A new life in a new season...

That's winter, my favourite part of the year. This is the period when warmth is the most sought after and soothing sensation. No doubt, the season begins with sore throats and blocked noses followed by dry skin, broken lips, a chill that tingles your spine and a longing for the Sunshine. But never does a cup of hot tea acquire an added taste. Never is the warmth of the first sunshine more enjoyable. You feel lethargic to wake up early in the morning, wishing for a few more yawns under the blanket. That's welcome! Ice-creams and cool drinks are out, chilly bondas, pakodas-- any delicacy that's hot and steamy is relished and savoured. And if you wake up early for a morning stroll, the mist and cool air are absolutely magical.

Maybe that's the reason the Himalayas are so attractive and enchanting for the peace loving and spiritual minded. Doubt if it would have been the same if the Himalayas were in a desert.

Every winter is different inspite of the similar feelings and memories it evokes. This winter added a new member to our family and suddenly the priorities of life appear different. Life is never the same, moment to moment or day by day. I understand, not just intellectually, that Life is always new, always fresh. One moment is never like anything that preceded it, nor will it be duplicated again. There's so much joy, beauty, happiness, depth and intrigue that's bundled up in the moments of life that sometimes when your awareness is clear, you feel overawed, you feel mesmerised at this wonderful creation that God has brought you into. Before you gasp for a fresh breath and wonder again, you're back to your forgetfulness, back to the mundane details, back to the trivial pursuits.

As I stand on the terrace, watching the million specks above glitter through the cold winter night, I resolve to overcome my forgetfulness and climb over the ordinariness of everyday life. I resolve to start afresh my journey and get back to the state of awe, of wonder.

We almost named our son as Hemanth or Shishir, both being names of Winter. And then there were other tempting names--Siddarth, for Lord buddha. And Abhimanyu, my favourite character from Mahabharata. Mom loves sachin tendulkar and wanted her grandson to be named Sachin( I got my name after the stylish batsman G.R. Vishwanath, whom both my parents adored). Archana wished for 'Pratham' from the day her pregnancy was confirmed. But the name we finally decided is all- encompassing, short-sweet-meaningful and an ideal we pursue all our lives.

'Tejas' means inner light.

For Jen and Edu who'd asked, we've named our son as Tejas. (No, I won't tell what we both call him at home!!)

Here and there

It's as if I sail between two separate worlds--temporarily.

For a few days I'm totally with my family, with archana, as she tries to cope up with the new role of a mother; observing how elderly wisdom scores over medical science sometimes and how the entire family comes round to cuddle the new mother. It's as if beyond these people and situations, nothing exists. Before I lose myself I'm back to work, back to the grindmill. The race against deadlines begins.

I settle down to the job of meeting the demands of an invisible customer, shamelessly pursuing an appraisal at the end of the year which determines which company I'll be working for by this time next year. The job sucks me in totally. As I ponder over whether my career is really moving in the right direction or I'm wasting myself in utter meaninglessness, the weekend arrives with a promise of temporary respite.

The conflict and contemplation stand on the other side of Sunday as I rest and relax for a couple of days.

First light........

Breathe in deep. It suffocates--the more I breathe, the more I feel I need the air. It's bone chilling cold... unlike where I was all along. What's that funny sound? I'm yelling...like all hell let loose. I try to open my eyes and lo! there's a blinding light. It hurts. Not like the soothing darkness I felt inside. I close my eyes tight and continue to yell, gulping all the air around me. Someone holds me close and for a moment I feel I'm back--back to the closed comfort. The light hurts still. No, this soft, warm thing wrapped around me doesn't match that warmth, that comfort. I want to be back there, why did I have to come out.....

Tightly closed eyes. Soft skin. You want to caress this small head with sparse hair but mom says, don't, it's very soft and delicate over there. The lips part a bit and he licks the air, closes his mouth in a pout. Opens eyes a bit, stares at you for a moment and goes back to sleep.

Yawn. My tummy's tingling. I open my eyes and immediately that face over there lights up. I hear funny sounds and whistles--incoherent language! Why can't they speak properly, as I heard them from inside? Aahhh, I'm parched dry, I'm hungry...

You can't soothe a baby with all your learned tricks. The more you try, the more he wails. You hand over the kid to the mother and immediately he's calm. As you watch him feed hungrily, you want to be there, in her place. You want to know how it feels, to become the food of your child, to watch him draw his nourishment out of your self. How does one feel holding a piece of life that one nurtured all along? You are envious.

' You too were pregnant at a deeper level,' She assures. 'I'm his mother only here, but somewhere deep down, we both carried him.'

I'm full. And slipping into a stupor. Those faces over there stare at me intently, beaming, smiling. I wish I could...yaawn...stretch...my...hands....and t..e..l..l.....t..h..e..m....

What wonderful comfort? We watch him drown into a deep sleep. What's he feeling? What do these sights and sounds mean to him? Apart from hunger-satiation, cold-warmth what else does he experience?

She's tired. It's late evening. You have to go home and come back to the hospital early morning. The day has been filled with a flurry of phone calls and wishes, visits by friends and neighbours. The rest of life is packed and kept aside for the moment. You can start unpacking the routine slowly but this moment is precious. You don't want it to end. You want to lose yourself into it, never to come out again.

As archana drifts into a sleep, she presses your palm and mumbles, 'Congrats dad.'

Getting out....coming home....

A young man is driving to work. He looks out of the window and watches his dreamgirl standing outside her house, talking to a friend. As he turns round a bend, he loses control and the car rams against an electric pole. With a sudden jolt he loses consciousness.

A moment later when he opens his eyes things appear very strange. He's still in the same broken car but he's balded, has a moustache and also a pot belly. He's no longer the twenty year old in jeans but a middle aged executive in formal attire. The dreamgirl he saw just a moment ago outside her house is now sitting beside him--she's his wife and she's screaming at him for not being careful while driving. In short, in a small accident he has jumped out of time and has landed up in future, yet retaining his awareness of the past!

This was the storyline of a fantastic french movie that was telecast on TV5 Asie. The story then moves back and forth as the protagonist tries to make sense of what has happened to him--he's now the head of a multi-billion shoe manufacturing firm , yet his close childhood buddy is now his chauffer! Till yesterday he was dreaming about marrying his sweetheart but now his grown up daughter comes to his cabin to discuss her marriage plans! Everyone around him are going about their lives and he's the only one in a dilemma--stuck between past and present. His family and friends think that he's gone mad and although he's bewildered at the turn of events and tries to put the pieces together, he suspects that maybe they are right--he must have truly gone mad. The entire movie was told in a comic style yet nothing was trivialised, the tension between reality and fantasy maintained and heightened till the very end ( I missed the final part of the movie ). You realise the crap that's dished out in the name of entertainment nowadays when you're exposed to such works.

I remember this story because like everyone else, time is an important factor for me. We live within the constraints of space and time-- everything in our lives is time-bound. We may not exactly live by the clock but the clock is there always, deciding and determining our moves and ways of life. Mystics say that time is a river and one can get out of it and enter it at any point, either in past or in future. In that way, the future has already happened!

As our life gets more and more faster and hurried with every passing year, you sometimes wonder if everything you're going through makes any sense. It's as if you're caught in a raging current of time that's pushing you ahead; the only thing you can do is stay afloat and allow the river to carry you further. Everybody's in a race but how many know why we're running this race of life-- or how many care to know? Very few of us have the time and interest to stop on the way, sit down under a tree and figure out what all this is about.

We speak of education, empowerment, ending poverty, providing justice for all, equality and what not. Rarely are we bothered about the mystical side of life where everlasting solutions to our dilemmas and illusions lie. And when we speak of meditation, it's more of a healing or stress-busting exercise rather than a tool that can connect us to the Supreme power and transform us into the divine beings we truly are!

And how wonderful would it be if one could get out of this dimension of time and enter it at will at any point! Going back to the past or visiting the future or experiencing the vertical dimension of time in the present moment--not just in our imagination but in reality! Maybe this is possible for spiritually accomplished masters. But if each one of us carry the seed of enlightenment within, this should be a possibility for everyone some day or the other.

Of drizzly days and wavering moods....

Rain droplets on the glass pane.
My hand stops before I reach to the wiper.
Let them stay a moment longer.
They look beautiful and innocent....like unplucked flowers smiling on a creeper...

It's a drizzly early evening. An overcast sky with gathering heavy clouds. How I love to sit by the window, book in hand, a steaming cup of tea nearby.....but I'm in the thick of a traffic clogged road. Mom has some shopping to finish before our little guest arrives by next fortnight. She is tireless and extremely dynamic, totally worldly and unbothered about the philosophical questions of life.

Sometimes her simple outlook on life seems attractive--go to work, come home and eat, watch tv, read a bit, go to bed, get up the next day and carry on, worry not much about anything. Talk to her about transformation, about expansion, about finding your purpose and you'll give her enough to laugh for a whole day.

Maybe I'm totally wrong in my assessment. Maybe she's much more than the everyday ordinary woman I think she is.

Three blogs I'd love to read end to end and grasp completely. Bird on the moon is now a four-in-one multiblog. And the other one-'How to save the world'-- a fantastic blog and I think this is a good place to start reading it. And of course, my blog hopping is incomplete if I don't have a glance at what India uncut has to say everyday.

