204. Void

Readers of this blog know that I have a poor memory. As is my habit, I must have shared this fact with you a number of times. I hardly worry about poor memory – but on some occasions it creates embarrassing situation for me. Today was one of those days.

Today I started early for office. I had to prepare for a meeting and in the evening I was planning to leave early. Taking advantage of ‘flexi-time’ facility, I took Metro early than my usual time. I had a different crowd around me. Everyday though I do not have conversations with my co-passengers, we do exchange smiles. If someone is in good mood, she would ask me where I was last week and then I share travel experiences with her. Today too, I was taking Metro after a gap of couple of weeks. But as I mentioned, this was not my usual time, so there was no possibility of meeting someone.

I entered Metro and found a vacant seat. The route I take is underground, so there is nothing to watch through the window. As the journey takes hardly 20 minutes, I generally don’t read book in the Metro. I close eyes and just relax – that is what I was planning to do even today.

Suddenly a young woman sitting opposite to me said “Hello” and smiled. I too smiled spontaneously, but I did not reply. I realized that I did not know this woman. I assumed that she must have addressed to some other woman. So, I kept quiet. Smiling to strangers is alright, even I talk to strangers, but today I did not want and so kept quiet.

I noticed that none of the women sitting either to my left or right spoke to that young women. I was curious. Of course, it was happening in an instant – I am take much longer time to write it; even your are taking more time to read it. I was looking at that women but did not respond to her. Suddenly she showed a feeling of insult and stopped smiling. Her eyes showed frustration and anger. She stopped looking at me, and adjusted her earphone for music on mobile handset. It was clear from her body language that she was not comfortable.

By that time, I too wasn’t comfortable. Part of my brain was trying to find out ‘whether I know this woman and if yes, where have we met.’ The more I thought about it, the more I felt that I have met this young woman earlier. In knew her face, her eyes, her voice … I was sure that the women had said “hello” to me and to none else.

So, I wanted to initiate dialogue with her and started looking at her. But now the woman was not at all looking at me. As if the one-two feet distance between us has suddenly become one or two kilometers. For a moment, I thought of leaving my seat, approaching her and talking to her. But I noticed that the woman was completely ignoring me. That created another wave of doubt. Was she really addressing me or someone else?

I kept on staring at the woman and with every passing moment, I was sure that I knew this girl. She must have been aware of my gaze, because next moment she looked at me. I was fully ready for that moment, and I asked, “Do you everyday catch the same Metro?”

She nodded – indicating ‘no’. I said, “I am surprised that we have never met on the Metro.”

Now she was completely relaxed and gave a big smile. I said again, “How is it that we have never met on the Metro? I travel everyday around the same time.”

She explained about car servicing and said, “Are you coming to Chanakypuri office today? We have to gate down at Race Course station.”

Listening to her, it dawned upon me that this young woman was none else but Shehanaz.

I was ashamed of myself.

I know Shehanaz for more than a year now; I have met her at least 25 times during the year. At for hundred times I had tele-conversations with her. She is receptionist –cum –telephone operator in one of my offices.

/

Shehanaz is a good natured woman. She is efficient and proactive. Her work is always of a good quality. She has offered me help on many occasions. Whenever I visit Chanakypuri office, Shehanaz is always kind to me. She always asks about my wellbeing, offers me coffee and helps me to sort out my work in that office. What I have observed that Shehanaz is good with everybody around. She is a kind soul. I have a very good opinion about Shehanaz and I have written good words about her to her seniors.

I speak to Shehanaz. We hardly get five minutes. Shehanaz is now in good spirit and she is smiling. Metro arrives at Race Course. Shehanaz gets down. Doors close. Shehanaz moves away but turns back and smiles at me, waves her hand. I too smile and wave back.

However, I am engrossed in thought. Why did not I recognize Shehanaz immediately? If I meet someone after a long gap or someone whom I hardly know and like – I can understand poor memory. But I like Shehanaz and I keep on meeting her regularly – still I failed to recognize her.

It is possible that as I had never met Shehanaz on the Metro, I least expected her to meet here. Well, if I was surprised, it would have been natural – but I failed to recognize her cannot be justified in any manner. Generally we picture people in a given set up – it is hard to recognize postman in civil dress and without postbag; or a vegetable vendor at a movie theater. So, maybe meeting Shehanaz here was not at all expected by me.

