Krishna is my Guide

What draws me to the SOA paradigm is its essential and inherent harmony, its rhythm, if you will. The concept of Business functions being provided as a set of loosely coupled, policy driven services that are possibly threaded together though an choreography layer agnostic to the implementation mechanism, intrinsically promotes an open architecture. SOA provides a perfect balance in a world where the last word has not yet been said in this ensuing tug of war between open sources and vendor supported product suites. While the concept itself is not so much an of invention, (some may remember that e-services is an old word from the days of e-speak) using the ubiquitous HTTP as the transport for SOAP messages was a stroke of genius as it brought in its wake technology independence between collaborators in the game of providing and consuming services. The WS-* standards are today extending the boundaries of the reach of technology in a secure way. If the natural evolution of technology has its way, soon devices to individuals to organization shall be entities in an service oriented eco-system that is truly open and market driven. However for that to happen stronger domain specific syntax has to evolve for service definitions and access mechanisms, e.g. if two service providers provide stock quotes, why should the conversation vocabulary differ?

Nature has itself shown that evolution prefers not just the strongest but those that collaborate the best, wild dogs, for instance, are more feared predators than the King of Jungle. The success stories of bees and ants stem from their respective well organized social structures and communication mechanism. However Nature is not about individual species anyway, for no one species could possibly contributed singly to the survival of Life itself on our planet, had it not been for underlying and unifying food chain, that links all life from the algae to the top predators of the current times - us. Life has evolved itself as a whole such that the photosynthetic capacity of the plants reach all that lives here through the food chain, and we give it all back someday, dust to dust, ashes to ashes. A unifying connection that is wired into the collective gene pool on earth. Life is undoubtedly the best collaboration and knowledge management system this world has ever seen. And it is constantly innovating. Well, He is happiest who hath power to gather wisdom from a flower. (Wordsworth)

Planets and Galaxies as much as the sub-atomic entities inside an Hydrogen atom are similarly linked through Strings of forces that Newton and Einstein helped us catch a glimpse of and subsequent generations of geniuses have been progessively unrevealing. Each Supernova spews out "star-stuff" (in Carl Sagan's word) that coagulates into newer galaxies and star systems within which it is conceivable that Life may again get a foothold somewhere and evolve anew into a many splendoured reality like the one we live within. Yet in the midst of these boundless possibilities the unity (or perhaps the uniformity in uncertainty) of the behaviour of matter (wave?), the forces strong and weak that plays on it as Hariprasad Chaurasia on his magical flute, are perhaps the only constant theme, at least in this manifestation of creation. An unity that weaves individual quanta of matter into the tapestry that we call our Universe.

The big bang that started it all has been likened often to a step in the timeless dance of Nataraj and his eternal consort Shakti. For all creation and indeed the all powerful Ma Kali herself are projection of the transcendental Unifying substratum that we call Shiva, Brahman or even our own atman thereby encapsulating the unfathomable infinite within the apparent finite. (Life of Pi anyone?)

Tat tvam Asi. (Thou art That)

So how does one fathom the unfathomable? Well, people claim that all it takes is a heartfelt cry to Hari, that captivating blue hued lad who would steal your heart as soon as you lay your eyes on him. People claim his plays his flute well and that it speaks the tougue of eternal love and bliss, of the unity and harmony that vibrates through all creation as Aum. People claim he plays often and beckons all to rejoice in the soothing and enlightening melody. People claim that he is the one true guide and that only his grace can set you free.

Yea, Krishna is my guide and refuge.

Sri Krishna Saranam Mamah.

Impressions

Life comes a full circle sometimes. It seems just yesterday, but I just noticed that it has been a full two years since I tried to make sense of the concept of Anitya. This weekend I found myself being haunted by the whims of Anitya yet once again, stirred up by two TV shows.

The Kiss of Judas over the ages has probably being one of the most reviled acts of deception. Now, if the recently deciphered Gospel of Judas were to be believed, Judas was not the villain that he has been known to be after all, but he is posited as one of the foremost disciples of Jesus. The Gospel of Judas frames the act, which has vilified Judas so completely, as obedience to the instructions of Jesus, rather than a betrayal. The program aired by National Geographic last weekend was quite thought provoking. If what was shown were to be true Judas's obedience to the Lord's will probably sets a benchmark for how deep and selfless faith should be. Indeed the Gospel of Judas states that Jesus told Judas "You shall be cursed for generations." It then adds to this conversation that Jesus had told Judas "you will come to rule over them," and that "You will exceed all of them. For you will sacrifice the man that clothes me." The last sentence I find very significant, which appears to imply that Jesus positions the body as a cloth for the inner soul or Atman, a concept that is central to Indian metaphysical thought process.

