the space with in

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

2011-11-06T07:54:00.000-08:00

[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

2011-06-27T04:45:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-16T02:23:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-27T05:27:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-15T22:30:00.001-07:00

Bawra mann

2011-04-15T12:06:00.000-07:00

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)

2011-02-12T01:03:00.000-08:00

[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

2011-02-04T05:34:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-14T04:32:00.000-08:00

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.

Trek to Dushsagar Falls

2010-09-10T03:01:00.000-07:00

We were a group of 20 adventurers who started the Train journey from Hyderabad to Castle Rock Station. I did not know that I was about to spend some really wonderful moments with these 19 unknown people.

Trek which we followed was filled with heart filling greenery, gentle showers of monsoon, dark horrifying tunnels cutting through the mighty Western Ghat mountains and the pleasure of walking (while carrying all our luggage on our shoulders.)

After five hours of trekking through the mountains along a fairly zero slope railway track, we reached our destination - A breath taking view of a real mighty fall! It was such a pleasure to see this white cladding monster waiting there for tired travelers like us.

It was monsoon time and the fall was at its best. We let ourselves free in its streams. On one hand water was soothing in some small adobes of accumulation; on another it was really powerful where it had to make its way to move. Ah! the pressure of free flowing water.

After spending one night under the mist within our fairly safe tents, we trekked towards to a small town in Goa called Kollam.

At Kollam we had delicious Goan food and from there came back to Hyderabad via Londa with lots of smiles and a heart filled with gratitude towards the créateur belle, nature!

Freedom

2009-12-05T10:53:00.000-08:00

Aha long time!

How are you doing? I am doing absolutely great. A lot of things are happening these days. Really a lot if I look at it. New work, absolutely new team mates, a very new work culture. Earlier I was with a Research Lab and now fully into product development which means deadlines, managers, coding, delivering work...hufff! Too much! I might be over reacting, but I need some coke to swallow this "new" thing.

The "new" list is not over with that. A new place altogether, Hyderebad it is. New house, new housemates, new living habits. Today with my housemates, I watched 15 episodes of Friends back to back. Was reading a novel during the rest of my time and I have no need what so ever of being answerable for what I am doing with my time!

The best part is I never see my time being spent as a waste at any point. This was one bad thing about IAS preparations or about the way I used to perceive things. If I am doing something other than study, I used to find it an utter waste of time. Same is not the case now. Every moment of my day is now useful, because there is absolutely nothing that I "want" to do/ "have" to do. So whatever I do is out of my own free will. And I mean it. I am experiencing free will after a long time. May be a life time!

This might sound freaking but actually its not all that freaking. I am still doing the very same things any normal person will do. Its only the added perception of freedom that makes it more beautiful. Freedom from committing myself to one narrow aim and cutting myself from a wide wide range of activities, hobbies etc. I hope this perception which has nothing to do with circumstances just continues. No matter what I want to do, I will not be a slave of that "want" and this very fact simply frees me!

Bigger Scheme

2009-09-03T08:57:00.000-07:00

There are times when we want certain things and those things are never granted. This usually happens during those chubby childhood days, when our parents forbid us from certain things. And we helplessly live without them. I will give an example to illustrate the situation.
A small 3 year old is asking his mother to give him a sharp knife so that he can tear open a birthday gift. Mother knows that he can hurt himself with that, but child wants the knife and nothing else. He cries, runs up and down, is totally drown in tears and dust. Mom says absolute NO! Child is also adamant and continues with whatever he could. He is throwing things, crying at even a sharper pitch with even more tears than ever.
Finally inspite of the child crying she opens the gift wrap herself and gives it to him. He couldn't do anything after that. The gift is open and he could not use that knife, something he wanted to do so desperately. He is upset but mother knows and an observer like us also knows that she did the right thing. Child is upset though.

This is the same way, we sometimes become upset when we are not granted our wishes. Though in the bigger scheme of things, that not granting was the most correct thing that could have happened. Oblivious of the bigger scheme, as we are also supposed to be, we continue being upset. Though children soon forget and become busy in something else, we sometimes keep crying. What is more important is to move ahead and forget what happened a while ago.

