Less is Always More

Recently I had an occasion to revisit our time in Metz, about six years ago. I had joined the local community pool to faithfully continue my 1km lap swimming - which I started when I turned 30. I am 62 now.

As was my nature, my daily swimmings were acts of constant vigilance and improvement - each stroke should be better, each lap faster, each turn at the wall - smoother. I was constantly trying to better myself and it worked. While most swimmers were older, heavier, disgruntled and carried out their time in the pool with dogged determination to survive, live, be healthier, my time in the pool was an act of love and pure enjoyment. I have loved water since I was a child. It took my 27 minutes to swim the distance, give or take about 30 seconds.

Yet, at the back of my mind was always this irksome thought - what about play? I was never bored, but was that because of all this focused trying? What would happen if I remained merely present and swam - because I liked to. So that one day I decided to try just that.

I swam that day without effort, without checking the large wall clock at each lap, with out trying for a better speed, or a sleeker stroke. I swam in effortless awareness of water, myself and my breath - silence and - bubbling out, up and down, up and down. Just that much.. nothing more to do - glide up and down like a Koi Carp.

When I was done - I glanced up and found that I had swum the fastest ever - for me. By 4 minutes!! I couldn't believe that this had really happened. 

I've carried a memory of this at the back of my mind - as I swam, did my evening walks, and even here in Kyoto, where I use Google app to walk the most I can and also the fastest. I wonder why I have never repeated that experiment or been guided by it, in my future activities. Maybe I like competing against myself, maybe it's easier to cave in to habits? Actually, I think it's because it's far easier To Do the Most we can - than To Do Nothing - just Be Water and Flow, with ease, and with the tide.

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!

Kyoto Days

I sit in silence
gleaning wisdom in small, slow measures
from subdued voices, that hum within,
of trees, sky, wind, rain and fire,
of distant ancestors unknown, unheard, but still whispering,
of poets and myths inherited or eavesdropped,
of humanity's songs, laughter, struggles,
for life, justice, peace - valued for itself and in respect of all dreams.

I sink even deeper beneath the layers of voices -
that move in currents of light and goodness-
to the still and rich ocean floor of the nothing,
unknown and unexplored,
knowing that I have finally arrived at my anchor
to that depth where all roots merge to
feed the trunk of our cosmic existence.

Reflections On A Retreat in Ladakh

I returned on Sept 1, after 11 months of retreat in Ladakh. I was mostly silent and alone during this period. This was hand written on 29/8/2017:

My period of retreat is coming to an end in Ladakh. I sit in the cold of the early morning light looking at the magnificent Stok range, blue and gold with still a little on the icy caps, in sharp focus, and spreading across the horizon. The Indus valley in foreground is dry, barren and dusty brown with splotches of village greens. I sit amidst such dense greens of poplars and willows, dancing to the slightest breeze, and I reflect, on days, weeks, months flown by - most of it already in haze, some lit up like crystal moments, bright and illuminated like gems, in my treasury of memories.

I realise now that I am a collector, of all things bright and beautiful. This is neither a conscious decision, nor a deliberate choice - only a recent recognition. It allows me to face the ahead with an eager anticipation for discoveries yet to be made, moments yet to be captured and savoured. I therefore gaze in attention, and sharp focus, that precious details not escape my Now, the Present. My time in Ladakh has harvested a small bounty that will colour my days and flavour my experiences with who I have now become.

I wandered the bustling market places, alive, boisterous, spilling - with produce from the land - fertile, green and abundantly bountiful in the brief of transparent summer days. Land and soil, rich and fertile from generations of tilling, turning, seeding, harvesting and returning it all - back to the soil - in balance and harmony between man and his natural world. Apricots, milk, greens in all shades, crisp and fresh off the earth. Also, there are jewellers with turquoise and corals, gold and silver; carpenters, ironsmiths, tailors making Gonchas of thick wool and brass buttons, dyers with dye vats in shades of deep maroons and finally Kashmiris - with their beautiful faces and alluring invitation to just step inside " to Look - not Buy"- into shops fragrant with saffron and spice, finest Pashminas, silk carpets fit for royalty, old silver and gemstones unearthed from lost worlds and always stories. One knows that to pause, is to be lost, and yet, one halts outside, entranced, and beguiled, to descend hypnotised to wafts of Kahwa into their mysterious Alladin's caves.

