yield a good produce (even if in a small pot). Plants in my balcony mean I am green. I am ecofriendly and in sync with the times. It’s a fashion statement in its own right and surely works to beautify my home’s interiors. Herbs that I grow mean I can garnish my cooking with well, garden fresh herbs! It also means that in case of a cold or a sore throat, I can pluck a few leaves of tulsi or holy basil, brew it in steaming water and ward away the illness. Plants in my home mean a dash of music every day, a smattering of love and lungs full of fresh air. It also means a smile on my face as I tend to nature- flourishing right in my backyard.

India's Diadem

2010-08-15T18:38:00.001+05:30

She is exuberant to her youth, a companion to those with many a silver hair, a task mistress to the unrelenting, charming to the poet, inspiring to the artist and a goddess to the believer. She is every color in the rainbow. She is extraordinary in her ability to be a shade of everything and everyone that she houses. She is India: incredible and glorious in every aspect. She is a country of love and acceptance. She is a nation of diversity. She is a country of abundance. In that India, we live.

India! Everything from population to languages, from cuisine to costumes - is in plenty here. A country that is home to so much variety and color cannot but be a melting pot of cultures, traditions and humanity. With such vivaciousness about her, it is no mean task to identify the tiara but I believe I’ve found the biggest and brightest shining diamond - the diadem of Incredible India.

Click here to read the rest of the article...

A quest...

2010-08-14T00:52:00.000+05:30

It’s a desire… may be a little more than that, may be a little lesser. But it’s a desire all the same. To be loved. To be sought after. To be craved for. To be the mistress. To be the slave. To be the best. To be looked up to.

A desire yes! On the face of it.

And to fulfill that desire… there are the wants… a diamond ring to outshine the rest. A curvy look to be the temptress. A table over loaded with the much sought after feast not to forget the huge pile of gifts. Wanting to please others. Wanting to be wanted. Wanting to be cared for…

Wait! Is that confusing!!! That I said was a desire… a desire to be cared for. A desire to be wanted… and also a want to be craved for… a want… a desire… a desire… a want… want... Desire. Desire Want. Want. Desire. Desire. Want…

But look beyond… actually look through it… pierce the want, look at desire. Bare its soul to you and you’ll see the truth… no desire. No want. No complimenting. No fulfilling.

Just a quest. A thirst. To feed your soul on love in its various glorious forms…

You don’t desire. You don’t want. You simply seek fulfillment and that; you look for outside of you… instead of where it really lies... buried deep within the depth of your own eyes. Like water droplets that seep into the ground and you can never separate them again… so also, our thirst for unconditional love, for bliss is part of our deepest longing… the only true desire or want that we’ve ever had is that of love- unconditional, free of all entanglements.

Abundance...

2010-08-04T17:27:00.000+05:30

Over the last few days, the most predominant thought or rather feeling has been of plentitude. Life has a strange way of giving soooo much... plenty of everything. So much work; so much spare time; so much activity; so much rest; so much of longing; so much of dispassion; so much of everything; so much of nothing...

In fact as I realized, even the feeling of neglect and lack is in plenty. Most people really feel the lack or dearth in life. And that feeling is so strong and so deep; it doesn’t come superficially- it comes like a gushing wave and sweeps over us. That’s life, giving its fullest to us always. All that matters is what use we put it to.

With a power so profound working all the time, it is a little wonder that we haven’t mastered the art of making it work for us. If we look at it rather closely, life only gives us what we are thinking/ wishing/ dreaming deep down. So, for instance, if you are wishing that the cup doesn’t break, your deepest sentiment is fear of the cup breaking… So, life does just that, goes ahead and smashes the cup!

For those of you who have read The Secret, you know that this is true. I am not just quoting from the book. I have been lucky in many aspects of life. One of them being that I received this profound knowledge very early in life when Gurudev His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji spoke about Intention, Attention, Manifestation. Being the brat that I was, I never really implemented it. But then, like many other important things, this one also got tucked away, safely in a corner of my over active brain.

Some years ago, suddenly people were talking about movies and books that drew inspiration from ancient knowledge. Indian Spirituality they called it. What that means I’ve never understood, given that spirituality can’t be divided least of all geographically. That besides, with all the talk of spirituality and dreams, secrets and matrixes going on, that’s when unbidden, this knowledge raised its hood and ruffled its feathers inside me. Like a fad that comes and gets a grip of everyone, I brought this knowledge into my practical life and reaped a rather rich harvest. Not only was I growing materially, but something inside me seemed calmer, happier and content. But a fad is just that, as impactful and rushed is its entry, so is its exit. With the talk dying down and me getting all that I had wanted anyway… the knowledge was put to sleep again, down in the depth of my mind.

Then, recently came Inception, and with it, once again Intention, Attention and Manifestation came to the forefront. Thankfully, this time it isn’t only about fulfilling some desires and growth etc. This time, when the wisdom resurfaced for me, it opened new doors of understanding. An understanding that might help me tap into the infinite power of the universe. A step towards the realization that the seed contains in itself the tree, the fruit, the leaves, the branches, the buds and the flowers. The awareness about my thoughts manifesting as a reality in my life…

The result of that awareness has been a spontaneous recognition of the abundance in life, in nature, within me and every single thing and person that comprises my existence. Abundance, plentitude… the lavishness of it all stare’s in my face and leaves me with a million dollar smile…

Beyond the darkest dot...

2010-08-03T12:27:00.000+05:30

I desired to make it happen

So, for long hours I thought

I worked and saw and analyzed

Beyond the darkest dot.

Then one day before spring came

I formed the sheltered plot

With the fresh new leaves and the spots of green

I actualized my deepest thought.

As the green grew deep and the swings did sweep

I built on all my want

When the first drops fell and the stream did swell

I drew the larger font.

Then came the fall, all harsh and small

In wilderness I did wander

The trees went barren, the wind howled like a distressed heron

The dry leaves took along with them, the thoughts that I did ponder.

In the testing cold and bitter times

No footprints did I see

Time went by lost and forlorn… I almost breathed my last

At that very breath, in the deepest frost, I saw the golden sea…

I basked in its beauty

A new life it gave, a new vision for me to see

And somewhere deep down in life

I felt innate tranquility.

As the sea grew deep and prettier indeed

I reflected on all that I squandered

I knew now what I forgot

I knew now that I was peace… I was what I always sought

And so I desired, and so I thought

And analyzed beyond the darkest dot

Coz now I knew what I forgot…

That spring would come after the frost.

Loving... Love itself!

2010-07-28T15:46:00.000+05:30

Was it the moon hiding amidst the clouds or was it just the whites of her eyes behind the veil of her thick lashes? Was that slight upward curve of the luscious lips, a sign that she craved for more? Was the flutter of her eyelids a manner of enticing me into the deep and long corridors of romance? As I gazed into the thicket of her tresses slightly ruffled by the wind and the careless flick of her fingers, I noticed the vivid pink shade on her nails saw the fine lines on her palm and was lured. Just how long I sat there, lost in what seemed paradise to me, I know not. After all I was mesmerized in praising something that nature had created with ever so much care, so much love and devotion… for in those moments, I loved love itself!

And when I was aroused from that slumber… lost in dreams of greater beauty, romance and love, neither was she there, nor was her sensuous scent. What she left behind was an overwhelming feeling of fullness, a heart that was bursting to bloom, and a smile that pervaded my very being.

The Light of Love

Until the candles burn along...

2010-07-26T11:38:00.003+05:30

The angels came together

They danced in utmost glee

The Mozarts of all the times

Composed seductive cacophony.

The candles in all their scent

Lit up, shone bright and warm

The flowers in all their dainty

Blossomed, beautiful and calm.

You weren’t there and yet you were

I’ve waited and I will wait still long

The words are there, the rhythm too

I’ll wait till we are the song.

I sat and watched, you weren’t there

Yet I’ve felt you in deep and strong

I’ll wait for you, however long

I’ll wait till you come along.

The music shan’t die, the candles can’t burn out

The flowers can never droop

No dance can stop, no moon can wane

Until I have the hope.

I shall wait, and wait, forever long

I shall wait till you come

Till the cacophony, the flowers and me

And candles can burn along.

PS. I wrote this one many years ago, stumbled upon it during the weekend house cleaning and decided to post it... :) It's amazing the stuff that can tumble out of your cupboard when you least expect it!

A Million Magical Moments

2010-07-14T15:50:00.000+05:30

What’s a pilgrimage but a million magical moments strung together on the path of belief, hope and prayer. I’ve just returned from experiencing infinite peace on one such journey. During the monsoon months, the lean phase of mountain top pilgrimages, over 15000 people trek up the Trikuta Hills. The peak season handles traffic of over 50,000 pilgrims a day. For some pilgrims, it’s a vacation in the Himalaya’s, for others, an adventure trip but, for most it is a walk of faith. Whatever the motivation, the pilgrimage to the Maa Vaishno Devi Shrine, situated atop the Trikuta Hills close to Jammu, is nothing short of magical.

The spiritual trek up the mountains is filled with loud jaikara’s* sounded by walking pilgrims, the clank of wooden lathis, trotting ponies, the stray palkhi, the occasional dholak and groups of young dancing pilgrims. At Katra, the base of the hills, one needs to buy the Yatra Parchi or Pilgrim’s passport, as I like to call it. This parchi basically insures you against any accident that might take place in the hilly terrain. The biggest insurance is the presence of Maa, herself, but something tangible is good too, so the parchi works well. Also, unless each pilgrim has the yatra parchi, they are not permitted to begin the pilgrimage.

The 17 odd kms journey begins at Banganga and ends at Bhairon Ghati. With 2 major stops on the way:- Aardhkuwari and The Bhawan. The Bhawan is the sanctum sanctorum of the Mother Divine. In this Holy Shrine, the Universal Mother has manifested herself in 3 rock formations, known as the pindis. The temple does not house any idol or pictures- only the Divine Mother manifested in the Pindis in all her glory. The journey along the steep winding road itself is beyond words. While nature stuns you with her bounty, the light of longing in the eyes of the pilgrims keeps you marching forward.

Refreshment is provided in plenty along the route and many a weary traveller take a nap under the sheds.

The entire path is well paved and tiled, making the walk easier. The pilgrimage to Maa Vaishno Devi’s abode does not require a great deal of money, other than getting to Jammu and back—a very good pair of shoes and some light woolens. What it does require, however, is an investment of time and energy and a desire to dip in the pool of faith.

Standing in the Bhawan, head bowed before the Divine Mother, is an experience inexpressible. Waves of devotion and love wash over us taking with it the weariness of the walk, the fatigue of life and the troubles of the mind.

On returning to base camp, any conversation about the pilgrimage is more about the journey than the destination. Journeys, filled with aches, blisters, sprains and exhaustion from walking. I’ve experienced it myself the test of endurance. But, this isn’t just another expedition, and so, even as pilgrims struggle to walk those steep miles, their smiles are virtually unshakable. Looking back, I staunchly feel that the journey to the shrine was among the best experiences of my life.

