Longing to meet the Divine and non duality – a paradox?

[This article is also a sequel to First Meeting which describes my first meeting with Guru ji.]

There is a seemingly paradoxical longing for Guru ji. Guru ji taught me that I and him are one. There are no two, only one. I have experienced this fact in my first Sudarshan Kriya and in many Kriyas thereafter. Soham. I am him. Yet, why have I recently started having this longing to be with Him? If there are no two, who wants to meet whom? Is this really a paradox?

I had a good fortune of meeting him about an year ago. This was my second meeting with Guru ji. I wanted to tell him many things and ask many questions. But when I was standing right in front of him, all thoughts evaporated. Vanished! I was left with nothing to tell and nothing to ask. The moment of meeting him passed, I did not speak a word and he said nothing to me! Yet, I was filled with joy. Why? How? And what evaporated all my thoughts, all my anxieties?

Answer is, His presence. His presence anchored me in the present moment which is why all thoughts about past and all questions for future evaporated. He who has experienced the oneness or non-duality Himself, facilitates an elevating experience for everybody in his vicinity. Everybody get a glimpse of unity with the present moment and when there is unity with the present moment all dualities disappear.

His presence which anchors a mind into the present moment, gives a glimpse of non duality. Meeting the divine is an experience of non-duality. Longing to meet the Divine and non duality are not paradoxical. In fact one leads to other for a seeker. And for The One who knows, there is no paradox, there are no two, only one, Love itself! Jai Guru Dev!

Poem - Now I know

It is so wonderful
to see the light
through the clouds
of storm.

In the chaos
of what to do,
to see a ray
of hope.

It is so wonderful.

What is that
I want to do,
is what I
have been asking.

What is that
which makes sense to me,
is what I
have been asking.

It is so wonderful
to get
the answer
in the mid of a night.

But not by a flash
or a thunder cloud
muttering the answer
from heaven unknown.

I saw it happen
every day
inside me
and outside.

It is so wonderful.

Was it writing
poem and prose?
Or was it writing
fundoo code?

Was it marrying
my Price Charm?
Or was it traveling
through the greens?

Was it sitting
in silence?
Or was it dancing
in the joy?

The answer
lied
far beneath
in my heart.

In the tears
that i shed
seeing the children
toil hard
every day
to earn the butter
and the bread.

Facing a world
so selfish
so ignorant
full of abuses
and stares,
right from
the womb
of a mother
either unfortunate
or dead.

It is so wonderful
to know
what makes sense
to me.

How I know
I don't know
but now I know
is what I know.

Cave on a Cliff

There was a cliff standing high on the shore of a vast ocean. Waves would come hit it and go back. Soon new waves would come hit it and go back. But the cliff was rock solid. Years passed on and cliff remained there. Non stop hitting of waves created a a small cave in the cliff. Cave started widening over years. Hundred years passed and it became a wide comfortable cave.

This cave was half submerged in water. Small fishes would come in hoards and rest here for a while, play for a while, eat the little growth of phytoplankton on its edge. Cave watched its visitors and the sun which would come up everyday and go down making the waters orange and red from blue. It watched the clouds pouring water some days and the thundering. Sometimes it would watch the bigger fishes coming in and eating the smaller ones. Now even bigger fishes could enter the cave as the cave was widening. Thousands of years passed and cave was much wider than it originally was.

As the years passed, Cave started deepening slowly. And as it became deeper, it became darker with time. It started being so dark inside. A different form of life started flourishing inside. Little fishes were no more interested in going inside cave, in fact they were frightened to go inside. Another thousand years passed and soon this cave inhabited only the dead plant and animal life. Nothing living. With years cave became sadder.

One day cave give a little thought to this phenomenon. What is happening to me. Every hundred years I become darker than before. This is sad :(. And after another thousand years I will become even darker :( :( ... Wait! After thousand years I will become much darker than how I am right now. I am seeing much more light now than I would be seeing thousand years later. When I can clearly see it is going to become worse tomorrow, why not enjoy this better today? Hey! I am so wonderful right now! Wow!

And another thousand years passed and the dead plant and animals started rotting further burying themselves into sediments to form fossil fuel of the future. Cave was observing all this, but with a smile.

[Like caves get darker with time, our hair line recedes a bit. I observed that after every 5 years my hair are much thinner than before but definitely they are definitely thicker than how they will be 5 years later :)]

Choose your life

We make choices all the time and what we get in return is our life. We chose our life ourselves.