Am I equating human being with his/her work? Am I looking at them as machines and not as human beings? Am I too selfish or insensitive to existence of others? Am I always lost in my own world? Am I getting disconnected from the reality around me?

Life has its own speed. There are always new happenings in life, so the old ones are easily left behind. But is it just a game for me – to replace old memories by new? Am I looking at life as a game? What will it lead to me? Until I get old, new persons, incidents, memories will keep on entering into my life – so I can afford to forget the past – persons, incidents, memories and what not. Because I am still active, my senses are working alright, I can play this game; as if it the only one of any significance.

What will happen if I get long life? By law of nature, my senses will become weak; a time will come when nothing new would be added to my life. When the inflow of new persons, incidents, memories etc. stops (and it will stop one day); what will I remember? By that time past will be dead and there will be hardly exciting ‘present’. If I remember something from the past, will that past have any place for me? Will those people, incidents, memories of the past mean anything to me? Will there be only a vacuum – where there will be no past and there will be no present. What will I do then? With the Mind, with the Body and with the Ego?  

Will I be able to live happily in that void? 

**

181. Categories

When I am getting out of Delhi Metro Station(s), I am interested in observing people's choice(s).

There are three choices - to take a lift, an escalator or staircase. Obviously, this is before or after Metro travel!

It is understood that those people who are either ill, very old or having luggage should use the lift. 

Rest of the commuters have two options - staircase and escalator. Most of the Metro Stations do not have the facility of escalators for climbing down - they are only for climbing up. So, I am mainly discussing the tendencies exhibited during Upward Mobility! 

Every time I see some people rushing to lift. Even for climbing down they want to use the lift. They are not always old or ill or do not carry luggage. However, they are obsessed with 'saving time' and always want to take the fastest route. I put these people in category one. Sometimes I wonder whether these people know only one way of living, I doubt whether they are flexible and I wonder how they would respond to life without electricity. 

There are some people who would always take staircase. " Use Stairs to Stay Fit" declares Delhi Metro. Some people do take this opportunity to exercise a bit and stay fit. They are least affected physically as well as psychologically, when the escalator is not working. They are determined and they carry on with their mission without bothering about the external situation. I am not sure how many staircases they climb up every day. These are category two people for me. They are health conscious and certainly they can adjust to the situation in a much better way than the category one people. But in a way, they are like category one people! They also have a fixed way of thinking - only staircase!! 

The third category of people always try to use escalators. They are kind of people who use technology (or luxury) when available. But if the escalator is not working, they would calmly climb up the staircase. They would say : alright, once in a while it is good.  These people have choices and initially they try to make easy choices. However, if easy choice is not available, they do not mind the hard way. They could be easily mixed into category one and category two - it is hard to identify at a glance.

Fourth category is more spontaneous. Depending on their mood or situation, they decide what to choose. Sometimes they would just run on the staircase and some other time they would lazily wait for the lift. They don't have any fixed route - they enjoy the variety and for them the variety comes from within.  I am a regular Metro traveler for two years and know some of the faces who sometimes take escalator and sometimes staircase. I like their unpredictable ways of choosing options. Wherever they go, I am sure these people would always create fun for themselves - by being flexible.

And I know there are many more categories.

One category who observes, thinks, shares.
Another category who never bothers.
Another one who does not like being categorized like this.

We belong to either of these categories - maybe we are in different categories for different things in life. But certainly our behaviors create pattern giving glimpses into inner mind.
Of course, sometimes we could be fooled , we could be completely wrong.
However, the process of categorization keeps on happening.
With knowledge or without knowledge.

How much of it is conditioning and how much of it is choice?
I do not know. 

168. Trigger

Life has been too busy lately.

By ‘lately’ I mean for many years now.

Every morning I wake up with the thoughts and ideas of the work I have to carry on that day.

Every night I sleep with the experiences of the day and the life that I have planned for tomorrow.

This assumption that ‘I will wake up tomorrow and will be breathing and living after (say) 24 hours’  always amuses me.

However, I have spent most of my life with that assumption – taking life granted is integral part of me.

Sometimes I realize that this assumption has become a trap – assume, run, assume, run and assume again to run further and to assume again.  Not exactly never ending chain; it has an end but when that end would happen is completely unknown to me.

What will happen if I stop assuming about life?