One more observation. In future, child will ask for something else, may be flowers, may be fire; and mother will grant somethings and not grant somethings else. But the child will keep asking and so should we. Because we know that the mother is always willing to grant our wishes, after all we are her favourite children ;)

Mamma

2009-02-21T09:52:00.000-08:00

Actually wanted to title it "Meri Maa" from the song Taare Zameen Par. I watched this movie today again for a third time. It is simply amazing. There is this scene when Ishan's parents are departing, in a Qualis I think, leaving him in the boarding. This scene completely goes through my heart, a Hard strike right into my heart and through it, great shot! Hats off! I know there are many such heart touching scenes. But this one reminds me like many others I am sure, of my first day at hostel. I felt the same emptiness and nothingness when my family was leaving me at the hostel gate. My mom kept looking at me and I kept looking at her. Though we never talked about it but both of us know how we felt. When they were leaving, I just didn't want them to leave, I wanted to run and stop their car but I didn't, taking care of my "brave courageous kid" image. And after the car disappeared in dark, each step that I took to get into that unknown building was so heavy. I couldn't even lift my head up. But as soon as I reached reception area i was once again drawn into the excitement of a new place, new people, a completely unknown room mate, classes next day, list of freshers events and everything that I thoroughly enjoyed in every moment of that new life that I entered soon after.

But this nausea of leaving my mom still follows me everywhere. Just four months ago I went to write my IAS mains exam and like always mamma was there with me. On all 7 days of exams she would get up before I do, prepare my breakfast and lunch, pack some refreshments, a mattress and other essential things to stay at the exam center for the whole day, so that I can relax during the in between break time, can lose all worries and concentrate on the exam. She would never put any pressure for success, but would always ask me to relax and enjoy even in the hardest of my times. She always has her set of jokes ready for me to smile and to hug her and cuddle her with all my force. When I am worried, she will make me put my head in her lap, and that in front of six other examinees of my age and you know what it actually always helps. She does just so much and has never stopped all these 25 years. Yet she demands nothing, absolutely nothing.
Today also she will always quickly get up and will not let any of us move from our chairs when we are studying or our beds when we are ill or her lap when we are crying. She does so much.

Some of my friends keep telling me that I am an over protected / pampered child, that I should come out of this comfort zone and train myself with the real world. I agree but at the same time I feel so blessed, so fortunate for having her all the time. I really want to thank her for everything, e v e r y t h i n g. I am deeply sunk in her love and care. She doesn't even realize how precious she is and I can never thank her, never, for being like she is. Gratitude is an understatement.

One advice I want to give away for free and from my experience, just tell your parents how much you love them and do it right now because sometimes it gets really late when you realize you should have told them. I never told my father how much I love him. When I was in hostel, he once told me over phone that he thinks his children don't love him. I was too foolish at that time. I should have run home, hugged him, kissed him and told him "No Papa! I love you so much! You are the greatest greatest Dad ever!" I don't want that to happen in my mother's case, I want to love her, care for her as much as I can. And not just her, let all parents be loved and told softly, subtly, smilingly, shoutingly, cuddlingly or whichever way you find appropriate, how much we love them!

Butterflies

2009-02-03T04:00:00.000-08:00

With the days
passing by
singing in silence
dancing in joy
in the seed
of emptiness lie
some small
butterflies

Looking at me
furling their wings
for me to see
and enjoy

But often I
close my eyes
from those little
butterflies
born of
the very emptiness
that I
often enjoy

And whenever I
close my eyes
from those little
butterflies
my eyes
are open ajar!?

The pair of glasses
The Kajal I put
All are useless
So are you!

You my stupid
useless eyes!
Can't just I
see my
butterflies?

I am in tears
begging my eyes
Let me see
my butterflies

A moment's silence
No reply

Then comes in
The Maestro Grand
And He's here
to stand by
and to open
my open eyes

All I do
is close my eyes
to see my those
butterflies

looking at me
furling their wings
for me to see
and enjoy!

Message Delivery

2009-01-14T23:41:00.000-08:00

About an year ago, I attended an Art Of Living Course, it's called DSN or Divya Samaj Nirman It was one course which brought me closer to AOL and still closer to Guruji, though Guruji in person wasn't there. Atika di took this course and amongst many stories she told this one little story that I will reproduce here.

It was about an Art of Living teacher, who for teaching purposes went to a naxalite affected area in North East, in spite of Guruji's warning that it's quite dangerous there. He went and unfortunately militants captured him and kept him in custody for some days; because of his very nature, he was very friendly to the person who guarded him. One day that guard was sitting besides him; he had a lot of sympathy and remorse in his eyes. When teacher saw him he knew that his friend is sad because he (the teacher) is about to be killed. Teacher lost is calm, he was too frightened to know that. The guard went away for sometime and teacher was restless.