(Note: In Hindu scriptures also various acts of the Lord's disciples appearing in guise of villains have been explored, for instance Ravana is believed to have been a incarnation of Jaya a devotee of Lord Vishnu.)

Coming back to Judas, whatever may be the credentials of his Gospel, it certainly goes on to prove that truth manifests itself through many faces and even impressions can be transient(Anitya) in nature, as I soon found my impression of JFK to be.

I had grown up knowing JFK as a hero, someone who had the courage to live and die for his beliefs about basic human dignity. A recent program on History channel showed that after Cuba repulsed the Bay of Pigs invasion, US troops engaged in burning of farms and bombing sugar mills in an effort to eliminate Castro. Civilian life and property was targeted for a political end, apparently under orders of JFK himself. I found the facts disconcerting.

Of course, I still am an admirer of Kennedy but I guess truth in this transient world is hardly ever black or white. It always comes in various shades of Greys ....

Where's the manual Dude?

The world has its priorities all mixed up!

Just imagine, every time I buy a TV (I recently bought my fourth one) the sales people hold a solemn ceremony and hand over to me the TV manual and stern directives that I am expected to read it cover to cover before switching on the damn contraption. C'mon how weird can you get!! To top it within a couple of days of the purchase, earnest looking people turn up at the door steps for a "demo". What do I look like? (OK that was not a smart question to ask, but the facts remain unchanged :)

Now get this, two weeks back we were handed our Rudra by the beaming hospital staff, but NO MANUAL!!! Neither my wife nor I know how to operate a baby yet, SO WHERE IS THE OWNERS MANUAL DUDE?? I mean the young fella still has a rather limited vocabulary comprising of gurgles, cries and grunts, so two way communication does become an issue. Why are they keeping the Manual away?

When the young guy cries, how do you make out whether it wants to be fed, needs a diaper change, needs to be cuddled and carried around? For all you know he might be trying to say that he wants to know the cricket score or feeling like discussing the intricacies of Madhava's bheda-vada doctrine. We frankly have no clue. Zero. Zilch.

So at every whimper from our little angel, this routine ensues
- check his diapers
- try to feed him
- cuddle him
- sing him songs
- read him the newspaper
- try to engage him in a game of chess
- make faces at him
- makes faces at each other
- tear out hairs (own)
- call mother, call mother in law, call neighbours mother in law just for the heck of it
- let him sing us to sleep

And the whole show starts again at the next whimper. Sweet Lord, what exciting times we live in!

I sometimes see him regarding us with kindly eyes of someone who knows that he is at the tender mercies of manual-less parents. He appears to be resigned to it in a philosophical kind of way. He smiles too :)

SO PLEASE, PLEASE if you know where the manual is, let us know!!!

The Stork came calling ...

In life there are milestones that mark your most important moments, moments that define you as you. Mona and I encountered one such on the morning of Friday the 24th and it has truly changed us forever.

How do you explain falling in love instantaneously? Chances are, my friend, that if you are not a parent, you are not going to even understand what I am talking about here.

Kanai blessed us with our first born, a baby boy, on the Friday, 24th Feb 2006. With his coming I have been motivated to redefine what life means to me:

Life is praying to Kanai for my son and for all those I love
Life is looking at my son's eyes and just wondering.
Life is holding him in my arms and watching him sleep
Life is a the few winks of sleep stolen between two nappy-changes at night
Life is watching people go to raptures over him.
Life is creating his email id and blog space.
Finally life is the feeling of contentment that I get just by being near him.

We have decided to call him Rudraditya, the Brilliance of Lord Shiva.

May Kanai's hand always be on him.

Bhor bhaye baaje Madhur Muralia



Bhajans have a therapeutic quality to them. When sung and listened to with devotion they lift up the conscience from the physical plane to one that somehow feels closer to the Lord. Even more uplifting, are the participatory Kirtans, where the whole assembly sings along with the lead singers and as the combined love of all the bhaktas finds expression in heartfelt and unbridled utterance of His name, even Bhagavan joins in into the festivities and one can feel his distinct presence.

Honestly this is no exaggeration. I have felt this connection many times in my childhood during our father's Kirtan sessions. The prayer hall would resound with the words "Hari bol, Hari bol, Hari bol mon aamar", tears of ecstasy would roll down the cheeks of all the grown ups around me as the joyously sang his glory. Father would have this serene smile in his lips as he led on the proceeding feeling the Lords love in every word and every note. Unobstruously a feeling of boundless joy would lay claim to the heart and I would always cry. Connection to the divine or collective histeria, I don't know, but it surely felt good and blissful.

