Small new beginnings

There are frequent powercuts these days. We three sit in front of the Tv late at night, expecting the latest installement of 'Mata ki chowki', and plunk goes the power. We peer at one another for sometime, a bit bewildered, too lazy to get up and
light a candle until tejas begins to get uneasy and starts questioning. The fan's stopped and it's getting warmer. Light the candle, sing a lullaby and pat tejas to sleep. Pull out a book and try to read in the waning candle light. Close it and walk out. Every other area surrounding ours is bright with glittering lights; our colony is an oasis of darkness. Stand under the million sparkles up there. Shut all mental noise and look at the silence. Be still.

I leave home early, thinking I'll avoid the traffic jams but no, there are at least three clogs before I reach office. And with 300 two wheelers being added to the roads of bangalore everyday, one wonders where this will lead to? The pollution, dust, hustle are overwhelming at times and I'm sure this must be the case across many more cities elsewhere. Suddenly you have a sinking feeling that you're driving fast down doom's lane, that an inevitable crash is staring in your face. Yet we continue our daily lives as if this technoutopia will continue ad infinitum. My next ambition is to possess an iphone, a laptop and a royal enfield motorbike. This amidst my noble desire to cut down on my wants, to simplify, to learn new skills of sustainability and,community building. The conflict is obvious; between the old world and the coming new age, a world of material wants and isolation and a new world of inner growth and community. Of hoarding excessive baggage and living lightly.

A new house is getting constructed in our layout and the watchman has built a small room next to the park and moved in with his family. The husband and wife work hard all day long, eat their food early in the evening and are deep asleep while the rest of the layout is busy watching teleserials. There are four small kids, who play all day in the sun, sand and rains. Once this house gets constructed, this small family will shift elsewhere and take roots--for sometime. And then move again. Their possessions are light, their worries & joys are immediate and it appears as though they're living day to day, moment to moment.

I guess, detachment and a kind of lightness are a part of their lives. They do not have to struggle to develop these, like I have to. If I want to change my house, I'll have to think hundred times. This house has been a part of me, my life, for the past 22 years. Much of my life is entwined here, so to shift from here is to uproot oneself and get rid of a part of ones identity.

I love to be that detached and light, however difficult and alien it is to me. And this could become a necessity also.

Reading Flow. Placed an order for a collection of short stories by Nathan englander(Had read a review of one of his shortstories here, long back). And also another book which I've been lusting for for quite sometime--'The last american man'.

I have a direct experience of how Light works. We saunter into the meeting room, expecting another round of verbal bashing and admonishes from the Manager. I channel light, spread it everywhere with a request of fearlessness and peace. Throughout the meeting, I stay aware of the light spreading out from my heart, all around.

Surprisingly, the manager seems to have forgotten that he's one hell of an asshole, for his behaviour is completly out of the norm. For the first time, he praises the team for the good efforts and resists from probing and prodding the individual efforts. Even the team members are relaxed and upfront in their reporting. There's an ambience of ease and humour, no fear or
dejection-- and the meeting ends on a high note with the manager hinting at the announcement of our overdue salary raises by the weekend.

How could this happen? 'It's an one off thing,'says Nazeer.'He'll bash us in the next meeting, just see.' The skeptic in me thinks the same. But I believe it isn't so. The Light makes a difference, in how people think, emote and act. It changes everything, elevates the quality of our lives and reminds even the hardened nut that beneath layers upon layers of accumulated dirt, she's a pristine spark of the divine. It first changes you, changes how you view the world. No matter you believe or not, it works, beyond the rat hole of all your learnt logic and rationality.

This simple event inspires me to practise Light awareness all the time, in every situation, under any circumstances, without any expectation of goodies or favourable ambience. Because I understand that the time period that's closing in on us in the near future has tremendous challenges, far far greater than dealing with the warped ego of a retarded manager. When the system comes crashing down on you, When everything you know about dealing with the world goes for a toss and you're confronted with a new world order, there's only one thing that saves, guards and guides you. It's the light that you carry, the light you manifest, the light you're aligned to.

