Enriched
Our family is enriched, honoured, blessed ...
My brother and Rumki have become the proud parents of a sweet little princess. Her big brother, Rudraditya was in Jamshedpur recently to welcome her to our world and our lives.
Our humble thanks to Lord Krishna.
May His blessings always be on our little princess and her brother.
Jai Kanai.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
The Philasaphee of Ze Vegabond Rock
The ultimate proof that you have arrived in life, I verily tell to thee, – is having your own Vegabond rock
What pray, might you ask, is a Vegabond Rock? At this point I adopt a solemn wise look and tell you a brief history behind the philosophy …er… philasaphee
For several years before and after 1920, Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, Harvey Firestone, and John Burroughs participated in a series of motor camping caravans, which have been described as the first notable linking of the automobile with outdoor recreation.
...But the party did not exactly rough it. No one slept on a bed of boughs or subsisted on fish caught in the stream. Separate sleeping tents, each with the occupant's name on it, were provided … A dining tent about twenty feet square, set up convenient to the sleeping tents … A basic supply of food staples was carried in the kitchen truck … Frequently local people dropped by the camp with gifts.
...As the group moved along, headlines blazoned, "Henry Ford Demonstrates He's Not Afraid of Work; Repairs His Damaged Car," "Millions of Dollars worth of Brains Off on a Vacation," "Genius to Sleep Under Stars," and "Kings of Industry and Inventor Paid City Visit." Columns were filled with stories and trivia about the famous quartet … The Vagabonds were accompanied by newsmen and photographers who reported each man's every move and hung on his every utterance. Almost all of the newspapers in the country reported and theaters showed Ford, Edison, and Burroughs engaging in high-kicking, stair-jumping, sprinting, tree-chopping, and tree-climbing contests.
...Sometimes in August 1919, the four people carved their initials in a piece of rock which was named the vagabond rock … became the cornerstone of Ford's manufacturing plant at Green Island , New York
Jim recently saw a replica of that stone preserved in the ford estate museum in Detroit
[… Adapted from the following sites http://www.henryfordestate.org/vagabonds.htm and http://www.hfha.org/HenryFord.htm ]
Sooo…? You sport a bemused look. These rich and famous guys etched their initials on a stone but so what? Can I not etch more than just the initial but my name and that of my whole family-n-friends on a piece of rock – and not just any rock mind you – in pucca white marble! That way not just moi world arrive, but my whole family-n-friends would arrive (as they are always expected to in marriages and naming ceremonies – but that’s a different story! Thankfully!!!)
My solemn wise look starts to appear significantly more solemner at this. In fact it now bears a definite wise owlish resemblance as I utter the following pearls of wisdom –
Etch, no doubt you can, I daresay as well as the next person. Why, people are etching away entire mountains for the metal ores. Our esteemed politicians get their name etched every time even a Sulabh facility gets inaugurated. But is that the same thing as the Vegabond rock?
The matter is not of etching, my young Padawan, (Jedi apprentice, not chi-chi) - it is the love with which the etching is received by people – of your time and the future – which determines the degree of your arrivalhood.
Vegabond stone, not only made to be the cornerstone of a manufacturing plant with a replica of the stone being available even today in the Ford Estate Museum in Detroit; but also at the time this stone was etched – in a seemingly inane act - it was widely celebrated by people - the media and the general Janta literally followed these people around where they went and hung onto their words and deeds. Not because they were rich themselves – but because they had the capability of making a difference to others lives – they truly were Geniuses. The same way, if Big B or Tendulkar, etched something I believe it would be equally revered – because of the amount of Joy they give to us. There can be no doubt that Big B has truly arrived. Just see the fan he has. Same goes for our little master blaster.
Coming back to the Vegabond rock – I feel it symbolizes the love of people of a bunch of geniuses who truly had etched their names in people’s hearts. No doubt, it was also an well orchestrated PR exercise by these world-wise people. But the PR worked because they were celebrated on the first place. The piece of gray rock – the replica which I regarded reverently in the ford museum a few weeks back at Detroit
Etch that well, my Padawan, and you shall have arrived…
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Homeward Ho!
A sunny day is good for your soul I say. A couple of weeks back a freezingDetroit
PS: Written at SFO airport and published from home :)
Slowly, with an air of confident reluctance about it, the United Jumbo takes it position outside of Gate 97 at SFO airport. I wait for the doors to open so that I can settle down and take a nap that I have been dodging for weeks now. However, since I am a full hour early, the nap and I will have to elude each other for some more time. I don’t know what it’s with me and airports – I either arrive really early or at the nick of time. Strange. The sky is overcast but thankfully the weather in San Francisco is not as inclement as it currently is in the east coast, where thousands of flights got canceled in the last couple of days.
The weather here was, in fact, so good that I spent a happy day taking in the sights and sounds of this very beautiful city. A trip to San Francisco
Last Sunday was Superball, hence the crowd was understandably thinner (just right for my likings). When you are spending a day by yourself – your best company is your thoughts – and thoughts seem richer when you aren’t submerged in a screaming crowd. Thoughts of a Father naturally gravitates towards his child, and all through that day – I missed my little Rudraditya – who is currently on a trip of his own, on way to my brother's place in Jamshedpur. How nice would it have been to be here with my entire family! Someday soon, I promise myself.
In SFO, if you have time to kill, (sounds gruesome, doesn’t it?) You do the cable car. Slowly it will wind its way through the city while you still down on a wooden bench on the top of the bus carelessly listening to the chinglist (Chinese-English) commentary of the tour guide. I like this better than the bigger hop-on hop-off buses. Still I never understand why all such touristy buses go through Chinatown , even recognizing the fact that the tour guides almost always are Chinese – who are a big group in Frisco. If there’s a point there, I have missed it. Anyway, the part of the town that I love the most is the district that has these old Victorian houses. The “Painted Ladies” for me are always associated with the Full House series. The City Hall and the public library area have many times tempted me to stop and look but that hasn’t happened yet.
Somehow all such tours seem to build up the excitement for SFO’s crowning glory - the Golden Gate Bridge, which usually appear towards the end the trip. The first time I had seen it was also with a group of friends. That time we had walked down the entire length and I believe I saw Chun Yun Fat there that time. No one recognized him, strangely, as he walked across. I should have taken his autograph I always think.
A sunny day is good for your soul I say. A couple of weeks back a freezing
Well, while I was pondering over the trip, the efficient flight ground staff have been crawling all over the aircraft getting it ready. Other passenger have started coming and I spy the boarding-card-collecting-TTs (boarding attendants I think they call themselves) making sorties to the front desk. Anytime now the gates are going to open and soon I am going to sleep in the clouds!!!
Bon Voyage!!!
PS: Written at SFO airport and published from home :)
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Miracles
"Adopted!" I fought hard against this word, willing it to stay in the inner recesses of my mind - not to come out. In vain. It bubbled up like a repressed emotion into my consciousness and leaked out as tears, as I gazed at my daughter looking at me with bloodshot eyes, seething in anger.
"Don't expect to tell me what's good Papa. You have lost it." Summary of a long planned father-daughter conversation.
I didn't recognize the young woman in front of me any more. True the face was the face I loved more than any in the world. One that to me represented love itself. My daughter, my angel, my pride. I knew every expression that face had ever had - of happiness, of dejection, of elation, of concentration, of fatigue and of victory. Of the carefreeness of sleeping with head on father's lap. My daughter, my angel, my pride.
My wife chided me of pampering her to the extent of spoiling her. But I knew that she knew that my little angel was my reason to live, as she was my wife's. It was the will of the Almighty which brought her into our lives on a rainy night, alone and abandoned. A night to be thankful for the miracle that it had brought to our lives but to be never dwelled upon. The only time the episode was mentioned was shortly after our angel's 18th birthday, when my wife declared the our daughter had the right to know.
For a week she cried and didn't come out of her room, until late one night she came and held her Dad's hand and pleaded - "Papa, please tell me it isn't so".
"Ma, you are my angel daughter and Lord has willed it. Does anything else matter. Your mom and I live only for you. Don't you see that?"
Over a period of time she did. Only person that knew outside the family was her best friend Anirudh. Anirudh, we felt helped her come to terms with the truth. Gave her the strength. A few time we spied him hold her hand and pretended we didn't see. Secretly we hoped they would marry someday.
My angel made it to AIIMS with her natural elan. Father's daughter I declared to all that would hear. Though as my wife pointed out, as a Chemistry professor at a Govt college I was nothing like a doctor, but who cared, the pride I felt as a father eclipsed anything that I could have achieved myself. Anirudh went to NIT Thrichy for a BE in Electronics. We could see that distance took a toll on the friendship and mention of Anirudh in her daily conversations with her mom reduced until it disappeared altogether. Anirudh who made it a point to visit home in his breaks for college even when our angel was away at the start of the course, slowly stopped coming.
Providence however had something else in mind and Anirudh got a job in Delhi or perhaps took it knowingly. Destiny brought them professionally together as Anirudh's company partnered with AIIMS on the use of nanotechnology in medical science, a field so advanced that its promise bordered science fiction.
My long domestic partnership however had started to fade. My wife was diagnosed with a malady of bone marrow that was was eating her away from inside. I knew that God had given me forty years with the sweetest woman and it was his will that my wife should go back to Him. My years of practice of spirituality did nothing to console me though. My daughter had ensured the best doctors in the field saw her mom. The answer was always the same - this was terminal.
She could perhaps live for a few months longer if her bone marrow was replaced immediately.
That night was the first time daughter and father had a row.
I insisted, with all insistence that I could muster in my sadness, that we did the replacement next morning. My wife and I shared blood groups so I could easily donate mine. Instead of agreeing and saying that she also would donate, (she also by a quirk of fate had the same group B+ as me and my wife), she just said "No".