The ironical truth however is that for most of us the effects of the uplifting love is not long lasting. During the time we zone in into a Kritan, sermon or whatever form of rememberence that suits us, His love envelops us and seems all encompassing. And as soon as these are over we descend back into our lives of crib-fests and into our rat races seeking ephemeral sense satisfaction. How easy is it to talk of Bhakti and how hard is it to lead a life of a bhakta.

I heard something in Astha channel the other day that's so moving. The sant was talking of Krishna's flute being the ideal bhakta. The flute cares not whether the tune Krishna is playing on it is a happy tone or a sad one, it produces the Lord's divine music unquestioningly. The whole purpose of the flute's being is to do the Lord's bidding. Ever immersed in the service of Lord, perhaps the bliss it experiences in love of God, the Ananda, transends the egoistic emotions of personal happiness and sadness that assils us the ignorants.

Perhaps that's why Krishna loves this para-bhakta so much and is never visualized without his trusty flute.

Dahe Chetan Thakita Ek bar Gaur-Hari Bol
Gaur-Hari bol re Madhai, Gaur-Nitai Bol

Iss Saal Phir Dil Maange More....

Don't you just love to have more? Much more really, more of Money, more of fun, more of all that we like. In fact, except for Kiran More, (of whom I definitely want to see no more in the selection board) generally more mores can be merrier. Quite so!

The perpetual demand for more is not just restricted to the realms of the mundane material. We demand more from everyone, parents, children, colleagues, bosses, govenment (that is a joke and you are expected to chuckle, thank you) and even God. Take Jesus and Mary Magdalene for instance, that Jesus saved all of us and Mary is one of his foremost apostles in known and accepted. But we are often driven to think that there have been more, maybe they were married! The number of books written on this one subject is phenomenal, by far the most popular being the fictionalized treatment provided by Dan Brown. Personally, I am happy that this research is happening, I have always felt that the Magdalene was treated unfairly by history. Anyway on the commercial front, France, where the Sang raal supposedly ended up and royal bloodline is reputed to have continued, has derived a booming tourist business from this want of more of The Mary who married The Lord. For centuries.

One doesn't even have to go back so far in history, it seems that some miracle has to be attributed to Mother Teresa for her to attain sainthood! This is so ridiculous! Isn't her being born and coming to Calcutta a miracle of the first degree in itself? No, the world wants More. I don't know about the suits (or robes or whatever the Vatican bureaucrats wear) Mother Teresa is already a saint for all whose lives she has touched and all who have been inspired by her.


All this is well-n-good, but is there more to life itself? The perpetual question that haunts intellectual, wannabe intellectuals and pseudo intellectuals alike. What do the Upanishads mean when they talk of the underlying unity of all creation, the all pervading Brahaman? What of the Ishwara, who is supposedly the personification of the mighty Brahaman and why can't I find Him in the pages of all the weighty books I read?

I don't make new year resolutions anymore, one, I am old and can't think of new and good ones and second they don't really last longer than the first week of January anyway. The reason that these resolutions fail is because such resolutions usually are typically made with the intent of "Lessening or Curbing" - for instance, this year I shall eat less carbs, I shall be less lazy, I shall gnaw the toe in my mouth a little less and so on. All these come to a naught for as we all know from the good Pepsi commercial - Yeh Dil Maange More...

So this year I have made a new year's eve proclamation that I am going to have More

- More of silence, and when I do speak, speak more about Krishna, Sing his glory.
- More of contemplation and Meditation on Krishna name
- More quality time spent with this Atman guy who is supposed to lurking somewhere inside of me (heaven knows doing what!) for he allegedly has the capability of leading one to the Truth!

And as the good book says - the Truth shall set you free.

Happy New Year Everyone.

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
Hare Rama Hare Rama
Rama Rama Hare Hare

Walking with the Gods

You got to hand it to 'em, "God's Own Country", has rather a romantic ring to it, no? Having grown up with a gaggle of Malayali friends in Itanagar, Kerala, where these guys disappeared into at least once every couple of years, was always a place that was intriguing. This guys always brought back with them stories of Onam, snake-boats, coconut tree and banana chips. Well, to cut this nostalgic trip short, I have always wanted to visit Kerala.

Opportunity presented itself in form of a missus-on-warpath, who hadn't been taken on a vacation for years. Between the missus's persistent demand of Paris and my limited imagination that ventured no further then Nandi Hills, Kerala was a God-sent brain-wave.

Getting There

The weekend before Diwali saw us on Kanyakumari express. I can't sleep when people snore and people invariable make it a point to do so when they are on the same compartment as me on a train. Regardless of whether it is Karma or a CIA conspiracy, I was still up in the wee hours of the morning as Airtel-Kerala SMSed an welcome.

The Ernaculum station followed suit a short while later and we disembarked to the sights and sounds of Kerala.

