Action and Detatchment: The Gita Way

Its been about a year since I have been completely captivated by the principal idea of Bhagavat Gita - that of detached action, as a way to conduct ones life. Such action is devoid of greed for gain, or fear of failure or loss. It is done purely in spirit of right action, conduct-complete, calm, poised and concentrated in its very self, uninfluenced by external factors, and thus independent of intent or outcome.

At Kurukshetra, Arjuna-the supreme warrior-is filled with sorrow,and grief at confronting his relatives and friends across the battle line. He is ready to renounce war rather than raise arms in violence against his kin. Then God Krishna, his charioteer, mentor, friend, advises him:

Follow the path of your Karma, without pondering on the fruits of that path.

This mythological battle described in the epic Mahabharata has often been seen as an allegory for the battles that we constantly fight-the good versus evil, right versus wrong, raging within.

Or maybe, it is a guidepost, a beacon, shining awareness that lines must be drawn, and battles must be fought, in order to follow, conscientiously the path of right personal action, correct conduct through this passage called life. Krishna warns Arjuna against weakness and cowardice, in facing his enemies, internal demons, in name of caring, and compassion-since both arise from attachments-or Maya, illusion, in the great, eternal cosmic theater.

As the new year begins, I jump into my own Kurukshetra, to play hide and seek with Maya-to run from her laughter and clasping hands, be caught, and then run after her in joy, seeking her flitting, illusionary form, for as long as we do not tire of this Karmic game.

On Festivals and the Faithless

It has always felt that faith is for the fortunate-any sort of faith. It keeps things simple, questions fewer, answers easier. India survives on an abudance of faith, Gods, and karma-destiny, where the big and small destinations in a life's journey are pre-programmed based on the fine balance between deeds and mis-deeds, actions accumulated over eons of previous births. A majority of people subscribe to some sort of faith- details vary-but prescriptions are clear about right versus wrong, moral versus evil. Gods are favoured over demons and faith dictates that Gods always win. It is this faith that keeps the people going, through natural, national or personal disasters, sees them through worst crises, uncomprehending and yet accepting their lot-with their faith even more entrenched.

I belong to a deprived minority -the faithless. So all events are usually followed by uncomfortable questioning. The festival season is just over, and a variety of battles have been fought successfully by Gods against demons. Were these battles and festivals designed to demarcate and perpetuate the established order of the strong few against the weak many? a non-equitable and grossly unfair society based on caste system? As my partner once remarked, it is surprising that India functions at all, that there is not more anarchy, that overall, man is still good and attempting right-i.e.accepting his poorer lot in life. Is this a consequence of the continuous festivals -a constant reminders of divine battles where good and the just always win? What is good-and for whom? and who decides this? A victory of a few gods cannot be good for the many demons-and which side gets to be divine?

Were our ancestors thinking of keeping such demons, outside, at bay? Or, just reminding us to be wary of the demons within? Even through the celebrations of these current set of festivals, I have been aware of the lurking presences inside, clamoring to overthrow good intentions, responsibility, stability for the escape into excitement of freedom, discovery of the unknown, the realm of the possibile impossibilities. The battle is over, the Gods have won- but who were the Gods?

Diwali - Confusion and More Stories

A friend once said that the day he got bored of India, he would leave. He is still here almost 20 years later. India never ceases to astonish, surprise, and spin yarns for you. After all these years, over Diwali sweets with friends, I discovered that there are reasons and reasons for celebrating Diwali-the day remains the same, but the reasons differ. Till yesterday I only knew the story of Ram - the prince of Ayodhya.

Today, I was told that in Tamilnadu (South India), Ravana, the evil demon adversary of Ram, is the true hero-the guy that Ram kills before his return to Ayodhya - so, here, Diwali is a celebration of Krishna's killing Nakasura-yet another demon, who with his dying breath, asks for a boon, to be remembered on Earth-hence, the Diwali celebration. Keeping in mind that both Ram and Krishna are different Vishnu avatars makes the picture more confusing. There are others who maintain that Diwali is "Nombu" a vrata day for women-certain austeries are performed to request boons from the Gods-blessings for family, husband, but never for one self. In some quarters, this day is used to remember the dead.

In Western India, Diwali is the day to worship Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, and spouse of Vishnu. In East India, however, this is Kali Puja. Kali, Parvati, Durga are all different forms of Shiva's wife, and the daughter of Earth. When humanity was being harassed by the demons of the underworld, they ran to Durga and asked for help. Durga then took the destructive, ferocious form of Kali-naked, dark blue, with hair flowing to her waist, and armed to kill. She started killing the demons and wore their heads in a garland around her neck-she was blood thirsty, destructive, unstoppable till finally people approached her husband Lord Shiva for help. So as Kali was doing her war dance, Shiva came and lay on her path. When Kali stepped on her Lord, she realised her great error and stuck her tongue out in horror. This is how she is worshipped today, stepping on Shiva, dripping blood and sticking her tongue out!

Diwali Dazzle-A Festival of Lights

Its said that when Ram, the crown prince of Ayodhya, returned after fourteen long years in exile, the people welcomed him joyously, decorating their homes, streets, with lamps-Deep- hence Deepavali or Diwali. People exchanged sweets to share their happiness, and dressed in new clothes. After all, Ram-vanquisher of evil, a Vishnu incarnate, saviour of the world, was finally returning home.