You are that light. Not an alienated human pygmy tossed onto this earth, in a remote corner of an uncaring universe. You...are...Light. Know it and start living it....Now

Where's your sense of humour...!

Heavy tension pervades our workplace nowadays. A project has started with the tightest deadline ever and it seems to be taking its toll on all of us. Suddenly we're transported back in time, to that suffocating school days when the terrorist PT Master stood over us, ruler in hand, thrashing not the knuckles or bones but at a part where it hurts most--ones self-esteem. That horror has revisted and everyone seems to be enjoying it.

Every evening is a torture where the project manager marches all the team members into a stuffy room and conducts a status meeting. Even the best effort is ridiculed, every minutes accountability is asked and there are long lectures on time-management, dedication, quality, work-ethics and company policy. The juice in the work is gone and what remains is a dry terror. We listen in awe as the manager barks on and on, making each one feel and realise ones own worthlessness.

When I stand listening to the never ending harangue, wondering what karmas did I do to deserve this, who comes to my rescue but my dear friend R.K.Narayan! I lift a scene out of 'The Bachelor of Arts'--and imagine the manager, a short, stout fellow standing in the middle of the room, only in his underpants. That ugly scar on his pot belly, how his teats bounce every 5 seconds, how he scratches himself like a sick dog, that super squeaky voice--what's there to be scared of this asshole? 'I'm going to hold this against each one of you, once this ends'--bark, bark--he's threatening with termination if we don't do as he wants us to. Now I imagine him in his full glory, in his birthday suit. Awww Yuck! Why does he attack and thrash his juniors? His wife's a bomb and he's so pathetic; that's the source of his self-hatred and inferiority complex! 'I was a school leader and I'm used to kicking people out'...Yeah, I just heard you fart, you jackass!

What's strikingly astonishing is the fear he evokes in everyone around here? What's everyone scared of? Loss of job? Loss of face? Fear of embarrassment? The primeval fear of annihilation is staring at every face here and it's to be seen to be believed. And secondly, the way he sways and influences everyone towards his ideals. There are only robots here, programmed to act, not aware human beings with self-respect. All nod to his tunes, the way the Nazis might've listened to the Fuhrer...where does he derive this destructive power? Does someone else whack him and so he takes it out on others? There, he farts again!

This is the worst period of my worklife. Maybe my best. These crushing forces have now shown me what's the prioritiy and what's fluffy! What's lacking, what's to be done, how to do it, where's the motivation--these are becoming clear. Whether I act on them and grow or pass through the ordeal and remain unchanged remains to be seen. But boy does it hurt, this change.
The proverb is totally true...'My ass is getting torn and becoming as wide as that door...!'

The Tao is Silent

One world.....One Light

'I'll first practise this properly. Only then will I write about it.....'

'You're already practising it all these years. You've been living it. You don't have to wait!'

Early in the morning, before my son is up and jumping, I come out of the room onto the terrace. At a distance, one floor below on another terrace, I see Sahana sitting in a meditative posture. Maybe she has spotted me and becomes self-conscious and fidgety. I move away where she cannot see me.

Go down memory lane. Nearly 15 years ago, in my college years I took up Yogasanas and spiritual practices, just on a whim. It was unusual then-- nobody in my class practised such things, none of my friends were bothered about meditations or spirituality....even my interest in these things was born out of a desperation to improve myself, to come to terms with a nagging sense of emptiness. I would wake up early, have a cold bath, amble up to the terrace, spread a mat and practice exercises, yogic postures, breathing techniques, try to silence the mind....and I was the queer fish. Once in fifteen days I would go on a 12 hour fast. I became totally vegetarian and began to strictly observe my diet. Mom and Dad would scold me for such fancies, my sisters and her friends found these indulgences silly(maybe they still do).

Things happened fairly quickly. In the same desperation, with the similar necessity to come to terms with another spell of dejection and directionlessness, I joined a spiritual path. I took up meditations a tad seriously. And with that a new life began, something I never paid much attention to, and just took into my stride as if it was a natural thing. A paradigm shift, you could say.

Meditation, as I understood, was a process by which we would silence, not just the mind but our entire system. It was difficult. It is. But what I gradually came to know and accept was that, behind this practice there existed the wisdom of thousands of years. Meditation was not just about focussing your attention on some symbol and gaining peace of mind. This effort of becoming silent would create a space where a hundred other processes would get initiated. Most of these processes remained hidden except for a few glimpses here and there, a fleeting vision, strange dreams,.....but I would hear accounts of amazing experiences from fellow practitioners. There are multiple worlds and dimensions behind and beyond what we normally can see, hear and feel! One of the processes initiated through meditations would cleanse our perception and make us aware of these multiple worlds! I met and listened to people who could recall these visions, who could narrate improbable occurences. Somehow these didn't come across as tall stories. They defied logic but there was a ring of authenticity in these experiences.

Yet these were just the side-effects. The main intention of Meditation was Self-transformation. Not just the transformation advocated by self-help gurus-- to become assertive, to communicate well, to win friends, to become the toast of the party...No. The transformation had to be total, from taking your awareness from a limited ego-centric 'I', to the center of your being. To experience who you truly are, not just a body or a mind, but a brilliant spark of divinity. To directly know the truth of existence. To find out who you are, why you're here, what you're supposed to do with your life, how to do it and where you go from here. What lies before birth and after death? Not just rhetoric but an actual experience. In deep silence and an expanding awareness, you would gain a simple clarity about existence. Meditation was a process that would take you to that experience and bring you back transformed. Enlightened! The Goal is Enlightenment. And beyond!

This was tremendous. I'd unknowingly stepped into a fantastic voyage.

It was an ocean, an unknown world into which I waded with trepidation. There were fellow travellers, youngsters like me and also unlike me. Many of us(not all) came to the spiritual world without an inkling of what it was. We wanted relief from our problems, we wanted a sense of direction when nothing was sure, maybe we wanted to explore. Yet we got more than what we'd bargained for. Without any fanfare, we'd gradually grown into better people. The total transformation towards which meditational practices aimed at, did not come in one big cascade. It would happen gradually, without upsetting the balance of our lives. Yes it did. And continues to do so. There were fears reconciled. Responsiblities taken up. Adventures were answered. A cheerful disposition arrived. Cynicism withdrew. I changed and so did my life. This world is subjective. Change your attitude and 'your' world changes.

And there was new knowledge awaiting us. That we're in a very great period of transformation, a period of turbulence and churning which was mistaken as 'pralaya' or destruction. That the destruction was not a physical one but that of an unstable old world order. That the Golden age is about to begin and we all are on the threshold, to welcome this new age. That all the darkness we observe around us as corruption, violence, pollution, environmental devastation and all the negativities that are within us in the form of greed, hatred, excessive materialism, unconsciousness--every ounce of darkness would be answered soon. That we were the answers as much as we had been the problems. That we carry the light which would remove this darkness. And there is more light waiting to descend. There are unseen Masters, unknown guides waiting to help humanity transit into the new age....Much much more.

There were techniques which were beyond meditations. We meditated to transform ourselves. And we practised the higher techniques to transform the world, to help others receive the light and transform. A collective growth would happen at a lightening speed if there was a collective will and a mass practice.

On a day with an overcast sky yet a cheerful atmosphere, I open my mailbox and.....

Dear Friend,

This is about a movement that has just begun, a World Movement. A movement towards a higher life. It is a movement towards Light, away from darkness represented by injustice, corruption, suffering, environmental damage etc. It is a movement to live in Light.

