Once upon a blog

  ...it's the tenth year of my blogging. I'd almost forgotten that there's this tiny corner on the internet where I used to regularly take a 'walk in the drizzle', scribbling down thoughts as they occured, and also penned an occasional thought-out piece. And in the process, made a bunch of friends across the globe, some of whom I still follow elsewhere(ash, nick, val, jen). Can't believe the march of time.

Yea...I'm guilty of abandoning my lovely blog home, and spending extra time in the more vibrant(?) and more visited fb apartment. I meet more people on FB, get to socialize(??) more over there, receive instant feedback and can get into easy conversations---my pride gets a beautiful massage over there than in my shy blog palace. Add a bit of natural laziness...the home accumulates cobwebs and dust.

But think of the pre-facebook years--blogs were the place where the online socializing happened, at least for me. Not just recording life as it happened....but also checking out a wide variety of other blog homes regularly. Commenting back and forth, sometimes furiously. Writing memes and tagging friends. Picking up a idea from another blog and writing an elaborate post on it. Checkout the blogroll to see the latest update on our favorite blogs(much like the fb notifications). In short, blogs were the social media before twitter/fb.(They still are, for many).

If Facebook is the casual 'hi' on the way to the park, Blogs are the leisurely conversations on the park benches. FB is the pulpit for expressing opinions whereas the blog is my autobiography, a sketch and record of the past ten years of my life--the events, the view-point changes, the stories told and 'not-told'. Posts I read again to reminisce on an event long forgotten. Wondering at times why I wrote this, or why I didn't write that. Follow the comment link to another blog to see where they are in the stream of life.

Then it occurs...does it all matter? What you write, don't write, express, comment, argue, fight, put aside so much time and energy scribbling....does it matter, to anyone or yourself? As someone noted...'My writings and art -- paper boats in the raging river of time'. Will the world be poorer if I don't scribble my life down? Or do I add anything of value with my carefully crafted reflections on the events of my life?

Not just what we create, but we ourselves are paper boats in the raging river of time! So while being tossed by the rapid currents, if I have taken a while to make some small boats and set them afloat, enjoying their brief dance, I guess it's worth it---if not for anyone else, at least for myself. Guess I need to create more such blog boats and set them sail, just for the sheer pleasure of watching them skirt the currents.

Nalini Teacher...

 His name is Shakir. Mir Shakir Ali Khan! He stands first in the class, in every test, every exam. Totally studious. Gentle. Softspoken. Toast of the class. Pet of the teachers. Everyone wants to be his best friend. He's a bit weak, physically. Emotionally too. His dad has passed away and even a small reminder of that fact is enough to drive him to tears. A gentle 10 year old kid.

 Then there's this girl. Sumathi, if I correctly remember. She sits in the last bench along with a few other rowdy girls. A bit plump. Fair. Slightly loud mouthed. Good in sports, good in fights. Kinda opposite to shakir in every way.

One evening someone whispers a secret and we wait for the classes to get over, unable to control our glee. Then we hurry to the last bench, to the place where Sumathi sits and look under the wooden seat. There it is! A small pencil scrawl on the rough wood. 'Shakir, I love you'.

 Whoa! Its an absolute scandal and we are over the moon, gossipping, discussing, analysing, guffawing a lot amidst all this. Suddenly we spot her, Nalini teacher! We run to her almost screaming 'teacher, teacher, teacher'.....'Sumathi has written something under her desk'.... Nalini teacher has a slight smile. 'Teacher teacher, she has written, 'Shakir, I love you', and the small group starts laughing. She has an understanding smile as she says, 'Ok, I'll look into it, now you all go home'.

 The next day is judgement day and we want justice to be done! See sumathi punished for daring to cast her eye on our boy. Love!! At this age!! We wait for Nalini teacher and once she enters the class, our group is around her. She has an amused look observing our excitement. 'Nothing is there,' she says. 'No teacher,' we are horrified. Someone runs to the last bench and peers under the seat. The love signature is gone, neatly erased!!! 'But teacher,' I protest, 'it was there, I saw it with my own eyes. 'Shakir, I love you'. And it was sumathi's handwriting. She only wrote it and now she has erased it.'