"No!! NO?! What on earth are you saying." I raged.
"I mean Anirudh and I can cure her with the work we are doing Papa. Trust me"
"Angel, she is not your experiment. She is your mom, she is your mom..."
"And that is precisely why I want to save her Papa"
"Have you done it before"
"No, but trust me"
"What?! You wish to deny me the last few months together for you stupid experiment. Can you be any more thoughtless my angel? When you are at it, why don't you do some of your brainy experiments on Dad too. Maybe they will give you an award." I said bitterly, in a tone that I had never dreamt I would ever use with my daughter.
That's when the thought that had never surfaced before assailed me. Would she
be so ready to experiment if she was our own? Immediately I hated myself but the thought lurked as I got the biggest shouting from my daughter.
Finally it was my wife who settled this by siding with her daughter. By then words had failed me and I stormed out.
One week later, Miracle visited us again. I was waiting with the rest of my family for 5 hours outside the OT when suddenly my daughter ran out and put her arms around my neck and said - "Papa, the procedure was successful, the bots are doing their job. Mom's going to be fine".
So it came to pass that one year later as me and my wife were settling down for dinner that our landline rang - we knew only she called on landline. As my wife put on the speaker in the phone our angel screamed - "Papa, Ma. Our research and test results have been accepted by the Ministry of Health. We can offer it to everyone that needs it. Next month we are presenting our findings at Geneva." After a pause she added, "I think I should marry Anirudh, he helped me save my Mom. Love you, will call later." And the line went dead.
For a moment we didn't know what to do, numbly my wife and I looked at each other. Slowly we hugged and we cried. We laughed like children and We prayed. God had truly sent us a little miracle that rainy night.
I picked up one of the numerous picture frames of her that we had all over the house and kissed her forehead. My daugher, my angel, my pride.
"Adopted!" I fought hard against this word, willing it to stay in the inner recesses of my mind - not to come out. In vain. It bubbled up like a repressed emotion into my consciousness and leaked out as tears, as I gazed at my daughter looking at me with bloodshot eyes, seething in anger.
"Don't expect to tell me what's good Papa. You have lost it." Summary of a long planned father-daughter conversation.
I didn't recognize the young woman in front of me any more. True the face was the face I loved more than any in the world. One that to me represented love itself. My daughter, my angel, my pride. I knew every expression that face had ever had - of happiness, of dejection, of elation, of concentration, of fatigue and of victory. Of the carefreeness of sleeping with head on father's lap. My daughter, my angel, my pride.
My wife chided me of pampering her to the extent of spoiling her. But I knew that she knew that my little angel was my reason to live, as she was my wife's. It was the will of the Almighty which brought her into our lives on a rainy night, alone and abandoned. A night to be thankful for the miracle that it had brought to our lives but to be never dwelled upon. The only time the episode was mentioned was shortly after our angel's 18th birthday, when my wife declared the our daughter had the right to know.
For a week she cried and didn't come out of her room, until late one night she came and held her Dad's hand and pleaded - "Papa, please tell me it isn't so".
"Ma, you are my angel daughter and Lord has willed it. Does anything else matter. Your mom and I live only for you. Don't you see that?"
Over a period of time she did. Only person that knew outside the family was her best friend Anirudh. Anirudh, we felt helped her come to terms with the truth. Gave her the strength. A few time we spied him hold her hand and pretended we didn't see. Secretly we hoped they would marry someday.
My angel made it to AIIMS with her natural elan. Father's daughter I declared to all that would hear. Though as my wife pointed out, as a Chemistry professor at a Govt college I was nothing like a doctor, but who cared, the pride I felt as a father eclipsed anything that I could have achieved myself. Anirudh went to NIT Thrichy for a BE in Electronics. We could see that distance took a toll on the friendship and mention of Anirudh in her daily conversations with her mom reduced until it disappeared altogether. Anirudh who made it a point to visit home in his breaks for college even when our angel was away at the start of the course, slowly stopped coming.
Providence however had something else in mind and Anirudh got a job in Delhi or perhaps took it knowingly. Destiny brought them professionally together as Anirudh's company partnered with AIIMS on the use of nanotechnology in medical science, a field so advanced that its promise bordered science fiction.
My long domestic partnership however had started to fade. My wife was diagnosed with a malady of bone marrow that was was eating her away from inside. I knew that God had given me forty years with the sweetest woman and it was his will that my wife should go back to Him. My years of practice of spirituality did nothing to console me though. My daughter had ensured the best doctors in the field saw her mom. The answer was always the same - this was terminal.
She could perhaps live for a few months longer if her bone marrow was replaced immediately.
That night was the first time daughter and father had a row.
I insisted, with all insistence that I could muster in my sadness, that we did the replacement next morning. My wife and I shared blood groups so I could easily donate mine. Instead of agreeing and saying that she also would donate, (she also by a quirk of fate had the same group B+ as me and my wife), she just said "No".
"No!! NO?! What on earth are you saying." I raged.
"I mean Anirudh and I can cure her with the work we are doing Papa. Trust me"
"Angel, she is not your experiment. She is your mom, she is your mom..."
"And that is precisely why I want to save her Papa"
"Have you done it before"
"No, but trust me"
"What?! You wish to deny me the last few months together for you stupid experiment. Can you be any more thoughtless my angel? When you are at it, why don't you do some of your brainy experiments on Dad too. Maybe they will give you an award." I said bitterly, in a tone that I had never dreamt I would ever use with my daughter.
That's when the thought that had never surfaced before assailed me. Would she
be so ready to experiment if she was our own? Immediately I hated myself but the thought lurked as I got the biggest shouting from my daughter.
Finally it was my wife who settled this by siding with her daughter. By then words had failed me and I stormed out.
One week later, Miracle visited us again. I was waiting with the rest of my family for 5 hours outside the OT when suddenly my daughter ran out and put her arms around my neck and said - "Papa, the procedure was successful, the bots are doing their job. Mom's going to be fine".
So it came to pass that one year later as me and my wife were settling down for dinner that our landline rang - we knew only she called on landline. As my wife put on the speaker in the phone our angel screamed - "Papa, Ma. Our research and test results have been accepted by the Ministry of Health. We can offer it to everyone that needs it. Next month we are presenting our findings at Geneva." After a pause she added, "I think I should marry Anirudh, he helped me save my Mom. Love you, will call later." And the line went dead.
For a moment we didn't know what to do, numbly my wife and I looked at each other. Slowly we hugged and we cried. We laughed like children and We prayed. God had truly sent us a little miracle that rainy night.
I picked up one of the numerous picture frames of her that we had all over the house and kissed her forehead. My daugher, my angel, my pride.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The World, Hope and the Festival of Lights
The old Adam and Eve story may actually have been a true one after all.
Consider this:
Why are humans so obsessed with unhappiness?
Because they think they are smart.
Explain.
Other animals are not so hard to please. A fawn that just escaped the clutches of a Lion can soon be seen horsing around. And the lion who missed can be seen chasing an wildebeest.
What has Deers, Lions, Horses and Wildebeests have to do with Human happiness?
Nothing. They are introduced to show the contrast. These seemingly dumber creations certainly appear to lead an happier existence.
So the dumber you are they happier you are?
Maybe. However this is only illusory intelligence. On attaining Real Intelligence - Brahma Gyan or Divine Grace or whatever, the state of happiness returns.
So Adams and Eves fall from paradise could be likened to becoming more intelligent but at the same time loosing happiness as a constant state of mind. One mark of godliness is Bliss or Ananda. So through the act of becoming more intelligent they also were turned turned away from the gates of paradise. They can only return when they gain true grace of god.
Why celebrate Diwali?
Because Diwali is not just a festival of lights - it also a festival of Hope. The lights represent not just the joy of Lord Ram's returning to Ayodhya but also of light of knowledge dispelling darkness of ignorance. Real wisdom dispelling the illusory intelligence. And therein lies the only hope for mankind so we celebrate this.
Happy Diwali All.
The old Adam and Eve story may actually have been a true one after all.
Consider this:
Why are humans so obsessed with unhappiness?
Because they think they are smart.
Explain.
Other animals are not so hard to please. A fawn that just escaped the clutches of a Lion can soon be seen horsing around. And the lion who missed can be seen chasing an wildebeest.
What has Deers, Lions, Horses and Wildebeests have to do with Human happiness?
Nothing. They are introduced to show the contrast. These seemingly dumber creations certainly appear to lead an happier existence.
So the dumber you are they happier you are?
Maybe. However this is only illusory intelligence. On attaining Real Intelligence - Brahma Gyan or Divine Grace or whatever, the state of happiness returns.
So Adams and Eves fall from paradise could be likened to becoming more intelligent but at the same time loosing happiness as a constant state of mind. One mark of godliness is Bliss or Ananda. So through the act of becoming more intelligent they also were turned turned away from the gates of paradise. They can only return when they gain true grace of god.
Why celebrate Diwali?
Because Diwali is not just a festival of lights - it also a festival of Hope. The lights represent not just the joy of Lord Ram's returning to Ayodhya but also of light of knowledge dispelling darkness of ignorance. Real wisdom dispelling the illusory intelligence. And therein lies the only hope for mankind so we celebrate this.