As I narrate my experience, all I can say, is that this trek is akin to scaling the mountain of self-doubt and ignorance. When you finally summit and enter the Bhawan, you will meet yourself. A new you- emerging from within the heart of rock, refreshed and strong, breathing of peace, joy and love.

I returned home wishing this pilgrimage never ended. That’s when I stumbled upon this quote by one of my favorite authors, Paulo Coelho, ‘Life itself is a pilgrimage. Every day is different; every day can have a magic moment.’

My pilgrimage has only just begun… yours?

* Jaikara- Words of praise to the All Mighty said loudly. At the Maa Vaishno Devi Shrine, among the more popular Jaikara's are:

Jaikara Sherawali Da. Bol Saache Darbar ki Jai

Jai Mata Di

Holy scriptures esp. the Sikh holy scriptures suggest that when you say your Jaikara, say it so the moutains shake and the skies crack wide open!

It’s a four letter word called F***

2010-07-12T20:02:00.000+05:30

It can wreak havoc in the most peaceful of lives. It can make the strongest of the strong, go weak in their knees. A word that can turn the world as you knew it- your world- upside down. An emotion that can wipe away all your fancy notions about your own self. Well, I am not talking about mushy stuff or love… I am talking about icy cold and absolute FEAR!

My fellow passengers on board the Indigo flight bound to Jammu clutched their seat arms, in fright. The cabin crew was staggering and the captain voiced an alert. The air pocket wasn’t going to be easy. I could feel fear in air. Yet, here I was squealing in delight. I was thrilled and was enjoying the adrenaline rush, much to the dismay of both my husband and my brother. I even poked fun at them about their twinge of fear. Little did I know that within 24 hours, the very emotion I had scoffed at would bring me to tears.

After trekking uphill a full 15 kms or more, various hidden muscles of my body decided to reveal their presence. I had another 2 km to trek and knew that my feet wouldn’t move an inch. That’s when my husband, brother and I came to a consensus that we could take the pony ride up to the Bhairon Nath Temple. We had seen many pilgrims take the ponies at Katra, the base of the Trikuta Hills. Though I wasn’t very comfortable with the idea, I decided to give it a shot. After all, I had done the major portion of the Maa Vaishno Devi Yatra on foot. All that was left was to visit the Baba BhaironNath shrine. It wouldn’t hurt that I took the pony.

After some bargaining, both the men jumped on their ponies and were seated in absolute comfort within moments. It gave me courage- the smiles on their faces and their confident demeanor. The ponies strutted and sometimes almost slipped, but the men didn’t seem too bothered. The horse trainer was of course running beside. Clumsily I saddled myself. Unexpectedly I realized how precariously poised I was. I chanted and sang the Jaikara’s that had been ringing in my ears during the night long walk up to Mata Ka Darbar or Bhawan as the Sanctum Sanctorum of the Maa Vaishno Devi Shrine is more popularly known. But the monster of fear that had raised its head in the depth of my heart, refused to dunk its head. But I am a strong girl. I knew I would make it. I HAD to make it. After all, I’ve always thought myself to be the rather brave and adventurous sorts.

The rather over grown pony turned and with that action, I felt myself getting more lop sided. I clutched on the small iron handle by the saddle. With a fervent prayer on my lips, I held on to dear life. It was a very cold morning, at 6500 ft above sea level, the cold was almost biting. On horseback, the icy fear that gripped the inside of my being, only made the morning chill worse. The walk way made for pilgrims on the Maa Vaishno Devi Yatra is just enough for 4 lines of people walking- two towards the shrine for the Darshan and another head back to base, after the Darshan. The ponies also squeeze their way through this path.

The rain Gods had showered their blessings just a few hours ago. With some pony poop and slush from pilgrim’s feet, the steep and wet walkway presented a dangerous picture to me. Just as this thought passed my mind, the pony almost slipped and then got back its balance. An incident that fed the monster within me with more fuel than necessary- FEAR gripped my very being. In those few meters that the pony trotted forward, I was more scared than I could imagine. I cried out to the horse trainer to get me off this beast. I didn’t mind if it took me an hour to trek up, but I would walk. Fellow pilgrims saw my plight but, in my situation, only the trainer could help. I cried out loudly. My husband was a good 100 meters ahead but he heard me. ‘Mujhe Uatro Yahan Se. Daar Lag Raha Hain!’ I yelled. (Get me off this. I am scared.) Before I knew, there were fat, warm tears streaming down my cheeks and the trainer helped me off the pony. Siddhartha got off his pony and came to me. He paid the trainers a bit and pacified me. After a while when I was OK, he jested about how unlike me this behavior was. He was disappointed at me developing cold feet on horseback when I was delighted in a rather dangerous air pocket.

But then, FEAR can make you do the strangest things. It can make you behave in ways most unlike you and most importantly, can raise its hood anytime- without any warning…

It doesn't hurt that meditation has become 'cool'

2010-07-08T16:04:00.001+05:30

It all began with an eyesore...the cubicled atmosphere of plush air-conditioned offices, the 'I am busy' look my colleagues wore whenever they looked up from their work stations, the back-to-back meetings and incessant IMs...

That's when I knew I needed a vacation; a vacation from the mobile phone, from Outlook, from IM, from work, from fun, from Facebook, Twitter, blogging -- from the noisy, task-laden vuvuzela that has become my life.

While I mulled over the perfect vacation destination, an e-mail caught my fancy -- a four-day meditation course promised me not just stress relief, but a deeper understanding of life and beyond. Bracing myself for the company of the silver-haired, I headed to the Art of Living International Centre in Bangalore to attend the meditation programme. What I saw there was bewildering and far removed from what I expected.

The rest of the post in my article on rediff.com here

Things we do to kill time as we chug along…

2010-07-06T16:36:00.000+05:30

The settings: - A cubical in one of the compartments of a train run by the Indian Railways. The blue seats in that passenger train headed to Bangalore. The fans are all on, yet people are sweating profusely. The 4 people at the window seats spend a lot of time opening and downing the shutters- both the evils giving no less respite than the other. In sometime, even the seats start radiating the heat. Through this, the continuous onslaught of snack vendors screaming to make a few rupees and the occasional song performances by the urchins. This is where I sat un-intrusively observing… And here is an account of what I saw:-

This is the story of 8 people who were forced to spend much more than their stipulated time together. This train isn’t the preferred choice of anyway travelling from Hyderabad to Bangalore. After all, it’s a passenger train. It is not my pick either. Anyway, here I was, bound Bangalore-wards, unable to contain the joy of going home… and the train is re-routed (I hear something about an accident on the normal line). Even before the first green signal, the TT tells us we will be about an hour or so late. That’s the start to our journey. (Even as I write this at noon the next day, we are still easily an hour and a half away from our destination) Here are my observations of what we all did to kill time while Home-Sweet-Home was oh! so far away…

Reading: The more intellectual of the lot, after passing the customary glances at everyone around and even managing to return a smile or two, opened the back pack (that almost all such intellectuals will cherish). Out came a not so fat, but well bound book and the reader was was then lost into the wealth of knowledge that the words offered. It is interesting what people read while travelling- the mid-level management from a techie workforce inevitably has some management related book- most probably a Harvard Business Review. I am impressed by the choice of the book my co-passenger is browsing- ‘Influencer- the power to change anything’. Given the intensity with which the book is being devoured, I have mentally made up my mind to attempt reading this one, sometime... may be! I walked through the other cubicles, the younger college goers have in hand a Jeffry Archer or a Sidney Sheldon (it’s amazing isn’t it, how these authors continue to rule hearts and minds of generations of youth) and then, there are some of the older aunties and uncles who have in hand the Lalita Sahastranamam or the Venkatesh Stotram. I simply love the gamut of thoughts that one can see and perceive all within one small cubicle.
Praying: Yes, praying! Come On! You should have seen that coming, given that the Lalita Sahastranamam and the Venkatesh Stotram’s are being dwelled upon, the rosary cannot be far behind. A Khan Uncle, complete with his topi was busy with the rosary. A little earlier, I had even seen someone do their pranayama and meditations. That is divine utilization of time! I ventured to talk to the person immersed in this higher pursuit of The Self and was surprised to hear what he had to say about the power of the breath. Something on the lines of “90 per cent of the toxins in the body can be released through the breath. We, however, utilize not more than 30 per cent of our lung capacity…”
Watching Movies: In complete oblivion of his surroundings, another of my co-passengers was watching a Tamil movie. It is funny sometimes when people use new technology, but don’t put it to good use. This guy was the perfect example for not utilizing technology… not only did he watch the movie, he ensured that all of us around him could hear it too… At any rate, I love all the gadgets that people travel with- the most acclaimed i-pod, the almost redundant Walkman’s, multi-functional mobile phones and yes, people like me, with laptops.
Sleeping: Guess this one should have topped the list. Some people can so sleep. Almost as soon as the train sets into motion until the end of the journey. They sit and sleep, they lie down and sleep. I think sometimes people sleep while they are awake- anyway, let us keep the philosophy aside. Sleeping can be such an elaborate activity in itself. The less talked about, the better- cause I firmly believe, that this is one act that you’ve just got to do. :)
Munching: It’s lovely, the aroma of freshly squeezed lemon on the bhel. It is great to taste as well. The thanda- thanda buttermilk and of course, the garam – garam cool drinks. Sometimes I think what makes street food so palatable is the fact that it’s a little unhygienic. (That is another issue all together,) but what I am talking about is an act that requires some skill- to be able to eat irrespective of your being hungry. One of my fellow passengers was a vendor’s delight. He’d buy almost everything that was sold on the train and wonders of wonders; he’d eat it up too… first the Dharmavaraam vadas followed by Chikus and then there were oranges and of course Ruffles Lays etc. etc…
Inquisitively Intrusive: The next species you’d come across is those who start by chatting up and then begin a friendly interrogation of your life. If you aren’t the chatty types, then you are going to hate this breed of people beside you. I was subject to the torture of one of those on one journey back home (but we’ll leave that story for later. I was just so glad that I could scoot without having to share my phone number and address.) Love them or hate them, you simply can’t ignore these conversation specialists. If you aren’t such a huge socializing person, then chances that you’ve found a great pal are as dim as finding a campfire in the Artic and you’ll just be glad that you are spared the gory details of knowing just about EVERYTHING in their life including what time they prefer to use the bathroom…
Playing: After listening to music, looking out of the window, eating, sleeping, wiping the sweat off your brow, finally out comes a pack of cards. Sometimes, I’ve seen a set of Brainvita. There is, of course, the much liked UNO set to play with, but the final winner is invariably the good ol’ pack of playing cards… given that the windows are down, it is really convenient to play! Hand out the cards, thrown them with disdain at the opponent’s lack of skill and expertise and even slap your thighs in celebration. The kids are busy with the rubix cube and the adults with teen pati ;)
The truly happy one: It is not me, though my fingers fly on the laptop… the only person in my cubicle I haven’t written about yet, is the one who is so truly happy and is in more ways than one spreading that joy. He has been bundled inside a small bed sheet and is dangling precariously from the upper berth. The motion of the train ensures that he is swinging along. From inside this makeshift cradle, I hear the happy giggles of a six month old. He is amazed by simply looking at his own feet and is in constant wonder at every jerk and stall of the train… After a few rounds of sleeping, crying, eating, laughing and gazing, the little one finds a new attraction- me and my laptop. He is enamored, can’t take his eyes off this gadget :) he decides to sit on my lap and start playing with the new toy… he has run amok with the playing cards and the books already. He now smiles as the new toy is within reach… he is truly, the happy one!

The train chugged along wearily and everyone was busy in the activities of their choice. I almost finished this piece and that’s when a change came over. As we reached Yalahanka, there was a sudden rise in the activity around me. People unlocking their baggage from under the seats, freshening up, the final dash of lipstick, the flick of the comb, the clothes being smoothed… but my mind had taken another flight, the smell of cool fresh air told me that I was home… and that people could do all they wanted on the train; their mode of expression might be as varied as the topography of this beautiful country we call homeland, but the feelings within as all the same- the same joy, the same relief, the same at the core of our being.

Where is the helping hand?

2010-06-29T14:38:00.000+05:30

As a country, we’ve long gone from being the golden bird. In the recent past, we’ve always been perceived as a country that is forging ahead; a country that will be a formidable super power. The world has been waiting and watching for that day to dawn. Over the years, much has transpired within India to set speculation rife about which way the country is headed. Yet, one thing that has been a constant source of pride for the country is its spirituality and innate humaneness. From ‘Atithi Devo Bahava’ to the Mahatma’s doctrine of non-violence to the revered Upanishads echoing the ancient sentiment about, loving thy neighbor, India has been seen as the forerunner in all things humane. I am a proud citizen of this country rich in many intangible treasures. Certain incidents in the recent past, have, however, distressed and upset me.

He was headed home. As a bachelor staying away from home, the home going (as the home coming at the destination) was always a momentous occasion. He had been planning a whole week before leaving- gifts for all the relatives, the sweets and snacks for home and of course, the huge pile of old clothes that are to get left behind (making space in the wardrobe for the yet to be bought, new arrivals). The nights before the departure hadn’t been among the best- no electricity, no water and add to that climate change. The upcoming home-going shone like a beacon of light in those dark, gloomy nights. Though glad about getting home, he wasn’t feeling too well when he headed for the Hyderabad airport early in the day. His flight was scheduled for 8:30 am and he felt strangely hungry and weak. As he stood in line to board the flight, the world went dark and blank in front of him. His knees gave away and sweat broke out on his forehead. He groped aimlessly for the nearest support but found none. Somebody held him and made him sit down. The line hadn’t yet started moving. He sat on the floor on the airport bang in the middle of the line and passed out.

A couple of minutes later, he seemed to rise from the stupor and could vaguely identify foot fall. A few more moments and he could make out people circumventing him and moving on… No one had come to offer him help, they simply moved on, like he was a mere stone that lay in their path. A little longer and the never ending line seemed to dwindle. That’s when he mustered the last of his energy and stood up. He staggered through the line to the aircraft and slumped on his seat. Within moments, he was asleep, a disturbingly dreamless sleep that gave him no rest.

A fortnight later when he returned to Hyderabad and to work, he shared this incident with a small bunch of us. I was appalled. No one came to help him? How could people ignore a person in need of help? Were we turning stone hearted? Just as this discussion came up, another friend in the group reminded me of a similar incident that happened with me. I was walking through the office cafeteria and slipped and fell. My first thought had been to save my laptop that I was carrying in my hand. The entire impact of the fall was therefore on my knee and elbow. An involuntary cry had passed my lips, but no one had offered to help. One or two snide people had even sniggered. I had thought of it as bad mojo and dismissed it.

The indignation surrounding that incident and many more such stories I had heard exploded within me when my colleague had described to us what he underwent. Where did that helping hand go? I had seen my parents rush to aid anyone in distress (more often than not, they were strangers); had heard stories of countrymen going out of the way to help another in need. Now I was left wondering if those were just things of the past and tall stories to tell. But then, it isn’t right to gauge everyone by the same meter so… I am left with just one thought, the country might just have its heart in place… whether the citizens do, is another story.

English ain’t the only funny language…

2010-06-24T16:25:00.000+05:30

Who hasn’t guffawed at the age old Tamilian-Punjabi joke- ‘Tamil Terima?’ to which the infuriated Punjabi replies, ‘Punjabi tera baap!’ But, come on, in a country with as many as 22 recognized languages, miscommunication is but inevitable! Add to that numerous dialects, about 847 of them recognized! Misunderstanding is also, but a natural consequence. Yet, what do we do, when a phrase that has multiple meanings in different languages is thrown at us and we are caught unawares??? Well, I was in one of those sticky and terribly embarrassing situations and all I could do was gape and stare…

About 3 years ago, a young journalist came from cosmopolitan Bangalore to slightly conservative Hyderabad. She wore well-fitting jeans, a short pink top, had her shades drawn up on her head and the wedding Chura jingling along. That was me! Anticipating that I would get a day or two settle down before the madness of news catches up with me, I settled down in the CNN-IBN Hyderabad bureau. As journalists, we have this natural instinct to look up at the right television screen at the exact time when an important piece of news breaks. (Those of you who have ever visited a TV media house will know that at the very minimum 6 TVs will be on at any point of time- spieling content from different news channels.)

So, within seconds I was on my toes, running helter-skelter for information and shots and of course, those all elusive bytes… After all, Taslima Nasreen had been beaten up by some Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (MIM) activists. With the ever resourceful Venkatesh (my camera person) I managed to get the first bits of information. A couple of phone-ins later, Venkatesh went to get some shots and Raju (another camera person) and I headed to the Police Commissioners Office. Back in Bangalore, the police commissioner’s office is spread over a sprawling couple of acres and boasts of heritage buildings. It was always a pleasure to visit that place- especially on a hot sunny day- the shade from the numerous trees and the juice at the canteen- oh! It was absolutely delightful! Hyderabad, however, has one tall building for the Police Commissioner’s office and my handbag, even the camera bag was checked before we entered under the Door Framed Metal Detectors (DFMD’s- another marked departure from my experience in Bangalore).

Raju and I walked towards the conference room on the 3rd floor. I was about to enter when the then Police Commissioner, Balwinder Singh ji, looked at me, at the door of the room and saw the mike in my hand. (I had spoken to him a little earlier). Given that the Commissioner had looked away from the table, the room full of reporters (almost all of them were men- another difference from the Bangalore reporting scene I noticed) looked over their shoulders to see me enter. Mr. Singh then proceeded to say, “Randi, Randi Shwetal Garu”. The smile on my face vanished almost instantly and I stopped dead in my tracks. What did this man think he was saying? I thought. That too on camera and in front of the entire journalist community; he is the police commissioner for God’s Sake!!! He can’t abuse me and get away. Within a minute all these thoughts and more flashed through my mind. That’s when he repeated himself, “Randi Shwetal Garu”. Now I was furious and it showed on my face. Raju had already gone ahead and was setting up the camera. He came back and smiled and said, “Aaiye Shwetal ji. Woh aapko aandar aane ko bol rahe hain.” As I walked in and everyone’s face turned to the Police Commissioner once again, Raju nudged me and said, Randi means ‘Please Come In’ in Telugu. It is a word used with lots of respect. I resisted heaving a huge sigh of relief, Respect!!! And here I was, furious, cause I only knew the Hindi connotation of the word!

When I got home later that night, I was in splits of laughter… shaken and stirred by the cultural differences and the experiences it can gift us. I’ve stayed in Hyderabad long enough now to know that rape in Telugu doesn’t have the same connotation as it does in English, but, for some reason, I have never been able to say Randi even as a mark of utmost respect…

Whats in the name??? I'd say a lot!

2010-05-20T14:24:00.001+05:30

She is agile… the light but firm footedness of her walk, the grace of her tread and the swiftness of her movement… who wouldn’t be enamored by her! The fullness of her being stirs the depth of many hearts. She brings with her the first sweet dew drops, a breeze of joy and love in the air… Across the world, these bombshells wreak havoc in the hearts of many.

Every year, there is at least one such new girl on the block; a picture that grabs attention; a new name that snatches headline space and is the talk of the town; a name that so many people take, that it almost sounds like chant. Well, I ain’t talking about Victoria Secret’s list of Sexy Things or Time’s annual chartbuster of Beautiful People.

This is a list of all things terrorizingly beautiful; strangely fascinating things at their destructive best. Times when one can’t but be awestruck at the sheer magnanimity of Mother Nature’s creations and her way of bringing back equanimity… This is a list of all those things that we term ‘calamities’ and yet name them with much love and care. This time around, in India, it is all about ‘Laila’.

After Nargis and Nisha in the recent past in the South Asian sub-continent and of course Katrina and Cindy in the Atlantic… Pacific… this time it is Laila. The cyclone has hit coastal Andhra Pradesh and parts of Tamil Nadu. If reports are to be relied upon, damages will be colossal. But then… after having covered many a cyclone, flood and fire… this time around I am more interested in the name.

Apparently, the convention of naming cyclones dates back to the early 20th century when an Australian forecaster named major storms after politicians he disliked. That makes a lot of sense… I can see myself pouring all my dislike for a politician on a cyclone. People are anyway not going to like the cyclone and so they will share my dislike for that name and thus the person. Hence, I would have initiated more people into my fold of politician haters… Oh! Don’t I love it!!! :D

At some places such as the West Indies, they stared naming Cyclones after Revered Saints and with it a belief that all those who have sinned will be wiped off the face of this earth. But then, somewhere along the line, to be more accurate, during World War II, they named a cyclone after a woman! It continued since then… they even have a list of names to dip into when the cyclone or hurricane strikes and only as late as the 1970’s did they add a male name to the list.

Why a woman’s name??? I read many people’s views on this- some were downright chauvinist, others just blabbering but almost everyone had set out to demystify the puzzle. I still don’t know the reason, but come on, I can also give my silly answer to this not so relevant question (I believe that this isn’t such a relevant question given the more urgent and pressing matters that should be addressed). So here is:- World War II, the pilots who spotted the cyclone and its advent had obviously known that they didn’t stand a chance and the first name that came to their mind before he probably yelled his last was his wife or his mother… a last call for help and care from the WOMAN who he knows loves him unconditionally and truly. Named after women, not to say that women are the cause of destruction or depression… but as an indication to love more dearly and truly…

The Labyrinth

2010-04-29T14:10:00.004+05:30

I’ve been doing a lot of reading over the last couple of days… when outside of home, at work, wherever and whenever I can steal a few minutes; I am hooked to Wilbur Smith. What a fascinating story he has to tell. While his plot is gripping and the language simple, what amazes me is his attention to detail, the amount of research that has gone into brining out 500 pages of pure pleasure. I was introduced to Wilbur Smith over a year and half ago, even bought a book since it came highly recommended, but finally got down to reading it only about 6 months ago… ever since, I’ve never missed an opportunity to read something he’s written. The newest read is called ‘The Sunbird’, while archeology and history are not my piece of cake; I haven’t been able to take my mind off this book.

Alongside, when I am at home, I am reading ‘Siddhartha’, by Herman Hesse. A fantastic story told ever so simply. A profound truth presented unpretentiously, the reader cannot but be mesmerized. I got this book as a gift when I cleared my class 10 board exams, and have read and re-read it many times. Each time, it opens a new door of understanding, throws some more light on the unexplored mystery of life and makes the re-read such a pleasure. I stand with Siddhartha all night while he awaits his father’s permission to leave home, become a samana, watch him become a merchant; almost dive into the river with him… that’s the magic of Herman Hesse. You won’t just read the book, you’ll actually live it.

And then, there’s a lot of random reading that happens every day- the newspaper, the sign boards on the road, a million emails, facebook status messages, tweets… this that and the other. It’s a little wonder then that this little mind, which has an amazing ability to expand and imbibe, can get a little confused while filing. I saw this confusion so clearly the other night…

I had my fill of bhujia as I voraciously devoured the delights of being a rich, merchant (Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse). It was nearing mid night when I finally clicked the lampshade off. The monotonous drone of the air conditioning and the weariness of a day’s work shepherded me into sleep’s arms. That’s when the mind went into action- it needed to sort out the information overloaded upon it. It is now that I saw distinctly a web, a maze, a myriad labyrinth of thoughts, actions, information, and words criss-crossing and making their way into filing cabinets. It almost seemed like the over whelming and menacing traffic of Hyderabad, just that this was a wee bit more organized. Even as I was watching this activity inside of me, I flew far away from the arms of deep sleep and landed dreamland. This time, however, the dreams were crazy, painted in different hues, made no sense whatsoever and only succeeded in getting me more confused.

I’ve staunchly believed that creativity and a fertile imagination arise from a mind that is exposed to so many more experiences, which imbibe’ s so much more information. I supposed that originality and imagination sprang from the labyrinth of encounters and thoughts that we caressed inside our minds. Until, I heard the Wise One say that, “Deep silence is the mother of creativity. No creativity can come out of one who is too busy, worried, over-ambitious or lethargic. Balanced activity, rest and yoga can kindle skills and creativity in you.” And then, suddenly, I awoke. The dream lay scattered like ill-fitting pieces of a jigsaw. I pondered on this, can something come from silence, can the best words arise from a depth unknown to us, and can communication happen in silence? Thoughts didn’t help in this case and I decided to give it a shot.

For over a week, every day and every night, I decided to empty myself of all experiences, thoughts, encounters and feelings. Each day, I felt lighter, more at ease and less confused. Dreamland wasn’t as disturbing and there seemed a dazzling clarity in my thought. Later, when I sat to write, the words seem to flow effortlessly and from some mysterious depth within me. Yes, the numerous expereinces help, but not in an unprocessed state. I realized this while my fingers flew on the keyboard and produced something that I am myself amazed... What I wrote, is for another time… but presently, I would urge all of you to give this a shot- meditate and sit back while you soak in the spring of creativity that unleashes itself from within you...

Holidaying in Hyderabad

2010-04-28T21:04:00.002+05:30

Just did a travel piece on Hyderabad.
It has appeared on http://www.rediff.com/
Click here to read it.

The lawyer in me

2010-03-26T16:09:00.000+05:30

The lawyer in me awoke and here is what the lawyer had to say:-

Greatest paradox ever recorded in History

Few centuries ago, a Law teacher came across a student who was willing to learn but as unable to pay the fees. The student struck a deal saying, "I will pay your fee the day I win my first case in the court".

Teacher agreed and proceeded with the law course. When the course was finished and teacher started pestering the student to pay up the fee, the student reminded him of the deal and pushed days.

Fed up with this, the teacher decided to sue the student in the court of law and both of them decided to argue for themselves.

The teacher put forward his argument saying:

"If I win this case, as per the court of law, the student has to pay me as the case is about his non-payment of dues. And if I lose the case, student will still pay me because he would have won his first case. So either way I will have to get the money".

Equally brilliant student argued back saying:

"If I win the case, as per the court of law, I don't have to pay anything to the teacher as the case is about my non-payment of dues. And if I lose the case, I don't have to pay him because I haven't won my first case yet. So either way, I am not going to pay the teacher anything".

This is one of the greatest paradoxes ever recorded in history. :)

Happy Women's Day

2010-03-09T11:07:00.002+05:30

To all the beautiful women out there and to the men they can't do without- Happy Women's Day!

I read this article on rediff.com.

http://getahead.rediff.com/report/2010/mar/08/womens-day-special-the-light-of-leadership.htm

Do check it out!

The Law of Nature

2010-03-08T17:18:00.003+05:30

It is nature’s law. The little caterpillar will eat some leaves and then weave a cocoon around itself. It will stay in that secluded, small world of its own. It even may be thinks that the cocoon is the ONLY world it has. Until, a couple of months later, involuntarily, but naturally, it will break out of that cocoon. A few seconds of faltered wing-beats and the butterfly takes off. With a new zeal, it is all set to discover the new world that lies open before it.

Well, that’s how nature works for all of its creations and creatures. Yet, there is one special creature that does something very, very strange. Every time that it involuntarily breaks open the cocoon, it spreads its wings just a little- makes a faltered start at flying and then spins another cocoon around itself. At regular intervals, it is forced out of the cocoon (that’s nature’s law you see); it falters and fears and goes ahead to weave a new cocoon. After a few times of weaving a new cocoon, the creature soon buries deep within itself the ability to break out. By then, however, it will have a cocoon big enough to house 3 or maybe 4 of its kind; but only one creature would live in it. It will twirl inside its cocoon home and flap a bit also and believe that it’s seen the whole wide world- that beautiful landscape that nature has painted for it. The creature actually lives like this- born out of an egg- breathes free for a short time- spins a cocoon around itself and then keeps weaving cocoons until death comes; only death seems to liberate it from the cocoon. Strange isn’t it? Scientists have, however, found that death need not be the only answer to the liberation of this creature. There is another way….

Wondering which creature? What is the other way to set this creature free? Post your answers and comments on the blog.

Answers with details soon…

Telugu Tv shows

2010-03-08T11:39:00.004+05:30

I dont watch them... but I do write about them...
Here's are some pieces I wrote about some Telugu Tv Shows.

Aata- on Zee Telugu: Click here to read

Mogali Rekulu on Maa Tv. Click here to read.

Challenge - The Ultimate Reality on Maa Tv. Click here to read

An experience- Inexpressible

2010-03-06T09:26:00.009+05:30

I muttered under my breath as I turned over in bed. Why did the morning have to ring in so soon? Wasn’t I on a holiday? I believe that it is nothing short of criminal to wake up at the crack of dawn on a holiday (or even otherwise!). With the skill and expertise of someone who has done this a thousand times over, I snoozed the alarm on my mobile phone. I had barely snuggled in my soft bed and closed my eyes with a smile, waiting to welcome the most divine of all states- sleep, when something of a mini earthquake jolted me awake. A few seconds and I realized that the door was being knocked. I heard the room service announce in a cheerful voice “4 O’Clock sir. The cab is waiting outside.” I turned over again and ardently wished that I hadn’t in a moment of excitement agreed to this dreadful idea. Poor Sid (my loving hubby), I played my trump card again “Tum ready ho jao. Main tumhare baad tayaar hoti hu.” Lovingly he agreed. Ah! The bliss of those few minutes of stolen sleep. Nothing can match the joy of stealing a few more minutes of rest that sleep provides. I was lucky; I got a full 10 minutes :) Slowly and groggily I crawled out of bed, refusing to accept that I really had to get ready. 20 minutes later, Sid and I had stepped out of our guest house. The first whiff of sea breeze brushed my face and brought with it a smile that stuck on firm. It was a good 30-40 minute drive from our guest house; A drive that would have looked lovelier during sunrise. But felt cool and beautiful none the less. A 40 min cab drive and a 7 minutes bus ride later, we reached. The sight we beheld was nothing short of magnificent. Now picture this- a colossal golden globe shaped structure overlooking a circular amphitheater filled with people- all sitting motionless, in silence. The center stage of the amphitheater hosts a small hillock shaped edifice beside which was a gigantic bonfire. A bonfire that light up the entire amphitheater; reflected on to the golden globe shaped building. It was a bonfire that cackled happily waiting for the first rays of the sun to try and douse its glory. No mobile phones; no flash lights from cameras; no whispering, and no murmuring- just a tranquil peace pervading every particle in the air, an unbounded joy that spread to all hearts. The silence is broken by a voice. A voice heavy and cracked with age. A voice rich with wisdom and compassion. From the tape recorder it emanated and tugged at the soul of all of us present there. A few words and it was all quiet again. Just the flame leaping upwards- reaching up to the heavens, the soul plunging into the depths of the bliss. It is strange isn’t it? Every time we see something breath-taking, experience something marvelous- we simply close our eyes. I’ve always wondered why? Oh! Just why will someone trek up a mountain, reach the summit- take a cursory glance at the valley and the mountain range and then- SHUT their eyes to absorb that image? Why will anyone stand for hours in a queue in Tirupati and then, in the 2 sec appointment that you’ve got with the Lord, shut your eyes? Why do people go to the beach- barely look at the ocean, then take a deep breath in and close their eyes? It simply never made sense to me- you’ve traversed that distance, spent that money, expended that energy to go see that place/shrine/view- not really to close your eyes. You could have done that at home! But then, something that His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar said really made sense and explained this phenomenon to me. Click here to read what he had to say. Anyway, so like I said, while enjoying that glorious day break with the bonfire, my eyes just closed and I lost all track of time. Meditation happened almost inevitably. No effort at all. When I opened my eyes- the sun had risen, the bonfire dead but the beauty of the scene was unscathed. The golden globe structure looked all the more resplendent with the sun rays bouncing off its smooth surface creating a lovely prism of colors. People had begun moving- most of them in silence, taking back with them something inexpressible; some others could barely contain the unbounded joy. Life had moved on, like it always does. Unlike most tourists, who visit a place and look around, I think I was so lucky. I didn’t just see Auroville. I experienced it- in the same manner as The Mother and Sri Aurobindo had envisaged.

The art of mixing

2010-03-02T15:15:00.011+05:30

Who said that mixing is an art that only barmen distinguish in? The ability to mix well, the style of pouring the drink from one glass to another… all of this is not as modern as it seems. Nor it as western! Think about it. Isn’t mixing a tradition in almost every South-Indian family? Brewing the right blend. Filtering it. Steeping it until the aroma is just perfect. Again, a practice followed almost religiously in most South Indian households. The piping hot drink is then served in a conical steel tumbler placed in a little steel bowl. Then, begins the process of mixing… pouring… After all, that how filter coffee is drunk and that’s half the fun! In my 24 years of living in Bangalore, and I must apologize as I say this, I never drank coffee, and though fascinated by the mixing process, never mixed or even poured some masala milk. But all of this changed in the not so distant past. I walked into Saravana Bhavan (another first for me). I’ve moved out of Bangalore almost 3 years ago and shifted to Hyderabad. The innate South Indianess of Saravana Bhavan struck a chord. The long stemmed steel tables with marble/granite tops, the aromas of idlis, dosai’s roasted in ghee… the plastic laminated menu cards, the familiar clank of steel utensils… I was almost at home. After a sumptuous breakfast comprising of Appams with coconut milk, Idlis, Sambar Vada and of course the ghee roast dosai… I decided to have their special milk… you see, I am no tea or coffee drinker. People say I am bereft of many of the pleasures this world has to offer- but then gah! Who really cares of what the world thinks!!! So, my milk is placed on the table before me… rather thumped on to the table. I simply couldn’t hold on the steel tumbler for fear that my skin would stick onto it. Siddhartha, my loving husband, after he’d guffawed over my many unsuccessful attempts of holding the tumbler, showed me how to it. Lift the conical tumbler up, hold it at an angle, and let the liquid pour into the small steel basin… you’ll see it froth. That’s good. Now, lift the steel basin off the table, hold it at any angle and pour into the conical tumbler… Bingo! Voila! Here I was mixing the drink like the pro… I could smell the coffee from my in-laws tumblers and I could mix my milk… So, here I was, mixing milk and getting the exact same experience of mixing coffee… oooppppssss, I spelt that wrong, kaapi… Filter Kaapi!

Yidili Saaaarrrrrrrr

2010-02-22T15:59:00.004+05:30

“Idli, Vada, Masala Dosa, Plain Dosa, Mysore Masala Dosa, Pongal, Upma, Uttapam, Onion Uttapam, Tomato Uttapam, Cheese Uttapam, Peserattu….” He rattled away in that low, slightly nasal voice. Into my mind rushed vivid images from the past; a past that matched image to image, word to word in fact pixel to pixel with the present! The ‘Family Section’ of one of those old time restaurants. Cheap wooden tables painted in a strange wood color. Chairs with straight backs and small leather covered cushions for seats. The clanking of steel utensils welcomes you. Settle down for a bit and you’ll identify a peculiar buzz. A little more attention and you’ll find the culprit in the pedestal fans hanging on the walls at diagonally opposite corners of the room. Thankfully, the door opening into the interior room/kitchen or whatever swings open and closes noiselessly. Else, the regular entrants would have created a riot enough to ensure that you jump out of your skin every time they exit! Enter: A portly waiter; wearing a slightly crumpled, but clean red and grey uniform. A neatly folded patterned hand towel on one shoulder; a ghastly, unclean steel tray in the other hand. A toothbrush moustache shadowing his tobacco smeared teeth and a broad smile that lends an air of warmth and friendliness to the otherwise drab surroundings. With one look, he’ll know which language he should talk to you in- Telugu (and today, it is of importance, which dialect- Telangana/ Andhra!) or Hindi (or rather a brutally massacred dialect of the language, but Hindi all the same and we’ll let it pass simply, after all it’s the thought that counts- doesn’t it?) or English (which means, monosyllabic- yes saaaaaaaaarrrr or no saaaarrrrrr or bill saarrrr). The odd one-of waiter might even venture into Kannada or Tamil. If you aren’t sure about your order, he’ll help you figure that one out. If you are a regular, he might even ask about the rest of the family… He won’t write down your order. He’ll simply commit it to memory- no matter how long your order might be… he’ll rattle it back to you with the same ease that he did the menu! You’ll feel enough at home to be able to put your feet up on the chair and sit crossed legged. Yet, you’ll know that you are expected to leave soon enough, not because he’ll hover over- Nope! He has no time for that. Simply because that sense of urgency and action is so high there that you’ll know, you’d better leave. Within 5 minutes your order will be at the table. His fingers will not be dipped into the water glasses, but the glasses won’t be sparkling clean. It’s a sign of cleanliness of the glasses, if there are enough water droplets outside the glass as many as inside it. :) Don’t ever peep into their kitchen, you’ll probably faint- unlike the star-hotels, you’ll find many aluminum tins, lots of grime on the walls, sticky floors… but these kitchens are where you’ll find the most delectable Indian cuisine… A little plastic red dish will bring the saunf and the bill, a scrawl that for once you won’t have to dread- Rs 60 for 3 chai and one plate idli-vada. All piping hot and extremely delicious… There’s such an old world charm associated with these hotels… fast disappearing, these are some of the few places where feeling at home isn’t such an expensive affair; where being a regular means you actually share a bond and a relationship, not just with the place, but more so with the people who make the place.

English - Funny Language

2010-02-22T11:02:00.001+05:30

We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes, But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes. One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, Yet the plural of moose should never be meese. You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice, Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice. If the plural of man is always called men, Then shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen? If I speak of my foot and show you my feet, And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth? Then one may be that, and three would be those, Yet hat in the plural would never be hose, And the plural of cat is cats, not cose. We speak of a brother and also of brethren, But though we say mother, we never say methren. Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim! Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England .. We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig. And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend. If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what other language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? We ship by truck but send cargo by ship. We have noses that run and feet that smell. We park in a driveway and drive in a parkway. And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which an alarm goes off by going on. And, in closing, if Father is Pop, how come Mother's not Mop? I WOULD LIKE TO ADD THAT IF PEOPLE FROM POLAND ARE CALLED POLES THEN PEOPLE FROM HOLLAND SHOULD BE HOLES AND THE GERMANS GERMS!!!

One call away

2010-02-17T18:37:00.003+05:30

Picture this: - A desolate, poorly lit street, late night and the only noise that interrupts the din of the fireflies and the rustle of the leaves is the faint sounds of music that the breeze steals from a speeding car. On a night just like this, not so long ago, I was driving back home, my mind meandering through the web of tasks set before me for the next day. My musings came to a crashing halt as I saw before my very own eyes, not more than 200 mts ahead of me, a motor cyclist collapse- the bike fell and the biker was flung off the bike on the other side of the road. Indeed a heart wrenching sight. All of this within a split second. Even as I slowed down to pull over and help, the parallel line on my brain was sending me warning signals of how unsafe it can be for a single woman to step out in the dark, especially on a desolate street. All of this happened within the batting of an eye-lid. Through this all, I saw another man, stop his bike and help the man who had fallen off… now, this is what makes me really proud to be and Indian, the innate humanness that every Hindustani has. An act that stems out of wanting to help another, simply because that is the way it has to be, not merely as a sense of duty, not even out of pity… but just doing it, cause it’s the right thing to do. Anyway, the accident victim couldn’t stand and from what I could make out; he had fainted and of course, sustained severe head injuries. Almost sub consciously, I reached out for my mobile and dialed the much publicized 108. Those ambulances that had many a time beaten the media OB Vans at every blast site, at every flyover collapse… I had seen these 108’s everywhere, had even done my bit of interviewing and publicizing, but, this was the first time that I had even dialed that number and even as I dialed, the cynic in me said, “now, we’ll know the truth. Is 108 all hype or does it really work”. “Namaste 108” a calm and reassuring voice greeted me. I was panic stricken and hurried and desperate that some help reach the accident spot. Through the jumble of words that I blurted and directed them to the location, the voice on the other end, remained, calm, composed and reassuring. He even got me conferenced to the nearest ambulance and suggested some doable first aid. When I told him that I hadn’t even gotten off my car, he was still reassuring and even supportive. Five to may be ten minutes later, as a crowd of passersby had gathered around the accident victim and his bike was successfully moved from the middle of the road, much to my relief, I heard the siren of the 108… It was the first time I had to call an emergency help line… I hope it’s the last too. But given my experience with the 108, I must say that it is indeed heartwarming to know that ‘help is really only a call away’

All was well…

2010-01-05T12:54:00.008+05:30

Long, long ago, there was a mystical fairyland, where fruit and flowers were in abundance, where smiles were many and the people were charming… yes, there was a fairyland like that, where streams of honey flowed and the dew was like gold. In that fairyland, the mountains told of courage, the sea spoke of tranquility, the birds chirped of happiness, the winds carried with them sacred sounds… and shielded the land and its citizens with its protective warmth, love and caring. That’s the fairyland we are talking about. All was well in the fairyland where citizens respected and followed the unwritten code of conduct and everyone had their heart in the right place. But, that’s only the rosy picture. If there’s one thing the citizens of fairyland couldn’t stand, it was encroachment. So, while they were all encompassing and almost always welcomed guests and visitors with a heartwarming smile and were double bent in hospitality; they were fiercely possessive of what they believed was theirs. Now, like all fairytales, there have to be some twists and turns, some wily and some vile…. So, here’s what happened- there was bunch of non-fairyland folks, aggressive, cunning, power hungry and blood thirsty- they wanted to own fairyland… how could they do that, without launching direct attack, without letting the fairyland people know that their land was going to be forced away from them? Those sly people knew that the fairyland people were strong and that if they attempted to fight with them, then defeat was certain… so, then, they schemed and came up with a hideous plan- a plan that would change fairyland forever… Those wily people came to fairyland- smiling and wishing people well. They came with gifts and with trade from their land and fairyland being what it is- Fairyland Of course! They welcomed the visitors with warm smiles, open hearts and a loving embrace… and then, not very long afterwards, when the fairyland people were at ease and at home with the visitors, when the visitors weren’t visitors any longer, but became a part of home… and yet, the hospitality was strong… that’s when they did it- they put their evil plan into action- Horror of all horrors! Whenever anyone bent over in hospitality, he was unsuspectingly back stabbed! It wasn’t only the blood shed that numbed the people of fairyland… what really dealt a fierce blow was that the invisible bond of trust among the people had broken- it was smashed into pieces… they no longer bowed in humility, they no longer smiled from within, gone was the clear, bright sparkle in their eyes…. And all that remained was fear, mistrust and a wave of chill…. The protective shield was now perforated… Naïve as the fairyland folk were, they simply couldn’t believe that the visitors had done this to them- they pointed fingers at each other, eyed their neighbours with suspicion and then, when the cold fingers of fear and hate ran down their spine, they demanded a place where only they are their few friends would stay- a different state, a new land, a new ruler. Those wily visitors were laughing in glee!!!! What an incredibly simple plan and from an epitome of peace and love fairyland had metamorphosed into a dark and cold place with no place for love and honesty and peace and prosperity. They plundered the last that they could of fairyland and left behind a legacy of hate and cunning… The visitors left, went back to their land and grew rich, but not prosperous, grew fat but not happy… and left behind fairyland… a dumpyard, with neither peace nor growth……

Happy New Year

2009-12-31T12:24:00.000+05:30

“She happened to look into the child’s eyes…

2009-09-08T13:08:00.004+05:30

...and saw how simple the soul behind them was, and that the little girl did not know of the wonderful power the Silver Shoes gave her. So, the Wicked Witch laughed to herself…” Now, which adult would not be tempted to read more? Just like many others, I also hovered over fairyland till the tornado carried me away with Dorothy, I wore silver shoes, got kissed by a good Witch, met a scarecrow who wanted brains, befriended a tin woodman who sought a heart, rode on a cowardly lion who wished for courage, drank the powerful smell of the poppies, flew with the winged monkeys, wore green spectacles, met the Witch of the North, vanquished the Wicked Witch of the West and came back home, refreshed and happy…. After all, that’s what I believe a good book should do- leave you feeling happy, refreshed and rejuvenated. And a book like the Wonderful Wizard of Oz couldn't but bring a smile on your face! If you haven’t yet read it, go pick it up. If you have read it before, pick it up again! Short, sweet and simple- a perfect book for a lazy afternoon- the ideal pastures for the mind to ramble into.

