A Winter Dawn's Learning

From the moment I started breaking into a run to the sound of Enrique crooning into my ears to the time when I eased into my destination after a hearty run, the Sun had changed into so many colors. From the ravishing robe of red to the glowing garb of orange, he tried so many hues of both colors, before finally settling for a majestic golden garment.

As I was indulging in the sight of yet another glorious sunrise, something came as a realization within me. How similar the daily sojourn of this Sun is to our lives!

Just imagine - the Sun's birth (sunrise) and his demise (sunset) are both events attracting a lot of attention, as anyone in love with Nature would vouch for. All that glory and colors of a Sunrise, akin to all that happiness and joy that abounds in a family at the arrival of a baby. And, all the gloom and darkness that engulfs the world at the sunset, no matter how ethereal a sight it turns out to be. Just the same way, the pain and sadness that afflicts a family at the death of a dear one, no matter how great or glorious the life had been.

What happens in the intervening period, between birth and death, then? We take the Sun for granted, just as we take our dear ones for granted. We complain about the heat, we don't appreciate the fact of the Sun being the source of all life and energy on our planet, and we don't care to acknowledge or even notice the presence of the Sun. Isn't that what we do with our dear ones too - taking them for granted, fighting over petty stuff, forgetting that the love we share is all that matters in the end, no matter what we own, what we wear and which earthly positions we occupy?

The Sun is the ultimate source of energy and life on our planet. The much ridiculed and oppressed pagans knew it. Modern science has given us the facts that affirm the pagans' belief. Similarly, the people in our lives are the source of our energy and happiness. Let's treat them with the respect, love and care that they deserve, instead of waiting for the 'Sunset' to realize and acknowledge the importance.

Also, not everyone gets to see the glory of the sunrise, but most of us get to partake in the beauty of the sunset. In the same way, not all our births are known or celebrated well. Let's ensure that when we 'set', we set in glorious grandeur! <3

Appreciation and the Price of Tender-Coconuts

This being the last week of current year and the first week of the new year, I decided to spend it by conveying gratitude to all the people in my life and around it. One of the ways in which I wanted to do that is by expressing appreciation of a genuine kind. (After all, aren't we all capable of differentiating between an open-hearted appreciation and an insincere flattery?)

I started it this morning with the old woman selling tender-coconut near my residence. After the morning's intense workout I stopped to have some coconut water as usual. After the drink, I told her that the water tasted really good - it was indeed - and the quantity was also more than sufficient. She felt happy and told me about how they buy the coconuts from the farmers directly and don't involve any middlemen. Moreover, she took only Rs.35 instead of Rs.40 that  she normally charges.

If a simple and honest appreciation like this can make somebody happy to the extent of foregoing the profit, just imagine how many problems can it solve! How many people will give up their mindless pursuits of wealth, fame and senseless status symbols?! How nice a place our world will be, if we start telling people about what is really good about them - in a honest way?! 

May be, as I once wrote in my journal, we should become stingy with our criticisms and complaints, and become more generous with our compliments and encouragements!<3

Book Review – The Mistress of Spices, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

There is this very important thing about performing magic. Unless you have a deep grasp of your magic and pronounce the runes properly, the magic will not work. What is worse, it might backfire and the invoked spirit might even end up killing you. This very thing seems to have happened to Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni in writing this book. Her writing magic, if I could call it so, has backfired and, Goodness, it has done so very badly.

The first book of this author that I had read was ‘The Palace of Illusions’, a book on the famed Mahabharata character of Panchali, closely resembling the renowned work of Irawati Karve, ‘Yuganta’. She had done a pretty decent job there, having already got the blueprint for Panchali’s emotions laid out before her by Vyasa. But this work is something that she can claim to be entirely her own. So, I was expecting to see her real potential excel in here. And, I have been disappointed badly.