Happy Diwali All.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Mourning Jackson
The sadness I feel in my heart is palpable, a living wound, a pain that is not just emotional but physical. Since Friday morning when I overheard that Michael Jackson was dead, I have been shell shocked. At this age I didn't know that the passing of an celebrity could affect me so much. But then Michael Jackson, whose musical talent and showmanship I truly idolized was not your garden variety of celebrity. He was the greatest celebrity the world has known or is likely to know. He was not just the King of the Pops - he was the Emperor. What hurts me so profoundly at a personal level - is how badly we, mankind as a whole, treated him, misunderstood him, and mocked him. Genius have their own idiosyncrasies and Lord knows that MJ had his. But in my heart I could never reconcile the dreadful things that were written about him. True or not, they finally took their toll.
This loss is personal and I mourn his passing. :(
The outpouring of grief all over the world is so overwhelming. I wonder if he was so precious that his passing away has cast such a pall of gloom, why did the world not take better care of him. What is the point in having functions to celebrate him after his death when we allowed him to self-destruct, inflicted damaging blows to his psyche and hounded him till he became a recluse? No we didn't give up even then. Why? Questions whose answers perhaps show a face of humanity that humanity itself is not ready to see.
All I know is that my own thoughts in the past few days have dwelled upon this legend as never before. Memories of his pictures seen in childhood, songs hummed and dances imitated flood the mind whenever it is idle. Perhaps I am grieving the fact that his passing is untimely and so unfair. He had so much more to achieve and to give.
In my mind the what-ifs clamour for attention, - what if after the Pepsi incident he found relief in faith and not pain-killers, what if he really found someone who he could love truly and someone who could love him back in return, what if his abused childhood was overshadowed by a happy family life, what if he had at least some advisers and managers who were not bloodsuckers... this list could go on but can never bring back the biggest phenomenon that we were privileged to share the same timeline with.
I really do wish blessings of Lord Krishna on his soul.
The sadness I feel in my heart is palpable, a living wound, a pain that is not just emotional but physical. Since Friday morning when I overheard that Michael Jackson was dead, I have been shell shocked. At this age I didn't know that the passing of an celebrity could affect me so much. But then Michael Jackson, whose musical talent and showmanship I truly idolized was not your garden variety of celebrity. He was the greatest celebrity the world has known or is likely to know. He was not just the King of the Pops - he was the Emperor. What hurts me so profoundly at a personal level - is how badly we, mankind as a whole, treated him, misunderstood him, and mocked him. Genius have their own idiosyncrasies and Lord knows that MJ had his. But in my heart I could never reconcile the dreadful things that were written about him. True or not, they finally took their toll.
This loss is personal and I mourn his passing. :(
The outpouring of grief all over the world is so overwhelming. I wonder if he was so precious that his passing away has cast such a pall of gloom, why did the world not take better care of him. What is the point in having functions to celebrate him after his death when we allowed him to self-destruct, inflicted damaging blows to his psyche and hounded him till he became a recluse? No we didn't give up even then. Why? Questions whose answers perhaps show a face of humanity that humanity itself is not ready to see.
All I know is that my own thoughts in the past few days have dwelled upon this legend as never before. Memories of his pictures seen in childhood, songs hummed and dances imitated flood the mind whenever it is idle. Perhaps I am grieving the fact that his passing is untimely and so unfair. He had so much more to achieve and to give.
In my mind the what-ifs clamour for attention, - what if after the Pepsi incident he found relief in faith and not pain-killers, what if he really found someone who he could love truly and someone who could love him back in return, what if his abused childhood was overshadowed by a happy family life, what if he had at least some advisers and managers who were not bloodsuckers... this list could go on but can never bring back the biggest phenomenon that we were privileged to share the same timeline with.
I really do wish blessings of Lord Krishna on his soul.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Lessons from Vijayanagar Empire
Indians would do well to leaf through the pages of history and see the state that our past disunity has always left us in. Starting from the early invasion of the Greeks, Huns, Turks, Afgans and finally the British, Indians have failed India repeatedly because of narrow differences that turned to lethal chinks in our armour. Today again we seem to be drawn toward a vortex of a whirlpool of strife by the narrowness of the politicians, their petty politics and votebanks. SP, NCP and Congress are not together to further any common cause, their arrangements reek of pure opportunism. The same way BJD's ditching of NDA is not because Naveen suddenly understood the glory of secularism, he is just keeping his options open and perhaps this may turn out to be his biggest miscalculation yet, as the a father-son due discovered not so long ago, much to their chagrin. The voters don't trust deserters. BJD has sadly failed to learn from history. Alas.
Our politicians, perhaps the last people of the face of this planet who could be expected to have too many intellectual pursuits, would do well to learn to from the fate of the glorious Vijaynagara kingdom. Under the able leadership of Krishnadevaraya, this Empire prospered like no other in contemporary history. At a time Babur was laying waste much of the northern part of our great land, here was a ruler that had the might to strike Babur's Mughal tail all the way back to the desert hell-hole that he had come out of. Unfortunately such a confrontation never happened, and Krishnadevaraya died before he could find an able successor; his equally able son having died of some disease before he could be crowned. Krishnadevaraya, left behind a prosperous Kingdom, a valiant army sadly in the hands of inapt successors. Surrounded by petty Nawabs and Sultans, Vijaynagara soon fell under their collective onslaught. Folklore has it that army of vermin sacked one of the most spectacular city that Medieval India had seen for months on end, till all that was left were the ruins of Hampi. If you have not visited Hampi, please do. Few pages of Indian history, few stories of empires lost would move you so much. We Indians have a lot of learning to do from fate of Vijaynagara.
It frightens me to think, that India seems suddenly poised it a similar brink. Surrounded by enemies, the forces that have come to the fore as contender of power are either a party that has ceased to be driven by the lofty goals that helped it play a significant part in India's Independence and have descended to appeasement as a state policy; or a hotch-potch of opportunists of all hues across the land called the Third (class) Front. The one collection that with its many failings still speaks of a strong India and united India suddenly seem isolated. And that's exactly what frightens me the most. Have we all been suddenly condemned to a collective blindness? Let's pray not.
India is a land of miracles, and when people wish, Miracles happen. One just hopes that they see the danger that the country is passing through and get the right people back to power.
Vande Mataram
Indians would do well to leaf through the pages of history and see the state that our past disunity has always left us in. Starting from the early invasion of the Greeks, Huns, Turks, Afgans and finally the British, Indians have failed India repeatedly because of narrow differences that turned to lethal chinks in our armour. Today again we seem to be drawn toward a vortex of a whirlpool of strife by the narrowness of the politicians, their petty politics and votebanks. SP, NCP and Congress are not together to further any common cause, their arrangements reek of pure opportunism. The same way BJD's ditching of NDA is not because Naveen suddenly understood the glory of secularism, he is just keeping his options open and perhaps this may turn out to be his biggest miscalculation yet, as the a father-son due discovered not so long ago, much to their chagrin. The voters don't trust deserters. BJD has sadly failed to learn from history. Alas.
Our politicians, perhaps the last people of the face of this planet who could be expected to have too many intellectual pursuits, would do well to learn to from the fate of the glorious Vijaynagara kingdom. Under the able leadership of Krishnadevaraya, this Empire prospered like no other in contemporary history. At a time Babur was laying waste much of the northern part of our great land, here was a ruler that had the might to strike Babur's Mughal tail all the way back to the desert hell-hole that he had come out of. Unfortunately such a confrontation never happened, and Krishnadevaraya died before he could find an able successor; his equally able son having died of some disease before he could be crowned. Krishnadevaraya, left behind a prosperous Kingdom, a valiant army sadly in the hands of inapt successors. Surrounded by petty Nawabs and Sultans, Vijaynagara soon fell under their collective onslaught. Folklore has it that army of vermin sacked one of the most spectacular city that Medieval India had seen for months on end, till all that was left were the ruins of Hampi. If you have not visited Hampi, please do. Few pages of Indian history, few stories of empires lost would move you so much. We Indians have a lot of learning to do from fate of Vijaynagara.
It frightens me to think, that India seems suddenly poised it a similar brink. Surrounded by enemies, the forces that have come to the fore as contender of power are either a party that has ceased to be driven by the lofty goals that helped it play a significant part in India's Independence and have descended to appeasement as a state policy; or a hotch-potch of opportunists of all hues across the land called the Third (class) Front. The one collection that with its many failings still speaks of a strong India and united India suddenly seem isolated. And that's exactly what frightens me the most. Have we all been suddenly condemned to a collective blindness? Let's pray not.
India is a land of miracles, and when people wish, Miracles happen. One just hopes that they see the danger that the country is passing through and get the right people back to power.
Vande Mataram
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Lord Hanuman: The Invincible
The Ramayana is an epic with a timeless appeal. A story of forces of good prevailing over evil intentions borne out of pride and ego in face of seemingly insurmountable odds finds a ready echo in our hearts today as much as it did to its first listeners so many centuries ago. Ramayana is not a story for the Hindus alone but a treasure trove that our fore-fathers have left for all humanity. Ramayana, like all Indian epics and legends have so many layers to it, so much to explore and learn in each reading.
The main protagonist Lord Rama, is a mortal who makes no claims to divinity. Indeed the unique aspect of Rama is his humanity complete with his fair share triumphs as well as moments of trails and despair the life deals to him. In fact the one thing that perhaps sets him apart is his sense of propriety and proportions, not something his is born with but cultivates aided perhaps by his understanding of the Yoga Vashista. He represents what each King, Husband, Son, Student and Warrior could aspire to be within the bounds of being a human. He is Maryada Purshtam, he is Lord Rama of our hearts.
There epic features some many other engaging characters; be it the brave and devoted brothers Lakhmana and Bharata, the allies Sugriva and Vivishna, the adviser Jambhuman, the architects Nala and Neel and countless other all play selfless and significant parts in aiding Rama fulfill destiny that he was born to bring to fruition. But still I can’t help but think that they are as planets around a blazing sun. Without Rama, they have no anchor, no central force to keep them in their orbit, as indeed is the case with us, except that we often forget that bond.
