Psalm for the day...

Psalm 1

Blessed is the one
who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
or sit in the company of mockers,
but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,
and who meditates on his law day and night.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
whatever they do prospers.

Not so the wicked!
They are like chaff
that the wind blows away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked leads to destruction.

(From the Book of Psalms, New International Version)

Christmas is the time for love

Christmas is in the air. In about a couple of hours choirs will fill the air with the name of God, the King of Kings and the Savior who came to help us show the way. Yes, Christ the King is born.

Christmas is the time for love, sacrifice, family and faith.

Christmas is also the time for us to look inside and find our own "Christ" in our hearts. It is a time to contemplate the shortfalls in our thinking, of the numerous ways in which we have taken others for granted or even exploited them, of the times when we have abdicated being our selves for mere material gains. It is a time to atone by redeeming our faith in the Lord and seeking His strength to be our selves.

When He taught from the Mount, He said:

• Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

• Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

• Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

• Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

• Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

• Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

• Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.

• Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

• Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.

• Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.

• Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.

• Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.

• Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.

• Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

Christ taught us to see the light of God in our hearts and therefore shine forth the light on to all of humanity. Today, in every corner of the world we have raging wars, famines and calamities that are consuming lives. Not all these man made calamities are based on ideologies or matters of principle; even those that are, are driven by market forces from behind the scenes channeling private profit into select pockets. Human lives have no value in such scheme of things for common people are considered expendable for profit. We see men of same religion fighting to destroy each other; we see women and children being ravaged and orphaned; we see 'human rights' being the victim of every such violence. The irony is six billion peoples merely watch while few hundred thousands run the puppet show that profits their private treasuries.

Can this chaos come to an end? Not entirely, perhaps. But if each of us believe that the cause of God is to uphold humanity, then things can change for those whose blood is filling the streets.

For once, let us pray and pray sincerely, giving wings to our soul so as to reach His ears:

Grant us Lord that we can change what we can, in howsoever minute the way it may be; 

Grant us that we are as loving of men of any faith, as we do of our own; 

Grant us that we can seek and relieve the pain of another so that You may hold my hand in my pain. 

Grant us the will to love and by your grace, Love unconditionally.

Amen.   

Calcutta, the city one must feel..

I actually prefer the colonial 'Calcutta' though it would be out of sync with the traditional Bengali pronunciation KOLKATA. In any case not till 1686 AD, neither Kolkata (as we know it) nor Calcutta (as it was known for over three centuries existed. The trading villages of Sutanuti, Kalikat and Gobindpur coalesced into and grew up to be the Kolkata that we know now. All credits to Job Charnock and the handsome 16000 rupees that the Company paid to zamindars to procure these villages.

Whatever be the legacies, I just love that city. I am yet to explore its labyrinthine gullies and innumerable historical, cultural, religious and modern locales, not that I am thoroughly unfamiliar. But the Hoogly and Calcutta hold a kind of aroma that is impossible for to resist. It is a crowded and extremely congested city; you will find sign of extreme poverty and even degeneration; after a spot of rain, it is impossible to commute on foot; conditions of sanitation in some localities may be repugnant not merely to delicate sensibilities but even hardened and impervious nostrils.

Say what you may, there is a sense familiarity and belonging that pervades my being the moment I arrive at Calcutta. Hundreds of years of devotion to the Mother that is part of Bengali being, touches my soul and stirs a streak of reverence. As I walk by the road or ride a local bus driven by a 'pilot' or get into a tram or merely sit in rickshaw, a strange capsule of time envelops me. The past and present, noble and ugly, culture and rusticity, domination and servitude, patriotism and rebellion, and host of such opposites seem to blend and create a pleasant cocktail inside the time capsule. Ah, I love Calcutta. Frankly, cannot describe why. Here therefore, let me present a glimpse of the city of my in-fatuous dreams:

I have not added any captions. I do not think any caption would ever actually describe Calcutta. It is a city that you cannot see or touch. You have to feel Calcutta!!