Like all movements, this movement has begun silently by a small group of people and it should be expanded to as many people as possible to gather momentum and become effective. The participation does not involve any money or lots of your precious time. It does not require any specific background. All it needs is a few minutes of your time to bring down the Light and spread it to the world. The Light has the power to transform the world but it will work only when we consciously bring it down and allow it to work.

Please visit the website for information on how you can participate in this World Movement.

Please forward this message to all your friends and help this movement.

Divine Love,

Guruji Krishnananda

When I see Sahana meditating on her early morning terrace, I feel like shouting to her, asking her to take up this practise--although she was one of my sister's friends who ridiculed my spiritual practices long back. Yet the world has changed in all these years. There's a newfound interest in the sublime. Youngsters and the elderly alike are drawn to Meditations and yogic practices. We no longer accept what life hands down to us but raise questions---Is there more to life than mere survival and sensual gratification? Do we continue to exist as mere cogs in the ever churning wheel of civilization--nothing more than nuts and bolts in the greater scheme of things? Where on earth are we headed towards? There's a growing unrest with the mundane and an inclination to grasp higher truths. Many of us are at different stages but all are on this journey. From darkness towards the light of a New Age.

I make time amidst my seemingly hectic schedule to practice lightchanneling*. I imagine this message spreads far and wide, through emails, blogs, word of mouth--from this blog and many other websites too. I see millions and millions of people practicing this technique every day, all over the globe, across nations, races and religions. A tremendous force of intention is created through innumerable hearts--that we shun darkness and ask for light. That we shun selfishness and ask for oneness and love. That we desire simplicity. Happiness. Bliss. And Enlightenment.

We get what we ask for. We ask for the Light. Let there be Light.

* Technique: Sit comfortably and close your eyes. Imagine a huge globe of bright white light above you. Draw this light and imagine it enters and fills up your body, your entire system. Feel and experience this light for a minute. Then imagine that this light spreads out and fills up your room, house, locality, city, entire globe and out towards infinity..... Practice this for 7 minutes in the morning and for 7 minutes before going to bed at night. Or at any convenient time in the day.

This light is not the physical light. It is God Himself. Have the awareness that this light is Love, Bliss, Joy, Positivity....this light ushers in the Newage wherever it goes.

My world

'What's your motivation?'

The question arrives as I stare out at the darkness all around. Fresh darkness.

Amidst endless channel hopping, I stop breifly at Sanskar. Swami sukhabodananda is lecturing on living a stress-free life. Continous flow of words, expressions, stories, gesticulations.....of all the modern day swamis, gurus and teachers I personally find him to be the most irritating. The moment I see him on Tv or hear his voice on Moksha, I revolt....'but what has he done to you?' she protests amidst admonishes of not to utter expletives in front of the kid and I have no answer. I just can't stand him, that's it. Watching his theatricals, a question springs up, as if out of nowhere.....what motivates him to sit in front of an audience(and a bigger audience through television) and blabber on and on about stress, breathing, prana, mind, watchfulness.....! What on heavens motivates this person to clown around? From where does the inspiration arrive? Why do people do what they do?

A phone call. It's a far-off relative. He informs that one of my distant uncles passed away in Mumbai. I don't know how to react....I don't know this uncle, I haven't seen him at all. 'Is it....? Oh...' I stammer. Keep the phone. Inform Dad about it. Ponder a bit.

People depart just like that. A middle aged lady whom we used to meet in our weekly meditation classes, who used to be a bit of a bother with her quirks---she's run over by a truck and....It's bloody shocking. I drive to my office, covering nearly 25 kms a day, and hardly a day goes by without me approaching the 'edge' at least a couple of times. Vehicles whizz past and they have no eyes, no feelings, no sense of life or death. You're always on the edge and you never know when the balance tips. Cynical! And we always thought this drama would never end, would go on and on and on.....

The death toll in the Chinese earthquake is staggering. A Couple have lost their only son when his school building collapsed. The relief worker is holding the lifeless body, and the parents are putting on new clothes on the body of their child before sending him.....the anguish, the pain on their wailing faces...it brings a lump in the throat.

There's a cricket player on TV-- he's a batsmen for the Chennai team. I remember this bloke because I played with him once, long back, maybe 6 years ago. That was the period when all of a sudden I decided that my future would be in International cricket. I purchased a brand new cricket gear and joined a cricket club, at the ripe age of 25, when most players would be peaking at the highest level and beginning to wither away. Of course, the madness lasted for an year, but before that, there was a match against a team from chennai and this guy played for that team. A few years younger to me, his name was peculiar; Vidyuth. Meaning 'Electricity'. Who on earth would name their kid as Electricity? Why not Hydro electricity? Or nuclear power? Anyway this kid smashed us to all corners of the field in that match and that was it. Six years later, one day you switch on the TV what do you see but this guy playing in the Indian Premier League, smashing bowlers of international repute out of the stadium... and you can't help but admire the persistence, the tenacity this guy has, the passion that sustained him so long when everyone else who played that game six years ago are no where in sight, cricket wise.

We quarrel. My son gets irritated and shouts. As if he senses the ugly vibrations.

We stop at an evening restauarant and order two milkshakes. Overcrowded. A Sunday evening relaxed atmosphere pervades everywhere. A bunch of youngsters eat noisily. A shy couple at a distance. Another couple with an one year old kid. The chubby kid picks up the menu card and begins to play, much to the amusement of a lady in the next seat. She gestures and the kid smiles. The father plucks the menu card, gestures a hit at the baby and pulls him over to his lap. A young waiter watches the crowd, searching for any table that needs cleaning. The couple get up and the waiter walks over with his tub, cleans the table, removes all leftovers and goes back to his place. Stands there and watches again. Tired eyes.

A kid next door. His mom slaps him and he wails, 'What did I do.....Pappa come fast, Mom is beating me....!'

A new team leader arrives at Work. He's short statured, a bit low on the technical front but looks good in people management. A bit hesitant, trying to win the loyalty of a new team, balancing between bossing and understanding, getting bewildered by the aggressiveness of the senior management, pretending not to be listening when we make fun of his predicament...

A chunck of unstructured time arrives. Archana and Tejas are away at Nagpur visiting her sisters'. I take a week off and stay at home. Suddenly there's an abundance of the most scarce commodity in my world---Free time! Empty room. All the time in the world to give life to my dreams, to plan, to do, to stare at new horizons....and what I do is just while away my time in laziness, mindless reading and daydreaming. At the end of the week I sit up and ask, 'What happened?' No answers. And No judgements too. It's okay to laze, to stay relaxed, to let go and do NOTHING!

Suddenly I tell Mom. 'We'll be leaving in another 2 years.' She is worried.

Petrol prices are about to go up exhorbitantly. There's a suggestion that fuel could be rationed. Then? 'Can you ride to your office on a bicycle?' I imagine it for a minute. Not improbable. 'But what office are you talking about? What if the IT industry collapses?' ... What if fuel prices go so high that very few can afford it? What if oil reserves become empty? Will we go back to horse carriages, bullock carts?........ The first signs of days to come!

'When the human order collapses, a divine order will replace it immediately. We'll never be left alone.'

In this I trust. We will wake up to that tomorrow. You and Me. All of us.

Early morning. I channel the light. Just before hitting the bed at midnight, I channel it again. 'This light is God. It will transform this world. Spread this message everywhere, through websites, emails, blogs....Tell your friends. When a large number of people take up a simple act, it gains enormous strength and builds up a revolution...Do it. Tell others....'

Yes, I will.....

No Reflections, No lessons....