Not so, however, for the other towering protagonist of the story – Shri Hanuman. Though the foremost devotee of Lord Rama; he is a hero in his own right; brave, wise and perhaps even an equal of Lord Rama when it to comes to the art of warfare. Indeed were it not for Hanuman, would Rama have become the Rama of our hearts? While the creation (in Indian way of thinking at least) owes its very existence to Lord Rama, Lord Hanuman has the unique privilege of some one who could get Rama out of a bunch of sticky situations.
Here are few instances – had Hanuman not found Ma Sita in the clutches of Ravana, would Rama even know where to start looking? Had he not borne the mountain of herb for a wounded Lakhsman and thus saved his life, would Rama, for all his might, not have given way grief and forfeit the war? And wasn’t it Hanuman, who had the power to venture to the Netherworld and rescue Rama and Lakhman for the clutches of Mahiravan? In all his endeavours he emerges invincible. One has to be unique and blessed indeed to be able to help the Lord, even in His human form.
And in return of all this, what did he want – nothing, zilch, zero. For him serving the Lord, without for once boasting of own exploits, great as they were, truly defined the enigma that is Lord Hanuman. His humility comes from his wisdom. Remember his is not just a big rampaging monkey waving his wand around, but also an exponent of the Vedas, a selfless helper of the weak and wronged as well as a yogi in the truest sense of the term. Truly it is said, prayers directed at the Shri Hanuman brings one closer to Shri Rama, and removes accumulated pains (arising from ignorance) of previous births.
Tumhare bhajan Ram ko pave, Janam Janam ke dukh bishrave.
Beginning to understand Hanuman, needs one to look beyond the epic story and into the symbolism and philosophy that Ramayan hides within itself.
And believe me the journey is nothing short of being wondrous and if nothing else, gives you a whiff a the eternal bliss or Ananda that the scriptures talk about.
Try karke Dekh Lo :)
Jai Shri Rama. Jai Pavan Putra Hanuman.
Awarded!!!
Rakesh Vanamali has
awarded me the PROXIMITY award for which I am honoured. The custom is to roll this award to eight fellow bloggers who have inspired you. This I shall do in my next post. Meantime there is truly a spring in my steps :)
Thanks a lot Rakesh, I am really touched.
The Ramayana is an epic with a timeless appeal. A story of forces of good prevailing over evil intentions borne out of pride and ego in face of seemingly insurmountable odds finds a ready echo in our hearts today as much as it did to its first listeners so many centuries ago. Ramayana is not a story for the Hindus alone but a treasure trove that our fore-fathers have left for all humanity. Ramayana, like all Indian epics and legends have so many layers to it, so much to explore and learn in each reading.
The main protagonist Lord Rama, is a mortal who makes no claims to divinity. Indeed the unique aspect of Rama is his humanity complete with his fair share triumphs as well as moments of trails and despair the life deals to him. In fact the one thing that perhaps sets him apart is his sense of propriety and proportions, not something his is born with but cultivates aided perhaps by his understanding of the Yoga Vashista. He represents what each King, Husband, Son, Student and Warrior could aspire to be within the bounds of being a human. He is Maryada Purshtam, he is Lord Rama of our hearts.
There epic features some many other engaging characters; be it the brave and devoted brothers Lakhmana and Bharata, the allies Sugriva and Vivishna, the adviser Jambhuman, the architects Nala and Neel and countless other all play selfless and significant parts in aiding Rama fulfill destiny that he was born to bring to fruition. But still I can’t help but think that they are as planets around a blazing sun. Without Rama, they have no anchor, no central force to keep them in their orbit, as indeed is the case with us, except that we often forget that bond.
Not so, however, for the other towering protagonist of the story – Shri Hanuman. Though the foremost devotee of Lord Rama; he is a hero in his own right; brave, wise and perhaps even an equal of Lord Rama when it to comes to the art of warfare. Indeed were it not for Hanuman, would Rama have become the Rama of our hearts? While the creation (in Indian way of thinking at least) owes its very existence to Lord Rama, Lord Hanuman has the unique privilege of some one who could get Rama out of a bunch of sticky situations.
Here are few instances – had Hanuman not found Ma Sita in the clutches of Ravana, would Rama even know where to start looking? Had he not borne the mountain of herb for a wounded Lakhsman and thus saved his life, would Rama, for all his might, not have given way grief and forfeit the war? And wasn’t it Hanuman, who had the power to venture to the Netherworld and rescue Rama and Lakhman for the clutches of Mahiravan? In all his endeavours he emerges invincible. One has to be unique and blessed indeed to be able to help the Lord, even in His human form.
And in return of all this, what did he want – nothing, zilch, zero. For him serving the Lord, without for once boasting of own exploits, great as they were, truly defined the enigma that is Lord Hanuman. His humility comes from his wisdom. Remember his is not just a big rampaging monkey waving his wand around, but also an exponent of the Vedas, a selfless helper of the weak and wronged as well as a yogi in the truest sense of the term. Truly it is said, prayers directed at the Shri Hanuman brings one closer to Shri Rama, and removes accumulated pains (arising from ignorance) of previous births.
Tumhare bhajan Ram ko pave, Janam Janam ke dukh bishrave.
Beginning to understand Hanuman, needs one to look beyond the epic story and into the symbolism and philosophy that Ramayan hides within itself.
And believe me the journey is nothing short of being wondrous and if nothing else, gives you a whiff a the eternal bliss or Ananda that the scriptures talk about.
Try karke Dekh Lo :)
Jai Shri Rama. Jai Pavan Putra Hanuman.
Awarded!!!
Rakesh Vanamali has
awarded me the PROXIMITY award for which I am honoured. The custom is to roll this award to eight fellow bloggers who have inspired you. This I shall do in my next post. Meantime there is truly a spring in my steps :)
Thanks a lot Rakesh, I am really touched.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
World War or Evolution: What will it be?
Watching NEWS these days is a scary proposition. Religious and political strife, economic meltdown, environmental decay and stories of human sufferings assail the sense in vivid details every single day. The air is seriously a despondent one and these days and suddenly every one is scared. Almost every social gathering I have been to in the past month the discussions have inevitably turned towards the prevailing winds, of the uncertainty of the times that we live in, of the fact that in face of all that we have learnt as a species in the past five or six thousand years, in face of all our dogmas and inventions, our technology and science, we are like the all shivering like a pile of un-bound hay waiting for some unseen storm..
Capitalism, much as Communism a couple decade or so before it, lies in shambles. The pillars have crumbled and the foundation is cracked. Money, the force that fueled the world engine, seems to have run out. A friend predicted this as the onset of World War III yesterday. His prophecy has merit, the world today runs on money, there's not enough of it to go around right now and so survival instincts would naturally make you fight for it. If this is true for individuals, it is true for nations as well. Throw into this bubbling fat the spark of religious fundamentalism, distrust between nations that seems to be building up steadily over the past, insatiable greed and you shall have in your hand the blazing fire of a world that is at war with itself, a self defeating war from which no one emerges the victor to claim the spoils.
“It would be hubris to think humans as they now are God's chosen race” –Lovelock says in his book Revenge of Gaia [1]. Still the scenario that he considered in his book is just related to the environmental catastrophe that global warming could unleash. The holistic situation is even grimmer. And before you get all smug and say that such doomsday predictions almost never come true, consider that almost 99% of all species that ever inhabited earth are now extinct [2]. Among those that no longer roam the earth are bigger and meaner critters than we can ever be. And yea, humans have gone through such periods of danger. Babylonian and Roman incursions into Judea and Israel, Genghis Khan, Black Death, Arab and Turkic invasion of India, the past two world wars have all spelt not just end of life but a way of life for many. However at no time in past the skies of the entire world as overcast as it suddenly seems to be now.
In face of such overwhelming facts, I could only offer a few stammering words like God and Spirituality, but perhaps with much lesser conviction than I would have liked to have mustered. The image of the burning earth that the mention of world war conjured up in my mind, with the accompanying feeling of dread effectively put lid on anything I wanted to say. Submerged, as we get in the struggled of everyday existence, perhaps after a long time I saw suddenly how dangerously close to the precipice of extinction we had wandered to, still unseeing, still irresponsible and unrepentant…
One question burnt in my mind, is this how we are going to go? Is this the end of human species? Or are we going to evolve into something better?
Perhaps for all humanity the time has come to look within. Perhaps there is yet an answer, a way out …
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Revenge_of_Gaia
2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Extinction_event
Watching NEWS these days is a scary proposition. Religious and political strife, economic meltdown, environmental decay and stories of human sufferings assail the sense in vivid details every single day. The air is seriously a despondent one and these days and suddenly every one is scared. Almost every social gathering I have been to in the past month the discussions have inevitably turned towards the prevailing winds, of the uncertainty of the times that we live in, of the fact that in face of all that we have learnt as a species in the past five or six thousand years, in face of all our dogmas and inventions, our technology and science, we are like the all shivering like a pile of un-bound hay waiting for some unseen storm..
Capitalism, much as Communism a couple decade or so before it, lies in shambles. The pillars have crumbled and the foundation is cracked. Money, the force that fueled the world engine, seems to have run out. A friend predicted this as the onset of World War III yesterday. His prophecy has merit, the world today runs on money, there's not enough of it to go around right now and so survival instincts would naturally make you fight for it. If this is true for individuals, it is true for nations as well. Throw into this bubbling fat the spark of religious fundamentalism, distrust between nations that seems to be building up steadily over the past, insatiable greed and you shall have in your hand the blazing fire of a world that is at war with itself, a self defeating war from which no one emerges the victor to claim the spoils.