      

Don't Cry When I Die

The discussion was spontaneous. Moot question was the title of the book 'who will cry when you die' by Robin Sharma. From human affection, like, friendship and love to dislike, anger and hatred came up as the platforms from which the quantum of tears people will shed when dies. One has to be a good human being, friend, lover, father and son in order to deserve the tears of parting was the summation. And then, a friend who normally participated enough to encourage the discussion smiled.

"If you have all finished, then I have a question to ask", he said. The forum looked up.

"I would like to cite a shloka (spiritual poetry in Sanskrit) by Adi Shankara, the founder of the school of Advaita", he said and went on to recite Nirvana Shataka:

Mano buddhi ahankara chittani naaham

na cha shrotravjihve na cha ghraana netre

na cha vyoma bhumir na tejo na vaayuhu

chidananda rupah shivo’ham shivo’ham

I am not the mind, the intellect, the ego or the memory,

I am not the ears, the skin, the nose or the eyes,

I am not space, not earth, not fire, water or wind,

I am the form of consciousness and bliss,

I am the eternal Shiva…

Na cha prana sangyo na vai pancha vayuhu

na va sapta dhatur na va pancha koshah

na vak pani-padam na chopastha payu

chidananda rupah shivo’ham shivo’ham

I am not the breath, nor the five elements,

I am not matter, nor the 5 sheaths of consciousness

Nor am I the speech, the hands, or the feet,

I am the form of consciousness and bliss,

I am the eternal Shiva…

Na me dvesha ragau na me lobha mohau

na me vai mado naiva matsarya bhavaha

na dharmo na chartho na kamo na mokshaha

chidananda rupah shivo’ham shivo’ham

There is no like or dislike in me, no greed or delusion,

I know not pride or jealousy,

I have no duty, no desire for wealth, lust or liberation,

I am the form of consciousness and bliss,

I am the eternal Shiva…

Na punyam na papam na saukhyam na duhkham

na mantro na tirtham na veda na yajnah

aham bhojanam naiva bhojyam na bhokta

chidananda rupah shivo’ham shivo’ham

No virtue or vice, no pleasure or pain,

I need no mantras, no pilgrimage, no scriptures or rituals,

I am not the experienced, nor the experience itself,

I am the form of consciousness and bliss,

I am the eternal Shiva…

Na me mrtyu shanka na mejati bhedaha

pita naiva me naiva mataa na janmaha

na bandhur na mitram gurur naiva shishyaha

chidananda rupah shivo’ham shivo’ham

I have no fear of death, no caste or creed,

I have no father, no mother, for I was never born,

I am not a relative, nor a friend, nor a teacher nor a student,

I am the form of consciousness and bliss,

I am the eternal Shiva…

Aham nirvikalpo nirakara rupo

vibhut vatcha sarvatra sarvendriyanam

na cha sangatham naiva muktir na meyaha

chidananda rupah shivo’ham shivo’ham

I am devoid of duality, my form is formlessness,

I exist everywhere, pervading all senses,

I am neither attached, neither free nor captive,

I am the form of consciousness and bliss,

I am the eternal Shiva…

"Friends, if I am eternal and Shiva, when I pass away I actually shed only this physical human form. Why should anyone cry and shed tears at all?, he said. There was complete silence for sometime in the forum.

There is actually no death. It is only a change of form. Like Krishna says, that which is inside cannot be destroyed. It is beyond weapons, wounds and therefore death. Al Hallaj, the great Sufi saint said 'Ana al-haqq' (I am that); Hinduism teaches 'Tatvam Asi' (I am that); Swami Vivekananda proclaimed that man is potentially divine. Human affections and hatreds are but on the superficial body and emotional response created by our sensations. Like Rumi says, "when you lower me into the grave, I rise to eternal life".