I have wandered amongst many lives, and listened - for each has had a story to tell. And my treasury of stories has grown, feeding and nourishing my life with a connectedness by a common human thread, coloured with dreams, aspirations, a need for loving and to be loved. And I have learnt of their myths - that source spring that connects us to the Divine, that mysterious, unknown, omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient to whom we reach out, by closing our eyes.

I have wandered through seasons amongst hills and valleys on such gigantic scale that one is physically hit with one's insignificance - constantly; where rivers flow serenely turquoise, jade, in winters but become deep, thick earth brown, powerful and swirling-enraged in late summer. I have walked days along shores of mystical lakes that change their colour and hue in an eye blink and under lapis starlit skies that guided my steps. And all this colour, light and immense grandeur is imprinted upon my spirit - to be recalled later - when heart gets parched. The immense cobalt sky has cracked me open and seeped within into a pool that is growing deeper in silence and stillness - for me to carry back - wherever I go, whatever I do.

And finally I have learnt to turn my gaze inwards - face the turbulent dark currents of cares that had me drowned, blocking off all light. I realised that all my answers lie within and I would be led by this inner gaze. Slowly and gently my spirit revived, nurtured in nature by silence and beauty, till I was healed and whole, transparent and light. I was insignificant, yet became indispensable and integral to the cosmic vastness that surrounded me with mystery which opened my days and filled my nights with star songs.

And, I learnt, to let-go; that human caring need not only be a burden, and to walk a solitary path is never in vain. My wavering faith in myself grew strong - like the mountains; and like them I shrugged off accumulated scree till my slopes were cleared - for pristine snows to clad it in silence, for grass to grow, flowers to bloom and streams to meander their laughing course. I am now these mountains - strong, resolute, poised and uplifted; balanced between earth and sky. I am now - me.

I : Monologue From My Past

I came across these writings from my visit to Ladakh last year.

Plump sparrows swing from slender willows.

Utter silence - wind breathes in my ear to the rhythm of my footfall.

Wind gusts of petals,
Apricot blossoms rain all over me.

white butterfly, flits in hide and seek, amongst apricot blossoms.

Gnarled wood,
Fragile blossoms.
My heart?

Silence sings -
within or without?

Two days of Sun; Siachen river turns from slow clear turquoise to loud, fast and muddy.

Yak boulders sit around a white Mane.

Prayer flags fly over petty hearts.

I read " Buddha can be defined as one who has abandoned wrong actions and is in continuous quest for self knowledge". But self interest and query are pre-requisites to defining right and wrong?

Suffering is primarily a  human infliction, from within or without, rather than a Karmic expression.

Sleeper Class: Bangalore-Delhi and Back

Outcrop of rocks-
peacocks.

Herons line
industrial slime.

green parakeets
green groves
of green mangoes.

Midget fort
dilapidated, camouflaged
on a midget rock .

Decapitated trees
in pyramids.

A stone in pious orange
under a scraggly tree
-middle of nowhere.

Brilliant bougainvillea
blazing
in vast arid land.

Fat tyre tracks meandering
all over barren land-
playing? hunting?

The gait of a goatherd.
slow, swinging, free.

pale green on pale gold
and chocolate land-
sugar fields.

Orange clouds,
lit from below
in violet sky.

First showers -
neon greens shade
grey and gnarled.

How to dare, to care?

Bent men, harsh sun,
small hammer,
breaking mountains.

Boulders on a barren land -
a flock of seated goats.

To Be or Not To Be : Content

I sit in this room, alone and reflect away my idle hours, still wondering, despite the lateness of my years, what is the right way for me to lead my life.  I am torn between the same choices as Hamlet when he broods:

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?

I am tempted between seeking grace of a do-nothing-contentment, versus throw myself into a battlefield of life, and fight - any of its many wrongs. Do I sit in awareness and acceptance of what is, or fight to create what must be, for me, my community, entire world, guided by my own inner compass of what is right and just. Is it really nobler to seek comfort in my insignificance,  futility of a mere individual strife, to find solace in the profound Zen wisdom " I seek only contentment", from the famous Tsukubai at the Ryonji temple, in Kyoto. 