First, the plot. The very idea oozes with magic. The spices - yes, the ones that you see in your kitchen every day and which you use for adding taste and health to your food – are all having magical powers. Medical characters we have all known of, but magical? I felt a lot of promise there. Now, the spices have the power to heal and help the people attain their wishes. Tilo is a young girl with the gift of psychic powers. After an ordeal she ends up on an island guarded by an old woman known as the Old One. She takes Tilo into her wings and teaches her, and many other young girls like Tilo who are already there, the power of the spices, the chants and ways to control them, along with the rules to do so. Each girl, once she learns the tricks of the trade, is despatched in an old woman’s body, to various corners of the globe to help the people there with the power of spices. They are bound to some rules – to not touch the people, to not leave the place where they are first put, and to not get personally involved into the lives of those whom they help. If they fail any of these rules, they will be destroyed by fire and recalled (!) to the island.

Our protagonist, Tilo, ends up running a spice shop in Oakland area of USA. There she, the ‘ever-rebellious’ and headstrong person that she is, manages to break all the rules one by one. How long was she there at that spice shop of hers? No clear mention. Why break all the rules now suddenly and at a short notice? Nobody knows. Then she falls in love. With an American. Why? It is because that is what the plot demands. Fine. She risks her powers and even her life to help the people to get what they want. Now, don’t start to think anything superbly spiritual or different. A poor Indian housewife, brought to US by an NRI husband to whom she got married without much of choice or desire, and who is battered and abused by him now. A girl born to NRI couple, brought up with usual traces and talks of freedom, ending up wanting to marry another immigrant from South America, thus hurting her parents. A helpless, pre-teen Sikh boy, who is abused and tormented by his classmates for being different. A Kashmiri young man, who reached US with the hopes of making good in life, now working as a taxi-driver. How Tilo helps these people is on one side. The love of Tilo for her American is on the other side. She starts breaking one rule after another to help these people and in the meanwhile to satisfy her own desires as well. Did the spices punish her for her transgression is what this book is all about.

Now, to what I felt wrong about this book. First, words. The author seems to believe that the only way to convey an emotion is to put it in as many words as possible. As a result, you start feeling bored very soon. So many words to convey even the simplest of things. Brevity is not her forte.

Next, the characters and their emotions don’t somehow seem to tug at your heart as any intense tale is supposed to. Everything seems so artificial, run-of-the-mill and boringly regular. You could have seen such tales in your TV soap operas.

Then, her love for ‘her American’. Why did she fall in love with him? Not a single reason worthy of making us feel happy for them. Her depictions of the hero, her portrayal of his behavior and even his every little acts makes you suspect that it is not love, but ordinary infatuation a young girl caught in an old woman’s body feels for an ‘American’ man oozing with machismo. This guy can do no wrong, he smells great, his dresses are great, he has won a lot in life and, of course, inevitably, he has a bitter past. He falls in love with our girl-in-old-woman’s-body, because somebody told him that ‘she is not what she appears to be’. He even kisses her passionately once, you see!

Finally, a spoiler. If you are eager to know whether the spices punish her, sorry, they don’t. They ravage most of the Oakland area through earthquake and fire, kill innocent people and destroy their property, but let go of our protagonist with just a little injury to her forehead, because you know what? She accepted her punishment in her heart. Dafuq is the word that came to my mind here.

A lot of sentimental stupidity, run-of-the-mill characterization, stereotyped depiction of US-based Indians, a senseless ending all mar such an innovative storyline. Good enough only for starry-eyed teenagers that devour adult novels in a hurry,  or housewives that eat TV-serials for breakfast-lunch-and-supper, or for those movie-makers who are looking for such NRI tales with raunchy love-making scenes to create a film out of.

A dumb ‘sop’ opera, for those with a lot of time to waste and immense patience to go with it.

Glimmers of Human Spirit

The rain that lashed Chennai on Monday evening, a worthy successor for the torrential downpour that preceded it the week before, brought the city down on its knees. The roads, ‘renowned’ as all Indian roads are, became pockmarked within hours, baring the potholes that waited buried inside, crumbling under the weight of even footsteps. Signals stopped functioning. Traffic was at a standstill, with vehicles half-buried in water, moving at a pace that could have made a tortoise proud about his own ‘speed’. The politicians, being the unworthy 'leaders' they have always been, were licking their lips, busily preparing to 'go fishing in the muddied flood' with the phenomenal rainfall providing them ample opportunities to nitpick and mud-sling - if you could excuse the puns - as is their wont.

Having wisely shunned the bike and opted for bus to reach my residence, it took me a little more than two hours to reach my place, a trip which normally would not take more than 40 minutes. Stuck inside the bus, wet, cold and frustrated at the delay, I was noticing all the chaos around with a sense of interest and irritation. Amidst all the mayhem and gloom though, one thing stood out shining. It is that indomitable human spirit. And, there were ample displays of it. While the whole city seemed to be on the streets, frantically trying to get back to the cozy confines of their homes, there were some people who braved the rain and the flood to help others to get to safety. 

One, the never-much-appreciated traffic cops. With the traffic signals having failed, most lanes and streets buried inside knee-deep water, subways getting flooded fast, the whole city's traffic was concentrated on a few arterial roads. In that icy downpour and eerie darkness, the cops were working tirelessly to clear the traffic. Most of my friends recounted tales of their reaching home only by 1 AM and later. I wonder, by what time would the cops have reached theirs?!

Second, the ambulance drivers. There was a surfeit of ambulances on the road that night. I would have seen at least half a dozen ambulances on the road that day, wading through the water, crying to be allowed first. The ever-considerate Chennaite was helplessly turning back and looking concernedly at the ambulance, because there was nowhere for him to move and give way for the ambulance, what with the whole road inundated with water and vehicles. Somehow, as if by magic, the ambulances found the ways to move forward, carrying the anxious patients and their relatives to the safe confines of the hospital, thus saving so many lives. Now, how and by what time would the drivers have gone back home?

Third, in most of the roads near slums, those young guys, the brash ones whom you will hate on any normal days, were volunteering to clear the traffic, creating roadblocks to prevent vehicles from entering badly flooded areas, marking the dangerous potholes and gutters with branches and sticks. They were doing all this, while their very houses would have been flooded for sure.

The society may not even know their names, or their deeds, let alone appreciate their assistance. But it is because of such crucial cogs like these that the machinery of this world still functions. They may not be aware of their heroics, they may even have been doing all these things simply as if going through some involuntary motions. But that is what makes their deeds special and worthy. It is in moments like these that the human spirit reveals its true nobility, shining amidst all the gloom that surrounds it.

And, here I am, sending out a sense of happiness and gratitude to them for their deeds. And, to the Universe, for making me a witness to it!

Does Every Religion Speak The Same Thing?

‘Ekam Sat Viprah Bahudha Vadanti’ – this is a chant from Rig Veda, which I often remember during my contemplations about spirituality and god (if there ever is one). Roughly translated this means ‘Truth Is One, Sages Call It With Various Names’. The more I have started contemplating the same, the more I am turning clueless about the sense behind it, at least the sensibility of repeating it in the current global scenario.

One of the most specious platitudes that we have all learnt to parrot around is this – ‘Every religion teaches/mentions/speaks/emphasizes the same thing’. A little thought about this statement and we will all realize how untrue this really is. While the intention is to increase the amicability among people and to downplay the differences, I believe it is time we stopped taking such statements on face value and faced reality.

Not every religion speaks/teaches the ‘same thing’. Each and every Holy Scripture differs from one another. Right from the creation of this Universe, to the making of mankind, to the concept of life after death and to the final act of judgment, each and every religion has its own say and way. One religion is adamantly monotheist, while another believes in a triumvirate. Some believe in a big pantheon and some others worship anything and everything. In some religions, the soul is indestructible and comes into this world again and again, caught in the cycle of birth, while in other religions, when one dies one stays dead, till the good god feels it time to wake up everyone in one final grand show of settling ‘credits and punishments’.

Instead of repeating the cliché of all religions being the same, we should learn to appreciate the differences and accept the same. Variety is the way of life. A wide variety of species, plants, places and things is what makes this world an interesting place to live. I am sure that none of us would prefer to live in a world where everything has become monotonously similar.

When we go to a restaurant we order what we prefer to eat, taking for granted our right to do so. Similarly when we go out to buy clothes for ourselves, we buy only what we like, again exercising our rights to do so, without even being conscious of it. In neither of these places do we worry about our rights nor do we try to enforce our choice on others. I cannot enforce my choice on another person, because what the other person chooses for himself/herself depends on that person’s age, gender, size and, most importantly of all, freewill. When we can accept to respect the other person’s choice in such crucial matters like what to eat and what to wear, to mention just two, why not accept that there can be wide variety of views in every other aspect of life?

What does it matter to us if somebody decides to worship by kneeling and somebody else decides to worship by prostrating? Why should it matter if somebody grows a beard or a tuft on the head? As long as the other person does not intervene in our choice to sit at the table we want and decide the clothes we would wear, why make all such a hullabaloo about a fictional concept such as gods and religions?! As long as a person behaves in the ethical way, acts in a socially acceptable moral conduct, does not cause harm to another person by words, deeds or thoughts, should we give a hoot to which god s/he worships?!

May be it will be a difficult thing for us grown-ups to shed the boundaries and fences that we have made inside our hearts. But, we should at least teach our next generation, the young children, to spurn the poisonous curse of religion and to coexist amicably. We should not lie to them about there being no difference at all, but should teach them about the differences and also tell them that it is OK for such differences to exist. We should teach them about ‘unity in diversity’, without pulling wool over their eyes about there being no differences. Because the so-called ‘tolerance’ of modern minds seems to be a hypocritical ideal of accepting the others ‘as long as they don’t differ from us in how they speak/feel/write/live’, when it should really have been the understanding of ‘our having the right to live our lives the way we want, while respecting the rights of others to do so too’.

Let’s teach our children about the differences, so that they can all see how trivial such ‘differences’ are and laugh them off. Amen!

Gaia Was Here First

Few days back, while talking to a friend, I was discussing about the sense of megalomania that pervades the human minds and how we have started behaving with a condescending sense of supremacy against Nature – how we behave like the planet was made only for us, to cater to our petty needs and greed, how we are trying to ‘save’ the planet, how we are trying to ‘protect’ the environment and so on. I have never felt to be one of the most ‘evolved’ species. If anything, we humans have learnt to clothe ourselves – or denude ourselves, as is the modern wont – and have invented some snazzy gadgets. Deep within, we all remain as fierce, as vile and as lowly as an animal can ever be.

This morning, the rain gave some respite after lashing out for nearly a week here. I was going through our little garden, taking stock of the situation and checking for damages, if any, to the plants due to the rain. A look at the garden soil reinforced my belief in the supremacy of Nature and the superiority of this planet over us humans. In the garden, not only had the seedlings braved the rain, they had even twisted and turned in search of light and protection from the rain, as could be witnessed from their shapes. Not just that. Some of the plants which we had cut down to the ground had put forth some tender sprouts. The ground was covered with so many tiny seedlings, weeds and worms of varied kind.

I felt a sense of wonder and humility at this sight. If a small piece of garden can renew itself and manage to cover itself with life in a week’s rain, what is to happen to this planet if we humans stop intervening in her path?! Won’t this planet cover herself with life and bring forth even more evolved life forms as before? End of the day, it is we humans that meddle with her patient demeanour and then put up a show of caring for her. This planet neither needs saving nor any meddling. Remember, the Gaia has been here for billions of years and we puny worms have been here for only a few millions - or even less. All that we need to do is to take care of our tiny selves and stop acting as if we are the saviors around here. We are just visitors who have been making a grand drama about things, while exploiting and violating Gaia. We will all wither and vanish sooner than later, as has been proved by the history of this planet, but she can survive anything, as she has always done.

Time we all had a sense of humility and respect during our interactions with Nature. She was here first, she reigns supreme here and she will remain for ages long after our whole species are wiped out. Top-of-the-food-chain?! Time we reanalyzed our claim to that spot!

Book Review – The Essential Rumi, Coleman Barks

Caveat Emptor – any commerce student worth his (or, her) salt should be able to tell you the meaning of this: ‘Buyer Beware’. Roughly put, this means that in any commercial transaction, the onus is on the buyer to perform due diligence to ensure safety and success, without falling prey to any misleading enticements. It is the buyer’s responsibility to buy a product after ensuring that it really is what it promises to be. And, I have this advice to give all you who are planning to buy the book ‘The Essential Rumi’ – Caveat Emptor!

No. I am not warning you against the quality of the book or the paper, quality of the print or even the quality of the translator. I am not warning you against the online shipping website that sold me this book either. I am warning you against buying this book influenced merely by the popular perception about Rumi.

Yes. I grew up reading a few snippets and couplets from Rumi’s elaborate works every now and then. And, those lines that I had read, fed me with the opinion that Rumi was a young, enamored poet who was always craving for his ‘beloved’. I thought that to be merely an earthly love that he transcended to the state of divine ecstasy, a literary form of ‘Hieros-Gamos’ – from sex to super-consciousness, to borrow the words of Osho. When I picked the book, I was looking forward to delve deep into page after page of love-soaked poems. But, I was disappointed. Disappointed in an ecstatic manner!

The Rumi whose works fill this volume is not the ordinary human lover that I – or, for that matter, most of us – grew up admiring. Here you meet a Rumi that he really was, a mystic, ascetic to the core, Sufi ‘mevlana’ (master) who inspired scores of minds across centuries, and a man whose love was not for an earthly beloved, but for that one ‘Beloved’ whose love brought this whole Universe into existence. Read them in light of ‘dhikr/zikr’ traditions of Sufism and you will see an entire world unravel before your eyes through these pages.

There is nothing on these pages that you haven’t already thought about. Or, to put it in another, correct way, there is nothing you can think afresh which has not been conveyed by Rumi. Of course, he has also been inspired by the masters that went before him, but whatever little spiritual experiences that you have gone through, whatever little lessons that you have learnt, whatever spiritual ideas you have formed in the depth of your soul, whatever contemplations you have had about ‘God’, whatever poems that you could write, Rumi spells it out all. Page after page, you are sure to gasp, muttering under your breath ‘this was the same thing I thought/this was the same way I felt’. For anyone with a spiritual seeking, this book will be a worthy treasure.

True to the tradition of Sufism, an all-inclusive, non-rigid version of Islam, Rumi gleefully indulges in writing freely – he extols Jesus and the Prophet equally, he freely uses the images of camels from the Middle-East and elephants from Hindustan in same manner, he speaks about Buddha and Plato with same vigor, and he also speaks about sex and pooping in equal breath while drawing a parallel to spiritual quest with such banal acts. This is a Rumi that you could have not even imagined before picking up the book.

One cannot forget to appreciate Coleman Barks for the stupendous job he has done in translating the works of Rumi. It is said that Rumi is the ‘most read poet in America’ and the reason behind that is Coleman Barks and you will accept that to be true if you read this book. If, instead of Persian, Rumi had written his poems in English, this would have been the way in which he would have written. Such an amazing clarify in translating Rumi’s works!

All said and done, if you are a seeker, whose senses and seeking are not muddied by the curse of being in an organized religion, you are sure to find a whole lot of gems in this book. There is a Great Love flowing through his words that is certain to infect you as well. His yearning, his craving for the union with his ‘Beloved’, is something that you will also be afflicted with. And, true to being a flood, some of those lines are sure to go over your head too – as they did with mine. Overall, a book worth cherishing forever!

Ashok Krishna