We lived in a rented house for nearly 7 years before moving to our own house. The construction activity lasted nearly an year, during which Dad juggled between his office and monitoring the construction work-- a herculean task, given that he had to do it alone. I was about 10 then and was all excited about moving to a new house. What I never reckoned was that I'd be leaving behind a host of friends and playmates whom I'd known closely all along, moving away from an environment which was very familiar and intimate since my childhood.

Venu was one of those friends, studying a class above mine, who belonged to an austere, pious family, which was very particular about tradition, values and orthodoxy. We'd spent countless afternoons and evenings, creating and inhabiting an astonishing world where we lived multiple roles. We were the fishermen, bus drivers-conductors, police-thieves, cooks-waiters, movie heroes-villains, and much, much more. He was my best friend. He was thin and dark complexioned, but over the one year period during which our house got constructed, he grew to become plump and fair skinned. Kinda chubby. When I asked Mom, she said,'He has brain tumour.' I didn't ask what it meant.

He left school and stayed at home, invoking terrible jealousy in me because school was nothing short of hell for me. He'd borrow my comic books/story books and read them all day long. 'Lucky fellow,' I reflected while dragging myself through the never ending chore of books, study, homework and exams. One night, his parents put a cot outside the house in the garden, and made him sleep there. 'Why?' and Dad said,'Some custom.' Later they moved him back.

We shifted our house in the early hours of a Sunday morning. We woke up early, got dressed and hauled all the furniture and other belongings onto a tempo. Venu's parents had once again made him sleep on the cot, outside the house. They were standing outside and waving us goodbye from a distance.
As the tempo started, Dad said, 'Venu passed away last night'. Those words hardly got registered amidst all the excitement and trepidation of leaving behind an old world and entering a new one.

Transitions are easy, even desirable, when you're a kid, but somewhere on the way to adulthood you lose the flexibility. You tend to become rigid, unmoveable, brittle.. The very thought of change brings uneasiness.

Maybe 10 years back. I was journeying from Mumbai to Bangalore on a second class train compartment. A man in his late 40s opposite me was reading 'My days', by R.K.Narayan. After resisting for a while I broke through my reticence and borrowed the book. He was a seniour executive in an investment firm, carried a guitar, smoked endlessly, and soon I got familiar enough with him to borrow a couple of cigarrettes from his pack and begin puffing. Another guy joined us--a young man my age, an autorickshaw driver from bangalore. We made an interesting trio--A seemingly refined gentleman, sophisticated and successful; a rustic struggling to make ends meet, but jovial and carefree; a young student, bumbling and unsure. We chatted like close friends, shared cigarettes and fruits, joked silly and filled up the compartment with spiralling smoke----looks like an improbable scene from a stupid movie.

What keeps this incident fresh in memory is the dirty looks I received from a couple in the same compartment. Especially the girl, who had a horror stricken expression, who constantly glared at me for having picked up bad habits at such an innocent(?) age, for having the audacity to smoke in public . Not the elderly man, not the autodriver but me! They could do it but not someone my age, someone with my appearance and from my background. It was as if I was murdering someone right there; what might have caused them serious greivance was the fact that I gave no shit, totally ignored their concern and continued to burn the endless hours into ashes.

A slight apprehension about 2012, when our earth enters the photon belt on the 21st of December. What could possibly happen? Will we survive? Or will the man made systems survive? When I think about my savings and future plans, I tend to keep this date in mind. Will civilization collapse? Or, as a few survivalists argue, is the system already crashing? Are we in the crash, right now?

'I want to become enlightened, before any such thing happens.....' he said. 'I don't want to exist in that turmoil, the way I am right now.'

'So what's the plan? How do you get enlightened....?'

'..............'

Unconventional...

'When your son grows up, you'll see--he'll put you both in your right places.'

I was about to flare up but on hindsight, I think, it was good I didn't respond. Or maybe I should've said 'Thank you'. What she said was a wonderful compliment!