When Nelson Mandela's cortege was set to commence, South African people were dancing and singing. A curious reporter asked them why they were so joyous on such a solemn occasion. The reply was beautiful:

"We believe when a person dies, he becomes an angel and guards over us. It is therefore a moment for rejoicing, not repenting".

Don't cry when I die. 

I am a relic of the paleolithic age...

Yesterday one of my friends shared what a famous Pathologist said about living life, with near dear ones today rather than burning out today in the hope that tomorrow we will have everything to 'enjoy' with our family if we fire our engines full time today. I was obviously thinking of the endless weekends, not just the week days, that I sweat and fret about my profession just to secure my tomorrow. And then, as usual in the evening I went out for a walk. Lost in my own thoughts, I didn't initially register that I was standing below a garden restaurant, waiting for the pedestrian signal to turn on. Casually looking up, I could see a handsome young pair, obviously on a date, with a cold coffee and two straws begging to be sipped, placed between them. It was just that they didn't heed to the call of the coffee. Both were busy scrolling and tapping into their respective mobiles so much so that I was tempted to reach out to the coffee to console it. In the two-and-half minutes that I kept waiting for the traffic to halt, not a hand was held, not a sip taken, there were no giggles and loving teases that normally go okay in date. It appeared that they were there just to date their mobiles.

The Gen-X or Y or whatever they like to be branded today is obviously different. Being more intelligent than their parents, more tech savvy and up market, perhaps they know better. In our times, dating was taboo and if one did manage to ask a girl out for coffee, the entire time was indulged in paying so much of attention on each other that the world ceased to exist. There were always occasions to hold hands, cast unabashed looks, and chocolates or coffee to be shared. For the more romantic, there were roses to be sent the next day which served more as an invite for a date again than saying 'Thank You for yesterday'.

I seem to forget that all these pokes, nudges, kisses and roses can be sent by mobile anytime. Yeah, now I get it!! Those two youngsters must have been holding hands, saying sweet little nothings, sharing coffee and sending roses to each other on social media!!! Oh my God, how romantic!!!!

I must accept that I am growing old, not just in age but pretty much in technology. Actually I belong to the age of dinosaurs....holding hands, sharing coffee, sending roses, eh? How backward can I get more?   

Eternally Rumi

You and I

A moment of happiness,
you and I sitting on the verandah,
apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.
We feel the flowing water of life here,
you and I, with the garden's beauty
and the birds singing.
The stars will be watching us,
and we will show them
what it is to be a thin crescent moon.
You and I unselfed, will be together,
indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.
The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar
as we laugh together, you and I.
In one form upon this earth,
and in another form in a timeless sweet land. 

- Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Sincerely yours...

A bustling city like Bengaluru is perhaps the place you look at high rise malls, endless traffic, and people scurrying to work or home like ants and presume that here people have time for not even themselves. In any case, you do not expect anyone to have time for any lesser creature than humans. At least that is what I thought till the time I came out of an ATM on the perennially busy MG road. There was a stair case leading down from the metro station above right in front. An adult rhesus monkey was coming down the flight of stairs, oblivious to the thick traffic blaring away their horns and hooters. It appeared as though he owned that place and it is at his will that maddening world went around him. Curious to see what he is going to do next, I stood there watching. He reached the last but one step and squatted himself comfortably, neither looking at the traffic nor at people hurrying around. His gaze was fixed at something ahead. I followed his gaze and found one elderly women on the footpath selling variety of things, including nick-knacks. Then I saw this man approaching her wearing a well-worn working dress with grime and grease all over. He gave some coins to the women in exchange of what looked like a small packet of biscuits. He patients opened the packet, pulled out one and patiently walked over to where the monkey was seated. He stretched the biscuit towards the monkey, who in turn stretched out one hand and took it from him. Then the monkey went about munching the biscuit as though he had all the time in the world. The man waited attentively and proceeded to feed that fellow with two more. The final stock of two biscuits were then handed over to the monkey in one go. Clutching both in its lips, the monkey turned around, climbed the flight of stairs and perched himself comfortably on the railing of the landing. There he went about finishing those two biscuits with same unhurried indulgence. By now the monkey curiosity in me was at its peak and I slowly walked upto where the man was standing next to the women seller. In colloquial Tamil, the woman said to him, “Poor thing. We can only give him some biscuits. Don’t know what he will do for water?” The man nodded sadly, tut-tutting her as though he regretted not having arranged for a bowl of water to go with biscuits.