Guard left a radio there and this radio which was poor at catching any music station started singing "yu hi chala chal rahi.. yu hi chala chal" and teacher suddenly knew he must run out of here. He started running and chose the more rugged way in stead of the common commutation route fearing chase. On his way he saw some militants waiting for him but escaped them luckily, finally he reached a pakka road where he also found a bus coming. He stopped that bus, climbed it and as he sat he could hear his breath running at its fastest. He was busy pumping all that air in when he heard another song coming from a radio held in a nearby hand, it was a love song. "Hume tumse pyaar kitna..." or something like that, I don't remember exactly, but teacher started crying, tears were rolling on his cheeks because now he understood, it was Guruji who sent him that message and it is Guruji again who was telling him how much He loves him.

Difficult to believe, haan? Those songs could be mere co-incidents. But I don't think so. Guruji tells us that this universe has a big mind, we call it Guru Dev (Guru means Big in Sanskrit) and all of us, even non living things have our small minds which are projections of that big mind, the mind of universe. When we are connected to that big mind we are connected to every other being in this universe, living or non living. And it is through this connection that we get signals. It only depends on our level of alertness, how easily and often we catch those signals and understand them. Satsang, Seva and Sadhna helps us tune our radio sets i.e. improve our understanding and that is what we learn at Art Of Living. It is nothing we don't know, we only forgot with time.

The first meeting, Face to Face

2008-11-25T08:35:00.000-08:00

Long time. I hope you people are having a great time.
I haven't written anything since ages. Reading Bawa n Dinesh recently inspired me to write more frequently, let us see how far this inspiration goes.
In my last (to last) blog I introduced a super hero (as Vishal has pointed out, and Vishal you should know who He is) who was the first person whom I find absolutely suitable (this is definitely an understatement) for being my ideal.
The first face to face encounter I had with Him is a strange story in itself.
Around 4 o'clock on a fine evening, my mom called me to tell that He was at that moment staying at a place very near to my work place. I was in the mid of a team meeting, but attended to her phone. I generally ignore any calls while in a meeting, but she called twice, so I thought it must be an emergency. At first I decided not to go especially in between work, but then for about 15 minutes I wasn't listening to what my team lead was emphasizing upon and suddenly my mom called yet again just to add one more information, He might leave in 15 minutes. And I rose up.
'I have to go immediately.'
'Is everything alright?'
'Everything's fine.'
A pause. Question mark on every other face and probably also on mine.
'I need to meet our Guruji. He will leave in 15 minutes. I will go back home directly from there. See you guys tomorrow.'
Biplav, my team lead, cleared his throat.
'OK (pause) we will discuss this offline then.'
That was probably most absurd reason for leaving an important meeting and till now I didn't "really" regard Guruji as my Guruji!
Yet in between doubts, mostly mine and question marks, I left my office, paid autowala 40 bucks for a distance less than worth 20 and reached the venue.
There were a variety of people gathered in the lawns of a big Mansion in a posh Delhi locality. Mostly rich satisfied faces, their clothing wonderful, their hairs perfect and also a group of people from a small Uttar Pradesh/Uttaranchal town, I think 30-35 of them. All of us were waiting for Guruji to come down from a first floor room. Though I think everybody had their own reasons to meet, I was still thinking why was I there. I was still thinking why should I meet Him. If at all I happen to meet Him, what will I say? I settled upon just seeing him once, seeing him full length and from a good distance and going back home immediately after that. He was to climb down a stairway. In between the crowd I positioned myself at a comfortable spot from where I can see him climbing down the whole staircase. I kept standing there for about 1-1.5 hours, I had already spent an hour looking at the crowd (so a total of 2 - 2.5 hours without much purpose), wondering about various things and deciding upon what I wanted to do.
Some rich looking and generally old people were allowed to move up the stair case. Lucky ones, everybody around was feeling extraordinarily jealous. I was in no hurry, I was perfectly fine even with not seeing Guruji at all. This thought was more comforting than the thought of meeting him as I had absolutely nothing to do with a meeting. But by that time I definitely wanted to see him at least for 10 seconds. An order came from the room to let all 30 35 people of that small town to come up. Hurray! Yipppeee. People soon started running over each other to climb the stairs. There was a young looking white clad smiling guard on the door leading to the room, who was very politely not allowing people to go in till the final GO comes from inside. The moment GO came, a crowd rushed in and I was taken along by the ruthless devotees and soon that golden gateway was closed.
And there I was, in front of the legend of our times! Wearing all white, looking very tired, dark skin, having concern in his eyes for everybody inside the room. He asked everybody to settle down. I decided to keep standing but at the back and see him all the time I can. I was constantly looking at him. He was talking to people, sometimes smiling, but was looking really tired. Somebody came and felicitated him with a baansoori (flute) and a crown, he very gracefully accepted that and smiled again. He was sitting on a Sofa with his legs folded in vajrasan. People soon stood up, gradually everybody stood, I could not see him any more. I decided to stand in a position where i can see him side-ways. I was constantly looking at him. I don't remember if I ever blinked. Gradually people covered him from both the sides. He started distributing sweets to his beloved followers and asked them politely to leave one by one. I then decided to go forward to collect the prasad. As I came directly in front of him, I sat down and touched his knees. Mann, there was nothing hard like a knee socket, it was as soft as the pillows of a seven star, like finest variety of cotton. He was a thin man. Very thin. I almost drowned in that touch and its softness for I don't remember how long, but I was into that one single slight touch. I was nowhere for some time. Time stopped. Suddenly somebody pushed me and I knew I had to move. He had already given me the prasada when I was nowhere and by the time I came back to my senses, I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what, but something. And out of nowhere, I said "Guruji Ashirwaad" (Give me your blessings) Pointing to the sweets he said "yahi hai ashirwaad" (he was completely exhausted and wanted the crowd to leave) In his gesture he asked me to leave.(i didn't like tat AT All) And I myself not wanting Him to be troubled any more, wanted to leave. But; I didn't want to leave, I wanted to see him more and more. So I decided to wait for strict orders and see him to the maximum length that I can. Probably everybody else was thinking the same. Soon Guruji realized it was an error to call so many people up, all at once and he decided to leave himself. I watched him all through his departure again, till the point he was not visible any more.
In the room itself I ate up all the prasad, completely forgetting that my mom will be too glad to have have that. When I went home everybody was asking for the stories of my victory at "meeting" Guruji, a chance not every tom, dick n harry gets. People from distant places called to know how i felt. I was a victorious heroic figurine for quite some time. Everybody was asking how it felt. Actually I was feeling nothing. All of them thought I am the lucky one who got to meet Guruji after doing just one Art Of Living course. I was not sure. Nor was I too happy to have met Guruji!
In fact all this triggered a train of thoughts. Do I really like him? Is he really worth all the regards everybody has for him. And the bigger question, can he be my ideal?