An obedient child is what most parents would desire. They'd like their sons/daughters to go to a good school/college, get good grades, find a well paying job, get married and settle down, have kids...... Or maybe not, not most of them. Some crazy nuts like me would rather, our children grow up as rebels, as unruly kids who give nothing but trouble to their parents. Not in a strictly negative sense though.

A parent belongs to the old world order. When she gives birth to a child, she's also giving birth to a new possibility, a new world. Every generation is an improvement over the previous one, every son/daughter is one step ahead of his parents in an evolutionary sense. The generation gap is bound to exist between all parents and kids of every age--the parent of every era looks back wistfully and says,'In our days.....', and decades later, when the kid becomes a parent, he too would say the same to his boys. An obedient son who's dutiful, follows his parents words and lives as they want him to could be what most parents wish for, but as a human being, he's just another cog in the wheel, another speck in a mass of ordinary souls who go through the motions of life. For my money, he's a failed ambition.

A rebellious son thinks for himself and decides the course of his life. He respects his parents' wishes but also has the utmost regard for his own dreams. Given a choice between following a path which his parents/society approve or setting out on a individual journey, he'd happily choose the latter. He is not afraid of unpopularity, nor is he worried about the opinions or validations of those around him. Because he knows well that most things of value will be feared and despised by the majority, who'd always want the status quo to continue. For them, a non-confirmist is an immediate thorn in the flesh, though years later, they might applaud and covet the success of the rebel.

I have friends who've followed the beaten path and also a few who've dared to pursue their own calling. A few who initially confirmed to the norms of the society, gathered muster later and took a leap into their destinies. They may not accumulate riches, comforts or a life of ease, but I believe, these are the souls through whom evolution takes a step forward. They may not accomplish great feats; some may do nothing more than reject a long held irrational belief. Some may simply refuse to run the rat race and instead decide to find meaningful work they care for. In the never ending humdrum of life, a few may choose to sit for a while and ponder over the questions, 'Who am I?' 'What is the purpose of my life?' & 'Am I living that purpose?' The seed of rebellion is ingrained in everyone of us; those who choose to recognise it, nurture it and allow it to grow into a mighty tree, irrespective of the murmur of disapproval from the surrounding wasteland---these are the ones who've fulfilled their destinies.

The rest of us are all on this journey---from confirmity to rebellion, from following our heads to listening to our hearts. Whether we choose to stay in the comfort of our self-made prisons or decide to fly out into the open sky, is left to every individual's choice. This choice is not an one-time affair, it needs to be done every moment, at every given opportunity. Each moment decides whether you're a rebel or a conformist.

A rebel discovers abundant joy, even in the absence of the comforts that a conformist craves for. And every conformist is a rebel in the making, whether he knows it or not.

Where was I

Archana is filling up a form at the hospital and she shows an entry-- Religion! 'Skip it', I say but she writes 'Spirituality' and moves to the next one.

A story on the web--A nurse enquires with an elderly gentleman:'Religion?'. He says, 'Deals direct'.

My car breaks down and shows no sign of recovering, even after repeated cajoling. A friend says,'Take mine, no problem.' I thank him but he insists. Wondering if I would've lent him my car in a similar situation, I accept and drive back in his brand new vehicle.

We worry about how our son will cope up in our absence. Archana's in hospital for a couple of days, I've to run around and there's no option but to leave our toddler in my parent's care. Will he eat properly? Can they console him if he starts wailing? Will he sleep soundly? I call back every hour and Mom says, 'He's playing. Don't worry'. When I get back home I enquire. No, he had hardly noticed our absence and was blissfully enjoying the play and the company of other familiar faces around. 'Children are super-flexible and adaptable', says Ran prieur. No, he's super-detached, the way I hallucinate I am.

