A New Year Letter

 My Beloved Children,

This I wish for you:

A future of Self Love and Self Care - because all springs of Life & Joy,  are born in this....

Love for your youthful, lithe and strong body - and the pure freedom of enjoying days of robust health and boundless energy.

An open and adventurous mind -  aware of the magic in mystery and mysterious that surrounds us - everywhere and all the time. A mind that heeds the world and its words but holds foremost its own counsel.

In a courageous heart that realises that  life's alive, richer in taking risks  pushing one's own boundaries - with ease and in laughter, but that the capacity to suffer pain is integral to experiencing joy - Yin & Yang govern our world and also inner selves 

A Will that is resolute and strong - which recognises that ease & comfort only begets apathy & slumber - that the truly worthy is earned by persistence and hard work of love

A conscience that is alert and alive and your own inner guide & a constant companion, alerting you if you stray from who you wish to be

And finally a spirit that remains childlike in wonder - light and bright,  serene and soaring, unquelled by any stormy seasons or unfazed by an occasional rainbow.

I sit by the sea writing this Wish - Letter for You Both as we get ready to cross another threshold into a New Year.

Lots and lots of love

Mama

----

Written for Jan 1, 2024

Metaphor

 Sometimes it feels as if my whole life has been strung out on discoveries of metaphors. I find them everywhere - just accidentally, or sometimes by design - on pondering on the nature of my situation. Sometimes, these metaphors even drop from trees - literally. I found one such, a leaf,  just a few days back on my evening walk around Chuchot Yokma. There it was lying there - awaiting me, to be picked up. And it was a perfect metaphor for my this stage in Life.

Withered and brown on the outside, pure radiating gold within and singing with surging life in its emerald green, pulsing, life-affirming veins.

Srinagar notes

Apple baits,

And a fisherman 

Catches a loot

On Dal Lake.

Sliding their rifles around 

Soldiers shed tears

Gulping golgappas

Indolent with his hookah

A boatman relaxes on 

His shikara

Swatting mosquitoes.

Today

 My sky is blue

No rains, or clouds

Passing through 

No sunrise, no sunset

To mar my way

Azure eons fly

In stillness of today 

No darkness, no light 

Just illumined openness 

Of infinite sight.

-------

Choppy mountain waves, 

With edges of icy lace

Tumbling like my days

And a heart that never behaves.

------

Sweeping indigo shadow lines -

Unfolding wings in endless flight?

Or Sumi hills in dusky light?

Reflection in these silent times.

In Kerala Angels live on coconut trees

 In Kerala, Angels live on coconut trees...

I'm sure you must have noticed them...swaying the fronds on windless days,  their wings flying towards heavens or circling our homes, sound of their laughter at human follies or their whispers helping a particular card player cheat at his game of rummy.

I have recently started collecting their wings - golden, light, but strong enough for flight - I find them discarded here and there on walks and marvel that I get so lucky. You see, they do this when they find humans asleep in coconut groves - men do this a lot in Kerala. And they do this with laughter and chuckle - for mischief and play- mostly for sport.

That's why one frequently hears, here and there - I don't understand why so-and-so is behaving in such ridiculous, irrational or loony fashion. One hears this a lot about men in Kerala. It's just these rascal angels, tossing away their wings, to make mischief.

Living

I know this - surely -

As the drumming of my heart

And the dancing of my breath

That I live - and am Alive, 

in waves that run to lick my feet,

soft grass which beckons me to lie by its side,

Winds that croon with ticklish breath their multitudinal melodies,

Inky nights that yearn and reach out for me.

I live in

grains of sands that were once roaming mountains, 

Rains brimming life from blazing volcanoes, 

Alive Light that shines from Sun and equally from eyes of dragonflies. 

I am Alive in All of this

As it's All Alive in me.

Aham Brahmasmi

Early this morning I wandered down to the shore, cloud clad & sunlit in gild and blue. Kites circled my crown at invisible heights. Whales sang in ocean depths at my feet & dolphins frolicked in breaking waves; giant rays glid in silent dark power in the whirlpools of my navel

Under the blanket

Sometimes

I only want to lie

Dark shroud

My only sky.