Yawwnn

2008-11-09T22:27:00.000-08:00

2 blogs a month is a poor average I admit. Being a writer is no easy job. You need to start the UPS, then CPU (monitor is always turned by default) and then wait for some computer formalities to finish, sign on and then start writing. Hufff, indeed tiring.

I was busy writing (and preparing for) an exam for a long time, about 1.5 months. Towards the end I JUST wanted it to end, one way or the other. Finally it was over and I was the most happy person down on earth. I was jumping, screaming, full of energy, like I was a child again. 2 days that went immediately after the exam were the most beautiful ones. I realized in order to enjoy those 2 days, I had to go through some of the pains those earlier 90 days had to offer. Simple logic, all of us already know it. Hard Work --> Sweet Success. I decided to extend my enjoyment era, no work only rest. After another 10 days rest went painful again, once again I just wanted it to end, one way or the other. It is neither hard work nor complete rest that make me feel unhappy. Unhappiness comes from the excess of it, all I need is a balance between the two. If one exceeds the limit, I want the other to take over but only for some time and nothing better than a perfectible balance.

As you can see in the first para I am already too much accustomed to rest. It will need some effort and practice to come out of this slumber and I will be ready to write once again about my super hero, the story that I left unfinished last time. Till then wish me luck to come to balance again.

Thick And Bold

2008-09-26T23:12:00.000-07:00

Arbit ahmmm? Hmmm, yups quite arbit; being at home for the last 15 days, doing nothing but studying. Thinking of nothing but the exam, it’s quite arbit. And what is that Thick And Bold? Though this heading came arbitrarily to my mind, I can now see some logic behind it. Thick is the life and bold is myself who is enjoying boldly through this thick.

Thickness of life is nothing but its liveliness, its fun, its ups and thins are the downs. I have sailed through thins sometimes; most recent was my final year at IITD (probably this thin is still continuing itself), but whenever I came out of those thins I always felt that was no thin, it was I who was thinking it was a thin. Life’s always thick and yumm, it’s only my attitude which makes it appear thinner than usual and as soon as I am out of that attitude, I start enjoying its thickness with all the boldness that I have.