Hammock Travels, who always overcharge, had advised a Taxi from Enakulum to Alleppy, a idea so dumb that it took winds out of the your garden variety bad ideas, we jettisoned it promptly on reaching there. Experience has taught me not to take long rides on beat-up taxis, on bad roads especially on a hot day.

The missus having heard an announcement of a local train to our destination had me scoot for tickets and soon we were chugging along again under what was turning out to be a rather a humid day along with being a hot one. The greenery around us, though, was remarkable. And as the train moved along, the small stations at each of which it religiously took a breather were so like the small stations of rural Bengal. I got nostalgic all over again.

Flash-back: 1980s, Still in Itanagar and No TV. A Phillps radio was the family pride and source of all things wondrous. Much abused by bro and me when Dad's back was turned. It also contained the list of stations that the contraption was supposed to tune into. Alleppy was mentioned. The name and the radio resurfaced in memory as the trained ambled through an amazing landscape. Flash back has no purpose, I just though about it then and thought it was cool, though now I can't imagine why. Strange are the workings of brain that has survived a night of snores.

Finally the train would go no further and we had arrived at Alleppy.

At Alleppy

Alleppy, which the locals call Allapuzah, could be Lakhimpur or Dhakiajuli or even the sub-urbs of Silchar, replace the script in the road signs by Bengla/Assamese script you wouldn't know that this was a place a sub-continent away from rural Assam or Bengal. The one addition were the water canals that were all over the town and have a uncanny habit of being with you whichever road you are in. A typical small town and I fell in love immediately. Laid back, slow and totally Indian.

Kayaloram resort, where a series of Ayurvedic adventures were waiting for me is a nice place. In the banks of a Back water lake it is quite well maintained. But first an afternoon of sleep was in order...

Evening, a launch ride. Ambitiously called the Sunset Cruise. Quite nice. Food and more Sleep.

Morning the next day, an unrepentant Management says, our planned house boat had unplanned problems and won't we rather get started with the Ayurveda anyway?

Here is a word of advice, if you are not of strong body and spirit, don't leave yourself to the mercies of a Kerala masseur. I am quite strong and spirit has never been in short supply , but the massage was something that I am not going to forget in quite a while.

I would highly recommend the Siro-Dhara therapy though. About two liters of scented hot oil is poured on your head from an earthen vessel that is hanging on a rope and has a small hole through which the oil seeps out and falls on your head. It is a very relaxing experience.

The food in Kerala is good. The Appams, idiappams with Kerala Fish curry is just divine to the palate. And if you are adventurous enough to wash this down with some freshly tapped Coconut sap you could well imagine that this must be the lives that Gods lead.

Afternoon was for lazing about a little. There were a couple of Hammocks strung on coconut trees and made for a nice place to catch a snooze. Evening and more good food.

The House Boat

We had planned to stay one day on a house boat. The boat the came to pick us up on the Resort deck was a piece of history as we were to learn later. Anyway we embarked on our journey. We were the only passengers on our boat that came equipped with its own kitchen, cook, boatman and handyman.

The boat lazily took us across the canals of Alleppy and after an hour or so of ride stopped for all to have lunch which was very tastefully prepared. After lunch we started again. Our boat had a nice veranda where you could go out and see the wonderful scenery pass-by. The boat man spoke no tongue that we understood so we would communicate with wild gestures.

It is actually for this part that people usually take the House boat. Going through the canals within Alleppy is an unforgettable experience. However we slept through most of it so there is little to forget anyway.

When we got up the boat was almost ready to drop anchor for the night. It stopped on a deserted place and the dim lights of the boats came on followed by tea and cookies.

As the dusk descended the whole place started acquiring a dream-like look. The environ around us started getting dark around us rapidly, even the water on which the boat was swaying mildly became deliciously black. The ubiquitous coconut trees on the banks appeared silhouetted against a sky that was only a shade lighter. From our vintage at the Veranda we could see other boats anchored at some distance with their dim lights on. It was so surreal that I couldn't resist making it even more so. I sang old sad songs of Hemant, Rafi and Kishore Kumar. The mosquitos, I am certain, enjoyed the company.

Dinner was as well cooked as the lunch had been. While serving us the dinner, the cook told us that this was probably the oldest boat on the backwaters and this was the last journey before it went for renovation. The old lady had been riding these waters for more then a decade now. It was so strange, the boat had probably made its maiden ride when we (the missus and I) left our college and its last ride was with us as passengers. Gave you a feeling that all this years it was waiting for us in a Karmic kind of way. :)

The next morning we went back to the resort and bid our boat people good bye. They had been excellent hosts.

The Last Day

The last day was blissfully uneventful. The missus took the treatments that she had been taking and I just lazed around more. It was the Day of Diwali. There were a few industrious people at the resort, who in the evening arranged for a small puja and pedas were distributed. We all sang "Jai Jagadisha Hare".