Here,

I am 

Creator, observer

Seer, doer.

Time races,

Pauses or slumbers.

Under this canopy,

Calm days, 

Stellar nights,

Rainbows

Or

Sunset glows.

On my whim

Seasons flit

Storms rage

Lightenings hit.

Rain sings

and

Dancers fly, ji

Gravity defy.

Endless darks, or

dawn breaks

Insane trips,

down memory lane

Sometimes

It's enough

That this 

dark shroud is 

My cosmic sky

Recent Jottings

 Bonappetit:

Yesterday, when night was just blotting out the day's light, sitting on the earth's edge, waves crashing below - the horizon seemed just within my grasp. I reached out, grabbed it, sucked it straight into my mouth - with a long slurp - like a slippery spaghetti. 

Now all that was far, distant and unattainable, is already within - digesting :)

_______

Today, the ocean sang my melody, crashed it's cymbals and beat to the rhythm of my song.

I gulped down, thirsty and satiated, the light-deluge pouring behind my closed eyes.

In stillness, I danced my cosmic dance.

_______

Today there's no horizon. There's no boundary, no separation, no limit - just a seamless merging of Earth & Sky, of Self with the Infinite. I am no longer defined or constrained by what I was taught to be. I am needless, wantless, playing in this moment- swirling in silent Sama - complete

Death in the Times of Corona

April 9, 2020, India : COVID cases 5734, deaths 166 - so far - but surely rising. 
The best  to worst case scenarios predict covid fatalities in India anywhere between 300 (ha!ha!) - 5 million (staggering!!)

But is there really a reason to panic? Total number of deaths in India is estimated at around 10 million - half of these due to chronic diseases - probably preventable? So we lose 5 million people per year to diseases - that are likely treatable - if there's a same will behind it. Remember the mortality age of an Indian male is about 68 years - only!  We let go of our citizens at this nominally early age - compared to the developed world - that we like to pretend we are.

What are other types of (preventable) deaths in India?

"The infant mortality rate for India in 2019 was 30.924 deaths per 1000 live births" So for 1.38 billion that are alive today, we have lost about 41 million infants!

"In 2017, about 1.2 million people died in India due to air pollution" much more than due to tobacco usage. Folks, can we write these off against those prevented due to reducing pollution level during lockdown? Shall we?

How about TB? 440,000 is our annual average.
Homicide? About 62,000 is our average...the list can go on. Google yourself!

The point is all of us know most of this - even though we may not feel up to confronting this. By we, I mean the comfortable class like me, chewing on an apple, blogging, and relaxing during this lockdown.

So why the sudden panic?? BECAUSE IT HAS COME TO OUR DOORSTEP! Because - bank balance is not verified before you become a Corona host. Age determines if you die - and there are many many more wealthy seniors - compared to poor ancients. Remember our average mortality age of about 68??

So people who can shout the loudest and be heard the most - they are now feeling threatened and panicking. They don't want to fall sick, they don't want to die. As a maid nearby said, she has to queue up for drinking water everyday - where's the social distancing. Our young, strong, working, contributing labor class , are trying to reach home - on foot - along with wives, children, elderly - out of shameless and unnecessary and avoidable starvation.

Yes, there are also good samaritans - risking the virus, beatings etc - just to deliver food. But how many?? or how few??

Don't avert your gaze...listen and think - you have all the time in the world - atleast over the next week or so.

Simple Things

As I get older, I realize that simplest things are the most difficult. They are also the most worthy of pursuing. Let me give you some examples.

Ho-San in Kyoto started my Sumi lessons with a simple exercise of holding the brush vertically, and drawing a single steady line from left-to-right - one breath, one stroke, one line. Then repeat this right-to-left, up-to-down, and down-to-up. Simple, huh? Yes. But also really difficult. The line had to be an unbroken vertical or horizontal, steady - not wavering, of uniform thickness and of same hue or darkness, throughout. To mind all these conditions, and to paint a simple line, one essentially required - no mind.