Well, with all imagination – I can’t experience my death. After seeing so many dead bodies and experiencing loss of many friends, I know death in a way is very normal – it is pretty routine happening; innumerable people die every moment.  Nothing very significant is going to happen to me or to others after I die.  As I assume life, I assume death too. I see and experience death around. I technically know that I am not going to be here forever. But this thinking is all on ‘intellectual’ level; it no doubt creates wisdom and understanding – but it is still not an experience. It never will be – I fear sometimes.

Maybe if I stop running, would I find another aspect of this complicated truth?

I tried.

I stopped running for a while.

And I realized that desire, want, aspiration – none of them is the real trigger. It is not because of all this I live. It is actually the other way round. It is because of life desires happen. It is because of life, wants occur. It is because of life aspiration arises. It is because of life, I dream and breathe and run and think.  

Life is the real trigger and everything else is secondary.

The uncertainty of this trigger called life is the real pleasure. Nothing else really matters now as I have experienced this truth. 

161. Queue

“Are you in this Queue?” he asked.

“Yes and No” I answered.

He frowned. At least I thought so.

Today I was in Nasik.  Even before we started our work, people asked me whether I wanted to visit Tryamabakeshwar temple. Someone called me from Mumbai and suggested me to do so.

I have visited this temple many times and it is one of my favorite places. So, in the evening at last, people were able to convince me and thus we were there.

There was lot of crowd. One of the trustees was visiting temple then and so there was much more discipline than what is usually observed. As always, local people tried to arrange for some kind of special treatment for me – that in most of these religious places means avoiding standing in the queue. I don’t like to break the queue when so many people are standing there. If I want to visit temple, I should follow the standard procedures. If I don’t have time, well, no God needs me.  We have a mutual understanding about not needing each other.  We respect each other and let live other in peace.

I told the people around me not to bother about breaking the queue. I added that one should approach God by leaving aside material achievements – because they do not matter in the relationship with God. As the security guards did not allow ‘special entry’ today, people around me had no option but to follow the queue.

For last two days I had overworked. Lot of travel, no food on time, many challenges in the work I was supposed to monitor and had to be very patient to make people understand the next steps that were essential. I was completely exhausted and needed time to relax and refresh. Looking at the length of the queue, I said, “Ok, it looks like God does not want me to visit him today. Let us go back.”

On my casual remarks, the team around me panicked. They immediately started searching for some higher authority of the temple, with whose permission they could get me through easily. I had no energy to discuss rationality with them. My views on God are bit weird and it needed special efforts from me to communicate those to others. I realized that if I don’t stand in the queue, these people will continue to feel uneasy and they will keep on trying some or the other way to take me inside by the shortest possible way.

The only option for me to stop them was to stand in the queue as if I was really willing to visit the temple. It was hypocritical of course, but at times I have to be so – not for my own wishes, but to satisfy others.

So, I was in the queue physically and was not there at all emotionally or spiritually. Hence this:  ‘Yes and No”.

And then I kept overhearing others. Two people behind me were discussing some Rural Development Scheme of Government and were sharing secretes about ‘how to get included in the beneficiary list’. A woman standing in front of me was reading an English book but her 10 year child was not allowing her to concentrate. A woman in her 30s was chanting Shiva stotra – she broke suddenly and shouted at her 8 year daughter for some kind of misbehavior. A group of youth was planning about what they should eat in the evening. An old lady was explaining her knee-ache to other lady.   A young man was looking dreamily at some tree in the temple courtyard. A girl in jeans and sleeveless T shirt was sentimentally watching her plate in which flowers and other material for worship was kept. A group of children tried to bypass the queue and got a big scolding from elders. One elderly gentleman started his sermon on how the next generation is getting worse. I was wondering why nobody is using mobile and clicking and realized that mobile phones and cameras were not allowed inside temple premises.

The queue kept on moving. As it was a zigzag queue on every turn I had different people on my left and on my right.  I kept on hearing different versions of life – mostly material.

Nobody in that queue was willing to give up material aspects of life even when they cherished to see the God, even when they were in the presence of God.  I was not different from them as like a sponge, I was taking everything that was around me.

Was I in the queue?

Not really.

“If you are not in the queue, you are not in the queue”, again he spoke.

I was surprised.  Then I smiled.

I said, “This remark is very absurd, specially coming from you.  It is more like Zen.”