In India, memories run long and deep- of even mythological events. Diwali is again upon us-and a sense of excitement fills the air. Weeks before, fabrics are bought, tailors are visited, bothered, spring cleaning begins at home. As the week approaches, special Diwali sweets are planned, and cooking begins-days of cooking snacks and sweets to be put away for the festival days. Children's hands reaching into jars are tapped off, husbands scolded lightly for dipping into goodies. Coloured paper streamers hung across doorways, thresholds decorated with coloured rangoli.

The actual festivities begin two days before Diwali. First day is Dhanteras-a day to invite Lakshmi-the goddess of wealth home. Lamps are lit outside doorways before dawn, swastiks are marked for auspiciousness, and footsteps in red marked leading into the home-just to make sure she finds and enters the threshold. People throng to the silver shops and buy silver as a token of peace and prosperity.

The next day is Kalichaudas; a day when women are granted their share of beauty for the year. Early morning ritual bath with sandalwood, cream, turmeric,is followed by dressing up in fineries. Traditional Indian dressing is an evolved art form, where the eyes are kohled, forheads painted in a kum-kum red dot, hair braided, coiled, sarees draped. Flowers for the hair, and jewellery for the rest of the body. Silver payals around the ankles, and silver toe rings. Silver belts to adorn narrow waists; gold bangles for the wrists, rings for the fingers, and arm bands;necklaces of gold and gems, and also earrings, noserings. For a daring few, gold tika on the forehead. Finally the women and girls are ready to welcome their prince.

Diwali day sees a stream of visitors in and out of homes, and children dressed in fineries taking trays laden with holiday delicacies to neighbours. At night, lamps line thresholds, windows, balconies, oil lamps that cast their golden glow on sparkly homes, smiley people, excited children. Finally there are the fireworks-coloured sparklers in hands of children,"flowerpots" that throw out light,sparkley volcanoes of fire, fire wheels spinning furiously on land, or in hand, and rockets carefully poised in empty bottles taking off for the stars in brilliance of red and green.The prince has finally arrived!

Moods of Ragas

I have often been sold on the idea of man as a natural animal-to live in stark simplicity, in balance with and provided by nature, where music is the rustle of breeze, gurgling of streams, paintings are grandly enormous and real landscapes. And then, all it takes is a single evening of a really good classical concert and I am transported-- to an intense awareness of the richness of human genius in artistic endevours through ages; where the sensual pleasure in sound is capable of levitating one to a higher plane of existence, and joy is this journey with the artist riding high on waves and crashing into troughs of spells created by the sound spectrum-the moods of ragas.

This evening's concert started with a recital on Rudra veena - supposedly the oldest Indian string instrument, the sacred instrument of Saraswati-the goddess of arts and learning. The style of recital was in Dhrupad -again the oldest surviving musical form within the Indian classical system, predating a north-south divide into Hindustani and Carnatic music respectively. The Raga of choice was Marwa, an early evening Raga-serious, sombre, introspective, reflective, meditative, with a touch of sorrow on realisation- all is Maya-illusion. This followed a tragic Sohini- a raga of separation, loss before ending with Miya Malhar - a monsoon raga of Miya Tansen -the court musician during Akbar's reign - who added his signature of sweetness and longing to the majestic Megh Malhar of rolling thunder, crackling lightening and monsoon downpours. The tabla accompanyment was primal, echoing the beats of a dancing Shiva - mad, innocent, destructive - destroying carefully structured worlds,notions, fortress.

The next artist was a vocalist of enormous proficiency, brilliance. Her voice was molten, golden, honey, pouring in, gliding into innermost recesses, leading into a journey of her world, her creativity. She set about changing the course of our evening/night with a very slow, langorous Bhimpalas- a raga for the afternoon-plaintively calling out on 'viraha' or parting - till her longing became our exquisite pain. And, just when one could take no more, she moved to a faster, lighter composition on being 'coloured by melodies of love'. Her next composition was in raga Behag-asking the lover to 'love slowly, slowly' and finally a piece which requested the lover to 'fix her hair-'cos her hands were henna covered'- no coyness in Behag, no coyness in the singer- just a playful assurance, energy, verve -was it the singer, or her music-were both the same?

Dancing to a Female God

This happens every year. Not just to me, but to all Gujaratis in the country and around the world. Monsoons end and we all get itchy feet. We carry around beats of garba-raas in our heads and try not to clap, leap, swirl in middle of a mundane conversation-we then know, Goddess is sure to arrive.With subdued excitement we get out our mirrored costumes and "dandiyas".Families play garba music and mothers train children in the ways to welcome the goddess-with lots of music, lots of dance.

Then follow, Navratri, "Nine nights" of dancing in circles, circles of many hundreds, thousand, one inside another all the way to the goddess herself, sitting on her tiger, and watching us with an indulgent smile. Clap, swirl, forward, backward, non-tiringly to an ever quickening beat till only the most proficient and hardy remain to a heady crescendo while most watch on in admiration and awe. And then, the dancing begins again, all over again, the Raas this time- a partner dance again in circles-the celestial dance of Krishna with Gopis-the same dance to welcome the daughter goddess home to her earthly abode. Hands hurt, legs ache, bare feet blister with the constant pounding on the earthern floors-yet the heart laughs and people shout "let the dancing continue".