The practice of Dhrupad vocal requires a regular early morning practice of Kharaj - or singing a basic Sa, at the lower octave. This is about the most profound and spiritual part of my day - to sit in darkness facing a small oil lamp with my tanpura on my lap - plumbing the depths of swaras to the lowest rumble of a Kharaj - my stone Saraswati sits in that glow, pensively listening, even smiling . One deep breath in, and a Kharaj - sung on an out-breath. Again, simple? Not at all. The voice, emerging from the pit of your belly, should be stable - not wavering, prolonged over a long stretched out exhalation, at steady volume and also tuned to that perfect pitch of the tanpura. Minding all this - one becomes mindless - and just a droning sphere of sound waves.

And the final simple exercise - to sit in meditation. To sit - emptying into void - time, existence, all mind. Just sit - in attention. Simple? No, no..the most difficult. To just be - in this moment, this now. Sitting, watching, closed eyes - behind closed eyes - the chitta-akash or the mind-sky. Monkey-mind drags you away climbing this tree or that - jumping up and down or about. You realize this and return to attempt focus - by watching the waves of breath - in and out, in and out. But the act of watching makes the ocean-breath choppy, erratic. Coming from the belly, or chest, or throat? What is this incessant movement - this life - thoughts again wander. What's so difficult about sitting still and silent with closed eyes? Everything - just try it. I try it and sit with it - sometimes in laughter - that I can't manage even the simplest of things. But that's what makes them worthy of practising - the fact that they are so simple - and,  yet I can't do it at all. Even though I am improving, I am also increasingly farther all the time - from this distant goal of doing simple things - just right!

More Musings....

Anchored on the sea floor
Dancing like a kelp
Fish swim through me,
Octopus cling to my back.

An Exodus?
Army of hermit crabs
Climbing up a slippery rock.

New moon night
I walk in light of a million stars.
Long wispy clouds ribbon out
- our Milky Way.

Lying on the sand and staring up-
Core of the Milky Way, gigantic, and
illuminated from within;
250 million years for our Sun to whiz
around that 800,000 km/hr!
I am a mere cosmic speck - I smile.

I swim, tread, facing a large wave
Trying to catch it right-
Leap at the last instant
To ride its crest, or dive deep in
To miss it's crash -
Playing with the ocean...
Thoughts meander and
I am whacked, tossed,
Flung and taught -
It is all about No Mind.

Could I live like this?
For my remaining Forever?
Eat, sleep, walk, play and sway
On my blue hammock,
Staring at the azure sky, turquoise sea
Under dense canopy of giant evergreens? What will I miss:
Can't think - No mind.

I worry - do I need little
Because I have too much.

I dive deep towards the ocean bed
Emptying out my lungs -
Crystal bubbles stream up.
So also in my inner search
Will have to let go, to dive deep.

Musings...

Today, ocean flew up
To land as scraps
on a flowering Didu...
Three kingfishers on a branch.

The ocean has stained me blue
I wade out to do my peacock dance
And in distance, megh rumble.

Like crabs, I run sideways
Along froth lines,
Searching for treasures
Tossed from the sea.
...and so also in life
I skirt, afraid to dive deep.

Moon waxes and wanes,
Tides tumble in cycles;
Earth hurtles through star fields.
Sitting still, I watch and laugh -
that I still seek a purpose!

When all voices die -
Will the silence in my head
Pound like waves,
And my blood
Course in crazy dance?

Sitting by the shore
I ignore the ocean;
A crashing wave drenches me
For my audacity...
I smile and return my gaze
Towards him.

Here, the Didu is light pink.
Wild almond is golden, red and russet;
Most are in shades of dark evergreen; and some are just barren and brave.
I too sport all seasons of my life - subdued spring of blushing pink; summer strength of vital greens;  fiery shades of autumn's passion, and coolness of winter nights.
It's all the same - without and within.

From Neil

We live in a tiny room - enough for a bed and a little space to walk on two sides, my son and I. The walls and door are of matted reed; roof is a tin slat. On the little veranda outside, hang our two hammocks - in slate blue and ocean green. We have a mat we spread out for visitors, for yoga, painting, braiding friendship bracelets, and crafting coconut shells - into planters, bowls, jewelry. This mat is white with green parrots on green branches. All our belongings are contained in two bags that easily fit under our bed. The family here feeds us, simple fare and very well. Most vegetables and fruits are from their own garden.