I will be 25 next year and less than hopefully quarter of my life has passed. I am hoping to live more than 100, may be too optimistic a target but I brush my teeth everyday, and exercise (almost) daily and other such usual things. It was only after 22 that I started looking for a direction. I was only curious to know what I will do for rest of my life. Grow up two kids, but this exercise will end in 20-25 years; another 25 years passed, what about rest 50? So that alone will not suffice. I started looking for an ideal for myself like Mother Teresa, Mahatma Gandhi, my mother or Atal Bihari Vajpayee. But none had it all. I used to feel very bad about it. It was bad that I had no ideal to follow, which means no lessons to be learnt, no standards to be set. And suddenly I came across the very legend of our times (to be continued …)

Leaving

2008-09-08T09:31:00.000-07:00

Leaving has always been troublesome for me. I am too nervous to leave anything. Nervous may not be of rightest use here, but I feel sick when I am leaving some things, I am not sure whether it is something or anything. I mean, it could be that I feel sick whenever I am leaving anything. I really don't know, this habot of mine could some psychological disorder, who knows? Example in case is my last day at IRL. Tomorrow it is and I am already feeling flies in my stomach and not butterflies because I am not liking it. It means a lot of things to me, both good and bad.

Good ones first, in fact good one is the only one and most important one. I want to see what I want.

I am in a very comfortable position; I have no responsibilities to fetch, i mean kids, husband, his family, food, servants, house, house tax, electricity bill, (I have telephone bill though) etc etc. I know I will get a good job any time I want. This surety is more to do with the current trends and position of Indian economy. We have so much opportunities these days that we need not worry about our everyday butter and bread, at least not us who have studied in expensive public schools, read expensive books (all academic in my case), got best coaching classes available and got admission to a good engineering college. (This story is most typical of most of us. I mean everything same, DITTTO) But bread is worrisome only for few Indians may be a farmer who is soon to commit suicide because he knows his family will get at least the compensation amount or the rag picker kid who is happy but in shambles and has to listen to scolding of almost everybody other than a rag picker and that too of an age strictly younger than him/her. (Surprising enough these "few" Indians and many more like them account for more than 75% of our population.)

Though you need not worry much about him, the rag picker kid because he hears to these abuses from one ear and let them go through his luckier second one within a gap of few nanoseconds; what you need to worry about is what do you want? Do you want to turn a deaf ear to these screaming realities of India as she stands today or do you want to simply enjoy the opportunities that are being offered to you? As a matter of fact, India is not only a home of many so called (totally superficial as far as I know) techies but at the same time home to world's largest pool of unskilled human resource; our economy mostly consists of (93% of it) unorganized sector; still more than 60% people live in rural areas where they are denied basic amenities like drinking water and sanitation, not to talk about the huge population living in slums. Rural India stands where they were before independence except some (very few) regions like Punjab and Haryana which benefited themselves with the fruits of green revolution.

Same money lenders, same crop failures, same lack of infrastructure, same poverty, illiteracy, ignorance, superstitions. It is a problem for us as well because we are more capable of dealing with it, we have all the tools, all the implements with us; we only need to go forward and apply them; what is required is we ask ourselves what we want and it is very daring to ask this very truth, what is that I want. But I am sure it is less daring than leaving things like having a TT table at your work place, having a coffee machine standing upright by the side of a newspaper stand, both of them always willing to serve you when you come out of your grAnd cubicle for a dingy break, an AC all the time specially in this mostly hot and occasionally humid climate of Delhi, talking long hours with your colleagues about nothing and many many more such things. I don't think it is much daring to leave these things. What do you thinnk??

Why complicate?

2008-08-25T00:41:00.000-07:00

I agree the story we just read was a complicated one, difficult to understand. It's the same way we complicate our lives and hence like any other blog this blog is turning into my private shout box! tan tadan! Welcome to my shouts in this post, if at all you are reading; otherwise it does not matter because I am writing for the sake of writing it out! Back to complications; sometimes we go so much deep into our lives that we start losing where we are, we start loosing our way, it does not remain a way anymore it becomes a hey way and you don't know, y o u f i n d y o u r s e l f s i m p l y n o w h e r e.