If I chose to follow my parents, I will have one kind of life; if I chose not to follow them, I will have a different kind of life. If I chose to be adaptive in nature, I will have one lifestyle but if I chose to be rigid, it will be different.

Based on the choices made at one point, I will get next set of choices. It is like a decision tree. We face the consequences of our own choices and not of others, well most of the times. Let us take an example. Let us assume that it is raining outside. I have no choice to stop/ start the rain, probably (who knows? may be we have this choice as well but we are unaware). But I have multiple choices.

I can remain indoor and be ignorant of what is happening outside; I can watch it with a smile; and lastly I can go outside and get myself wet. Whatever I choose, I will face the consequence of it and my life after this point will change according to my choice, however small that change be. If I get myself wet, I may feel happy for the moment but catch a viral infection later; or, this could be the last rain of my life and I just missed it by remaining indoor!

Abiding by the given circumstance is my choice and making relentless effort to change it is also my choice. Doing things according to my capability is my choice, expanding my capabilities to try new things is also mine. Not choosing anything is my choice as well.
"I am making my choices", as soon as I realize this, I feel free and all complaints disappear. We all choose our lives ourselves, we just need to realize it during our ups and downs. Shouldn't we?

Meditation - then and now

Bawra mann

This song from Hazaron Khwaishein Aisi, just caught hold of me. I am still in its grip, listening it in loop since an hour or so

इस सयानी भीड़ में बस हाथों में तेरा हाथ हो
(In this wise crowd, let your hands be in mine)

Though this song is romantic, deeply romantic indeed; but the main theme is madness and not romance. Depiction of crowd as wise brings out the contrast between wisdom and madness.

All of us are so wise these days or may have always been due to compulsion of evolution, that the madness with in us has taken a back seat. The madness of dancing without any invisible fence around us or the madness of singing aloud without caring for the upcoming requests to shut up! And finally the madness of searching what we are meant for; risking all that we are in any case not enjoying.

All of us are wise enough not to do any of the above, this song just reminded me of this usual common sense difference between a crowd who is wise and an individual who can dare to stay mad in that crowd of wisdom.

Short Stroy - Flow (Part 2)

[This story is a continuation of this.]

A short n' brisk walk and Kimu reached Pearl White Dairy.
"One and a half kg", said Kimu. Maarg Singh ji started measuring his Pearl White milk. He started measuring milk even before Kimu could finish his sentence. It was a routine for him and for Kimu as well, but he would always say the same words everyday - One and a half kg.

"Are you not going to school today?"
"It's a second Saturday. No school."
"Lucky fellow. No second Saturdays for me.", sighed Maarg Singh ji. "But what would I do on a second Saturday? May be both of us can go for swimming." Kimu gave a polite smile, collected the milk packet which Maarg Singh ji bundled while dreaming about a free second Saturday, and started walking back towards his home.

He placed the milk packet on Kitchen's granite slab which was recently polished and was shining as if it was an ambassador representing of the whole granite clan in Kimu's House Nation. Kimu went to his room. His room was minimally furnished with a single bed and a table, both wooden. A light blue plastic chair which had Kimu's clothes carefully cluttered and spread in an arranged chaotic way, on its arms and lap. Kimu's bag was silently lying on the table enjoying his share of a free second Saturday. Table also held a fish bowl on its top. Kimu lifted the bowl and sat on his bed with his legs folded into a comfortable cross legged posture and the bowl held against his head, watching his purple fish carefully.

After having examined her purpleness and liveness, he gave a big bright smile to the fish. He watched her move here and there in circles, sometimes stopping by to watch Kimu in turn. Kimu kept the bowl back on the table and opened his bag which was otherwise busy enjoying his free Saturday. He took out his Art File and carefully unbundled a sheet out of it. Art file is defined as a loosely or tightly bound bundle of plane white sheets, some empty, some colored and drawn upon, carefully fitted inside a card board like thick sheet which is colorfully decorated and carries the bearer's name, class and subject etc. along with the rest of the decoration on its top. Kimu carefully unbundled the sheets, took a plane white sheet and bundled back the rest. Bag was still waiting for the Art File to be pushed back again. But Kimu did not care. Poor bag kept waiting with his mouth wide open.