It atmosphere there had really relaxed us and after a long time the missus and I really talked. And talk we did, well into the deep night. For me this was the highest point in a truly wonderful break.

Bidding Goodbye

The next morning we started back. Relaxed, Renewed and Rediscovered......

Oh! Calcutta

Kolkata can't be described or written about, it has to be experienced first hand. I guess this holds good for most cities that have a character or personality of their own like Bombay and New York. But what sets Kolkata apart from these other cities, I think, is that it has multiple personalities, each oblivious of the existence of the other. Kolkata is different to different people, and I feel she assumes a different guise for all who approach her. So find out for yourself, you haven't lived unless you have been to Calcutta...

This was my first Puja at West Bengal ever and my first visit back home after about four years. The place is certainly on its way back to its feet, where there used to be a pall of inactivity and decay a few years back, there is the hum of vibrant activity that gladdens the heart. Round the clock work on over-bridges and highways point to the fact that the Bengali Babu has finally woken up from a time warp.

It was a good experience going around in to the various Puja Pandals in Dankuni with my brother, mom and aunt. Did this after a long time and still love it..

If you go to Kolkata try out the Oh! Calcutta restaurant in Forum, Minto Park, if you are a fish enthusiast the food is good :)

My Best Friends Wedding

No, it is not just the name of a movie starring Julia Roberts. A close friend and colleague got married on the 16th of this month. I returned back from Kolkata to be in time for that. Best wishes to newly weds.

Winds of Change..

And finally the winds of change have appeared again in the horizon and with baited breath we wait to see what unfolds in the coming days and weeks...

Kanai Kanai

Justifying Existence

Religion, it has been argued, has been a result of the perennial question that have assaulted thinkers at all times in human history - Who am I? What am I here for? Where do I go from here?

It is not as if Religion has been the only answer to these questions, man and woman have over ages sought to find the answers in Philosophy, Art, Conquests and Love. All modes of self expression, modes of justifying existence, modes of attaching some meaning to life.

This Wikipedia link provides some very interesting perspectives on the Meaning of Life.

However beyond all such matter of the brain that befuddle us lesser beings, there are those that live the meaning of life, personify the essence of Karma Yoga and appear as beacons of inspiration. Recently I came across such a story that played out right in front of me. I just wanted share this story today:

For years people at my workplace have known Mr G, a big security guard with a wide smile, who made it a point to wish everyone who walked passed his security post with a wave. On his retirement he and his wife started serving lunch boxes to work-weary engineers at our office who didn't have time to go out for food. He never seemed the ambitious type and looked satisfied with the hundred odd customers that he had here. For the past few years, the sight of people lining up to buy his lunch boxes, that he would lug himself, was a constant fixture outside the office. All this while his cheery smile remained, though you could sometimes sense some fatigue in his eyes.

Three months ago his son joined our organization as an engineer.

There is no pride in Mr G's demeanor and his still turns up at 12.45 religiously with his lunch boxes for his loyal clientele.

Mr G is an fantastic example of what Karma Yoga stands for. Maybe he never philosophizes about meaning of life but he sure has been living it. I spoke to him yesterday while going for lunch, he is still the same cheery person I have always known him to be.

I guess some truths in life can never be taught, they are meant to be lived.

Waiting to see you...

In God's universe, souls or entities that are meant to be together ALWAYS seek each other out. Call it destiny, karma or a bond that's formed in previous births, it really happens. "The universe conspires to make it so". Wonderful isn't it...

I have seen signs of this conspiracy so often in my life. Each soul that I have been drawn to have led me to believe that such attachments could have come only through love that transcends lifetimes.

Much of my grown up life has been a search for some meaning for life..but in your presence I feel calmed and rested..I feel justified. There's so much to discover together, so much to talk about, so much to learn and so much fun to be had...

Yes, I am really waiting to see you..

Sri Krishna



Shokhi Go, Prano Shokhi Aamar-
Aami, ki rupo harinu,
Madhuro-murathi
Piriti-raashero Shyam

O dear friend of mine,
What wonderous beauty it is that I have beheld,
The icon of delight,
Shyam, the the personification of love




I have grown up seeing crowds of people moved into tears by my father's renderings of Kirtans such as these. An article in The Week magazine had stated that "No one has so influenced the course of India's religion, philosophy, art and literature as Krishna". Truely, his attraction, charisma and philosophy are unparallelled, starting from the Emotional exuberance of the Bhakta's adoration of Krishna as exemplified in Radha's love for Him to the sublime philosophy of the Bhagvad Gita.