The problem is you are going deep into your life and not yourself, i repeat Your Life and not Yourself. Is there really a difference? Yes. Think of your life as a movie, you are merely a spectator when you are not seeing yourself, the moment you start seeing yourself you become a part of that movie; that is the point where you are not a spectator any more but have become the character in that movie, you will feel all punches that your character is getting on his head or his ass for that matter, the kisses which your heroine is giving you every now and then, the pain you face when your younger brother has turned into a drug addict or all other such nonsenses; the irony is, nobody is watching this bloody movie; reason: everybody is watching their own bloody movies. OK OK. I see I am complicating it again, but the very simple fact that I am trying to convey is watch this movie like a movie don't get too much involved with it, or to put it simply: live like a simple human being don't attach yourself too much to whatever is happening around you. Think of your self to be the static part of this movie, don't float with the movie; retain your static self, see the movie moving. Remember you are only a viewer, whatever is happening is happening to the character which is not you.

Let whatever happens happen, you do what you you can do; follow your simple aims, do whatever you feel is most doable for you without worrying much about what's happening to your character in this movie; in your own movie just be this spectator, ponder about the scenes, enjoy them but remember you are only a spectator. Choice is yours, do you want to be a character or a spectator? You can not not be the director for sure.

Now let us come back to the story we wrote. If the two colored balls are separate we should understand that they are kept separated deliberately and the reason only owner knows; remember that old lady who owns this store, what a beautiful lady she was, how gentle and elderly, anyways she kept them separately with care so that they don't mix with each other; she never allowed them to mix up, maybe because they may lose color and temper with each other's fine glossy looks, or probably she didn't want the trouble of separating the two colors later because she knows no one customer will buy both colors. I myself don't know what the reason was, how could the poor balls know, they can't understand what the lady says and even if they can, they can not ask her because lady does not understand their mute languages of gestures, those blinking of eyes after mixing or those sad faces due to not so mixing, remember? If the balls also understand the fact that they are kept separately due to some reason they don't know and also that the world they know is although limited to this close sack, there is a world outside, a bigger one of which they form only a small, minute part, then the balls should be happy looking at the other colored balls and the same colored balls and enjoy this very state of their own, be amazed at the glossiness of them all, amazed at the ways they are put so delicately and are so much cared about by the lady that they are the same separated for such a long time, be proud of the fact that they belong to this mighty bag so that they got at least the chance of seeing each other. (They can be happy, proud and amazed for many such silly sounding reasons, sitting in front of my laptop I am only contemplating some.)

At the same time they should do what they can and do it to their best; things like maintaining their shine by being happy all the time, by wishing each other good luck when the other one is removed from the sack or giving happy gestures to a new comer ball or teaching a new comer ball how to behave like a ball inside a sack and many things like that. (again contemplating, of course I don't know what all balls of a sack think). They can be the best balls in their own little movies and follow their own small aims without worrying much about things which are not in their control.

Red and Black Balls

2008-08-14T01:41:00.000-07:00

That's absolutely true, Red and Black Balls and it's not Red Balls and Black Balls. An extra 'Balls' create a lot of distance between the two and some times you start thinking probably they are in different bags. Even if they are in the same bag, it seems they are separate from each other as in red ones huddled in one corner, black ones in another and there is an invisible separation between the two, They could look snobbish, not ready to mix with one another; they could be skeptic as well; doubting each other, not willing to hug thinking the other ones might be more unwillingly silent. Obviously they can not speak, but still they could look happily mixed; tilting their round heads (they don't have anything other than this big round head, poor people; no face also, but still they can express their snobbishness, doubt etc by not mixing, similarly they can express there love, could you see that, by mixing with each other), sticking to each other, blinking their imaginary big heavily lid eyes which could smile to express their love and happiness.

Obviously they are not mixed and that's why we are worried. What could be the reason of this invisible separation? Are both unwilling? None of them are. Do they know how to mix? Probably they don't. When they were bought they were kept like this, very delicately, very sincerely into two separate groups (by the old wrinkled lady who managed the store since last 20 - 25 years and she had enough experience when she bought these balls) and their bag was never shaken to mix them. Both of them thought only some external action, some divine intervention can make them jump and mix. Both of them dream for that joy but still don't want to jump. Externally they are in touch because they are in the same bag; waiting to be mixed. To be continued ...

about me

2008-07-04T04:57:00.000-07:00

I am no different from more than six billion human beings living or for that matter many who existed at some time or the other. I am no different from the one who invented wheel and also the ones who keep inventing it again and again. I have all the potentials, all the drawbacks, all the noise and all the silence at the same time. I am no different. I am no different from these walls that you see, the sun that rises, the winds that blow, the water, the waves, the air that passes each of us thorough and through. I am them and they are me; so are you!