Kimu started drawing his fish on the sheet. He was intently following her eye shaped body and fin shaped fins. Her scales, her big fish like eyes. It was due to her fish like eyes, that Kimu named her Meenakshi. But the purple fish never called herself with that name. She would have preferred calling herself something else if ever some other fish would talk to her and ask her name. Kimu then jerked his bag once again to take out the color box. He took out a purple color started painting her new flat fish into a purple flat fish, when Seine entered the room. She watched him for a while. "Ohh", she said with an appreciating "O", her head bent slightly to watch the picture better while her hand gently placed itself on the table.

"Is this Meenakshi's painting?", she asked lovingly.
"Yes! It is."
"But where is her bowl?"
"There should be no bowl, she should be free."
"But she can not live with out water," she smiled again at the thoughtfulness of her little son.
"Oh I forgot", Kimu hit his head with his hand in a quick response. "How can she live without water."

With light blue colored, he started drawing waves of water.
"Finish it and brush your teeth. Breakfast is ready." She gently tapped his head and gave a peck on his cheek. Kimu hugged her back.
"Mamma, what is there in the breakfast?"
"Your favorite"
"Bread Chilla!!", he exclaimed with bright eyes and jumped straight towards the bathroom.

Short Story - Flow

Kimu was sitting on the bank. Lost deep into himself; yet following the flow of the river, neither too fast nor too slow, just about right. He could feel the flow under the seven layers of epidermis he was wearing all along. Like the river, his seven layers kept replenishing themselves day after day, month after month and year after year. It was an 11 year long period of losing the old skin and getting new one, inhaling the fresh air and exhaling the stale one. Was the air really fresh or did it keep circulating between being Co2 and O2 through the dark green leaves? Is this water fresh, or has it been here some other time, some other day, in some other form, may be. Lost in all those thoughts, he almost lost the track of time when his mother's shout from inside the house reminded him that he had to go and get milk from White Pearls dairy.

White Pearls dairy produced milk in place of the pearls but his owner Marg Singh ji, thought of each of his milk products viz. milk, curd, paneer, zeera paneer and ghee as distinct perls in their own right. He was a huge man with thick mustache and pearl white dhoti. He wears dhoti in all seasons but perhaps during winters, dhoti is being helped by an extra inner which would help the dhoti keep Marg Singh ji warmer. With dhoti, what would never change is his leather black shoes, ones with pointed ends and giving Marg Singh ji his typical traditional and gracious Jaat look. But during that birthday party, he was not wearing those leather black shoes. Nor was he wearing the same white dhoti.

[Flash back]
He wore a cream colored dhoti which had a golden rim along its length and both its breadths. His shoes were also different, they became brown in color and were extra polished with a golden shine about them. It was a warm bright afternoon of an otherwise dull and shivery winter. DJ who was also the waiter serving a gathering of about 37 people, was playing 60s and 70s oldies of Kishore Kumar. Oldies of Rafi, which was the only other choice he had in old songs, would be too sad for the party. Other than Marg Singh Ji and the DJ, there was Seine who was busy moving here and there and calling some people and smiling at some others. She was basically calling those who were at the party for more than past one hour. These were the people who could help her arrange things for those who are coming or yet to come. Those were coming were the ones at whom Seine was smiling simultaneously. In between her callings and smilings, she called someone and told her to make a call to Seine's husband and ask when will he be reaching home. She wasn't waiting to smile at her husband but was waiting for smiling at Rincha whose birthday party was being attended and organized.

Before the caller could call, house bell rang. Seine rushed to open the door, but somebody else already did it for her. Seine was looking for Rincha, she was coming back home after 2.5 months of her internship. Seine was desperately searching everywhere, at the door, at her husband, even trying to see behind him. Him. Who's he? He is not Rincha's husband. He is their neighbor. Oho, all guests have arrived. "Call him fast", Seine shouted. Neighbor was also in a hurry, he hurriedly came to Seine and silently shouted, "Mr. D'Souza met an accident at Pearls dairy. Mr. Sharma is taking out his car to take him to hospital. You come with me." He said all this without taking a single breath and Seine could only look at his face before he finished. She lost the sense of space and time and started walking with the neighbor. Kishore's song were still playing. DJ will soon stop them from playing and will not turn on to Rafi's songs, though they would definitely match the sadness in the party that persisted after that moment.

Seine reached Pearls dairy. Mr. Maarg Singh and others soon followed. She looked at her husband who was in arms of a neighbor cum friend. She looked around to see Rincha when she noticed a badly sandwiched stomach between probably what would have been a tyre and black tar covered road. That stomach was Rincha's and soon as Seine recognized it, she lost her senses and fell down only to add a count to the number of bodies lying around.