And an accidental stumble into Eckarte tolle's interview. Wow!

Without reason I fall into a depressive mood. Things appear meaningless, all my pursuits look like childish endeavours. I know that this is a temporary mood, and after a while I may probably laugh off this emotion but when it's there, it sucks out your energy. I pick up the phone and call a friend, chatter a bit, try to feel better as I listen to him blabber his head off....

There are occasions when friends call up and talk, or just listen--trying to come out of their temporary low moods. Talking to someone, not necessarily sharing your sorrows and seeking solutions but just emptying yourself, unburdening, knowing well that there's an ear which is listening to your mundane worries--maybe this soothes you and unconsciously lifts
up your spirits.

Stuck in a traffic jam. Sky above is threatening to open up...... Overheard this :

'How's work?'
' Good '
'Good?'
'Yeah'
'Hmm...I remember you said you had some problems, that you didn't like your job...'
'No, it's okay now. I'm fine with it,'
'..... Do you find time for other activities?'
' Not really. Work's a bit hectic'
' But you said your work's fine...!'
' Yeah, no problem with my job. Only that I have little time for other things.'
'So you really have no problems with your job?'
' Nothing. In fact, I've begun to enjoy it of late.'
' Mmmm'

I stop short of judging the two guys involved in this. Maybe it's just an ordinary chatter.

Winter is about to creep in but the rains have announced an unexpected entry. I'm just recovering from a sore throat and body aches and soon there are friends falling sick. One guy turns up after a week with an unkempt, unshaven face and with a painful look, not to mention his deepening philosophical outbursts.

'You look like Jesus christ,' I say very seriously. He does look like christ but he's confused, probably wondering whether to feel happy or retaliate at the joke.

She's a bit scared although she doesn't speak it out. The joy of becoming a mother will only be attained after passing through a mini-hell. I talk to friends who've gone through this earlier

' The pain is unbearable but once the child comes out, you just relax, you don't even remember that agony...'

' You may as well opt for ceaserian. It's easy, why the bother of going through such labour...'

' If you're going for a ceasarian, why not decide the day and time of child birth? My friend's husband knows astrology; in fact he suggested a particular hour and I had my kid in that auspicious time...'

' Let there be pain, so what? When we gave birth did we go for all these short cuts?'

Many reassuring words while some provide good entertainment. As we discuss this at night, Nana patekar stands in the law court and thunders--' Every citizen should compulsorily undergo military training and serve the country for at least one year. We've taken for granted the hard won freedom of our country.'

Me says: 'Every man should go through this pain of childbirth at least once in a life-time. We've taken her for granted for too long...'

In the end...jump

There's a programme on National geographic channel that chronicles the life-cycle of an African Lion. The growing years, the ferocious hunting in the wilderness, leading a clan of half a dozen lioness, killing young males who could become potential contenders....and in the final scene, the once invincible but now old lion wobbles around for a few steps and then falls down with a thud. That's the end of the king of the jungle.

This scene has remained in memory for quite a long time. The fraility that comes with age, the helplessness and weakness that are a natural part of growing old--somehow these are very touching. I see it in elders around--those who were once ferocious lions are now looking around--not knowing what to do with their lives except waiting for the end. This disturbs.

Once I saw an elderly man who was suffering from parkinsons disease. He'd enrolled for our meditation classes but he couldn't sit even for a moment without shaking and twisting. His nervous system was completely devastated. I'd wonder how his day-to-day life would be.

Nat writes a good post on growing old and our perceptions regarding it. And in Tehelka as usual, a touching article about a father who's afflicted with parkinsons.

Then there's an sms from a childhood friend--'Sad news. ML passed away!'

ML was our physical trainer in our highschool days. As with all P.T. masters he was a real terror. He'd smash anyone and everyone who'd dare to cross the line of discipline. We as kids never, ever imagined that this bully would one day become an non-descript, unwanted, helpless person and pass away meekly. He was always overbearing -- an apt symbol of the african lion. But in the end there's always that wobble.... and then a soft thud. It comes to everyone, whoever you could be.

Yet there are some who defy age, who defy nature. Shivaram karanth, an eminent figure in the Kannada literary world, lived up to 96 years and he was a young boy until his last breath--full of life, full of zest. The principle--'Mind over matter' was true in his case, as it is with many like him. The body could be slow and unhurried but the spirit inside is roaring and blazing ahead. Their enthusiasm and happiness are infectious. No wobble, no thud can erase the smile on their faces. They live in joy and when they depart, I'm sure they do so with a spring in their steps.