Today is Janmastami, the day of birth of Lord Krishna, who historically is said to have lived 5000 years ago. The following two article provide interesting historical perspectives of Sri Krishna:

Search for the Historical Krishna
The Legend of Dwaraka

Sri Krishna, or as we call him at home, Kanai (from Kanhaiah perhaps) as always been a constant and unquestioned presence in our daily lives. When we were young father told me and my brother that Kanai is our eldest brother who is always with us in our hearts and would never ever fail us. I believed him then and now, more than ever, I still do.

Sri Krishna Saranam Mahah.

The Big Picture

The Nazca Lines are fascinating. I remember wintry evenings in Itanagar when I and my brother would huddle around Dad and listen about the stories of the ancient lines and Daniken's theories around them with wide-eyed amazement. Sleep in those days of my childhood were not so elusive as they have become today, but I still remember the tangling sensation that would electrify our imagination which, Dad, the master story teller that he was, could infuse into his children at such early age.

In my sleep deprived state in NYC the last few days, my mind for some reason seemed to wander back to those stories of Nazca lines and the familiar feeling of tangling re-surfaced and I found myself Googling a bit. I find it absurdly wonderful that generations of ancients were willing to labour to create these gigantic geoglyps on a stony desert that they would in all probability never see with their own eyes. Ever! Unless of-course the incredible stories that Daniken told were true, which is kind of hard to believe or alternatively the ancients could actually fly! (BTW, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy prescribes that the trick to flying is to try to fall down to the ground from an elevated place - and miss!!! Manhattan seems to be just the place to experiment this theory, and if that works I could just wing my way back home:)

As the ancients faded away into the mist of time the story of these glyphs and their symbolism was forgotten for over a thousand and five hundred years. Countless feet must have trodden over these wonders without the faintest of ideas of what lay under their own feet.

It was not until 1920s when commercial airlines began flying across the Peruvian desert that humans rediscovered the Nazca lines and wondered anew. And the rest is history. I feel that the possibilities that astound us emerge not just through the microscope or surgical scalpel, but often also through a change in the perspective we wish to view our personal reality from.

The possibilities are endless, but dare we look at them...

New York is a funny place. Last Sunday, after a hard day wrestling with the goons of UML, I decided to stroll down the Lexington Avenue looking for some place where I could get some Machh Jhol to eat. It came as such a wonderful surprise when I discovered that a few block down from where I am staying, police had cordoned off the whole area and the entire avenue had turned into an open air fair. There were eating places, cloth stores, trinkets shops all snuggly against each other right on the road. I had a delightful time just walking through the whole place. And today, when while out on lunch I found that Rockefeller Center was playing host to a outdoors farmers market so much like markets in India. Well, New York, being here has been fun, but tommorow I go back home.

I feel like shouting ... Home..E.T Home... Mañana Man!!!

Optimism

"Sir, we're surrounded!"
"Excellent. We can attack in any direction!"

--An Army Officer

This PJ which I just stole from someone else's blog pretty much sums up the optimistic frame of reference that my mind is operating at, just about now.

New York is really a fascinating place, and having landed on the 4th of July I got to see the fantastic fireworks display that they put up on the East River. Typically the other 4th July fireworks that I had seen earlier had just been crackers exploding into spheres of light, but this time the spectacle was really worth the time I spent waiting. From 9.30 in the evening till 10.30 the entire sky lit up into a riot of colours, shapes and sounds. This coupled with the excited crowd that had gather along the river bank did make this a night to remember.

Gawking at the lights in Times Square, taking ferry rides near Statue of Liberty and having food in tucked away Bangladeshi curry shops as well as upclass wall street hang-outs have been mainly what I have been doing most evenings last week. It has been really fun so far.

I don't think I shall be able to go to Maryland this time, the onset of my flu has seen to that, so I guess I shall head home this weekend as planned.

That didn't sound like my typical blog entry, did it? Well, guess what? My brain has gone on a vacation without leaving a forwarding address and my fingers just cooked up what best they could :)

Thought Atheism

In a world blinded under the collective glitter of thought leaders, I choose for myself the humble path of Thought atheism. In my recent opus on Thought Leadership (something that funnily has become much referenced), I had identified thought leaders as being those in the select band of gifted worthies, who spend their time researching and gaining educated insight into complex equations that power matters of huge cranial significance in order to offer superior value to lesser mortals (such as yours truly) who may be optimistically entrusted to use their limited intelligence and stand to benefit from the aforementioned matters of huge intellectual solemnity and unfathomable economic promise. (Phew, that was in fact the longest sentence of pure hogwash that I have written in quite a long while :)

Contrast this with my simple philosophy thought atheism, where the psyche remains untainted by the myriad of life's sweet and bitter experiences, pristine in its ignorance and shiny like a newly minted 50 paise coin. While it may make one sound a little pompous in a comical sort of way, it does bestow upon one the gift of non-judgementalism (look ma, I just coined a new meta-word!!). A precious gift that allows you to savour the flavour of each transaction at its own atmoicity, cherish each relationship for its uniqueness and enjoy every single bite into a cheesecake as if it were your first...