“Well, if you are not in the queue, sometimes you are also in the queue,” he added thoughtfully. I cannot imagine him smiling, but I guess he was smiling.

“Decide for yourself,” he said and disappeared.

I am still tired.

I have yet to get some nourishing food – simple but nourishing.

Who was he? What did he say? Why did he say it to me? Did that conversation really happen or as always I was just dreaming with eyes open? Why it always happens to me? Is there any seed of truth in what he said or the fatigue is getting over me? Why can’t I stop thinking?

Lots of questions. There is sort of queue of questions.

Yes, somehow, I am always in one or the other queue.

(Nasik, Maharashtra)

146. Appeal of Despair

Presently I am reading ‘Boundless Sky’.

It is a collection of representative writings of Gurudeva Rabindranath Tagore. The book is published by Visva Bharati and I have 1964 edition with me. The book contains eight stories, a novel, 14 essays, a drama and as many as 49 poems (why not 50? I don’t know). ‘Boundless Sky’ is title of one of the poems – which is adopted for the collection.

The book is in my collection for more than 20 years and I have read it at least five times during these years. The cost of the book is Rs. 14.50 – but I actually purchased it for one rupee from footpath. The book is obviously worn out and I need a fresh copy. But I don’t throw away this copy; simply because it reminds me of many old things – with which I have lost touch now.

As is my habit, the book has so many lines marked by me during the course of various readings. I also have the habit of writing comments – I do it only when I own the book and never with the books borrowed from library or friends. These underlines and comments show me what I had been thinking in the past – and it always makes me smile.

Today I was reading the essay ‘Religious Education’. Rabindranath elucidates many points in his typically simple and revolutionary way. His writing is logical and it also takes readers beyond the realm of logic. I was enjoying his arguments. The ending of the essay especially awakened me. I was as if taken into another world.

Rabindranath says:

Let me conclude my paper with the translation of a characteristic poem by a Baul poet by the name of Madan whose courage to decry the conventional paths of the pious as leading to spiritual futility is made evident in this song:

Thy path, o Lord, is hidden by mosque and temple:

I hear thine own call, but the guru stops the way.

What gives peace to my mind, sets the world ablaze –

The cult of the One dies in the conflict of the many.

The door to it is closed by many a lock, of Koran,

                                         Puran and the rosary.

Even the way of renunciation is full of tribulation:

Wherefore weeps Madan in despair.

It was like being struck by lightening. How did I not notice these beautiful lines earlier? Why did this despair not touch my heart earlier?

I also registered that not a single line in this essay was marked by me in the earlier readings.

Why did this despair not appeal to me for last 20 years? Was I not open to these feelings earlier? Was there a barrier within me?  My ideas regarding religion have never been conventional –so, in a way I am in ‘league’ with the poet. But why did I not belong to it earlier? Why did I fail to recognize these fascinating words?

And what exactly happened today? What caught my attention today? What made me to understand these words today? That is a mystery.

Same is the case with joy, happiness, oneness, expansion.

Maybe, the Truth always exists; it is only when we open ourselves to it, we experience it!

And when we experience, we cannot explain - neither despair nor joy. 

145. Lost Privilege

I could not help in comparing ‘Now and Then’ – a kind of time-frame analysis. That is because I had reached this particular place almost at the same time I had reached years ago.

On material plane, I was as hungry and as tired as I was then.

However it was not exact ‘replay’ of what happened earlier. Certainly, things have changed a lot.

First and foremost, then I was young, now I am old.

Then I did not know where I was reaching, I did not know anyone here, I did not know what to expect and I had nothing to fall back. I was full of uncertainty.

Now I know where I am going, I know people and places here, I know what to expect – rather I have choices about what to do and what to avoid and I have a return ticket back  home. I don’t take anything for granted even now (like returning, having a home), but I am certain that I will always find out a way.

Then I was full of doubts, now I am peaceful.

Then I would try to convince people, now I let it go – until they are happy without exploiting others. I don’t try to convert anybody and I am patient enough to listen when somebody tries to ‘convert’ me.

Then I was as if person A; now I am as if person B – there is continuity but also a lot of change.

After reaching years ago, I was offered tea and Parle G biscuits. Today I consume a cup of coffee and as Parle G is not available, I have Britannia 50:50 – that is amazing link with the past within the range of changes.

I move around to my favorite spots and find out the serenity of the place is lost due to typical ‘loud’ behavior of the tourists. I suddenly realize that even then it would have been there – I do notice it now because I have lost some privileges in the process. With that acknowledgement of loss, peace is regained.

One of the old men invites me for lunch. I say yes but I do not go, not even on the second day. I do not feel like going.

“Do you feel shy? Do you feel guilty?” he asks later in the evening.

I am surprised by the question. Why should I feel guilty? Why should I feel shy? I am only trying to keep away myself from irritation- irritation at the way people talk, people assume, people think and people advice.

Then I would have told him the plain truth. Now, I smile. I say, “No, I forgot. Next time I will certainly join you for lunch. ”

“Come back here” someone says.

“Sure, whenever opportunity is there I would certainly make the best of it.” I answer. My goodness, what bookish language I am speaking.

“Come here forever,” he adds hurriedly, “when you have done your work and when you feel lonely.”

I am aghast at the suggestion. These people sitting on self made thrones treat other people with so much of hypocritical compassion. They think there is only one way – theirs!

Like old days, a strong reply comes to me. But I keep quiet. That does not mean I accept what he says, but there is no need to tell him that I disagree. He is happy to have me here listening, so let me listen.

“You know, you are a privileged child; that is why you came here in the first place” another one says.

I completely agree with this sentiment. I have always felt that coming to this place was a turning point, years of privilege shaped me in different way – I am thankful to all those moments, all those people and all those memories.

However, giving up that privilege was my conscious choice. I am glad that I came here and I am glad that I left this place. There was pain while leaving, but now I have overcome the pain. If I had stayed here this long, I might have become a person whom I would have not liked much. That would have been the price greater than the pain and sorrow I went through.

Now I feel free of burden of expectations, of traditions, of norms, of what not – laid down by others. It created horrible bondage for me – worst than the bondage life had caught me in initially.

Every time I re-visit the place, I realize that: What I gave up was worth giving up!  I acknowledge that it is one of the greatest places to be at least once in life ……still, after certain time it became worth leaving.

Every time I re-visit the place, I realize that: What I have left back has nothing to contribute in my life!

 

Every time I re-visit the place, I realize that: What is past should remain as past; never try to turn it into present or future.

Some privileges are better lost. 

143. Survival ++

On alternate days, I used to walk to office. It was just a fifteen minutes walking distance. On other days I used two- wheeler to reach the office.

On these walking days, I used to meet Vishal, one of my young colleagues, at the entrance gate. From the gate, it took about five minutes to reach the office. Whenever we met we talked. Slowly, when the comfort level increased, if one of us saw the other behind, we would wait for the other and then walk together. That became an ‘alternate day ritual’ as we named it. Generally we discussed office work, his hobbies, Pune city, visits to field areas, books read etc.

One day he said, “If you don’t mind, I have a question.”

“I hope I know the answer,” I said smilingly. Sometimes talking to young generation makes me feel ‘out of date’! But I don’t mind saying “Sorry I do not know” and hence was ready to answer whatever he wanted. He was sort of technocrat with management degree and not very proficient with softer issues in development. I anticipated some work related question.

“What do you carry in your shoulder bag?” he asked innocently. My office bag is inseparable part of me; I always carry it with me. Occasionally there have been jokes about it. So, at first I felt there was some trick, but he seemed vary serious. Then I laughed with the unexpected turn. I mean here I was waiting to face a very important question and this guy was asking me such a simple one!

Well, every day I carried too many things in my bag – home to office and back home. I sincerely tried to think. Why did I carry this bag? What was there in my bag?

Office Identity card to swipe in and out was essential.

Vehicle license was essential in case I decided to go somewhere out after office hours. Now, when I was walking, it was not necessary. But taking things out of bag and putting those again next day meant unnecessary work. So, it was always there.

Then there were two or three pens. Why two or three? Because someone around would always be without a pen and would ask me if I had extra pen and would borrow it from me. I am used to keep stock of pens as those who borrow pen would certainly forget to return it.

In addition to it, there was a pencil. What for? For marking some important points while reading various documents.

Then there would be money purse. Of course with some money in it! You never know what amount you will have to spend – so the ATM card was part of the kitty. And so was cheque book. You never know when it will be needed.

Then there were some blank papers – of different sizes – to write notes, messages, task lists, phone numbers etc. There were always needed in meetings. The pocket telephone diary; as I have not stored all the numbers in the mobile handset.

I also had some office documents – which I used to take home for reading and working. Similarly some printout taken at home was brought to office for filing, sharing, review etc.

Then there would also be a book – in case I needed to wait for someone (delay in appointments) at his/her office. Many people have this habit of spending lot of time on their mobile even when someone is sitting in front of them. Instead of getting irritated, I read something on such occasions.

In addition to it, there were home keys, office keys and vehicle keys. Some bills to be submitted would also be there. So would be the digital camera to download work related photographs on the office PC. There also was a pen drive, a CD.

And so on. I realized that I carried too many things in the bag assuming the daily need but most of them I hardly used everyday. I assumed a range of activities every day, but I certainly carried on very limited activities on a given day. Somehow, I had trained myself to be ready for any situation that demanded various resources. I feel responsible for the surroundings, for the people around me. This habit had certainly saved me from some awkward situations and always made me ‘resourceful’ person. 


While explaining this list to Vishal, I too saw the lighter side of it and started laughing with him.

For the first time I realized that I never have seen Vishal with any office bag. He came to office empty handed and he left office empty handed.

“Well, now I want to ask you a question,” I said to Vishal.

“Yep, I know, now you are going to ask me why I do not to carry such a hold-all to the office, am I right?”

Vishal was smart, I smilingly nodded.

Vishal reflected a bit and then pronounced – “I keep office life and home life separate. I do not carry anything from office to home and the other way, unless that is absolutely necessary. Is it not the responsibility of all others to bring in whatever they need e.g. pen or paper?  I carry only the swipe card – without which I won’t be able to enter in and out of the office. Rest of the stuff I need in the office, I keep it in the office. I do not take office work at home.”

Personal and Professional  - well I know about it.  I admire people who can live in such a segregated way. It must have its advantages. However, I have never been able to keep these two identities apart. For me, my work is expression of my interests and my values; my work reflects my personality – good or bad there could be debate about it. Like Yin and Yang, personal life flows into professional and professional life influences the personal. The co-existence of personal and professional life is absolutely essential to peace, harmony and happiness. If in one area I have trouble – I have trouble in both. If I am glad in one sphere, I carry the joy in the other sphere too. How can I be unhappy at one place and happy in the other sphere?

I am not sure whether it is right or wrong, but people like me need more of integration, synthesis rather than segregation, division. We are at our best when we are one across the sphere of activities. People like me feel good when we belong to, when we can contribute, when there are bridges of relationships. There are always people who are sensible as well as sensitive, they would volunteer for any kind of work and any amount of work - it is fun to team with such people. Though detachment, delegation of responsibilities, and withdrawal also happen – it is done as a process and not as  'the' outcome. They happen in its own way and independent style. Every time it happens, one changes, one wonders, one reflects, one grows. The process of withdrawal is initiated separately for each of the steps that professional (as well as personal) life brings across. Doing it in bulk, doing it hypothetically does not work. This part by part process builds the magnificent Whole.

I shared these thoughts with Vishal. He laughed and said, “You are indeed so old fashioned. The world is changing, with this kind of attitude you will not survive in this world. You need to have a paradigm shift to have better prospects in your career.”

Well, to be frank, this is one of the areas where I have not yet changed. I don’t think I need that kind of change. Why should I worry about few more ‘Professional years’ ahead? Till now, I have survived on my terms; there is of course, much more than just survival.

Even if you are ‘segregating’ type, you will agree that in both Personal and Professional life, we aim beyond survival. The feeling of attainment is much broader, wider and deeper than survival and we all seek that kind of joy. Life actually offers us many opportunities. I fear Vishal was still too young to have experienced it: If you don’t survive at one place, don’t be worried. There are other times and other places, where you not only survive but blossom. You will have the satisfaction of having crossed the limits, the boundaries of survival.

It is Survival ++.

138. Free

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 23; the twenty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is FREE.

(1)

‘Freedom is not Free, it demands high price; those who pay the price only are FREE’, KaNikaa is thinking to herself. She knows why she is thinking so.

KaNikaa finds the words written by Shankaraachaarya very precious and most wonderful; they always take her Beyond. Especially when the sun sets down, one more day is over -keeping the enigma of life unsolved, listening to NirvaaNaSHaTakam is an ultimate luxury.