“It would be hubris to think humans as they now are God's chosen race” –Lovelock says in his book Revenge of Gaia [1]. Still the scenario that he considered in his book is just related to the environmental catastrophe that global warming could unleash. The holistic situation is even grimmer. And before you get all smug and say that such doomsday predictions almost never come true, consider that almost 99% of all species that ever inhabited earth are now extinct [2]. Among those that no longer roam the earth are bigger and meaner critters than we can ever be. And yea, humans have gone through such periods of danger. Babylonian and Roman incursions into Judea and Israel, Genghis Khan, Black Death, Arab and Turkic invasion of India, the past two world wars have all spelt not just end of life but a way of life for many. However at no time in past the skies of the entire world as overcast as it suddenly seems to be now.
In face of such overwhelming facts, I could only offer a few stammering words like God and Spirituality, but perhaps with much lesser conviction than I would have liked to have mustered. The image of the burning earth that the mention of world war conjured up in my mind, with the accompanying feeling of dread effectively put lid on anything I wanted to say. Submerged, as we get in the struggled of everyday existence, perhaps after a long time I saw suddenly how dangerously close to the precipice of extinction we had wandered to, still unseeing, still irresponsible and unrepentant…
One question burnt in my mind, is this how we are going to go? Is this the end of human species? Or are we going to evolve into something better?
Perhaps for all humanity the time has come to look within. Perhaps there is yet an answer, a way out …
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Revenge_of_Gaia
2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Extinction_event
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Changing Equations
"Are you sure you want to have that coffee? You will complain of acidity?"
"Why don't you have a swig of water instead?"
"Perhaps I should have gotten your sweater. You never know what is good for you."
"Don't wander about."
No matter how old you get, the experience of travelling with your mom never changes. Some equations never change. Thankfully. Though you may sometime make sham assertions of your grownup-hood, there is an unconditionally and concreteness about Moms that is perhaps unique. Which, much to their chagrin, girlfriends and wives never understand until they attain their own motherhood.
However, if the recent headline-grabbing N-Deal is anything to go by, the equations of International relations do change and how. One can see a new polarization of the world forces, with India, US, and presumably Israel and NATO on one side. The "other side" perhaps would be a China led front comprising of Pakistan, Iran, N.Korea and others that the west brands as "rogue" states. Russia is perhaps the dark horse in this unfolding saga. The recent incursions in Georgia has raised the hackles of the West, but push comes to shove, one hopes that its long standing friendship with India and more importantly its instinct of self preservation against a common enemy will see it side with the right side.
Coming back to the more important story, last week Mom and I were headed towards Chennai to see Mahabalipuram. It has been a long standing promise and finally I was able to take the time to keep it and I was so glad that I did. Of course providence helped in ensuring that it coincided with a business trip :) Mahabalipuram is about a couple of hours away from Chennai and is feast for the eyes. The five rathas, the temples carved out of stones, the sculpture on rock faces and the sea shore temple are sheer poetry and speak volumes of the artistic temperament of the Pallavas.
While Mom and I were getting enchanted by the magic of Mahabalipuram, China was surreptitiously planning to play the spoilsport. Had they succeeded it would have perhaps been a perfect replay of the "Hindi-Chini Bhai Bhai" story. However this time they had perhaps not anticipated the strong support from Bush administration. One phone call and the Chinese resistance crumbled and along with that crumbled the illusion that they really wanted to be friends after all. One hope India's stand on Tibet now becomes more pragmatic. Tibetans are our people and His Holiness as much an inspiration for Indians as the Tibetans.
Mom and I visited the croc park in Chennai's outskirts. It is difficult to describe the feeling of fascination laced with revulsion that proximity to these creatures bring. While one appreciates the conservation efforts but still one hopes that one never has to see one of these reptiles outside its enclosure. Mom was fascinated to see a turtle which rode on the back of a gharial with superb elan and grace.
The NSG waviver has been a major diplomatic win for India and the US. The hurdles at some point did seem insurmountable, however some deft maneuvering by both the Governments saw that that the Kung-fu opposition bit dust. My own work, thankfully, was equally successful and I came back with fond memories. The only fly in the ointment was an uncouth auto-driver, who thought shouting in Tamil would scare "outsiders". However, I hope that an encounter with a Bengal Tiger has left him wiser.
India and US, I feel are natural allies. I hope this equation does stands the test of time. For me what is more important is that I could finally keep a promise that I made a long time ago.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Shyama : The Personification of Sat-Chid-Ananda
Shyama Sangeet, devotional songs sung in the praise of the Divine Mother, has always been an important component of the Bengali cultural landscape. I think the appeal is in Shyama Sangeet’s inherent simplicity. You didn’t have to be oozing Vedanta through your ears to enjoy one.
Take, for instance, the famous Shyama Sangeet, - Aamaar Chetona Chaitanya Kore. It’s so simple yet so very deep. It so eloquently explains how Ma Kali may be visualized as the Giver of Knowledge, the saviour and indeed the personification Sat-Chid-Ananda.
Here are the words:
The Shyama Sangeet that I presented above is one such that I have grown up hearing my father sing and has a special place in my heart. Both the tune and the words transport me instantly to realms of a serene but overpowering ecstasy.
Originally made famous by Pannalal Bhattacharya, the snippet of a superb rendition by Anuradha Paudwal can be accessed at this link.
Even if you don’t understand Bangla or even if you haven’t explored the Shakta Philosophy I would still say - Please go ahead and listen, it is seriously cool.
I hope that you like the song as well…
Shyama Sangeet, devotional songs sung in the praise of the Divine Mother, has always been an important component of the Bengali cultural landscape. I think the appeal is in Shyama Sangeet’s inherent simplicity. You didn’t have to be oozing Vedanta through your ears to enjoy one.
Take, for instance, the famous Shyama Sangeet, - Aamaar Chetona Chaitanya Kore. It’s so simple yet so very deep. It so eloquently explains how Ma Kali may be visualized as the Giver of Knowledge, the saviour and indeed the personification Sat-Chid-Ananda.
Here are the words:
Amaar Chetona Chaitanya Kore De Ma ChoitanyameeWhich roughly translates to the following:
Tor Bhav Saagare Bhaase Ami, hobo ma tor podasroyee
Aagyano mor shobhab tekhe, tor bhabe tui ne ma deke
Gyaan Chohu kule dekhi, kemon tui gyanodamoyee
Amaar… (repeat)
Tor Bhaber Kela diye, de ma aamar ja kuchu shob obhab mitiye
Kotohol mor e-jinone, neye ne ma tui o-chorone
Mahanande Jai Chole ma, hoye shorbo ripu joyee
Amaar Chetona Chaitanya Kore De Mai Choitanyamee.
Enlighten my consciousness, My MotherI feel blessed to have been born in a family where Indian Classical Music in both its pristine and bhajan forms has been constantly practiced. Letting yourself flow in a soulful rendition can provide you a whiff of the magical journey that awaits you in path of your progression in Ma’s Bhakti.
Bestow enlightenment to my ignorant mind, my mother.
O Mother, You are unalloyed consciousness personified.
Even as I float in this Ocean of transitory worldly existence, (Bhava Saagar)
O Ma Bhava Taarini, grant me refuge at your lotus feet of eternal existence
Drain away my ignorance, Mother, inundating me in torrents of your love
That thus enlightened, I may gaze, at the countenance of the giver of all knowledge
Touch me with you divine magic for once ma,
So that I receive from you all that I lack.
Pull away the attachment that I have to all things in my life, mother, and have them focus to your feet. With limitless bliss, may I come to you having vanquished all my foes (greed, anger, jealousy, anxiety) that have kept you away from me.
The Shyama Sangeet that I presented above is one such that I have grown up hearing my father sing and has a special place in my heart. Both the tune and the words transport me instantly to realms of a serene but overpowering ecstasy.
Originally made famous by Pannalal Bhattacharya, the snippet of a superb rendition by Anuradha Paudwal can be accessed at this link.
Even if you don’t understand Bangla or even if you haven’t explored the Shakta Philosophy I would still say - Please go ahead and listen, it is seriously cool.
I hope that you like the song as well…
Friday, May 30, 2008
He Krishna Karuna Sindhu
Sri Krishna Saranam Mamah
There is no Truth but Krishna
There is no Realization but Krishna
Krishna is the begining and He is the End
Indeed, he is all that exists in between
Happiness is praying to Krishna
Success is surrendering to him
Ignorance is not knowing that
I exist only to Serve
The Lotus Feet of my Sri Krishna
My Lord Deliver me from my Ignorance
Sri Krishna Saranam Mamah
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The Classification of Communists
Introduction
Of the many sub-human species that inhabit God’s Earth, one of the more curious group is a bunch that calls themselves Communists. This group lives in a state of contradictions and continuous confusion characterized by turns, about-turns, somersaults and somnambulism. Observations have thrown up the probability that they may have developed some primitive form of communication which is called sloganeering that complements their rather destructive and disruptive social tendencies that social scientists call strikes and bandhs.
Their existence on God’s Earth has been termed a paradox, because their primitive philosophy has not yet evolved enough to understand the concept of God. So why they should exist on God’s earth has long been a mystery. Experts however contend that this paradox is a key part of their desire of providing hilarity by being absurd. A vocal minority among experts think that only reason Communists exists is to be a Joke and provide mirth to the rest of mankind.
They have shown a remarkable affinity to the Red colour coupled with an aversion for the Saffron colour. It has been posited that the Red colour represents their moral bankruptcy, which is perpetually in Red. Saffron is the universal representation of The Divine, which as indicated earlier is a concept they haven’t understood yet and hence fear.