I'd love to be one such old man, if at all I live up to such a ripe age.

Lights....everywhere!

There are sounds of crackers ringing from distant horizons. It's one hell of a long weekend. We get a new tv set and also a direct to home satellite connection. Archana wants gifts for everyone at home--she enjoys giving gifts. Last week when dad's books got published, she drew and painted a beautiful card for him. At work, there's less hurry and tension-- a kind of eased out atmosphere. In the midst of all these, I get a special message in my mailbox. Happiness. Like the cool weather, there's a pleasant ambience all around.

When I think of this change, it amazes me. Simply because, by this time last week, I was worried sick over a silly thing. I thought I'd make a fool of myself before a number of people--all my hidden fears were about to explode in my face. When the moment came, nothing happened. None of the disasters that I'd imagined materialised. Whether it were unknown forces that glided me past my troubles or whether it was my own imagination that had magnified trivial things--I'll never know. But life is smooth again and I'm wiser by a degree or two.

An occasion to become philosophical. Thinking about my own motivation makes me realize that most of the time, I'm running after short-lived pleasures or I'm escaping from hidden fears and weaknesses. Most of my life has been a movement away from or towards such mundane things. However hard I convince myself about my spiritual ambitions and lofty ideals, ultimately when I stand face to face with myself, I know that I can't fool myself. In spite of the occasional pursuit and desire for flight, I'm an earth-bound human. My roots are stronger than my wings.

This small understanding gives me a strange strength. Of course, things don't get better overnight. There will be a hundred struggles and innumerable failures before I climb over and wipe my brows. The journey is long and arduous, but it's bleak no longer. There's a slight clarity. When I know my own shortcomings, I also know that I won't slip easily next time around. Every failure and slippage will be a part of the success.

And how long will it be before I slip out of this pursuit of success and escape from failure?

Let there be light and love everywhere with this Diwali. Let all of us find the true brilliance that's hidden within and share it with each other. And a special prayer for Nick. Get well soon!

A happy diwali to all my friends, visitors and everyone in the blogworld and the real world.

Stop for a while, will ya....

I wake up and rush to work. I come home late, chat a bit with archana, attend to a few errands and then try hard to fight off sleep, try to contemplate a bit on all the things that are important. The next thing I know is that it's 8 in the morning and I'm trying to catch another 2 minutes of sleep before rushing again.

Saturdays are filled with innumerable activities, waiting to be attended to. Sunday whizzes past and it's another working week.

I ponder over the insensitive and blind pace of my life as I listen to Kishore.
Mein Zindagi ka saath nibhaata chalaa gaya;
har phikr ko dhue me udhaatha chalaa gaya.
( I walk hand in hand with Life....puffing away every despair, every sorrow...)

It soothes a bit as I finish my last sip of tea and head towards office.

Here, I come

A long forgotten dream. A world war has happened and we've somehow survived. The atmosphere is totally bleak, utterly devastated. Those who've perished seem to be the lucky ones. I'm in an open space, living with my family in a torn tent. We're running short of food and I'm discussing with some people about the possibility of starting farming on a piece of land, in order to grow food for ourselves.

The rest of the dream is hazy, but I remember this dream when today, we have news of North korea going nuclear, and all the other big brothers who've stacked nuclear weapons in their backyard crying hoarse. Hope my dream remains a dream and doesn't become a living nightmare for all of us on this earth. But with these crazy scoundrels ruling us, anything can happen.

And then, there are some disturbing images on tv. There's a communal flare in Mangalore, not far from here. It's a sensitive area -- the muslim and hindu dogs over there are always at loggerheads for some issue or the other. Three days ago a fight broke out over the transportation of cattle to slaughterhouses and soon there was widespread violence, resulting in a few deaths. A kurfew is declared and the police are manning the entire city.

They show a young man on TV who has ventured out of his house and a group of policemen stop him on the way. They start lashing him with their sticks until he's forced to flee --they pursue him, thrashing him all the way. He didn't look like a rioter. Later a car passes by and the police stop it. The driver and the passenger are thoroughly checked, the car is inspected and later they're let go. What's disturbing is the attitude of the police constables. They threaten the hapless driver and the passenger, nudging and prodding them with their sticks--the harrassment is sickening and revolting. Agreed, the situation is tense and people are dead, but does that give you a sanction to terrorise anyone and everyone in the name of maintaining law and order?

I find it difficult to sympathise with or understand police brutality, however justified it may seem to be. One of my cousins is serving in the police force and his attitude is evident--a slow transformation into a rowdy in uniform. They too are humans but the access to power brings out the hidden devil, I think.

In any darkness.....under any haze

........ there's always a ray of light......


.... and always someone who ferries you across.