In the din of my thoughts that followed, I didn’t register the maddening honks of traffic. Here I was thinking of the grand mansion that I will make for my family to live forever, of the great properties and monies that I will bequeath to my progeny and the grand pomp and grandeur with which I will glorify myself as I walk towards my sunset years…and, this man who perhaps is not earning enough to eat three square meals a day tut-tutting his regret for not having brought a bowl of water for a stray monkey. There is a lot of commotion inside me right now. When it settles down, perhaps I shall share some more thoughts. Till then….        

Being Quiet

Is being quiet a sign of self-control? Does it signify that we are the masters of our environment and that we are unfazed in adversity for we know what to do?

These are interesting questions, but not certainly the first time someone has asked them. Psychologists would give voluminous explanations and psychiatrists perhaps would schedule sessions to help us discover the answer. I think even religionists would like to be in the pantheon of experts. They may tell us that a mind that dwells in God fears nothing, for it is His will that guides us and destiny therefore is not to be scared of, but prayed for. I am neither a psyche nor a shrink or for that matter consider myself religious enough. Though being neither does not seem to inhibit me from having an opinion.

Life is a lesson that we continue to learn, whether we are conscious about doing so or pretty well unconscious. From childhood we gather impressions, by impulses and by indoctrination. Five physical senses give the impulse and we act or react; environment comprising of parents, neighborhood, school, friends and the society at large indoctrinates us with a sense of right-wrong, do-don’t, and know-ignores. Some people learn about most of everything. Some master some, and average at others. Some ignore most and best at few. Some others die without making much effort at anything. That is the permutations and combinations, but the opportunities to learn neither multiply nor diminish. They remain constant, while we individually make it in some combination. Depending on which strata we achieve we manage to handle things well pertaining to the strata that we have made it to. When we faced with a situation that we have managed not yet to deal with, we have a choice: we can set about learning to handle or we can be ‘quiet’. Quiet in this sense does not mean being comfortable with the situation. It simply means that we do not see the opportunity to unravel something more about life and therefore choose to remain quiet.

People who manage to learn about most are also quiet sometimes. They are quiet not out of the inability to sense an opportunity. But the ability to sense that something they not yet know is in front and they need to collect the wisdom of their cumulative learning and energies to go about discovering their new lessons. They are about to become Columbus of the unknown – the dimensions in their own self that they have not as yet discovered.

Being quiet of the second kind is the choice of those who seek life. For in the words of Khalil Gibran:

Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.

But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.

You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.

You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.

And it is well you should.

The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;

And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.

But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;

And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.

For self is a sea boundless and measureless.

Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."

Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."

For the soul walks upon all paths.

The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.

The soul unfolds itself like a lotus of countless petals.

Where do they lie the ruling heart...

This poem comes from my son, Deepak:

Wer do thy lie the ruling heart!
To the wanted love it must see,
Or to the wanted dreams it longs to be
Courage it has shown in the darkest of life,
Fighting and swaying yet marching to thy end of land,
Touching those who havnt been touched,
Taking those who have been along,

Wer do thy lie the ruling heart!
To see the unseen yet unsee the seen ,
Taking roads which havnt been
Making trails for the ones behind,
For it is them who can stay wen the sun is gone

Wer do thy lie the ruling heart!
Loving those who havnt been loved,
Yet caring for those who havnt been cared,
With a dream it marches on
Only for those who dream so long.

When the rose is gone...

When The Rose Is Gone

When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale's song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. 
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth

- Rumi