Ganapati Bappa Morya!

2009-08-24T15:31:00.008+05:30

For those of you who havent read this fantastic talk by Gurudev HH Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji, I am posting it as is... Enjoy! The Symbolism of Ganesha His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar Ganesha is the formless divinity - encapsulated in a magnificent form, for the benefit of the devotee. Gan means group. The universe is a group of atoms and different energies. This universe would be in chaos if there was no supreme law governing these diverse groups of entities. The Lord of all these groups of atoms and energies is Ganesha. He is the supreme consciousness that pervades all & brings order in this universe. The essence of Ganesha is brought out beautifully by Adi Shankara. Though Ganesha is worshiped as the elephant-headed God, the form (swaroop) is just to bring out the formless (parabrahma roopa). He is ‘Ajam Nirvikalpam Niraakaaramekam’. This means Ganesha is Ajam (unborn), he is Nirvikalpa (attributeless), he is Niraakaar (formless) and he symbolizes the consciousness which is omnipresent. Ganesha is the same energy which is the reason for this universe, from which everything manifests and into which everything will dissolve. We are all familiar with the story of how Ganesha became the elephant-headed God. Parvati became dirty when she was celebrating with Shiva. When she realized this, she removed the dirt from her body, created a boy out of it and asked him to keep guard while she bathed. When Shiva returned, the boy did not recognise him and obstructed his passage. So Shiva chopped off the boy’s head and entered. Parvati was shocked. She explained that the boy was their son and pleaded with Shiva to save him at all costs. Shiva then instructed his helpers to go and get the head of someone who was sleeping with the head pointing to the north. The helpers then got the head of an elephant, which Shiva affixed to the boy’s torso and Ganesha was born! Does this story sound strange? Why should Parvati have dirt on her body? Didn’t the all-knowing Shiva recognise His own son? Was Shiva, the epitome of peace, so short-tempered that he cut off the head of his own son? And why an elephant head on Ganesha? There is a deeper meaning to all this. Parvati is symbolic of festive energy. Her becoming dirty signifies that celebration can easily become Rajasik or feverish and can take you away from your center. Dirt is symbolic of ignorance and Shiva is symbolic of the Supreme Innocence, Peace and Knowledge. So when Ganesha obstructs the path of Shiva, this means that ignorance, which is an attribute of the head, does not recognise knowledge. Then knowledge has to overcome ignorance. This is the symbolism behind Shiva chopping off the boy’s head. And why the elephant head? Elephant represents both gyan shakti and karma shakti. The principle qualities of the elephant are wisdom and effortlessness. The enormous head of the elephant signifies Wisdom and Knowledge. Elephants don't walk around obstacles, neither are they stopped by them. They just remove them and walk ahead – signifying effortlessness. So, when we worship Lord Ganesha these elephant qualities within us are kindled and we take on these qualities. Ganesha's big belly represents generosity and total acceptance. Ganesha’s upraised hand, depicting protection, means, “Fear not - I am with you,” and his lowered hand, palm facing outwards means endless giving as well as an invitation to bow down symbolic of the fact that we will all dissolve into earth one day. Ganesha also has a single tusk which signifies one-pointedness. Even the implements Ganesha wields are symbolic. He carries in his hands, the ‘Ankusa’ (signifies awakening) and the ‘Paasa’ (signifies control). With awakening, a lot of energy is released, which without proper control, can go haywire. And why does Ganesha, the elephant-headed God travel on something as small as a mouse? Isn’t that so incongruous? Again there is symbolism that runs deep. The mouse snips and nibbles away at ropes that bind. The mouse is like the mantra which can cut through sheaths and sheaths of ignorance, leading to the ultimate knowledge represented by Ganesha. Our ancient Rishis were so deeply intelligent that they chose to express Divinity in terms of symbols rather than words, since words change over time, but symbols remain unchanged. Let us keep the deep symbolism in mind as we experience the omnipresent in the form of the elephant God, yet be fully aware that Ganesha is very much within us. This is the wisdom we should carry as we celebrate Ganesh Chaturti." PS. I love listening to the Ganapati Atharvashirsha. Here it is for all of you as well. :)

Radhe Radhe Maan Bole

2009-08-21T15:19:00.007+05:30

From an agitated mind, to a restless soul- the journey is exciting, with numerous roller coaster rides. One of these rides was around Janmashtami this year- needless to say, the landing was safe and as usual, I am left with many happy sunshine smiles. Here’s an account of what did happen- The days leading up to Janmashtami were tumultuous, to say the least. Not just was there enormous activity happening all around me, but that wily mind of mine, loves the chaos and chose just those opportune moments to wreck my brains and make my emotions its new game partner. So, there I was, at the disposal of a whirlpool of thoughts and tornado of emotions… The rest of the story would be have been very different if it wasn’t for many years of boring sadhana and zillions of intimate moments, interactions and glances from my Master. So, I tried everything in the book, everything that had worked for me in the past… only that this time- all of these gave me only very sporadic and momentary relief. After many days of this internal strife and struggle, it suddenly came to me- the reason for this restlessness. And then, Aloha! I knew how to sort this out. It’s fairly simple you see. You are longing for your master. You identify the longing and then, you book your tickets and off you go- to meet HIM in person. But, alas! If only, it were so simple… Here I was in Hyderabad; HIM in Bangalore. I without holiday and HIM with Pakistan up his sleeve and many more sudden unplanned trips (that are so much a part of HIS life). But then, every cloud has a silver lining- mine had more than one- the upcoming TRM (for those of you who are new to my blog, I associated with The Art of Living and the TRM's are the masters’ gift to some of us) and a fabulous satsang with Swami Suryapad ji in Hyderabad itself! I thought to myself, the satsang will help me hold on till August end, till I finally do get to meet HIM. With such happy and hopeful thoughts in my head, Siddhartha and I made our way to an evening of bliss with Swami Suryapad ji on the occasion of Janmashtami. As obvious, a brilliant satsang followed and just when all was going very quiet in my head-mind, Swami ji in his melodious voice, full of devotion said to all of us, “Radha means longing. This Janmashtami pray that the longing increases. Pray that the longing becomes more intense.” Those words struck me like lightning… here I was, doing all that I could to overcome the longing and here is Swami ji saying pray that the longing increases… what an irony! When I mulled on this a little later, I stumbled upon something that Gurudev had said years ago (In the Knowledge Sheets) about most of us not experiencing any emotion in its intensity and how even studying and probing into physics and meta physics thoroughly will lead people to the classic ‘I Don’t Know’ as will total ignorance. He went on to say, “Attainment of the Divine depends on the intensity of longing and not on the time and qualification. There is a proverb among the villagers in India, which says that it may take some time to pluck a flower but it takes no time to meet the Divine! Abilities, qualifications are not the criteria. It is simply the intensity of your longing. Intensify your longing for the Divine right away. This you can do when you know that you want nothing and you are nothing” Strange are the ways of the Divine… May be in that intense longing, Sayuja can happen. This Janmashtami, I’ve prayed for the longing to grip my soul, my very being…

I've changed!

2009-08-12T14:41:00.004+05:30

I am posting something after very long... Actually, I didnt know what to write- so many things assimilated in my brain, but none took birth- looks like the gestation period is still on... So, till then, I thought of changing the look of the blog. How do you like it? Do drop your comments and let me know. I really want to see from all of you. Who knows, it might inspire me to write ;) See from you really soon...

Paths of Glory

2009-06-17T11:59:00.004+05:30

Just finished a fantastic read; what a book! I am no more enlightened about the art of mountaineering than I was when I picked up the book, but what I do know is that there are so many people with fiery passion whose stories go untold, who might not make it into the annals of history but who have trudged the face of this planet.

While reading ‘Paths of Glory’ by Jeffery Archer, there’s one thing that I surely realized- you’ve got to have the courage to live your dream and more importantly, have the courage to let the other live his dream as well. The parts of the book that impressed me most were not when Mallory was trekking in inhumane conditions nor when he went to any lengths to live his dream… but when his wife, Ruth, made the choice of supporting him through his dream and put her convenience, comforts and emotions on the back seat.

May be it wasn’t Edmond Hillary! May be Mallory did actually summit… strange are nature’s ways, we can never know if Mallory did actually summit The Everest, way before Edmond Hillary did, but what we do know is that there was a man with such an outrageous dream such grit and determination that, I would like to believe that he did it. Such is the power of Archer’s words. ‘Paths of Glory’ is classified as a work of fiction, but to me, it’s a whole lot of facts sprinkled with some fiction; a book that compels you to decide in favor of the protagonist- not out of force, but simply out of respect for his dream and love for his passion.

The plot is unlike much of what Archer has written and what he has managed in the 400 odd pages of this book is truly worth a read. It’s no mean task- making a life story so captivating and enthralling, but Archer manages that with élan. He has the uncanny knack of bringing people and things to life such that reading about Mallory at 27,500 ft all set to summit his first love- Chomolungma- sets the adrenalin rush in the reader.

A work of fiction with so much fact in it, especially the end of the book when he gives details of Mallory’s family and friends, till when they lived, what they did and how his grandson did summit the temptress Chomolungma and place his grandfather and grandmother’s photograph on the summit.

A book worth more than just a read.

Some romance ;)

2009-06-01T17:55:00.004+05:30

I wrote this two years ago. Thought of posting it only now...

April, 2007

Sometimes it amazing… and sometimes I wonder how and many more times, I ponder why??? Is it something that happens to everyone or am I an exception? Should I rejoice that I am compatible to various situations, that I am adaptable? Or should I shun myself for changing colors and loyalties? And that, at a pace almost as fast as the flutter of my eye-lid.

What a wired dilemma… it’s like asking are the monsoons cool or simply too murky and slushy??? Are the rains just right to drench and dance or to stay away from and never feel the water droplets hit against the dry skin and soak through the layers of clothes…? But all the same, I question myself… and why or rather why not???

Well, its only about 5 months since this man walked into my life… and it wasn’t exactly like waves go dashing into each other or like new blossoms touch each other and spread a wild fragrance… it was like meeting just anyone else… may be at work…may be at a party… just about anywhere… so, I met him one day… and when I met him I never once did expect my heart to do a cart wheel… and to that effect I was right. I didn’t shy, didn’t blush, no super fast heart beats… just nothing to bring an indication of what was to come.

