Bliss & Peace!

It is said that once, during his childhood, Sri Ramakrishna saw some pure white cranes flying across the dark grey clouds on a winter evening and fell into a state of divine trance. Though I can come nowhere near the shadow of that Supreme Being, I felt my own fair share of that divine bliss this morning. Going for a walk on the seashore, I crossed the spot where hundreds of pigeons and crows converge every morning. They eat the peanuts and grains offered by the visitors to the beach. This morning too they were there.

Image Source - Google

While walking in a contemplative mood, I saw them take off at once, fluttered by some noise. It wasn't one bird or even ten birds. There were hundreds of birds in the air, at once! There could have been even a thousand or two of them. Just as I was watching them, they took flight simultaneously, dotting the sky above the Bay of Bengal. The Sun had hardly come out, and was swarmed by the grey clouds, like a celebrity surrounded by people while emerging out of the residence. With that mixed hue of orange, grey and other such shades one can expect to see in the dawning sky, the birds mingled in their dark, silhouetted forms. It was like the sky trying to put up an entirely different show now - from being the dark expanse filled with shining stars, to the bright - well, almost - sky dotted with dark forms. The contrast and the bliss I felt were beyond words!

It was then that something clicked open, deep inside me. Then I realised this - we are all conceived and born in a deep state of bliss and peace. And, we are all entitled to feel and be in that state forever. Letting all the transient emotions and ephemeral experiences have their effect on us and dull that state of bliss and peace is like committing an injustice against ourselves. Anything that hinders that state of pure peace and pristine bliss is to be either seen for what it is and transformed to the right state or needs to be trimmed out of our minds. Clinging on to the pain and crying always is like hugging a cactus, not letting go, while still complaining about the pricking thorns.

But then, I also realised that the trick is not about mere 'realisations', but about having timely reminders. It is possible to let these positive realisations sidelined by the chaos of our daily lives. Traffic snarls, workplace confrontations, arguments with friends that turn ugly, silly spats with the dear ones in family, hidden pains, bitter memories of the past, fears about the future, the loneliness of our lives, the occasional feeling of vacuum inside our minds - all these and more can form like soot on our soul and make us forget the lessons and come down from that divine state of bliss. The trick then is not about mere realisations but about setting constant reminders.

There are many ways to remind ourselves of the divine bliss and peace that is always around us. Gratitude is one of them. Love is another. Keeping a permanent smile on the face is one other trick. Each and every one of us have tools and techniques that can help us heal quickly from the daily travails and get back to that supreme state of mind easily.

But, like every aspect that dominates this Universe, this realisation and reminder are also guided by that greatest boon bestowed on us - freewill. We can either choose to realise, remember and remind ourselves constantly that bliss and peace are ours and they belong to us. Or, we can simply leave such things to be the topics for sages and saints and go back to letting our mind rot in the rut of day-to-day life. The choice, purely, is ours!

Book Review – Broken Republic, Arundhati Roy

Arundhati Roy. The first time I heard this name, I was just about to exit my teens, into my second year in college, with hardly a dozen or so books in my bookshelf that had gotten me the tag of 'intellect' amidst my relatives. That was the time when she had won Booker prize for her novel 'The God of Small Things'. I heard her name and about the award in the news and promptly forgot about it soon, considering novels and works of contemporary - read, those who are alive - authors to be ‘too ordinary’ for someone like me to read.

Now, my ego and so-called 'intellect' set aside, I grew up hearing about her once in a blue-moon while. Sometime about her new work, sometime about her involvement with the Maoist organisation, some other time in the form of a review that I didn't deign to read, about 'The God of Small Things'. She was always pushing herself into my life in one way or the other. On one occasion so very clearly remembered, I picked up a hardbound copy of her book 'Walking With The Comrades' at Landmark, only to drop it to fetch another book by Paulo Coelho. I had a shoestring budget for books at that time and one book per month was all that I could afford, you see.

Nevertheless, her foray into my attention continued in the form of her criticism of Anna Hazare, then her recent stupid criticism of Gandhi - I wonder why it has become a fashion in this country for the so-called intellectuals to attack Gandhi always, but I digress - and finally, my viewing the Tamizh translation of her book 'Broken Republic', in one of the book shows in my hometown. And, as if the Universe conspired to make me read her works, the book 'Broken Republic' came up first in the suggestions thrown up by Amazon.in recently. And, that was the last straw that made the camel order the book!

Once in a while you get to read a book that radically alters your whole perceptions about life and the way it is to be lived. Trust me. This book is one such. The book opens with events that will make you remember the Telugu movies of the 70’s and 80’s, which dealt with rebel topics of land reformation, oppressive landlords and revolutionary, vigilante heroes. But hardly a few more lines into the book and you realize that Arundhati means business – or, is it anti-business? She rips away the veil of pride about the country from before your eyes. She launches into a scathing attack about some of the biggest business conglomerates in the country, and some from out of its borders too.

This book is divided into four sections. Or, to be precise, four of her essays come together to make up this book. The first chapter, ‘Mr.Chidambaram’s War’ attacks the ex-Finance-Minister-and-then-the-Home-minister of this country, P.Chidambaram, for his faulty policies, hypocritical standards of having been the evangelist for the greedy corporate in the past only to don the cloak of a nationalist now. She also exposes how the Operation Green Hunt is a veil to snatch the lands and livelihood from the sons of this soil, the tribals and small farmers, only to redistribute eit to the corporate behemoths in the name of ‘public purpose’. She also laments how the environmental impact of such actions is cared for little or no way by the indifferent Indian government.

The second chapter ‘Walking With The Comrades’ provides an inside view into the lives of those branded as ‘Maoists’ and hunted down by police, paramilitary and mercenaries alike. She spends a few days with them and as one of them, walking with them, talking to them, living with them, listening to their grievances and listing down their troubles. She explores how the ‘Red Corridor’ – Dandakaranya, the area between Chattisgarh, Orissa, Andhrapradesh – is not actually suffering from Maoist presence, but by the presence of money-minting mining/infrastructure companies.

The third chapter ‘Trickledown Revolution’ deals with the displacement of poor and platform dwellers all over the country, for causes ranging from Commonwealth Games to corporate deals. It deals once again about the displacement of people due to the MoUs signed by the government with mining/infrastructure/construction companies. She spares none – neither the favorite punching bags of the previous regime – Sonia, Manmohan and Rahul – nor the current poster-boy of Indian politics, Shrimaan Narendra Modi. For once she shows some sanity, weighing not only the demands of Maoists, but their misdeeds as well. She contemplates as to how fit an alternative for the current system they will be and also whether their ideal, almost-utopian ideologies can really be implemented, in case if they ever assume power.

The fourth and final chapter ‘Capitalism: A Ghost Story’, starts by mocking Mr.Mukesh Ambani, whose obscenely ostentatious house (?) Antilla sticks out of the Mumbai skyline like a sore thumb. She goes on to talk about the corporate intervention into our lives and how we are being made to live and believe lies. Though this chapter sounds like the quintessential paranoid propaganda of the Left, you don’t feel it that way when she starts stacking proofs about how the big companies have started wielding clout in the media, art and literature by acquiring huge stakes in them. Also, the typical accusations about how the American CIA, charitable foundations with surreptitious motives and the weapon-makers have infiltrated many countries in multifarious forms.

Every page, every sentence and every word in this book smells of the so-called Leftist ideology, but dwell deep and you will realize that she is speaking about the real issues that stare us on our faces. While we sit at our drawing rooms, keep going on with our ‘contented’ lives of watching TV news and passing opinions about every unworthy event surrounding actresses’ cleavage and abdominal abomination of the celluloid hero dummies, there is one part of the country that goes to sleep in hungry stomachs and uncertainty about waking up the next day. This book will make you think whether the lives that we are living are real and worthy. Those who complain about their lives will start seeing the blessings in theirs. This will shake you out of your society-induced soft slumber.

And, when the book ends, your pride about this country’s economic achievements will stand deflated!