Ideally, and this is usual for me, I would prefer to have it both - to fight, but in grace and awareness, acknowledging the illusionary nature of my quest, my be-ing, this life. I would like to fight, but 

only in the spirit of "karmanye vadhikaraste..", and with a smile inside, in awareness of the fight, and the worlds inside and outside - the dance of the swallows, the falling leaves, and the ephemeral clouds and this transient moment in which 'I' exists. I would like all my parallel journeys to be simultaneously lived - with awareness of them all.

Centered on a Horizon

I journey to seek horizons - and this has been so for a very long time.

I climb hills to see fading arcs of dusty distance cup an infinite sky; I wander lonely valleys encircled by distant purple peaks; but most of all I return to the ocean - where a never ending deep sapphire reaches to consummate a vast azure stillness, of lit diurnal clarity, or sequinned sparks.

I journey to the horizon to anchor my within on its limitless silence, even while my days lap in gentle waves or lash out with ferocity obscuring and obliterating both the inner and the distant eternal. I journey to realize, again, that it is the unreachable, which makes my seeking worthwhile,  the unattainable that captures my imagination, and the virtual which anchors my concrete, and real - hopes, dreams and strife.

I center on the distant horizon, in poise and in balance, even as my days dance in melody, with the waves.

I am Free

When I was young, I had romantic notions of freedom. I aspired for personal freedom - to be me - whatever that be - a current fad or a specific choice. I did not realize then that this was a very privileged kind of aspiration for one who already enjoyed many freedoms and was guilty of many others.

Today I realize that I am already free in a variety of ways. Let me list these:
I am free from hunger, free to have a shelter, free from ill health. I am free to travel, free (more or less) to protest, free also to know my rights. I am free from self doubt, and free to a large extent from individual fear. I am free to be greedy (in so many many ways), and free enough for intense self criticism. I have an independent conscience and am free to express, especially moral outrage at all wrongs and perceived wrongs - within or without.

I wrote all this as I traveled on a bus to the site of Ejipura demolitions and realised that no society was truly free where basic rights of all were still not secure. Today, I realise that I no longer aspire for freedom - but I strive intensely instead for justice - for All.

The Other

Ever since the recent heinous gang rape in Delhi and its aftermath, I have been thinking.

I have been thinking of what causes such senseless violence, what causes people to fill streets, only sometimes, and what causes their blood thirsty screams for vengence, castration, and killing. And in each of these cases, I come upon an 'othering' - her and them, her and us, us and them and so on. In fact, now when I stare at the world, I realise that all social behavior relies on this fracturing duality of identifying and separation.

Kabir confronts this separation and rejects it when he sings:

"Ham sab maahin, sab ham maahin
Ham hain bahuri akelaa"

I am in all, all are in me
I am alone and together

or,

"Chalati Chakki dekhkar, diya kabira roye
do paten ke beech me,sabat bacha na koye"

Watching the two grindstones, Kabir cries,
between the to stones, no one survives (from here)

referring once again to the harsh dualities of this world and their grief.

In a similar vein, Advaita Vedanta is based on the realisation of unity of all - self with the universe and the concept of "you are that"; while Lao Tsu in his famous Tao Te Ching talks about a life of harmony when the dualities get unified following the Path. In fact, his successor "Chuang Tzu felt it was imperative that we transcend all the dualities of existence. Seeing nature at work and the way in which it reconciled these polar opposites pointed the way to the Tao where all dualities are resolved into unity" (from here).

I suspect, more and more, that it is this separation between the internal and the external, the within and without, good and bad, man and woman, natural and manufactured, separations of class, caste, language, region, food, culture and every possible fragmentation that we create, which also creates the violence filled society that we see today.

So in the dawn of this yet young year I resolve:

I am both a man and a woman.
I am a harijan, banya, kshatriya, and a brahmin,
I am a hindu, muslim, sikh, christian, jew, jain; I am a believer and also a seeker
I am the rich and the direst poor
I am oppressed and oppressor; victim and the violator, sovereign and the subject;
I am both profound and the profane,
Infact, I am all the other while I am also Me.