And then, within a few minutes, a relationship was formed, a bond set and a new phase of life opened. It opened quiet so fast that I couldn’t exactly figure what was happening, except that I was smiling all the time, spent very less time at home with family, had no inclination to work, wrote innumerable emails… most one liners, to someone I met like a week ago, and then somewhere down the line, said the three magical words… and even when we exchanged those, it wasn’t like a hurricane of emotions… but was more of a solid grounded feeling; like I would have said it sometime sooner or later.

And then, there was a sudden rush all around me, people, places, relationships out of the blue… everything stood at a hair-pin bend and then, even as I took seven short, tender, yet firm steps safe knowing that my hand was held… everything changed. All within a couple of minutes, the entire scene, the whole world as I had seen it for 24 years… it all changed. Yes, my mum was still my mum and that she would always be. But… now I was also someone else’s daughter (in-law), the only 2 men in my life till then had been dad and bro… and now (legally, cause otherwise the man had walked in about 1 month ago and dad hadn’t spoken to me for over a week when that happened) there was another man… and probably the most important one. Also, the way the world saw me was now drastically different, with many more ornaments adorning me, with more color on my face than I ever wore… and most importantly as someone’s wife…

And after many tumultuous moments in the 5 months that passed since I took those steps and wore the black beads… today when I see myself, I feel more close, more connected to this man who hardly talks, who stays at office 3 nights a week, who is so totally different from me… and yet compliments me so perfectly. Not that it’s not the same with my family… its just that somewhere deep within it seems like he IS family.

And now, when he has gone away… now… don’t mistake that, he’s home for two days and already those two days seem like eternity… most girls would have jumped at that opportunity to go stay at mum’s place… but I… wouldn’t mind going there but would prefer staying at HOME… and when that thought crossed my mind, I set thinking… should I be happy that I am adaptable or should I shun myself for shifting loyalties… but then also, wouldn’t a wife be loyal to her better half… and so, I am to my hubby… he is quiet, peaceful, ambitious and amongst the most love able persons that I have come across… on the day, when I met him, I had no inkling that today, 5 months down the line, I would be swept by such a strong torrent of emotions… emotions of love, of longing, of adoration… all for my Siddhartha…

Fairy tales will be just that...

2009-05-12T13:05:00.004+05:30

Fairy tales will be just that… fairy tales. A stretched bit of imagination, a dream, a wish, a fantasy which life will never concede to you. Each of us grows up with a fairy tale concocting a sweet desire in our little heads. Some of us learn early in life- the difference between reality and the dream. Most of us, though we know that reality and dreams have palatial houses on opposite horizons, still choose to rely on that eternal feeling called Hope; a fleeting feeling that leaves a lasting impression- gives us a crutch that won’t take us far and leads us to a point on the cliff where both hanging and falling are just as fatal.

There is one such fairy tale with me too. A fairy tale that conjured dreams; those dreams spiraled into desires; the desires built dreamland in my brain… a dreamland that I wanted oh-so-badly as a reality; a dreamland that made me cling to the last shreds of hope and do everything in and out of the book to live that dream… only to know that the fatal fall makes life a survival… a survival struggle not worth fighting.

But, I am born a fighter and that’s half the battle. So true to instinct, I fought, I fight and waged this terrible war inside of me – a war that had defeat smeared all over it even before I decided to step on the battleground. After years of thrashing about, resisting the situation, I finally realized the truth in the statement ‘whatever you resist will persist’. Today, I am bogged down by the war, over powered by the situation and the dream has been broken; reality is staring at me and I can do nothing but fight back the tears and accept the situation. Like it or hate, but know that this is how it is and facing it would be the sign of a real fighter…

The broken dream weighs down heavily. A fable that told the saga of youth, of dreams unwoven, of radiant hopes, of roads less tread; a fairytale dream that will remain just that… a fairytale.

A strange emptiness

2009-05-03T17:52:00.002+05:30

A sense of loss for someone I barely knew; a sense that something has left me… gone far away, never to return; a very strange sense of vacuum - so often did my eyes well up, but not a tear drop rolled down; so many fleeting memories flashed by- things I never remembered, never even probably registered suddenly presented themselves before me.

The last 2 days brought before me- in such close proximity, an event of life that I never really thought about, sometimes even joked about and more often than not thought I was prepared for… but then, no one can ever really be prepared for it… it is an event that walks in on tip toe and goes away with a bang. I am left with a strange sense of emptiness- a void- called Death.

They say death is a thing of grandeur; it suddenly brings to life a host of relationships that you never you shared with the one gone-by. I so totally agree. For someone who has seen death at workplace so often, I thought I could sail through this one… after all, I have seen blast victims, flyover collapse and dead bodies strewn around me, thought it always disturbed me, left me unnerved, I guess work pressure was so high that I never really had the time to grieve. Of course, images of the blast sites haunt me until date…

But, then I had never seen death of someone ‘my own’, ‘related’ etc… and when Saturday brought me the news, though I kind of expected it, something in me suddenly went still. After I saw him lying there, lifeless, limp, still and when they took him away and I knew I could never see him again, something changed… a realization that between the first in-breath and the last out-breath, this phenomenon called life, deserves to be lived to its fullest. Each breath to be utilized to its optimum and each word and action to bring more relief on this planet, we call home.

Birthday Bash!

2009-03-26T16:09:00.009+05:30

Forgive my delayed post... I was still walking down from heaven, from a fantastic, fun vacation full of surprises for my dearest better half! So, what was the excitement about? It was Siddhartha’s birthday on Friday and the evening was overflowing with activity lined up for him... all of them surprises, starting with a trip to ISB where his (and incidentally mine as well) Art of Living teacher and friend was waiting to wish him. Ah! The look on Sid’s face when he met Vinod... after a long drive to Barista and lotsa catching up with Vinod, we let high and dry from Barista (welcome the Hyderabad power cuts!) to rush to Shalu and Kanishka’s place... there was an emergency you see! We were even made to give distant blessings ;) and when we finally enter their home, we find a bunch of enthu friends waiting to smear cream on his face. Ok Ok! I confess, I spear headed that team of butter facial providers... (I will post birthday pics once Ramesh, Shridhar and the others please pass them to me...)

After a delectable dinner conjured by our very own star Chef, Shalu... (Thanks for that lip smacking sattavic pav-bhaji) we left for a long long drive to a location that the birthday boy knew nothing about... he was merely following driving directions you see... and just before mid night... we checked into a weekend of pleasurable pursuits ;) (Now, don’t you get your minds working overtime...) At the Pragati Resorts, we played, swam, walked, relaxed... had tonnes of fun... got ayurvedic massages done, sang, danced, meditated... (Yes...we did meditate. So, there is a Knowledge Sheet by His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji about vacations. He says, something on the lines of... you can go everywhere, see as many places as you wish but don’t forget to make breathing and meditation a part of your vacation. So, well, we did meditate!)

PS. By the way, the resort is beautiful... must visit... only please DON'T go on weekends, when all the corporate houses will bring their bunch of over enthusiastic employees who cant see beyond a swimming pool and loud, obnoxious music

That was a sneak peek into our holiday!

!!!!!!!

2009-03-20T15:19:00.003+05:30

It's finally here... after a long wait, counting days, hours & minutes... it's finally here. For four days, I simply couldn’t contain myself, was bursting with excitement, day dreaming, imagining, planning, re-planning and planning again... new dreams, the exhilaration, it was palpable! And now, that the day has dawned... am still excited, but not quite as much... It’s true... the fun lies in the waiting, the love dawns in the longing... Anyway, let’s put-off the gyaan for another day... right now, I am on the verge of doing shoulder-stands and cartwheels... the surprises are in store for the evening... I can’t wait to see his response/reaction to all that is lined up! All of that and more when we are back next week... with lots of pictures! ;)

So hard to swallow

2009-03-09T18:48:00.005+05:30

The healthy, humble Ragi Mudde

Why is it so hard?

It’s that time of the year when sun comes beating down upon you and saps you of all your hard earned energy. If you are living in Hyderabad and are already cursing the heat under your breath, brace up for the future, the sun here has barely begun shining... forget scorching :( Its the season when the A/c’s, the coolers, the matka’s, the barley water and the Ragi drinks come dancing to the forefront.

Oh yes, Ragi reminds me of a very interesting story I did during my journalism days... a story on the variety of foods in Karnataka and finding prominence in that story was the humble Ragi mudde. Yes. Yes! The same healthy breakfast food that Deve Gowda (the son of the soil) put in the international media’s frame. So, in the story I did, I not only helped make the mudde, but also did an interesting Piece to Camera while trying hard to swallow the Ragi cake... and that’s when the question popped into my head for probably the first time, “Why are the good things in life, all so hard to swallow?” In this case, quite literally so. Anyway, to cut a long, sometimes hilarious and mostly throat hurting story short, I finally did manage to swallow the mudde without a visible scorn on the face and smilingly spiel for the tube... a story that won much applause from most of my critics! Mission accomplished; and the chapter of the mudde and the question of why so tough to swallow were closed... until, in Hyderabad, the sun started to beat down upon me and the Ragi story began all over again.

Only that this time, I chose to drink the malt and ponder on the question “Why are the good things in life, all so hard to swallow?” All the good things in life: - waking up early in the morning (yaaaaawwwwwwwwwwnnnn!), eating fresh fruits and green leafy veggies (Eeeekkkkksssssss!), doing an hour of exercise (Ouch! that hurts)... all these “good habits” are the toughest to take on though we know extremely well that they are the only ones worth having!

The exercise especially, barely a week or two ago, the angel in me kindled the good thought of inculcating a good habit of waking up at the crack of dawn, doing some yogasanas, meditation, cooking, chatting with my plants et al. Since the angel was at work while I was in the best of spirits, I decided to act upon this thought! Next morning on, up I was fresh as a daisy at 4:30 am... I was exercising, breathing fresh, unpolluted air... wow! Such was bliss. Arduous as this was on my body, I thought to myself, “there is no such thing as a free lunch! I need to work for all these pleasures... I’m doing what is really good for me! I am emerging victorious in this battle against the bulge... I have arrived” the habit is now set, my life is now disciplined.

In the evenings, during those lovely early morning days, I was happy but sleepy... fresh but a little irritable... and sometime in that sleepy, happy state of mind, a thought flashed my mind, why not wake up just 20 minutes late tomorrow... you know what happened next. Within 4 days, I am now back to waking up at 7 am... gone are the early morning walks, exercises and meditations. But the ragi drink, just brought back to me the question, why is it so tough to inculcate and maintain a good habit? The answer came to me, when I was doing what I do best- munching on (what I like to believe is) health food! Time and again, we let the small mind, the little sly, cunning fellow overpower the all encompassing, all pervading big mind. The big mind always bids its time. It’s like a mother, caring, loving to its children, warm and smiling at the small silly follies we make. It gives us stern warnings, and when we still don’t follow, then the mother comes down to action- often, that’s when we regret not having followed the ominous signs. But till then, our small mind has a ball of a time finding every little nook and corner and loophole to skid out of the regimen/ discipline that we are struggling to fit into our lives... and every time that we let this small mind win, we loose the game of life... loose the larger perspective, confine ourselves, restrict the blossoming!