For most part we lie on the hammock, that sways on its own, tuned to the sound of the waves, just beyond, and the sound of the breeze, if we listen a little more, and our own breath and heart beat if we get really tuned in.

At other times we go to the beach, scavenging for shells or driftwood, or to ride the jade and turquoise waves, or to simply wander - up and down, up and down, aimlessly but centered.

There is little to do here, and little to buy or own. Slow life, gentle smiles, purpose less, yet complete. I have everything I need.

How will I ever return?

Autumn in a Bottle, and other tidbits from Metz

I. Yesterday I went gathering autumn. I picked it up, color dripping leaf by leaf, and brought back a bouquet, which I stuffed in a bottle...

...and a  Vase.

Now I sit and stare and wonder at the autumn, in my room, and me.

II. Metz is Stained in Glass: and I wonder why? I wander within this stained light and watch it color me blue, purple, yellow, orange, red and green...and many other shades in between. Is it to illuminate the heart? and bear it ? this blue heart, this red throbbing heart, this soaring yellow heart, a sinking violet heart? to learn that hearts can be stained and it is better this way?

 

III. I go swimming regularly. Swimming happens here in a very disciplined manner with strict rules that guide people swimming in loops within lanes meant for lap swimmers. Every now and then, someone breaks the rules, overtakes, splashes, and plays...and people pause in wonder.

Yesterday I found to my delight that there were three sumo wrestlers in the same narrow lane as me. They were as sombre and majestic in water as when they are on ground. They swam in full control and practiced style and grace. However each time one crossed me, there was an enormous wave, a surge, that hit my face, and I drank gallons of swimming pool water, even as I watched a massive whale glide away next to me.  I watched in amazement and awe. Yesterday I drank a lot of swimming pool water.

IV. I have wasted substantial portions of my last many days trying to figure out travel plans within the country - to the mountains, to the sea shores, to all places wonderous and beautiful. Such planning is challenging here - where communication is little with the french speaking nation. Also, people are not in need for business and hang up on an english speaker, do not respond to email queries etc.; train timetables are horrendous, and non-Paris connectivity poor. Finally I have given up. I have realised that if I were not constantly trying to have a better life, I could actually have a really good life.

V. What is it about Ambers - of tree saps from aeons ago, of the solidified, and transparent molten golds  ,that fascinates us so? Just the beauty? Or is it the perished prehistoric bugs and insects it once embedded inside? Or the imaginary trees whose sap once flowed so freely and golden? I bought some Amber jewelry and hold it to the light, peer within its mottled inside to wean out its secrets, from times when dinosaurs roamed a swampy land, dragons roared fire, fish were learning to fly and earth was still a fantasy land. I wear on my ear to hear its whispered secrets, dangle it close to my heart and wear it on my finger to remind me that fantasy once existed - and maybe it still does.

Kolkatta Vignettes

Dilapidated building of ornate grace,
wrought iron trellis and stained glass face.


Ancient trees climb tumbling walls,
cobble streets clamor and swanky malls.


Wide sidewalks where the  homeless rest,
here, an infant suckles on a child's breast.

Unsuspecting lambs nibble sugary stalks,
while butchers mop blood off grimy walks.

Azaan soars high with temple bells,
clashing in heavens as hatred swells.

Fakirs and beggars in beads, bowls and rags,
fat marwaris, betel stained, on shop fronts sag.

Crackling skies and suffocated evening air
torn open by rains, ending a nightmare.


Mangoes flavor the kerosene haze,
while sheltered, I sip my tea and gaze.

Balding Ego

The other day I got fed up of hair...actually I got fed up of life for some reason and the only think I could think of shedding was hair. So I went to the campus barber. I sat comfortable in a chair, blind as a bat, enjoying the sensation of a machine mowing my mop...that is till he announced "DONE". I put on my glasses and let out a horrified scream. In a matter of ten minutes, I had transformed from a middle aged homo sapien of the female sex, to a gender less ET in human clothes. With a glazed look and a pasted strained smile I stumbled out into the world.