 Nalini teacher just waves us off, gently. 'Its ok, you must have seen something else. I'll look into it. Now get back to your seats,' she says. We return in disappointment, our small adventure fizzling out before taking off. The whole class seems to have got wind of the issue but its soon forgotten. There are a thousand other things in the world of 10 year old kids.

What keeps this small memory fresh is the way Nalini teacher handled it. Not punishing the 'offender'. Not admonishing the 'adventurers'. Just understanding the curiosity, excitement and inquisitiveness of kids on the threshold of adolscence and being gentle about it. There were other teachers and pt masters who would have taken the same situation and created a huge mess out if it. But she was different.

 She taught social studies, just for less than a year before she was transferred out. But how the class loved her! How carefree we were when she was around. There's one lovely incident where, with any other teacher, I would have been skinned alive and scarred for life. A small assignment which we had to do at home, and I had faithfully flunked it. Nalini teacher picked me up and asked, 'Have you done the assignment?'. 'Yes, teacher,' I say, full of confidence. 'Ok, open your book and read it'. I open my homework book, and my hands begin to shiver. I open an empty page, and start saying something ....totally from memory. My voice is shaking and is on the verge of choking, fearing that I'll be found out. 'MN, stop for a while,' she says. 'Are you really reading from your homework book?'. 'Yes teacher,' (bloody guts!). 'Are you sure,' she has a smile, 'because, I feel that you are reciting from memory and not from the book'. I should have shut up and admitted, but being the reckless guy i was I stand my ground. 'No teacher, it is here in the book, see if you want', I hold the book towards her, covering the empty pages. She looks at me for a few moments. 'It's ok, sit down,' she says, before she moves to another student.

The whole class knows that I've made an ass of myself, and Nalini teacher saved me from further embarrassment. Did I dare do that mistake again? Hell no! Did I learn a lesson for my lifetime? Absolutely. It looked like any other incident then, but when I look back now, I sit back in wonderment at the way she took care of my budding self-esteem and ensured that I wasn't traumatised--just with a small gesture. And such gestures were a part of her daily interactions with everyone in the class, in other classes.

 When she left, there was probably nobody who didn't bid her farewell with a heavy heart. 'Write down something about me on a piece of paper', she told us on the last day. 'Anything...good or bad, what you liked in me, what you didn't like, whatever. And don't write your name, so that I'll not come to know who it is if you have written something bad about me.' We all faithfully scrawled our anguish and sorrow at having to see her go away, expressing our love and admiration for this gentle lady.

There have been many teachers since, but this lady....she remains in memory as one of the first persons I came across who had this very sublime, very unique and rare quality---'to influence and inspire others just by her presence, nothing else'. Somewhat similar to Him.

The Three Mothers

(Couldn’t help translating this small piece from the book, ‘Mahanagara’ by Jogi. Call it a tribute to Motherhood or Womanhood, but for me, it’s nothing but lovely crispy writing, the kind I love to read and write myself)

That boy wasn't into studies but would watch his friends go to the ashrams, learn Vedas from the sages, and he too wanted to learn it all. So he goes to Gautama Rishi’s ashram. Gautama asks for his ‘gothra’. Not knowing his lineage, the boy comes back to his mother and asks ‘What’s my gothra?’

His mother says, ‘See, I was working as a maid in many houses and got pregnant in that period. So I don’t know exactly who your father is. Tell this to your guru.’

He goes and tells this to Gautama. While the other disciples laugh at him and taunt, the Guru appreciates his truthfulness and his mother’s frankness and names him as ‘Satya-kama’---a lover of truth. ‘You’re the son of Jaabaala, so you’re ‘Jaabaali’,’ he says. A Rishi is thus born in the name of his mother.

The nurturing mother, Jaabaala. She teaches her son to be truthful, and win over the World through this truthfulness. He becomes known by his mother’s name and she in turn, becomes famous through him. She is the one who nurtures.