Reading 'Conversations with God'. 'Sit alone and talk to God. He'll respond and you'll notice', said Guruji once. Looking at the evening sky, I ask,'God, where are you? How can I talk to you and how do I know that it's your voice?' I wait, for a response, for a voice that is distinctly different from the usual chatter that goes on within. Out of nowhere there's an unusual clarity, a strange expansion. Before I can go deep into it, feel it, know it, experience it and come back transformed, I shrink back to the inner chatter, to the daydreams. And never think of attempting it again until now.................Why?

Standing naked in broad daylight. And those you know, you respect and you love are walking around, watching you. How does that feel?......This is the recurring theme of my dreams these days.

Why do I write? For what purpose? Maybe to get clarity within, to put my thoughts down and observe them for what they are. Maybe to understand my inner world. And something strange happens at times, when I pickup a pen and start scribbling, or begin typing. Strange connections form and new ideas start flowing--ideas that I never intended to put down in writing. After I finish writing I wonder at what has been written. They may not be earth shattering profound ideas, just simple truths, unusual perspectives, a fresh angle on an everyday issue. Was it me who penned these down? Or did these ideas find an outlet through me?

The magic of writing never ceases to amaze me. I'm glad I discovered it early and have used it to make sense of my world. And I hope this joy, this wonder never leaves me.

I want to stand alone, on my own conviction and do things by myself. A kind of non-cooperation, a kind of solitary heroism, a subtle arrogance...and soon life comes round and whacks! Situations arise where I need the other, where I have to bend down and ask, seek. Once these get over, I return to my prideful self until life reminds me yet again....Be humble, be a part of the whole, be one with everyone...!

One moment of madness is enough to destroy everything. Just one slip and I'm finished. And there were so many of those moments! What saved me? How did I remain sane?

Maybe I'm mistaken.... that's how life flows--unbothered about how we label the events....Not caring if I become a saint or end up a sinner. Who cares, anyway!

Thousand words

Down to earth

'Hold your left thumb between your fingers,' Ravi says.'Then squeeze it gently on an inhalation and release it while you exhale. Do it for five minutes and your headache will vanish.'

I'm desperate for any advice that removes this damn throb in the head. There's a long drive of 30 odd kilometers to be done and I don't know how I'll navigate the dusty, hot evening with this headache and drowsiness. Holding my thumb, I inhale and exhale, slowly. The nerves relax or it appears so. Before I start the car, I repeat the exercise for another 5 minutes. Feels better. I start off.

I've slept for most of the day, unable to tolerate the headache. I've skipped meditations, listened half-heartedly when friends were busy discussing, didn't smile even for courtesy when another friend joked---all my attention was captured by a silly throb in my temples. Maybe it's the body's way of drawing attention--'hello there, I've been here all along and you've bloody wandered off. Come back, a**h*le....'

After an hour and half of valiant effort, I reach home. Archana pours coconut oil on my scalp and pats rythemically. It's heaven! Slowly the pain subsides. Admonishes! 'Did you eat anything in the morning? I've told you not to drive on any empty stomach....' I reply something, all along watching my son play with his toys. His hair's grown and touches his shoulders--like that of the princes in ancient mythological tales.'Are you a prince?' and he nods. An hour later, after a hot bath, I'm back to normal.

'You are a body first.' The guy behind the mirror tells me. No, I tell him. I'm light, a spark of light, incarnated in this body. The body disintegrates, and with that, all that's associated with this body also goes off. This is temporary. I've been in millions of these bodies and one day, I'll leave this behind too. I'm pure consciousness..

'But first and foremost, you're physical. Ignore that and I'll screw you...' he mocks.

I ponder, a bit deeply, for sometime. I want to argue but decide against it. Maybe he has a point, maybe I need to pay attention. Take care of the body first. Be healthy to the point of becoming free of any physical concerns. Have that lightness in your body. That spring in your steps. Let the body be a tool, not a barrier, for your purpose whatever that might be.

The kid's fumbling with his shoes and making noises. He wants to go out and play with other children of the locality. 'Take him out, I'm tired,' she collapses on the chair, book in hand. The boy runs out and I follow him.