Try it sometimes ... I promise it won't hurt (frankly, I wouldn't remember if it did.) :)

Higher Purpose! Wherefore?

I remember hearing somewhere that Life is just a random sequence of coincidences and accidents. Much of earth's history appear to stand witness to this. Just imagine, if those millions of years ago a random meteorite wouldn't have stuck earth, brought about an ice age that wiped out the mighty dinosaurs, the puny mammals wouldn't ever have had the chance to evolve into, through a series of incredibly circuitous twists and turns, into us - the humans! If it were not for that wayward piece of space debris, I wouldn't have been writing this blog and you, gentle reader, wouldn't have been reading it...eerie, isn't it?

Now get this, this fancifully titled URL that ponders on the magnitude of eternal dance of creation, is just one in thousands of such websites that are hosted by this service provider, which is just one in tens of thousands of such hosting environments that abound in this world. A world that is a kind of funky maverick planet in an otherwise lack luster solar system, that centers around a mediocre sun, at the edge of a mid sized galaxy that we call the milky way, which itself it just a spec in the continuously raging pot of noodle soup that we call the universe. Artists depiction of that universe, to me, looks curiously like an egg poach.

Makes one sit back on wonder: Is what we call our universe just a side dish that is being prepared to be served at the breakfast table of someone staggeringly big dude, who just at this moment is getting ready to get to work and do whatever it is that they do in their staggeringly big worlds. Maybe what our brilliant scientific minds call the big bang, was just the egg being broken onto the cosmic frying pan :) and maybe this dude for whom this egg poach (our universe) is being prepared, is thinking of writing a blog today on whether there is a higher purpose to creation of life as he knows it. Maybe this guy deludes himself into believing that he is an unconventional thinker and is obsessed with finding the purpose of his existence in what he believes as his concept of creation. His approach, perchance, is a half hearted escapist attitude to fuel his staggeringly inflated ego into a comforting sense of pseudo-intellectuality. But one still hope in that staggeringly big universe there might have been some equivalent of our Chaitanya and Buddhas who have discerned the truth. One feels tempted to imagine that at least those big illuminated folks are vegetarian, as was Adolf Hitler. But for all you know, our staggeringly big dude's staggeringly big universe could be someone's egg poach too ;)

And now for the extreme possibility, the egg poach that I absent-mindedly pertook this morning, nodding sagely over the political news page of the newspaper, could that have been itself a smaller version of the same universe that is inhabited by those staggeringly big dudes, one of whom is probably hovering his fork over his breakfast side dish just about now!

Mundo Notion, Huh?!!!

Now ask yourself, those life problems and deep philosophical questions that you have been so agonizing over lately, are these worth the effort at all. Wouldn't you be rather out there fishing? I know I would, and I do, well kind-of!! ;). Every Saturday I buy fish from the neighbourhood fish monger. But wait! Suddenly a deep doubt assails me with tsunamic force, are fishes universes too? ....

Nah?! Couldn't be! Fishes are just too tastefully disposed to be universes or multiverses, just make sure you use the right amount of mustard!!!

God smiles at me everyday

I know perfectly well what God's smile look would like for I can bet that it can be no different from the way my mother smiles.

A very old Hindi movie song goes like this:

Dekha nahin humne kabhi usko, par uske zaroorat kya hogi
Ai ma, teri soorat se alag, bhagban ki soorat kya hogi --

Happy Mother's Day Mom!

Footprints In The Sand

written by Mary Stevenson

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there was one only.
This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from anguish,
sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints,
so I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
there has only been one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”
The Lord replied,
“The years when you have seen only one set of footprints,
my child, is when I carried you.”


This was related to me recently, when I really need to be reminded of the Lord's grace.

The Illusive Sight of Thy Shore....
(Reflections a few much listened Bhajans)

Tomar Do-paad podde, Mojiye Thaki
Hari-he aamar aai basona....

My only wish, Hari, is to have my mind to be immerged
Evermore in meditation of your two feet...

Like a dragging anchor trailing a ship, adrift mid-sea, trying to desperately reach-out to any rock outcrop to wedge itself to, I increasingly find the mind wandering mindlessly from ideas to ideas, aimlessly, restlessly and perchance hopelessly.. In such trying times my Hari, why do you still insist on your elaborate game of hide-n-seek. Why do you hide from me and where do I look for you?

Aankh Micholi Hume na bhaye...
Jag Maya ke Jaal bichaye..