So, how do we overcome this small mind? The answer to this question came while Rajesh (a good friend), Siddhartha (my better half), Aditya (my darling brother) and I were having dinner (food again) ;) in Bangalore. Unnecessary details aside, here is what we figured; we don’t have control over our thoughts or our feelings. But we can control what thoughts we act upon and what we let pass. This discrimination power, to decide on what to act and what not to come with either the awareness (which can be heightened by regular sadhana) or by making the same mistakes again and again, till we finally see what we are up to and then, that awareness will enable us to overcome the pattern of making the same mistakes over and again; that awareness will ensure that we read the signs, follow the Big mind and never don’t over step the all pervading consciousness.

So, starting tomorrow, the early mornings begin again... this time, I choose to ensure that big mind emerges victorious! All the same, isn’t it amazing, the introspection that can happen over a cuppa Ragi!

Enter the spring of bliss!

2009-02-23T18:02:00.002+05:30

It’s the night of Shiva; the Lord of all Lords; the Maha Yogi. A night celebrating the silence of Shiva, the power of HIS presence; imbibing the supreme knowledge- Shiva; rejoicing in the spring of bliss- Shiva.

Shiva- the destroyer; Also, the cause for creation! Shiva- the Lord of meditation; the Lord of awakening! Shiva tatva means ‘to be awakened’. A night to shake up, wake up from all slumber; to dispel ignorance and bring in light- opening the doors to bliss! To freedom! For me, this Shivratri is about freedom. Freedom from all the inane, mundane worries, pains, aches that have tortured my body, mind and soul for lifetimes... Freedom from the numerous, sly tricks that my mind plays, successfully digressing me from the path. Freedom from the boredom that haunts me time and again. Freedom from routine; from everything that binds me, holds me... Routine- it binds; make something a discipline and all your freedom is restricted. The mind hates it... it will never let you hold the reigns in your hand- will wander here and there and ensure that the leash you so sternly tied around it, slowly and gradually falls away- rather you throw it away. The mind is very cunning- the more you tie it down, the more loop holes it finds! It doesn’t seem to tire of this game! Well, it wins so often, no wonder it loves the game, add to that the fact that we get fooled so easily and fall prey to its tricks. No sooner have we started on a routine, a discipline... than we feel constrained, restricted even stifled... and we stop the discipline... there- the small mind won again! How much longer? How many more such victories to the small, sly, wily mind? There is a very beautiful knowledge sheet by His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar on Freedom and Discipline (Intimate Note to a Sincere Seeker- Vol 1). He says that the defence is regimented. There is no freedom in the defence services. Yet, they protect the freedom of the country. We often mistake freedom for freedom in action. That is the cause of the problem. Freedom is of the mind. Discipline is of action. So, this time, the wish is for Freedom in the mind, discipline in action. The prayer is for discipline... cause in the depth of the discipline is hidden the spring of bliss...

Something about that evening

2009-02-18T18:02:00.000+05:30

The deep lines along his forehead, the dark hollows of his cheek, the shallow feel of his skin hanging limp by his face, the depth of his eyes… they saw the pineapple yellow of the setting sun, but those rays also brought along with them a setting boredom in those deep eyes. After all, he had seen many a yellow sunset, many an autumn and felt a few too many times the warmth of the cool evening breeze. And yet, that sunset was special, was different, and was nothing like he had seen before. The breeze wasn’t like the one he had felt in the many passing years.

There was something about that evening which held him spell bound, which made him want to breathe deep, to sing like he had never done before, to play, to dance… the light that the setting sun was taking with it, in that light, he wanted to immerse himself. He wanted to bathe in those rays, to laugh while the sun tried to steal them from him… cause he owned those rays… he was their master… today, he was the carrier of light. His heart was dancing, not even waiting for his body to move an inch. His heart was overjoyed, was pouring love and bliss. His smile got wider with every passing breath… his mind raced through the past, through moments of joy, through the pains of birth…

There was something about that evening, about the breeze… there was something about those setting rays that weren’t the same as he had ever experienced. There was something about that evening when he wanted to dance, to laugh, to play… something that made him want to live and yet, his eyelids felt heavy, he simply couldn’t gaze into the distance, something closed his eyes… something about the sun rays - burnt through his supple skin… something about the warm breeze - chilled him to the bone… taking away all that he ever had… leaving behind a smile that froze… there was something about that evening that took his breath away… never to bring it back…

PS. I don't know why I wrote this... yet, even while writing it, I realised for probably the first time, how beautiful and intriguing the mystery of death is- a secret that can never be unravelled! What also came to me, was the importance of living each moment to the fullest- like its our last one... being 100 per cent in each moment! (The Guru never ceases to provide us opportunities to reiterate and live the knowledge!)

Flowing with the notes…

2009-02-17T14:38:00.000+05:30

Ustad Amjad Ali Khan live in concert

As he strummed on his instrument- with the tip of his finger nails… everything fell still. Forgotten were the careless whispers, the loud guffaws and everything in between. The occasional clearing of the throat or even the rustle of his crisp turquoise blue kurta were drowned in the sound that emanated from that shining instrument… a sweet, delicate yet sharp sound that permeated the environment. Ah! Wasn’t it bliss to hear the maestro at work? Anyone who has heard Ustad Amjad Ali Khan ji at the Sarod will know what it is like to be transported into a state of peace and joy. One can’t but help flowing with the notes and yet, the mind comes to a rare stand still! Such is meditation- flowing with the breath and watching the mind come to a halt…

It is amazing the effect that sounds have on living beings- everything ranging from plants, water, animals to of course- the social animals ;) It’s true that singing to our plants, talking to them can make them happy and encourage them to grow faster… I tried it with my little rose bush- for some reason, it didn’t bear flowers in the season that it should and after a few days of chatting with it, viola! There were 3 beautiful buds- bursting to bloom… J just by being a happy rose plant! Anyway, that’s another story for another day- how sounds and vibrations affect the plant kingdom.

Coming back to the sounds and their effect on the human body and mind complex; each sound has a distinct impact on a designation region in the body leading to an overall sense of well being and relaxation. There is a lot of research going on about this, about sounds and how they affect the body- a science that our ancient Rishi’s, Muni’s, Ustads had mastered and handed down over generations through the ragas and mantras. Each chakra (energy center) in the body responds to a particular sound, a particular vibration and through those sounds and vibrations, we can unravel the mysteries of the universe. By just meditating on those mantra’s we can get a glimpse of restful awareness of Samdhi… all we need to do, is flow with the notes, with the sounds, with the music…

Like the wise one has said-

Stretching sound is music

Stretching movement is dance

Stretching the smile is laughter

Stretching the mind is meditation

Stretching life is celebration

Stretching the devotee is God

Stretching feeling is ecstasy

Stretching emptiness is bliss!

Another 45 rhythmic breathers!

2009-02-12T14:27:00.000+05:30

Sajita and me- 2 rocking teachers on the course

Participants sharing heart warming experiences on the last day of the course

45 more people in whom the seed is now sown, who have opened another doorway to work with emotions, thoughts and feelings. 45 more people, who will breathe free, smile more and live better! Am just done with another Part 1 course – another opportunity to spread the ancient knowledge that His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji has revived on this planet. Every moment of donning the teachers’ role, of allowing the Guru to talk through you was an experience that refreshed the mind, rejuvenated the body and soothed the soul. Each moment on the course was so special for me. A moment to treasure and yet not hold on to; And for me, another reason among the millions I already have to be grateful to my Guru, to bow down to HIM… another opportunity to see the event and appreciate the happening.

Stood man with his sin

2008-09-16T15:18:00.001+05:30

In the whirlpool of emotions
All fell still
In the torrent of incidents
Stood man with his sin

He had nothing to say
He could do nothing but stare
He felt none but regret
Yet, he could not fret

In the stillness of the air
There was a breath of cool freshness
In the rush of the minute
There was a silence not far

He soiled at every mistake
And joy took him far
A tear for every error
A leap a little too far

There was a moment of tremor
He feared and shivered from
He fought his best to hide from
But the path came along

He feared to set foot on
But yet he had to walk
His destiny lay way ahead
His error was that he stopped

He stopped and lost the battle
Even before it had begun
He then drenched and wallowed in shallow sea
And its name was self pity

When the tornado struck and all fell still
Upon creation, he found written
The battle he had lost was always a win-win
Then stood man alone, all alone, with his sin.

I am OK

2008-02-08T15:05:00.000+05:30

I am ok here… just OK. I know it sounds very clichéd if I say that I miss namma ooru, I miss home. But it is true. I miss the aroma of coffee that tingles the tip of my nose, as I walk down the streets under the shade of grandpa gulmohar. I miss hearing onde ondu sari blaring from the nearest autorickshaw, whose driver is meandering his way in blatant disregard of traffic rules, if any. I miss the imposing structure of the Vidhan Soudha and the apparent disregard with which my eyes glazed past those long corridors. I miss the delicious idlis and mouth watering dosas served at any darshini located at almost every nook and corner of the city. I miss the excitement in the air… I miss the belongingness and the warmth that the city exudes… I miss the cold, the glow of the early morning sun streaming down through the fog, the loud, yet distant and soothing chants of the suprabhatam… basically, I miss namma ooru for all the reasons that I never really loved it. And I don’t find myself comfortable in the place that I am in… for the same reasons… the reasons that I never attributed to loving living in a city. Anyway… after that long list of love for home… which will never diminish, about work here… I feel a little stagnant. It has become routine, doing the same thing every day, almost like a clockwork mouse- another P-t-C, another live, another story idea mooted, thrashed and tried hard to tell it in all of 100 words… the disillusionment and to some extent- helplessness that only the fourth estate can feel and live through… and still try to keep the light of hope alive and hunt for an impact story that will also be forgotten sooner than later; try to keep the byline alive in the ever so short public memory. I won’t say that the challenge has died down… of course not! It’s a challenge to smile on camera everyday, to make myself believe that this might be the story that will make a difference, to come up with a new story everyday… sometimes make the story out of something… or even nothing And come to think of it… life is a challenge everyday… we believe that we are important… and make ourselves believe that our life will make a difference to so many… when deep down we know that we will be forgotten almost as soon as we make ourselves comfortable 6 feet under. It’s a challenge to live through what we call life… with a quest to know what lies beyond the cakes, the parties, the diamonds, the mundane clockwork life punctuated with another routine of idyllic holidays on beaches or mountains or deserts or plains or forests… another entanglement that adds to the mess inside of our already clouded heads. It’s a challenge to strive to be different in a world where actually no one is different from anyone else… and for every different move you make there must be a hundred people somewhere else in this wild wide world doing the same… or at least someone has been there done that before… or even better, the thought already existed at another level… nothing is as novel as we strive to make it… its always been there. It’s a challenge to be what you are without feeling a pang of fear, of guilt, of pride. It is a challenge to let things be the way that they are without wanting to do anything about them… and also a challenge to do anything about them… a challenge to do… a challenge to not do… a challenge of duality that this life brings with it… a challenge to lift the veil of two and merge…