Its been a week since the episode. I have somewhat recovered my equanimity but the world has yet to pretend poise. The kinder religious ones usually ask " Coming from Where??" They usually suspect that I went to gift a mop of grey hair to Gods, in exchange for some favor. I could say easily say " Tirupati" but don't..I just mumble  "Barbers" with a weak smile. I suspect I have lost many potential friends in the last week...but what can I do. .The kinder ones usually sympathise " It will grow back".

I have, since last week, taken to staring at the mirror and saying calmly " Its not so bad ...that's what you really look like" And really its not so..bad. I have also learnt with astonishment that despite not being particularly vain, how much I set in store by how-I-look, particularly the froth that framed me - just so. The exercise in balding has confronted me with my ego; I am right now happier with a balder alter-ego.

Rains

Yesterday, after a particularly dry day, I looked up at the skies, gave up on rains and went outside to water my plants. I watered them tenderly, generously, one at a time, speaking to them, all the while - I know I havent been paying you much attention, I have been busy, but I love you and dont want you to die on me...etc etc. Some intimate private time with my plants. My husband Atul came out and hung around watching our plants. A neighbor approached and stayed for a chat. When Atul and I were leaving for our walk, she said " go fast for your walk, it might rain!" Rain?? Ridiculous...I looked up at a few fluffy clouds and skies turning pink behind. There was a cool breeze. A perfect evening for a walk. I said " Its impossible that it rains today.."

Atul and I were walking under the giant trees, barely ten minutes into our walk, when drip-drop - giant plops of black on a long, grey tarred road. We grinned an said " Nah...this is not for real" and continued - still away from home. Another ten seconds, and the skies tore open, buckets of rains poured in torrents. We made a hasty U-turn and started running  - laughter gurgling and spilling out, skin drenched, eyelashes dripping, hair plastered, clothes wrinkled and cling wrapped around our bodies. We ran back laughing all the way, happy at the drenching, and yet eager for home - high on the rain, the wind, the cold, the earth-smells, this life and us.

Missing The Squirrels

This morning I awoke and pretended that I was still asleep. I stayed curled, snug and in full alertness listening to the morning sounds. Something was not right - I did not hear the squirrels. I listened with my antennas extending farther and farther, in the darkness of closed eyes, thinking, "where are the squirrels?" I could make out a variety of bird calls under sounds of revving cars, moving humans, kitchen sounds etc. Maybe I awoke too late and the squirrels were fed and quietened?

With some urgency, I wandered into my garden this morning. I was looking for squirrels. I saw a pack of dogs in hard chase after a monkey, I saw a tiny frog (barely an inch long)hop out of the way, and I heard the squirrels - in a distance. Maybe they realised that I had stopped looking at them, and were driven away by my inattention?

So, today I spent listening to peripheries of silences in my everyday life - some shallow, some deep enough to realise that there is no real absolute quiet. I listened and found the sounds that keep my world sane - sounds of nature buried in the noise of man made bustle. And, I let this sanity drip into insanity of my days, in round crystal drops of silent clarity - drip, silence, drip...silence expanding vaccuously into confusion of my chattering head.

I am glad I heard the squirrels today.

UnWilled Sin

Is it a sin to commit wrong when one intends to help?

Today, I was in a shower when this large bully-ant kept slipping into the water line and dragged by the flow towards the drainage. After trying to flick it away a few times, I picked it up and threw it away, only to find that it was suspended in air, struggling, and not able to fall. I then saw that the poor ant had landed on a cobweb across and was being steadily pulled up by the fairly small spider.
Instinctively I needed to reach out and save 'my' ant, but seeing the spider working hard to get its meal, I became uncertain, closed my eyes tight and turned away.

In trying to save an ant, I had inadvertently provided a meal for a spider...I have held this event during my day wondering where else I 'interefere-to-help' in life and thereby set in motion such events that work against the intended compassion of my action. What is my understanding of larger forces that guides the equilibrium or the entropy of a system? or of any social, political, ecological, spiritual or universal sytems? Am I just a particle tossed by currents and energy of times, where even willed actions are transformed into unwilled events? In which case what or how do I 'will'??