Let me live in awareness of this.

Walk to Zangla from Pishu

I walk bent over like a mule. I am weighed down by stones collected since Karsha; stones of many colors, shapes, sizes - irresistibly attractive and impossible not to pick. There are zen stones of quiet and sombre gravity in deep browns, ochres, olive, black and ivory. And then there are those that dance in jewel shades, reminiscent of Persian miniatures in gold, orange, red, maroon, turquoise, jade and emeralds. Loaded, I still bend over to pick up one more gem from this endless quarry, marveling at my good fortune, joyous in my finds.

And so it has been all my life. I have been collecting and gathering gems - of experiences, relationships, possessions - joyous and grateful for my blessedness. I have been collecting and gathering a treasure trove of my many carings and attachments. Each of them speak to me in their own unique way - each with a precious beauty and joy.My life brims with gems of parents, sisters, husband, children and many friends. I love my home, my music, my books and the many artifacts gathered from decades of wanderings - buckets of stones, shells tucked in corners, under my bed, a glass full of feathers and quills, a box of precious bugs and butterflies on the shelf. These gatherings in my life usually keep me so rapt and engrossed, that I am usually unmindful of my weariness and my bent back.

In all these cases, the burden is in making it mine - in the ownership - in the Me. Stones of Zanskar will continue their jewel dance or instill a zen quiet - as is their nature. It is in their possession that I start loading my back. And so also in my life - the burden comes only from the ego of my possessing - bringing expectations and pain. Love continues even without burden of ownership.

It is to seek this lightness and grace that I came to Zanskar.

(from my notes while trekking, in solitude, through Zanskar - one month back)

Jumps across Journeys

My parallel journeys are strange...they take quantum leaps across parallel universes defying notions of either continuity or rational forces. The journey continues, uninterrupted, but elsewhere in else-time with a else-me leading a life contrary to my spiritual needs or aching desires. Both these needs and desires are born of journeys previously taken or journeys awaiting the threshold of possibilities.

From Parallel Journeys that used to unfold and meander under infinite blue skies, across landscapes rarely stepped, sheltered in villages and homes of people with gentle smiles and enormous hearts - as large as their mountains, clear as their rivers, I have leapt unknowingly into worlds and paths - suffocatingly cramped with vileness and greed, of agendas devoid of the spirit, in spaces governed by the ambitions of a few and their power over life, land and liberty of many.

I awoke this morning in memories of parallel lives previously lived - of vast turquoise rivers and vaster inner expanse - of gompas perched on dome hills against backdrops of giant snowy peaks. I awoke in memory, as close as a recent moment, of dripping icicles and silent star songs suffusing all my simultaneous worlds with awe and wonder - alive and grateful for the opportunity - not even a speck in an infinite order, but still an alive, throbbing, integral speck of that infinite.

I meander now amongst the crud of the suffering - deliberately - and aware - both of my responsibility and privilege of choice - most of those who suffer have been bereft, by larger design, of choice. I journey with fellow human beings inflicted by their wounds, wounded by their sorrows - and I remain, here and now, in their different universe - to undo in certain measure my collective responsible wrong. I awake some mornings, like this morning, with the rivers gurgling in my heart, with oceans thrashing in foamy waves, with stars spilt milk across dark skies - I awake and reject with a smile the chance to run back - I choose today to carry it only in my heart.

Small Thought...

Embers of human imagination light fires in a million stars, opening horizons to an infinite universe.

And a Caveat...

In a previous blog I talked about recognising axioms in my life - and how I came by them.

I thought that the second of these - of 'No Mind' needed some elaboration. There is a fine distinction but a quantum-leap of difference, between 'no mind' and 'mindless'. While the latter refers to ordinary tasks, ordinarily conducted in a mindless, careless, habitual manner, the former take even the ordinary acts to a level of extraordinary achievements, even perfection itself. The transition from mindless, to mindful, and to no mind is an act of purification through simple process of attention - and yet this is the most difficult part of it. To shed the unnecessary - thoughts, influences, habits - to shed 'parallel processing', is a direction towards this 'no mind' or 'empty mind', from which spring pure, creative, and balanced, action - I Think.