[Present]
Seine shouted again, "Kimuuuuu. Dairy will be closed by the time you get up." She was watching him from the kitchen window and though she knew he was sad due to cruel separation from his elder sister Rincha, she wanted him to fetch milk and take one more step in an attempt to flow with life.

Short story - Meadow and the Tree

In the meadow of emptiness, surrounded by young and small bushes, lived a tall tree. It had dark green leaves in summers and a huge strong trunk. This tree was very particular about cleanliness and rules. Violation of rules was not permitted. It would shout out its anxiety with strong shrugging of its branches if even minutest of his rules were broken. And if it were angry, it would SHOUT (read SHRUG) irrespective. In any case it was a meadow of emptiness; so its shouting or no shouting made no difference.

One day a sparrow came to its vicinity, he looked around, inspected the bushes and enjoyed the small appetizing insects living in those bushes. He then inspected the tree. Clean indeed. What a perfect combination! I will live here, he decided. He would fly everyday and find some twigs and dry branches and would collect them all in a warm shallow hollow inside the trunk. Slowly and gradually his nest was built into a clumsy scatter of dried plant parts. Tree was watching all this time, but it did not mind this intrusion. It was a meadow of emptiness after all and arrival of a pair of fluttering wings and a talking beak was definitely an omen of life. Tree welcomed the sparrow with a silent but full smile.

Sparrow would fly everyday and come back to the warmth of his shallow hollow and sleep. Very soon he found his soul mate for the season and both of them started making lot of chirping and fluttering each day. All that noise would irritate the tree to the capacity of its endurance and when he would wake up he would find all the dead twigs and bird shit scattered everywhere on its branches and on the bushes around. Everyday tree's morning would start either with frustration of the mess the sparrows would create or with the extra effort of cleaning up all that mess by shrugging his branches and mopping with his fine dark green leaves. He would still tolerate the pair because it was after all a meadow of emptiness and those sparrows were the only signs of life there.

Mrs. sparrow laid three peach colored eggs one fine day. Both the sparrows started taking care of the eggs. Giving those little eggs all their warmth and smiling at each other in turn. Those were the days of maximum happiness for the tree. All this time, there were no flutter and loud noises which were caused mostly by the excited pair during their seasonal mating sessions. Relief. This meant peaceful nights for the tree and much lesser mess to clean up the next day. Wow! I am helping a form of life in surviving this meadow of emptiness and I am no more alone, thought the tree and smiled wide. Days passed by with nothing much happening and tree almost forgot that there was a pair of sparrows and a triplet of peach colored eggs in a shallow hollow inside its trunk.

On another finer day, the triplet of sparrow kids came out of their peach colored shells. These small sparrows have peach colored fur all around their bodies, little blue eyes which were mostly closed and rarely open with a lot of "aw", "what?" and "wow!" in them. Tree was too happy to see these kids. It felt really proud that day, when he heard the sparrow kids for the first time. It felt good that it did not remove the cumbersome pair from his trunk. The sparrow kids were all either too happy or too sad to see this new world outside their shell, as they made a hell lot of noise all the time. Even the sparrow pair started all their fluttering and loud chirping once again. This time their shouts would mix with the shouts of their kids and made it worse than ever. Not to mention all the mess they created added with the peach colored fur of their kids. Tree tried tolerating but very soon it gave up. He decided to take some action.

One finest morning, tree got up, looked at the mess, but in place of preparing for the regular clean up; it pulled up his sleeves of bark and reached out to the shallow hollow in the trunk. Tree was an old healthy tree with strong branches quite capable to throwing a ton a mile away but the branches were very thick nearer to the trunk and thinner upwards. It tried hard but could not reach the hollow. It shrugged its branches a number of times, but the trunk was intact, it won't move, so would the hollow and the sparrows inside it. Sparrows weren't moving but they were all awe-struck with the power presentation given by the tree. Tree was all angry and would do the shrugging even harder each time. No avail. Sparrows became quiet out of fear and there was complete silence. Tree was also silent, its shouting did not help. Two and a half more moments and fluttering and noise resumed slowly. Sparrows started their day to day activity which of course consisted predominantly of fluttering and loud noises. Tree had to listen to it all, it had no choice.

Now everyday tree would get up and get frustrated about its helplessness and the mess of course; and sleep frustrated in the company of loud noises. It was no more a meadow of emptiness. May be tree will someday learn to be happy in a lively meadow.