Some people have also classified Communism as a genetic disorder as well as a potentially communicable disease which primarily affects people who haven’t had a good education.
Types and Classifications
Communists have shown a decided tendency to mutate with or without pretext. Some of the commonly occurring garden variety of mutant communists:
Marxists: These mutants are much influenced by the philosophy that is depicted in the films of Grouch Marx. Their main ambition is to be more absurd than all other versions of Communists put together. They are the biggest mutant group and their guiding principle is the following – Those are my principles. If you don’t like them I have others. Since no one knows what principles are being referred to on the first place, no one has bothered to ask for the others. Their destructive approach to life maybe understood better in light of this unanswered question that they ask of themselves every morning in absence of a God to pray to - Why should I care about posterity? What's posterity ever done for me?
Maoists: These mutants are worshipers of cats and take their name from the call of the cats, Meow or Miao. Since they are usually not very educated they spelt the Miao as Mao and the name stuck. Worship of cats has a long history starting with the Ancient Egyptians. However, the difference in the two form of worship is that while the Egyptians built temples for their feline gods, Maoists consider Cats to be poultry and were last heard of waiting for their graceful gods to lay eggs.
Naxals: This is a particularly ill mannered mutant variety that lives in the wild. No one knows for sure where their name came from. Some theorists have put forth the theory that it stems from the fact that all of them are pains in neck, so they call themselves Naxals. This theory has however not been conclusively proven yet, as this bunch have been know to cause pain in other parts as well. They are perhaps the most primitive strain of Communists known to exists and are perhaps a result of a reverse mutation that has taken them further back.
Where to Find ‘em?
It is easy to locate communists, particularly in Indian subcontinent. In any politically charged discussion if you hear incoherence being spoken in a pseudo-intellectual fashion that is against development, efficiency and fish export, quietly stalk in the direction of the sound and presently you shall encounter one specimen of this rather unfortunate species. Of course, if you value your sanity you shall tip-toe away in the opposite direction.
Lately it has been noticed that communists share a queer relation with an unrelated branch of sub-humans called the Kingress or Congless. (who draw their inspiration from the legends of the Borg, and hope that one day they will all be mindless drones under the command of a Borg-Queen). Though both these two species hate each other and shall never miss an opportunity to snipe and snip at each other, their common fear of the Saffron sometimes makes them graze together. A similar behavior is also seen in Wildebeests and Zebras in Serengeti in African plains, particularly when Lions are around. However the wildlife in Africa such as Zebra, Giraffe and Wildebeests are at a much different stage of evolution, so the comparison may be termed unjust.
What to do if you contract Communism or are born with this Malady
First the good news: Communism is fully curable. Second, the even better news: The side of the cure is that an ex-communist, with practice and patience may even evolve to become a Human.
The only path of redemption is for a repentant Communist to take refuge in Lord Hanuman and adopt the ways of the Saffron. Reciting Hanuman Chalisa everyday, dedicating oneself to the cause of serving Lord Rama as a Kar Sevak, and spreading the message of Ramayana to other unfortunate Communists has been proven as the most effective means to gain respite from effects of Communism.
So, if you are a communist who seeks freedom, all you have to do is go to the nearest Hanuman Temple and seek his blessings and grace. Rest shall follow automatically.
Jai Bajrang Bali.
Introduction
Of the many sub-human species that inhabit God’s Earth, one of the more curious group is a bunch that calls themselves Communists. This group lives in a state of contradictions and continuous confusion characterized by turns, about-turns, somersaults and somnambulism. Observations have thrown up the probability that they may have developed some primitive form of communication which is called sloganeering that complements their rather destructive and disruptive social tendencies that social scientists call strikes and bandhs.
Their existence on God’s Earth has been termed a paradox, because their primitive philosophy has not yet evolved enough to understand the concept of God. So why they should exist on God’s earth has long been a mystery. Experts however contend that this paradox is a key part of their desire of providing hilarity by being absurd. A vocal minority among experts think that only reason Communists exists is to be a Joke and provide mirth to the rest of mankind.
They have shown a remarkable affinity to the Red colour coupled with an aversion for the Saffron colour. It has been posited that the Red colour represents their moral bankruptcy, which is perpetually in Red. Saffron is the universal representation of The Divine, which as indicated earlier is a concept they haven’t understood yet and hence fear.
Some people have also classified Communism as a genetic disorder as well as a potentially communicable disease which primarily affects people who haven’t had a good education.
Types and Classifications
Communists have shown a decided tendency to mutate with or without pretext. Some of the commonly occurring garden variety of mutant communists:
Marxists: These mutants are much influenced by the philosophy that is depicted in the films of Grouch Marx. Their main ambition is to be more absurd than all other versions of Communists put together. They are the biggest mutant group and their guiding principle is the following – Those are my principles. If you don’t like them I have others. Since no one knows what principles are being referred to on the first place, no one has bothered to ask for the others. Their destructive approach to life maybe understood better in light of this unanswered question that they ask of themselves every morning in absence of a God to pray to - Why should I care about posterity? What's posterity ever done for me?
Maoists: These mutants are worshipers of cats and take their name from the call of the cats, Meow or Miao. Since they are usually not very educated they spelt the Miao as Mao and the name stuck. Worship of cats has a long history starting with the Ancient Egyptians. However, the difference in the two form of worship is that while the Egyptians built temples for their feline gods, Maoists consider Cats to be poultry and were last heard of waiting for their graceful gods to lay eggs.
Naxals: This is a particularly ill mannered mutant variety that lives in the wild. No one knows for sure where their name came from. Some theorists have put forth the theory that it stems from the fact that all of them are pains in neck, so they call themselves Naxals. This theory has however not been conclusively proven yet, as this bunch have been know to cause pain in other parts as well. They are perhaps the most primitive strain of Communists known to exists and are perhaps a result of a reverse mutation that has taken them further back.
Where to Find ‘em?
It is easy to locate communists, particularly in Indian subcontinent. In any politically charged discussion if you hear incoherence being spoken in a pseudo-intellectual fashion that is against development, efficiency and fish export, quietly stalk in the direction of the sound and presently you shall encounter one specimen of this rather unfortunate species. Of course, if you value your sanity you shall tip-toe away in the opposite direction.
Lately it has been noticed that communists share a queer relation with an unrelated branch of sub-humans called the Kingress or Congless. (who draw their inspiration from the legends of the Borg, and hope that one day they will all be mindless drones under the command of a Borg-Queen). Though both these two species hate each other and shall never miss an opportunity to snipe and snip at each other, their common fear of the Saffron sometimes makes them graze together. A similar behavior is also seen in Wildebeests and Zebras in Serengeti in African plains, particularly when Lions are around. However the wildlife in Africa such as Zebra, Giraffe and Wildebeests are at a much different stage of evolution, so the comparison may be termed unjust.
What to do if you contract Communism or are born with this Malady
First the good news: Communism is fully curable. Second, the even better news: The side of the cure is that an ex-communist, with practice and patience may even evolve to become a Human.
The only path of redemption is for a repentant Communist to take refuge in Lord Hanuman and adopt the ways of the Saffron. Reciting Hanuman Chalisa everyday, dedicating oneself to the cause of serving Lord Rama as a Kar Sevak, and spreading the message of Ramayana to other unfortunate Communists has been proven as the most effective means to gain respite from effects of Communism.
So, if you are a communist who seeks freedom, all you have to do is go to the nearest Hanuman Temple and seek his blessings and grace. Rest shall follow automatically.
Jai Bajrang Bali.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Vanderlust
The memories of the early eighties in Itanagar still appear to me in a magical hue. Particularly the winter months. Itanagar was not as cold a place as was Shillong but invariably winter brought in its wake foggy mornings that turned our C-sector into a fairy land. The farm produce seemed extra crisp and tasty, and my brother and I got to wear the bright sweaters that my mom would knit for us. At schools our class teacher tended to be a trifle more indulgent and class missed on the really cold day could easily be explained away with a sniff of a stuffy nose.
However the time my brother and I looked forward the most to were the evenings after our father came home from work. He would gather the two of us near him. Cozy in our blankets and quilts we would listen to him with rapt attention as he told us exotic stories of past and present, of ancient heroes from around the world and of brave men and women of the modern world who had made the race proud. The master storyteller he was. I felt his eyes shown with the brightest twinkle when he told us the story of explorers across time. We knew of the Kon-Tiki expedition and of the Apollo Missions, of Daniken’s theories and the early explorers to Africa, of Abhedanada’s travels in Tibet and of the fabled King Solomon’s mines long before it was fashionable to know anything beyond Enid Blyton and Hindi movies. Father instilled in us a sense of wonder and perhaps a bit of fascination for the unexplored and unknown.
Explorers never had precise roadmaps when the started off on their journeys nor did they have road-signs in blue that warned them off the path that would lead them to the village of cannibals and got them headed towards the hidden jungle paradise with fruit laden trees and nectar like water. All that kept them going was their love of adventure and all that kept them alive was wit and courage. And perhaps prayers of those that wished them well. In the well know story of King Solomon’s mines the flicker in a flame helped the protagonists escape a mountain cave to which they were imprisoned. In real life, no less adventurous was Thor Heyerdahl stay in the uninhabited islet of Raroia or the crew’s tryst with the White Shark. Every wonderful detail in these stories speak of adventure and human spirit thirsting to see, to learn. True, for every Tenzing and Hillary, there is a Mallory who never made it back in blazing glory and for ever Daniken there is always a Sagan to rubbish their life’s work. But that is precisely what makes the exploration and adventure so romantic.
Today these story weave their appeal to me anew as I slowly but decidedly moved from the predicable and beaten path to a road that I haven’t traveled on before. The only support I carry is Krishna’s name in my heart and the wishes of my friends.
It is gonna be fun...
The memories of the early eighties in Itanagar still appear to me in a magical hue. Particularly the winter months. Itanagar was not as cold a place as was Shillong but invariably winter brought in its wake foggy mornings that turned our C-sector into a fairy land. The farm produce seemed extra crisp and tasty, and my brother and I got to wear the bright sweaters that my mom would knit for us. At schools our class teacher tended to be a trifle more indulgent and class missed on the really cold day could easily be explained away with a sniff of a stuffy nose.
However the time my brother and I looked forward the most to were the evenings after our father came home from work. He would gather the two of us near him. Cozy in our blankets and quilts we would listen to him with rapt attention as he told us exotic stories of past and present, of ancient heroes from around the world and of brave men and women of the modern world who had made the race proud. The master storyteller he was. I felt his eyes shown with the brightest twinkle when he told us the story of explorers across time. We knew of the Kon-Tiki expedition and of the Apollo Missions, of Daniken’s theories and the early explorers to Africa, of Abhedanada’s travels in Tibet and of the fabled King Solomon’s mines long before it was fashionable to know anything beyond Enid Blyton and Hindi movies. Father instilled in us a sense of wonder and perhaps a bit of fascination for the unexplored and unknown.
Explorers never had precise roadmaps when the started off on their journeys nor did they have road-signs in blue that warned them off the path that would lead them to the village of cannibals and got them headed towards the hidden jungle paradise with fruit laden trees and nectar like water. All that kept them going was their love of adventure and all that kept them alive was wit and courage. And perhaps prayers of those that wished them well. In the well know story of King Solomon’s mines the flicker in a flame helped the protagonists escape a mountain cave to which they were imprisoned. In real life, no less adventurous was Thor Heyerdahl stay in the uninhabited islet of Raroia or the crew’s tryst with the White Shark. Every wonderful detail in these stories speak of adventure and human spirit thirsting to see, to learn. True, for every Tenzing and Hillary, there is a Mallory who never made it back in blazing glory and for ever Daniken there is always a Sagan to rubbish their life’s work. But that is precisely what makes the exploration and adventure so romantic.
Today these story weave their appeal to me anew as I slowly but decidedly moved from the predicable and beaten path to a road that I haven’t traveled on before. The only support I carry is Krishna’s name in my heart and the wishes of my friends.
It is gonna be fun...
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Raja Bahadoor
His sideways profile has always adorned the pages of history and social studies books of my boyhood. I remember Raja Ram Mohun Roy from those days as a sketched figure with a traditional turban looking far away, as if to some distant utopia. Like so many other school boys I associated with him key words like Brahmo Samaj, Abolition of Sati and Social Reform that would help me weave a story together in the annual exams. At that age I was never to know what great admiration I would come to have one day for this giant of a man who had graced India more than two centuries ago. Strangely my fascination started after seeing a old Bangla movie on him on TV about fifteen years back in Bombay. Since than I have continued to read about him and my admiration has only grown over the years.
Ram Mohun Roy, as Muller says, was truly a great man. Not just because of his monumental achievements in the field of social reforms in an India that was just waking up, but, to me, also because of the strength of his moral conviction.
If he had the courage to raise his voice against the plague of superstition in Hindu Society, he also had the discernment to resist conversion to Christianity for the wrong reasons. He instead sought a path of true spirituality that was untainted by the dogma of established religions. He always saw the Supreme as "... the Absolute Originator who is the first principle of all religions”.
For him English education was not a pretext or a catalyst to reject all things Indian and embrace all things western but correctly a means to broaden his horizons. Knowledgeable in Bangla, English, Arabic and Persian he was truly like one of the wise seers of ancient India who had given unto the world the treasures of Veda, Upanishad and Puranas. Indeed, he enriched our understanding vastly by writing deep commentaries on Vedanta, Upanishads and on the teaching of Jesus. He distinguished himself as a reformer who founded colleges, raised his voice against social ills and charted a path towards religious unity. He was one of the architects of the Indian Renaissance that with time would snowball into the freedom movement.
Only one so wise as him could have achieved so much in one lifetime that won him admiration of commoners as well as greats such as Rabindranath Tagore.
When he traveled to England and France he received great adulation and was received with honour. His death was a little tragic, ailing and alone in a distant land where a dispossessed Bahadur Shah was not able to send the monies promised to the Raja for his services. However his admirers there ensured his comfort when finally curtains fell on a great life at Bristol.
His life has left an indelible mark in Indian history and continues to inspire those who have attempted to learn from his life. For years I waited for the opportunity to go and pay my respects at his tomb in Bristol’s Arnos Cemetery. So when I saw my little Rudra stand folded hand in front of Ram Mohun Roy’s tomb a week or so back, imitating me, scant understanding what he was doing, I thought that it was every bit a fitting climax to a long cherished dream and that the wait had been truly worth that moment.
My son mayn’t remember this pilgrimage when he grows up, but I am convinced that Raja Bahadoor shall continue to inspire him and young people like him for a long long time to come.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Travels with Rudra
Rudra is presently on a trip to the United Kingdom. It was raining so heavily there and people were in such gloomy mood that he felt that they could do with a little bit of sunshine. Of course he knows that his ol’ Mom and Dad can’t do a thing without him, so he took them with him. Besides he does like being hugged by these guys (while no one is looking that is).
He has been taking his mom exploring Luton, while Dad’s been out during the day doing the stuff he usually does.
Last Saturday he took Mom, Dad and his Pinku Kaku to see the sights and sounds of London. Dad was disappointed as Westminster Abbey was closed so to make up for that Rudra took everyone on a cruise up the Thames river in the evening. The London eye looks magnificent as dusk wafts in, lit by green lights. Rudra promised his mom that sometimes next week he shall bring her for a ride on the big wheel and he pacified Dad by saying that Westminster shall be open on other days.
Earlier in the week Rudra took everyone to Bristol, where they stayed in the Ramada Grange Hotel. The hotel is on the countryside and has really vast lawns surrounding the property. The couple of days he was there were spent in pursuit of pure joy of running amok in the lawns, scaring geese and Halloween pumpkins, getting scared by horses, and generally making trouble. One of the mornings two wild bunnies paid him a visit by the hotel window.
While a Bristol, he helped fulfill one of Dad’s long cherished wishes. He took his old parents to pay homage at the tomb of Raja Rammohun Roy. His Dad has been a fan of Raja Bahadoor since childhood and considers him to be one of the greatest Indians to have graced our motherland. It was a touching moment for Dad as he and his son (i.e. Rudra) stood folded hand in front of Raja Rammohun Roy's Samadhi.
Right now, Rudra wants to be pampered a little bit, before he goes off to sleep.
Good Night everybody.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Sense and Responsibility
This 15th August was possibly one of the first where I couldn't find words to write a mushy piece on our freedom. Not that I didn't try, the half written pieces and wrong starts that adorn my recycle bin stand mute witness to the struggle between my sense of patriotism and the responsibility of inaction that I can no longer shrug off. The sky is overcast and it is becoming increasingly difficult not to feel despondent.
Being ruled by a bunch that doesn't inspire confidence is bad enough. But when all propriety, justice and fair play is sacrificed at the alter of vote bank politics and appeasement, the righteous rage that storms over the proverbial drawing room tea cup, suddenly threaten to spill over. Every single vote of an educated Indian that was not cast out of apathy scream out together in a mocking laughter. "You brought this to yourselves," they thunder. But the ears have long since gone deaf.
"Apna visa mangta hai boss, dollar mein kamane ka. Duniya jaye tel laane..."
Meanwhile, the earth, no longer able to contain the mistakes of the polluting bipeds that inhabit it, is slowly but surely boiling over. Rising temperatures, melting glaciers and oceans on the boil cry out in desperation - "Slow down, slow down...". Again the deaf ears fail to hear. The ghost every felled tree and poached tiger wait silently for the retribution that approaches fast.
The climes of the world affairs hardly seem any better. The world continues to be a scary place. Fundamentalism and war mongering shows no signs of respite. As the body count increase across the globe, the plaintive wail of a forgotten concept called -PEACE, remains unheard, unanswered. Hunger and homelessness persists, but the money has already been burnt away in wars and is long gone...
What could I write about then. And frankly who would care! We have long since donned our blinkers and ear-plugs. Do we dare to take them off, do we dare to take some responsibility, can we plan something tangible, even if it is casting the educated vote in the next election?
Jago Mohan Pyaare. I implore. But I wonder if you hear me either...
Sunday, July 08, 2007
The Lights of 4th July
Some coincedences become remarkable. Every second 4th of July by some twist of fate I find myself in the US!!! Two years back around this time I was in New York, and two year before that in Bay Area, California, and this time in Dallas. Of course I make other trips to this country in between, but every other 4th of July I get to be here to see the fireworks.
The fireworks this year were quite good, but by far the best were those that I saw in NY. They were truly spectecular. What makes the whole thing intresting is that the Americans celebrate this as a true festival of patriotism and really take part.
I wish in India we celebrated 15th August with equal enthusiasm. I mean all the flag hoisting and all that generally happens is OK, but for most 15th Aug is just another day off-work, to take care of the mundane chores of life. I wonder how many remember, even in passing, the sacrifices and the heroism of our freedom fighters. Being from a family of freedom fighters, I feel quite strongly about this.
I recently read a quote that said - The nation that doesn't honour its heros, certainly shall not long endure.
For our India to become the beacon of peace and hope in this strife-torn world, the first step would be for every one to feel a sense of oneness with the Indian ethos and culture; to believe inherently in our Indianness and be proud of it.