I gladly leave all the Gyan and Yoga to the Great Ones, these talks never do me any good and confuse me to no end. No longer have I use of any discussions on name-form, nor any debates on your duality or non-duality and I care no more to understand the intricacies of the insrutable Maya. But tell me this why do you deny me even the refuge of your bhakti? Why can't I just lose myself nectar of your name?

The shores of your grace, (where I thought I was headed at the start of my voyage) why are they so covered in mist? I dread to imagine thus, but could this mist be the makings of my own ignorant ego? And in this blinding mist I steer my ship knowing not wherefore. Often a times a dark shape looms ahead and I heart skips a beat and I tell myself - "Quiet down, my heart, maybe we are there, maybe we are home..", but every time on a closer look, the port looks alien and I turn my battered ship around disheartened...For in this ocean of ever swelling waves, I still have not found those shores that I yearn for...and in case you haven't noticed, O dark one, the sky looks rather threatening.

I grandiosely call my voyage, The Hunt for Paradise, then so often why does my resolve waver and why does my radar deceive my so?

Ghurie De Ma, Moner goti
Jiboner Aai O belai
Chokrakar-e Morchi Ghure
Anitya Shukeri Aashay...

O Mother, render back unto me,
The Lost rhythm of my mind...,
I wander about still looking for Transient Pleasures,
So shamefully unbecoming in my age...

The armies of Tamas plague me on all sides, even as the Kaurav had surrounded Abhimnayu, and much as I struggle I feel the fight leaving me. Show me a way out mother, for my ship flounders.. I can't battle these giant wave alone any more. I need you by my side now, more than ever..

Chaler Bholo Chaitis Jodi
Hoto Temon Moti-Gati
Hath Dhore Thik Niye Jati
Charia Dia Sokol Bhada

If You really cared for Your son
You actions would have reflected your intentions
I know You would have held me by hand
You would have extricated me from all these bindings..

Ek bar boithe ne go Tri-noyani
Ami aar baite pari-ne

My Mother, My Hari, My Shankar my struggles have left me fatigued and tired and I can no longer navigate...

Come now. Take me home. Please.....

Sri Krishna Saranam Mamah!

The Immortal Soul

In times of trials there is no greater support that is afforded to us then prayer. It is only in the Lord's word that we can find solace and the will to live on. Those that were taken away by the Tsunami didn't perish, their immortal Atman lives on....

Wake up from the slumber of ignorance. This body and the world are indwelt by the Imperishable Atman, Brahman or the Soul. None can cause the destruction of That—the Imperishable. This Atman is not born nor does It ever die. It is unborn, eternal, changeless, ancient and inexhaustible. It is not killed when the body is killed. It slays not, nor is It slain. Just as a man casts off worn out clothes and puts on new ones, so also the embodied Self casts off worn out bodies and enters others which are new. Weapons cut It not, fire burns It not, water wets It not, wind dries It not. This Self is unmanifested, unthinkable and unchangeable.

- Sri Krishna in Bhagavad Gita

He Krishna
Karuna Sindhu
Dina Bandhu
Jagat Pate
Gopesha Gopikakanta
Radhakanta
Namastute

Supersizing Justice...

You see? You See? The long and powerful hand of our great Indian Justice system! Well, we sure showed 'em kids. What were they thinking ?! MMeSsing with the law of the land. We can't have any of it, can we? We saw how quickly our justice system swung into action, be it IIT or DPS, the kids were netted like flies and deposited where they belong, with other hardcore criminals. A flawless execution as any and as a bonus to the Taxpayers our brave and fearless Police Force supersized our quota of Justice by getting the CEO of the auction site as well. That's showing 'em.

The beauty of our justice system is its superb sense of priority, its amazing sense of applying discretion. We know what to let go with an indulgent smile of a loving grandfather and what to hold on to like a vice like grip.

For instance, we are not silly to loose sleep over the fact that in places like Murishidabad and Cachar, it is the illegal immigrants that have been "legalized" by our wise political masters who decide who gets elected to the Assembly or Parliament. Nor do we bet an eyelid at the fact that erstwhile criminals have changed spots and doned white caps of purity. No! We believe that Justice System is all about giving people such as these the voice they need. We make them our Leaders and our Ministers, because that is sure to cure them of whatever small flaws they may have had and one is sure their errors were committed unknowingly. With tear laden eyes, we hug them as our own..we set them on a padestral..and we set them up to rule us.

But it is those virulently criminal minds, beyond redemption, like those darn kids, for whom we have no mercy. The media, the police and the overwheming public opinion shall see to it that they pay. Pay Bigtime.

Afterall this is the land that Rabindranath Tagore (whose Nobel prize is still missing, but that's too trifling a matter) dreamt of when he wrote..

Where the mind is without fear
And the head is held high...
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake