Stand Alone

The winner stands alone, said Paulo Coelho in his famous book by that title. But one of the real lessons is somewhere buried in the book. He says "Talent is a universal gift, but it takes a lot of courage to use it. Don't be afraid to be the best.” 

The problem with being the best is that one has to stand alone. In a crowd of a thousand, the best carries a cross. The cross of a thousand burdens that he or she took to be the best. The cross that does not cower one's shoulder, but makes it strong to bear the the sense of being alone with poise. Talent is not the thousand bruises that we gather as we run along the shrubs in the forest of life. It is the shine that we acquire as we scrub the breast plate of our endeavors with the polish of our courage to test life. Yes, life does not test anyone. We test life and tempt our fate. The stronger the will we apply, the more shine gets on to the breast plate. The more shine, the brilliant is the dazzle. And, of course who will miss a dazzle in a forest of dark fears? The winner definitely stands alone, but he stand in the luminescence of his own courage.

A river is not considered as mighty unless it gorges the rocks and streams forth in a deluge, taking down everything that stands in its way. A pliant run of water would scarcely be called a stream and, if at all, only to be seen to run into a pile of sand. A mighty river on the other hand, challenges the earth and makes its own way. A winner is very much like the river, serene when by himself; thundering and roaring, when challenged and illimitable in his stretch.

Stand if you have to, but do not be afraid to stand alone. It is in that loneliness that you will find your real strength. For, you are the child of your own destiny, a destiny that you make for yourself.     

Autofocus

We become friends for a variety of reasons and under a variety of circumstances. One such form of friendship, in my opinion, is the intellectual type. These type of friends are like auto focus lenses. Irrespective of how hazy your own thoughts are, they manage to centre on the issue that caused all the haziness in your mind. They have the uncanny ability to blot out the perpherals and see your thoughts as they are. And, they don't question you so much that you will feel like a rudderless ship on foggy sea.
Believe me, there are times-a-ton in life when one feels like out on the sea, with only the fog and mist swirling around when you find it difficult to see your own feet. It is not the cyclonic thunder storm that you feel is coming; its not that you lost your sails and are adrift; it is not that the radio went silent cutting you off from the shore. It is just the feeling that tons of algae and clams are weighing down your hull and that in that bloody swirling fog, instead of making headway, you are slowing down. You are unsure where the break will come from or when you will hit the Gulf stream that will take you ashore.
It is then that the autofocus steps in. On the swell splattered deck, as the wild winds howl around you, he holds the vessel of your soul steady, calms your nerves with the soothing cup of the coffee of his thoughts (with a dash of Château du Tariquet or Chartreuse, if you like) and holds a candle to the darkest recesses of your thought.

Lo, behold and in a flash it is clear to you. You know what is taking you adrift and you also know how to steer your laden ship safe home. The autofocus just comes like the streak of golden Sun through the swirling mist, and even though he doesn't share your burden on the wheel, you know that the long way home is promising ride on the crusty waves.

Count your blessings and say Grace, if you are blessed with autofocus. You cannot buy them are cajole them into friendship. They do not get created. They just occur. To be more precise, they are a reflection of your own self. The more true you are to your friends, with no conditions attached, the more likely that you will get autofocus.

Have fun. Live life. Remember to live it today.

Milestone Number 32

There is junction in life when you reach, time seems to have gone too fast. It is as if you only began yesterday, there seems to be so much more to do when the bell rings and some distant voice says 'boy, the time's up!'

In this journey of mine, Milestone Number 32 just showed up. The driver seems to have already signaled that I have to disembark. Can't say I am not familiar with the station, though I wonder whether I arrived a bit early? 

I took this train in a small station called Coonoor. Taking me over 2600 km, it delivered me into a world that adopted me, groomed me, and loved me as much as it disciplined my life. It changed my perspective on everything. It heated my mettle till it could be tempered and molded to its way of life; It chiseled away my rough edges and ground me to the smoothness of its requirements; It polished my interiors till I could see its resplendent reflections all inside the chambers of my heart; It scorched my ego till its husk was burnt and the true grain showed; It drugged me to numb my pains so as to goad me up to its dizzy heights; when every ounce of my blood was drained in its wake, it filled my veins with pride and throbbed my being with its sweet praise...and then....Milestone Number 32 arrived.

It has taught me to be gracious enough to accept this disembarkation. I know that I have to say 'thank you' and step down the platform. But the journey has been so wonderful that its memories chain me to the seat. My legs are not steady enough to take the short stride to the door of my compartment and down the steps to the platform. I am not sure if its okay to feel this way...alas, my train is tugging at my heart so away.

It is as well that I get down and bid the train adieu. It would give a chance to another passenger to take the journey from now. Once in a while, I am told, I could visit the station again and watch another train pass by. That would wake up the memories in my heart and make the visit to the station worth the while. I must also remember what Frost said: 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

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.