On Dreams and a Drink

Several years back, on a trek in Colorado, my kids and I were crossed by an older couple. Many meters ahead, the woman paused, bent and picked something from the ground, turned around and approached us. With a smile she held out a Dandelion fluff ball and said "In my country, we blow on this and make a wish, to have a dream come true!"

Today, a walk through campus was lit by luminous, silken white floating seed balls parachuting idly between trees, across lawn, along tarmacs, all over in a dream-scape of wishes and desires. The fine fragile spheres became rainbow halos when lit by sun in a particular direction - a myriad brilliant possibilities, all within grasp, weighed by a seed, waiting to take root. I thought then that it was no different from my today - full of possibilities for a dream to take root - any or many dreams. The difficulty was in responsibility to fulfillment for a dream-sprout - the requirement to see a dream through. Or was this an artificial constraint? that it was ok for a million seeds to germinate and end - without purpose? that the burden of responsibility killed the joy of possibility of a million dreams simultaneously lived....??

I ponder on this with a drink:
1 fresh green chilli sliced lengthwise
4 cubes ice
generous decent vodka
a lemony fizz drink to top! YUM!

Three Axioms and a Movie

There are few movies that have impacted me, consciously, more than 'The Last Samurai'. It contains three axioms embedded within its script that are now part of my consciousness, and guide, if not all my actions, substantial numbers of my introspected moments in need or crises. The truths presented here, are not too uncommon - I must have encountered versions of them before. Yet, as presented here, these truths were catalytic to a changed me - changed by realisation and sufficient recognition to make space for them in my life.

The first of these, that I remind myself to use regularly, is "Know your enemy". This principle works at all levels from internal scoping to external arenas, from queries of spiritual nature to environmental emergencies or trampled people's rights. Seeking a knowledge, and understanding the opponent, is a first step towards winning a battle for change. I often have to remind myself of this - either to make time to sit under a tree, or study legal papers on repressive laws, if I am to effectively oppose it.

The second axiom that hit me was about "No Mind". Again, I realise that the purest, most effective actions emerge from instinct and reflex and have less to do with step wise procedural and consciously-minded actions. I have encountered different versions of this again and again through my life. I remember the many times when Bahuddin Dagar would open an eye during Riyaaz and say 'socho mat - Gao' (dont think, sing). This action without instruction sometimes contains the key for right decision and precise, faultless execution. It is this quality that makes a perfect dive, hit the right swara, or paint a fluid Enso - a Zen circle, in a single stroke. The goal of living this axiom is then a life lived in the conscious moment, perfectly.

The last axiom dictates the perfectness of all, that 'is'. There is a beautiful line when the Samurai says that the search in life is for a perfect cherry blossom - and such a life is not lived in vain. And, towards the end the Samurai realizes that 'they are all perfect'. It is man's nature to seek the special, be fragmentised by categories good or bad. Maybe this awareness of the sameness, the universality and beauty in a million stars or a single grain of sand, or every blade of grass or all cherry blossoms, holds the key for shedding both the ego and also the identity that have misguided human history.

I remember many years back, I was headed to a small island in the Amndamans, with my kids. We were staying at a small and very cheap hostel in Port Blair. It was night, and we were in bed listening to the waves and also someone in the next room playing the tabla. Around 9pm the lights went off. There was no pause, break in the tabla playing from next door...the beats continued playfully in improvised harmony to an ever increasing tempo for the next hour or so, to a final crescendo and then silence. I had been listening intently with two tired and now sleeping kids on either side. I remember waiting to encounter my neighbor with curiosity and eagerness. The person who emerged from the room was very young, maybe mid to late twenties. He had been learning Tabla from some guru in Benaras, where he lived, but was presently travelling around in Andamans. I remember asking him about the other islands, and the beaches there. "Are they very beautiful?" I asked, to which this young person replied, "How do you choose between beauty of beaches, or hills, or different days...they are all beautiful" and he said this with a slow and gentle smile.

I have carried in awe this sharing of a stranger's experience, wondering how it must feel? Could this really be right? or rightly experienced? without categories? I now recognise that this might be so for a few rare souls and that it cant be found be seeking - only becoming.