Then, the second mother, Kunthi. She becomes a mother before marriage. And sets her son sail in the Ganges, fearing the Truth! Her son, Karna, becomes a benevolent giver. And places a higher value on his friendship than on the love towards his mother. The baby floating down the Ganges is picked up by a charioteer, and now grown up, Karna realises the truth of his birth. That truth doesn’t trouble him, nor does it make him pity his own condition. He doesn’t crave for his mother. Thus, she becomes the mother who makes her son transcend her necessity, who sets her child free from her bondage. If Karna had stayed with his mother he too would perhaps have lusted for power? But away from her, he never craved anything at anytime. He learnt to give not receive. He stayed with Duryodhana but never became like him. Such a life, he received from his Mother. Kunthi abandoned him and nurtured his greatness.

Jaabala is the Mother who nurtured and Kunthi is the Mother who abandoned. The third Mother is the one who destroys. The Mother of the Universe who also becomes the one who butchers mercilessly. A demon asks a boon that nobody but his mother should kill him. He’s sure that a mother will never kill. With that boon he unleashes havoc and suffering. Lord Krishna tries to kill him but fails. Then his wife, Satyabhaama, who’s born from an amsha of the Mother Goddess kills the demon. That Demon was Narakasura. When his troubles cross limits, the mother of the Universe arrives in some form to swallow him. To destroy is also a part of the Mother’s responsibility. Nurture, Abandon, Destroy—she knows all.
....
These three mothers, their strange stories—filled with pride, fortitude and fearlessness...and our puranas have various dimensions of this mother-son bonding. Just as you have a mother who killed her son, we also see a son who killed his mother. He is Parashurama. On the orders of his father, he cuts his mother down. Then when his pleased father confers a boon, he asks for the revival of his mother. He gives birth to his mother again. Now, is he a son to his mother, or is he a mother who birthed her again?

In the land of chaos...

I am standing in a familiar place--a place with a sense of mild terror and impending chaos. This place, I know well enough because it used to be a constant reality for years together, almost a decade ago. I would think that this place has no exit, every door leading out would somehow lead back in, and I was resigned to staying here forever.

Yes, I had a wise and benign old man's guidance back then. But that never mitigated the anxiety even one bit. What took me out of that place of hopeless suffocation still remains a mystery. Maybe I'm banking on that mystery to bail me out this time round as well.

Sometimes you think you're all too powerful and in total control of the events and happenings in your life. And at times you feel, you don't have the strength to even move an inch, turn a finger or lift an eyelid. You could be right, but you could also be totally wrong both the times. When you think everything's in perfect control, something starts sliding down somewhere and your house of cards collapses. And when you think nothing's working, things start moving on their own. Rationality is a mess. I saw it happening twice when I was searching for a job--and something more than a job through the job-search.

I struggled for nearly 2 years, trying to break through one interview after another but in vain. I was in close proximity of clinching the deal but nope, something would crash. Then when I least expected it, there was a call, I walk in, get asked the right questions for which I have the perfect, confident answers, and in 2  hours I'm out, with a lovely offer letter in hand! Deliciously magical.

Giving up the struggle against invisible forces, I wait for the magic to strike again. I know it's a fantasy, but when the mystery arrives, I want to catch its tail and follow it...and see where it came from and where it returns to.

like....moving through a portal

 Suddenly I realise that, at the moment, I'm moving from one phase to another. I could've missed this realisation.

 And you look deeper and know that there are phases all over your life. Something ends. Something begins. It could be career changes. A shift from one house to another, one city to another. Moving out of school, out of college. Changing jobs. Ending friendships. Forging bonds. Building and starting something new.

 It's easy to feel sad and nostalgic for what you're leaving behind but I think one can say goodbye with immense gratitude and happiness. Give thanks for all the nourishment, growth, love, joy and lessons that the phase gave you. And let go before you move on to the new. Without bitterness or heaviness. Without emotional entanglements.

A new lesson learnt. Move through, without melancholy, with great Joy.

Let the River be...

 'I'm sorry eeshu....I scolded you the other day'

  'It's ok, dad. Forget it.'

 'No....I shouldn't have gotten angry at you. I feel bad.'

 'Then dad...Let's do one thing...let's sit in a time-travel ship, go back to that day, and make corrections there. Ok?'

This small glimpse...

I'm zooming back home on my two-wheeler...and the evening sky overhead is full of ripe clouds, threatening to burst any moment. Four in the evening and it looks like seven...a few drops begin to putter down. I'm dead tired and exhausted, wanting to reach home and collapse...and not get drenched without my rain-coat nor wait out somewhere if it starts raining. I look up at the clouds and send a silent request... 'Pls hold on for ten mins if you can, I'll reach home, pls'. And revv up the accelerator.

The drizzle begins slowly but I zoom through and soon enough I reach home. The moment I get in and park my two-wheeler, the skies open up and the torrents of water come gushing down!!! A lovely blast of rains for the next hour...thick sheets of water from the skies to the Earth. And there's only one thought in me....that small desperate prayer sent up....and the dark heavy pregnant clouds sprinkling a few drops for a while...and then bursting once I reach home!!! Coincidence????? My heart screams....'No! damn it...you were heard! They waited out for you!' And for the rest of the evening, I'm smiling in gleeful excitement, pushing back all rationalizations.

The next day I'm ambling in the morning park. The Sun is yet to rise and the whole place is one lovely green paradise, fresh from last nights rains. I turn a pathway and walk towards a cluster of trees. One tree stands spreading out its wonderful shade across a wide area...and I just look up at the branches....and a lovely breeze blows and the whole tree sways, its leaves murmuring. As if its saying 'hello, good morning!'. I walk ahead and there's another tree...and as I near it, the breeze comes again, and that tree too sways its leaves. Now, I'm curious....and I turn a pathway and walk to another tall tree which is a silent spectator. No shaking, no breeze and I smile up at the lovely giant. And suddenly the leaves begin to murmur and start swaying as a breeze blows in!!!

 I can't describe the bursts of joy I've been experiencing since this small conversation happened with Mother Nature...my very first to and fro! It's as if a small window has opened on my wall and I'm looking out into an entirely new world...a fascinating enchanting world, nothing like what I've seen and known until now. All of a sudden I'm a kid on the beach who has been struggling with the sand castle for a long time...and in an instant, the castle stands out perfect and I gaze at it, all dirty and soiled, beaming with pride at this very small accomplishment.

Yes...i know, all of this could be a beautiful coincidence. And if it ain't a coincidence ...and there's an other worldly explanation, these two experiences are pretty simple--not Earth Shattering! Nothing compared to the gigantic experiences and awakenings of many other lovely Souls. Yet....

....the unabashed joy and glee that's still inside me since this happened....these are my pointers. To what...I don't know. It's just beautiful.

That suffocating air at Ballal

One summer evening I’m having dinner with a friend at a restaurant. We are done with the starters and are waiting for the main course. My friend is about to launch his website...a small but ambitious project, and we are discussing the details, in between gossiping about all and sundry. A lovely evening, nice food, great ambiance...the gods are smiling...and suddenly, three people walk in through the door and slowly walk towards us.

I wish I could capture that moment of terror accurately in words, but it’s impossible, however much I try. A lot of background story is needed to explain ‘that moment’ and also bring out all the emotions that ran their course there. And it’s such a funny and hilarious situation, yet, at that moment, we were almost shitting in our pants, imagining a whole lot of possibilities.

The people who walked in were not mafia dons or police officers. In fact, one of them, an elderly man in whites, was one of the gentlest people I’ve ever known. And the two others with him were elderly people in their fifties...husband and wife. Regular people, posing zero threat or danger to anyone! They sat at a table near us and ordered their evening snacks.

To paraphrase...let’s say...the elderly man is a team leader...and my friend was recently ‘sent out’ of the team, and I’m a bloke who is still very much in the team. Now here I am, enjoying an evening meal with that ‘outcast(?)’ friend...and my boss walks in and sits a few tables from us...and looks around casually, with a sweeping gaze. For all his gentleness, the boss commands such respect and awe in the team that one gesture from him can throw you out...or can make the other team members completely shun you!!! And you’re someone who has recently committed oneself, emotionally and otherwise, to a dedicated stint in that team.

To say that the air suffocated that evening is an understatement. I don’t remember what we ate for the main course that day.

We waited for a while, expecting them to finish their food and leave so that we didn’t have to encounter them on our way out...but they looked totally relaxed...kinda settled down in their chairs for the rest of the evening. After some deliberations, we got up and walked casually towards the door...and, out of obligating, greeted the trio at their tables. Everyone smiled and greeted one another, spoke gentle words....full of fake social gestures while carrying exactly opposite thoughts and emotions within. The lady....she was authentic...perhaps truly spiritual. She turned her face away grumpily without acknowledging our presence and we walked out, feeling like we had just walked out of a lion’s den, alive!

Two weeks later I tell this to archana...and she’s horrified. ‘Why the eff did you go to that restaurant...out of all the thousand eateries in Bangalore, when you know that He loves that place. Now...apply oil on your body and wait. You will be called and skinned alive in a meeting’

That skinning alive never happened, although a very milder version was attempted some months back, for a related reason. And the terror, absurdity and hilariousness of that evening ...they still remain fresh--- and will probably stay etched in memory along with all the beautiful moments that were spent with Him. 

A year gone by...a year to commence

There’s a small church next to my house which witnesses simple gatherings every now and then. Christmas and good Fridays get crowded when quite a number of believers gather and create a fair bit of ruckus. Some weeks ago on the night of Christmas eve there were a few volunteers working together, making fun and gently pulling legs, cleaning the place, decorating and preparing the place for the next day. Their laughter and joy, the camaraderie....it brought back gentle memories of a bygone era, of friends, of moments which had a unique flavour!

2013 has been particularly cold...and unusually warm too...metaphorically. A good deal of chilled aloofness came my way; and as if to compensate it, there was a rush of love and affection. Old friends reunited through facebook and some existing friends stepped away. I took a couple of leaps, was cracked open at times, surprised myself....and before I start romanticising about it all, I realise that these things keep happening, year after year, with almost anyone. But hell, wasn't this year a terrific roller-coaster ride with some paradigm shifting perceptions! And I’m noticing the changes so keenly, only now!

I hardly blogged in 2013. Kinda more active on facebook where the response is immediate and the conversations are terrific (and terrible too!). On my blog, a few posts here and there were more like article imitations. By definition, a blog is a chronicle of your life-- your day to day life, your thoughts and ideas, the events that touch you, which you consider worth writing about. It’s your diary which you share with the world. So it's been a while since I blogged....or faithfully jotted down my perceptions and experiences, ‘as they were’, without decorating them with explanations.

I wanna change that in this year. Wanna flow out, uninhibitedly, through words. This year, I sense, will be magical in many ways. I want to look beyond the veils... encounter the present moment totally....touch the mystical. Maybe I’ve already touched it, but am bloody unaware of it here... ‘am a donkey’, as someone self-reflected. I want to connect to the miraculous and get ‘switched on’. Literally!

Straight from the Gut...

 The continuous lashing of rains...the hissing sound...I just love it. Closing my eyes, I listen to the various textures and rhythms of rainfall, as late monsoons drizzle over my city at night. Then I realize---the sound and music of rains was humming in the background all along, only I wasn’t paying attention. I was lost somewhere inside my head. Now I listen, and the rains come alive.

 Something may exist or may not, it doesn’t matter. Only when my attention rests on it does it become alive for me.

***

You and I are living in a post apocalyptic world. The apocalypse was supposed to happen on 21^st Dec, 2012. And 2013 onwards, either it would be a desolate Earth or an enlightened world that we would inhabit. We should have been living in Light bodies by now!

Nothing dramatic has happened! Or has it? The Planet chugs on its tracks in space, as usual. Early morning brings the milk vendor to my doorstep. Similar events, people and situations cross my awareness through the day. Tiredness envelops me as I embrace the night.

This wasn’t what we had signed up for! What enthusiasm, hopes and dreams we had about the spectacle of 2012, for nearly 3 odd years! And how passionately we believed in all that drama! What an utter flop of imagination!

I wanna believe in mystery and magic again. I want to encounter the miraculous. Not the mundane ordinary everyday world, but something transcendental! Something sublime! Don’t want this slow transformation....want a quantum leap...a total paradigm shift...a sudden makeover into an entirely new world!

***

‘You were on a runway for 3 years,’ I told Karthik. ‘Now you are taking off!’.

 Yes, Karthik’s small dream took off, with a workshop. Three years ago, he started Vishwa Amara and began putting some wonderful knowledge online, through articles and two ebooks. There were students receiving spiritual guidance too. It was low key, kinda gathering strength, maybe.

Now he has stepped out. Conducted a meditation workshop, thrown open to any spiritual enthusiast. There were three dozen attendees. Some fantastic and new techniques to practice. A small event on a lazy Sunday afternoon, in a relatively unknown corner of Bangalore.

No...not a small event !!! This is a take off point. It carries huge potential. Like a stream which will eventually become a raging river, Vishwa Amara is now at a phase where it can become the focal point of spiritual seekers, all over the world! They have the knowledge, techniques and Spiritual contacts. They have the credibility, built up and nurtured over years. They are absolutely dedicated to their work. And...they are fantastically capable of guiding people spiritually!

Years later...this small workshop will be remembered as the point where Vishwa Amara opened up. I’m mighty happy for these two friends of mine, for the opportunities that stretch before them. And yes.... a bit concerned of the pitfalls that come with great work, great responsibilities and recognition. The pitfall that ate up someone who walked this path earlier.

If they don’t pay attention...it will eat them too!

***

How do you feel when you are at the receiving end of intense love? Tremendous passion...something like a single minded madness, but totally pure, totally sublime. Do you think... ‘Wow, what a gift from the Universe?’ Or do you think, ‘Do I deserve this? Can I take it?’

I feel both. And I also feel.... is it possible to offer such an intense, pure, passionate Love...to another human being? And if it’s possible...what a pristine pure heart it must be, which offers such love!

***

I still can’t believe that he is no more! Some people trust totally that he’s still around, guiding them---but for me, he is dead and gone. Like anyone else. It’s difficult to digest the fact that someone like him can be vanquished and taken away by Death!

At one stage, we were in awe of him, in total worship mode. Then as we understood his work, the awe turned to respect and reverence. I wanted to be like him, develop his strength, develop his capabilities at handling difficult situations, become expansive the way he was, carry the love and compassion that he had....

Then...he disappointed! Mightily. Like a very interesting movie which falters post interval and ends up in a stupid climax! You come out of the hall, weary eyed, with a bitter taste in your mouth, undecided whether you enjoyed the first half or wasted your day. You love someone, and that person flops, makes a fool of himself, contradicts himself---and you squirm, wondering, ‘what...’. You feel betrayed for placing your love, trust and emotions in that person. Think sachin tendulkar who gets clean bowled at the death overs, after painstakingly building a great innings...!

 People have very fond memories of him—memories filled with love, reverence and gratitude. I too have such memories, but they get clouded by something else. I try to remember his smiling, laughing, loving face....and his angry, stern face comes up. I think of the solid base he built up, the fantastic structures he raised...and they stand before me as empty, hollow, lifeless edifices Now. The diamonds he had gathered around him, those who had great capabilities, dedication and pure love for his work---I try to remember them. But the only faces I remember are that of the sycophants and devotees...who never questioned, who considered a kick-on-your-ass as a divine test, who had a boss-is-always-right attitude.

Then it strikes.... it’s a ‘last impression’ syndrome, about which I wrote earlier.

His Soul is resting in peace, I’m sure. Maybe he’s smiling, from wherever he is, at this drama, at the way he continues to affect people in various ways long after his departure. The drama has ended for him, but we are still stuck in it. And enjoying it, a bit!!!