The pride in Indianness and the willingness to do something that I see in my fellow bloggers, appear to me as a ray of hope. What we need is to take is passion off the blog-o-sphere and get it out to the streets. Only then shall start the true transformation of our society...
Some coincedences become remarkable. Every second 4th of July by some twist of fate I find myself in the US!!! Two years back around this time I was in New York, and two year before that in Bay Area, California, and this time in Dallas. Of course I make other trips to this country in between, but every other 4th of July I get to be here to see the fireworks.
The fireworks this year were quite good, but by far the best were those that I saw in NY. They were truly spectecular. What makes the whole thing intresting is that the Americans celebrate this as a true festival of patriotism and really take part.
I wish in India we celebrated 15th August with equal enthusiasm. I mean all the flag hoisting and all that generally happens is OK, but for most 15th Aug is just another day off-work, to take care of the mundane chores of life. I wonder how many remember, even in passing, the sacrifices and the heroism of our freedom fighters. Being from a family of freedom fighters, I feel quite strongly about this.
I recently read a quote that said - The nation that doesn't honour its heros, certainly shall not long endure.
For our India to become the beacon of peace and hope in this strife-torn world, the first step would be for every one to feel a sense of oneness with the Indian ethos and culture; to believe inherently in our Indianness and be proud of it.
The pride in Indianness and the willingness to do something that I see in my fellow bloggers, appear to me as a ray of hope. What we need is to take is passion off the blog-o-sphere and get it out to the streets. Only then shall start the true transformation of our society...
Friday, May 18, 2007
The Pan Shop that Isn't
The traffic moves fast on the Eastern Bypass Expressway that runs on the Periphery of Calcutta. Vast open space envelops this road on both sides, which is rather strange if one considers the population density of this mega-city. Cruising down the road as dusk descends one notices that most of the road is well lit with halogen street lights.
There’s however a stretch of road, somewhere in the middle, where the lamp posts suddenly disappear for a length of about two kilometers. The only light comes from the headlights of cars rushing past in two directions. Riders scarcely notice this at the pace that they move through this. The road is straight and extra-ordinarily wide here to eliminate any chance of a traffic jam. Few ever know how close they come everyday, as they pass through this stretch, to one of India’s best kept secrets.
If one knew, one would notice, that this place rarely has any walkers or bikers. In fact the only thing that breaks the surrounding darkness is a dimly lit and ramshackle pan shop appearing roughly mid-way through this stretch. Perched on an elevated mound around 20 yards away from the road, one would notice that besides a bunch of hanger-ons there are never any customers. On closer inspection one is surprised by the fact that the shopkeeper and those that hang-out change frequently.
In case someone is curious to park the car and stop to buy anything, one finds that the not only is shop invariably out of stock of the commonest of items but also the fact the shop keeper and the crowd are actually quite rude. Hang around a little long the situation starts appearing quite nasty. People rarely stop and almost never return. Probably that’s why not many notice the elevated dirt track that runs on the right side of this shop.
A car that drives off the expressway onto the dirt road finds itself stopped by a heavy chain barrier that forms a check-post of sorts a little way down. As the car comes to a halt, people seem to appear from no where and surround the car. Speaking in rustic Hindi one of them shall demand ones business there with unconcealed hostility. A few mis-adventurous people who found themselves there without any business have had a rather unpleasant experience. However, those that have been able to produce a proper letter of introduction from the Ministry of Home Affairs can witness a remarkable change in the demeanor of these people. The rustic Hindi is immediately replaced by polite but business-like English as identity is verified and re-verified on a mobile computing unit that is connected through a highly secure wireless connection to one of worlds largest data banks. The procedure takes about twelve minutes during which time the passengers remain under the watchful eyes.
Once satisfied the barrier is lifted and the car rolls down the dirt part until it reaches a locked metal doorway to something that looks like an abandoned storehouse. A second and longer identity confirmation is done by people in army fatigues who no longer make any pretense of hiding the automatic rifles. This check typically takes sixteen to eighteen minutes. This is followed by a thorough search of the car, which includes opening both the hood and boot.
The passengers are invited to step out of the car after the search. At this time, one of the uniformed men shall get behind the wheels and drive it off to the back of the storehouse into some hidden garage. The door opens into a small enclosure where both male and female security guards are on duty to perform a physical frisking. Few of even the frequent visitors know that from the chain barrier till the physical is performed, not for a second is any of the visitors hidden from the cross-hairs of at least three sniper rifles. This enclosure opens to a wide reception area.
On the wall behind the receptionist deck there hang the brass insignia of Indian Army, Navy and Air Force. Under that in plain steel letters is written a simple word – INSECT.
The Indian Security Taskforce: Arguably the most secret and feared defense organization of this planet…
Saturday, March 24, 2007
‘Tis Separation that stands witness to Love
True love is not measured just by how happy you are when together, but how gracefully you bear separation and how true you remain through it.
Separation, Berahah, Judai, by whatever name you call it, has from early times been the stuff of soulful love ballads, geets and ghazals. Was it not Shelley who had so rightly said that “Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought”? Truly the pangs of separation are perhaps that hardest to bear and often hurt more than physical discomfort.
Srimati Radharani’s love for Sri Krishna stands head and shoulders above that of His wives, as not only did she refuse to confine herself to the boundaries of social relationships but she bore the pain of separation from her beloved with tremendous fortitude and dignity. Srimati Radha's unique form of love is vraja-bhava-dasya rasa, which means that Radha's love for Krishna is in separation. And that is exactly why she is the foremost among Bhaktas. A true Vaishnav knows the Lord can be attained only through Srimati Radha’s loving Grace, which she lovingly showers on all her children that ask for it. Indeed being Sri Krishna’s Hladini-Shakti, she is non-different from the Lord himself. Of course, one doesn’t presume to undermine the true devotion Rukmini, Sri Krishna’s wife at all. For wasn't it Rukmini who showed through her offering of Tusli during Tulabharam, how a humble offering to God is greater than any material wealth.
Separation, typically in its wake, brings insecurity. This insecurity then forms the breeding ground of anger, depression, and resentment which eats away at the foundation of faith upon which love rests. Perhaps it is our failing that we always associate love with attachment. As a respected senior of mine remarked a few days back, we humans are products of both our nature and spirit. It is this nature that gives in to attachments, possessiveness and jealousy. But the spirit is ever free, ever detached and indeed capable of a much higher level of love.
We see this spiritual love personified in the lives of Mirabai and Soordas. Mirabai willed herself to devotion and love of Krishna without pre-conditions and at exclusion of all else in face of hostilities. Mere Toh Giridhari Gopal, Dusra Na Koi resonates through our hearts still and demonstrates just how exalted and divine true bhakti can be. Soordas was denied eye sight at birth, but through his longing for the Lord and true devotion he realized in his own heart the divine presence of Sri Krishna and beheld Him in all his Glory.
As individual souls in a transcendental journey across time, space and lifetimes toward our eventual and hopefully inevitable union with our Lord, it is this pain of separation that acts as the fair wind that blows our sails and propels us our destination-wards. This pain is good for it burns away the bonds of Maya and illumines our heart with pure love and Bhakti.
And we know all too well – it is only pure gold, which can really withstand the rage of the fire…
HARE RADHE KRISHNA
True love is not measured just by how happy you are when together, but how gracefully you bear separation and how true you remain through it.
Separation, Berahah, Judai, by whatever name you call it, has from early times been the stuff of soulful love ballads, geets and ghazals. Was it not Shelley who had so rightly said that “Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought”? Truly the pangs of separation are perhaps that hardest to bear and often hurt more than physical discomfort.
Srimati Radharani’s love for Sri Krishna stands head and shoulders above that of His wives, as not only did she refuse to confine herself to the boundaries of social relationships but she bore the pain of separation from her beloved with tremendous fortitude and dignity. Srimati Radha's unique form of love is vraja-bhava-dasya rasa, which means that Radha's love for Krishna is in separation. And that is exactly why she is the foremost among Bhaktas. A true Vaishnav knows the Lord can be attained only through Srimati Radha’s loving Grace, which she lovingly showers on all her children that ask for it. Indeed being Sri Krishna’s Hladini-Shakti, she is non-different from the Lord himself. Of course, one doesn’t presume to undermine the true devotion Rukmini, Sri Krishna’s wife at all. For wasn't it Rukmini who showed through her offering of Tusli during Tulabharam, how a humble offering to God is greater than any material wealth.
Separation, typically in its wake, brings insecurity. This insecurity then forms the breeding ground of anger, depression, and resentment which eats away at the foundation of faith upon which love rests. Perhaps it is our failing that we always associate love with attachment. As a respected senior of mine remarked a few days back, we humans are products of both our nature and spirit. It is this nature that gives in to attachments, possessiveness and jealousy. But the spirit is ever free, ever detached and indeed capable of a much higher level of love.
We see this spiritual love personified in the lives of Mirabai and Soordas. Mirabai willed herself to devotion and love of Krishna without pre-conditions and at exclusion of all else in face of hostilities. Mere Toh Giridhari Gopal, Dusra Na Koi resonates through our hearts still and demonstrates just how exalted and divine true bhakti can be. Soordas was denied eye sight at birth, but through his longing for the Lord and true devotion he realized in his own heart the divine presence of Sri Krishna and beheld Him in all his Glory.
As individual souls in a transcendental journey across time, space and lifetimes toward our eventual and hopefully inevitable union with our Lord, it is this pain of separation that acts as the fair wind that blows our sails and propels us our destination-wards. This pain is good for it burns away the bonds of Maya and illumines our heart with pure love and Bhakti.
And we know all too well – it is only pure gold, which can really withstand the rage of the fire…
HARE RADHE KRISHNA
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