Gandhi And I

Today I received an interesting sms. It said "what does Gandi mean to you? for you?This is my response to the questions that I feel are worthwhile answering.

Gandhi trickled into my world, larger than life, with the pantheons of Hindu Gods and Goddesses, stories of heroes and demons, Ramayana and Mahabharata intermingled with stories that had created a new, vibrant, young, independent and hopeful India. In all these rich, brilliantly hued stories demons were vanquished, truth conquered, and happiness reigned. Gandhi, in addition, was personal, since I was told "He wanted to be just like us - he took Jain vows of Ahimsa". I grew up with a strong sense of understanding for this Ahimsa, or non-violence. In many ways Ahimsa defined who I was, as a child, choices I later made, and what I am today - albeit far in practice from the aspired goals of intent.

In my youth and adulthood, Gandhi started acquiring a dimensionality, a complexity that guided my understanding of the layers of worlds, and worlds within individual worlds, lived all around me. While I was awed by stories of valor and heroism of, say Bhagat Singh, I was comfortable with Gandhi, who was a gujarati banya, like me, his vows of vegetarianism, his habit of fasting, especially in atonement - this was in close resonance to what was played out around me, as a child.

Even as I sit now, hunched to gather thoughts of what this person means? to me? I know that all answers will necessarily be incomplete to expression, for how does one capture all that has gone in to change one, and the depth of this change? I am humbled by his " I am not a well read man..." and now I seek to know less and understand more. I consider his 'Hind Swaraj' a work of pure genius, of lucid understanding and expression that to this day influence my many opinions. And, my first interest in Bhagwat Geeta arose entirely from Gandhi; I now find strength and direction in Karmanye Vadhikaraste that I bellow loudly whenever trapped into misguided expectations of reward for spent love and labors that we are all trained to seek. I understand now that it is grace that I am allowed to choose the kind of life that I seek to live; that the cost of this grace is borne by myriads of those whose names I shall never know and who shall never know the freedom of choice or indulgence of grace - so I seek less such grace, freedom, choice - unless it can be equitably shared amongst all. Gandhi's life taught me that advice is not what you preach, but practice, which carries potent for change. I also now have an inkling of how difficult this is - to engage actively, express, and then to live a life consistent with one's conscience - without fear, of consequence. Gandhi distilled showed that "Abhaya" or fearless-ness is the key to how life should be lived - absolutely - since it is in fear that we fall into many traps laid out for us. Yet, to practice this requires many million repetitions of " I shalt not fear" - and yet that does not often suffice.

I know of the many criticisms of Gandhi. They may all be true, and yet they are irrelevant to me. In Gandhi, and the many that I meet, I seek to create direction to how I might understand and lead my own life. For me Gandhi represents a life consciously and rationally lived by dictates of one's conscience. I think to recognise the latter and live accordingly and uncompromisingly, is a huge act of courage.

God Grant me Courage to Face and live My Truth.

A Walk...

Today is a beautiful day. I was walking on campus with Atul, loudly singing 'Yugan Yugan Hum Yogi' - Kumar's voice resonating inside, and my voice a weak, slower echo in its wake. Suddenly I noticed a single leaf of a tiny date palm flutter at a high speed...there was no wind, no breeze, just a cool and bright blue day. In that stillness, a single leaf fluttered -wildly. I understood without comprehension, that sometimes, somewhere, something moves one wildly - and yet the world around, steeped in the same wonder, remains at repose, calm and un-moved. I understood the leaf, tipsy with resonance of a song inside - and yet, in the same world, people chattered on mobiles, rushed in cars, tended to the sharp whistles of a pressure cooker - and that this was all, as it should be, fine and perfect.

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'??

Fruit on a Vine

Today I worked on my garden. I cleared, cleaned, potted, seeded. I was once again celebrating, now the departure of Meghs and the brilliance of sun on a cool and crystal day. As my daughter said, "It is so nice to be outside". I agreed. It has been a long time since I toiled in my garden.
It is then it occurred to me - that the fruit is anchored on a vine, that is wrapped around a tree, that is rooted on this earth, which dances around a sun, which races with many billion stars around our galaxy, which swirls in space, as the space itself zips fast - very fast towards eternity. I thought this when I paused in my garden and looked at a fruit on a vine.