KaNikaa feels at complete peace once again. Sitting in the lap of peeple tree, with the breeze playing around her and the sea waves dancing to the unknown tune, she is feeling ONE with the Universe.

Slowly the lights fade away, the darkness envelopes the surrounding. No words spoken; only silence everywhere – within and without. As if the world has died, as if the world is going to be created again….

For a moment KaNikaa thinks she is completely free.

****

(2)

“Deedee, KaNikaa Deedee, Vishwambhara bhayaa wants to speak to you,” someone is calling KaNikaa. She comes back to her senses. Call from Vishwambhara could mean only one thing, another warning. This could probably be the last one. KaNikaa gets up with heavy heart, all the peace and the happiness draining away from her.

“KaNikaa Deedee, you have missed the prayer again. Not because you were working, but because you were just lazing around. This would not do. You are setting a wrong example to young disciples.” Vishwambhara speaks calmly.  

“Come on Vishwambhara; can this discussion not happen some other time? Is this discussion at all necessary? KaNikaa came here long before you all came, Swaameejee himself brought her here. Swaameejee never asked KaNikaa any questions, neither he demanded her to follow rules" ANNaajee is  trying to help KaNikaa, but he actually is making  things worse for her.

“ANNaajee, how many times I have to tell you ALL that I have nothing against KaNikaa Deedee!, In fact I respect her, I have learnt a lot from her. Swaameejee was a very kind person. I am neither so kind, nor that much powerful. To manage this Aashrama in the best possible way is my primary responsibility.”  Vishwambhara’s voice is restrained, but KaNikaa understands the threat very clearly.

“No problem, Vishwambhara, I understand your plight, I will do whatever is required in the best interest of Aashrama”, KaNikaa says calmly. That alarms Vishwambhara as well as ANNaajee. But today, Vishwambhara is determined. KaNikaa is free, but he is not. He has enough of KaNikaa’s freedom.

Vishwambhara adds, “Deedee, kindly look at the things from my perspective and I am sure you will appreciate what I am saying. You have a choice either to stay or not to stay here. I would want you to stay with us. However let me make it clear one last time, if you stay here, you have to follow the rules…nobody is exception here...” and he walks away painfully, clearly demonstrating the burden he carries on his young shoulders.

“After all I am not free as I assume, miles to go before I achieve that” KaNikaa tells herself.

***

(3)

The pendulum of ‘being Free’ and ‘not being Free’ oscillates continuously.

When had the story of these two shores begun? From when did the uncertainty changed into certainty to bring in uncertainty again?

KaNikaa was too young – maybe 9 or 10. She was sitting in a temple, which God it was she did not know. The evening Aaratee was over and the crowd had disappeared one by one. She had nowhere to go and did not know what to do.

Her mother had died four years ago. Grandma was staying with them but she too passed away six months ago. Recently her father was behaving very strangely and she was scared of him. He had always loved her; no doubt about it. However, lately the way he fondled her was making her very repulsive towards him. She was frightened to death. But whom would she tell? What to tell? To complain about father who was so kind and loving would be a crime. Was it her father’s fault? Or was she imagining things about him? Was she guilty?

Until day before, everything was still ok, under control. But the way her father looked at her on that fateful morning made her shiver to the bones. She knew something was totally wrong – either with her or with her father. She did not want to go back to her home where she would be alone with her father whole night. So, when father left for office, KaNikaa left for school, but never went to school. Instead, she caught a bus and reached the District town. Near the bus stand, there was this temple and she was sitting there aimlessly.

“My child, don’t you want to go home? It is already late”, a strange old man was talking to KaNikaa. She was initially alarmed but was calmed down by his peaceful and smiling face. “I am nobody’s child; I am free to do whatever I want; and who are you?” KaNikaa asked so many questions. The strange old man smiled again. He asked, “Sorry, how should I address you?” And KaNikaa rudely said, “My name is KaNikaa. No more questions.”

The man sat silently with her. Couple of devotees came late to the temple and bowed to that man with respect. One came to call him for food – he asked KaNikaa to join. KaNikaa was too hungry to resist that offer. That strange man offered his hand to KaNikaa, and she with blind trust went with him. She never had to regret that decision. They went on moving from place to place and finally reached his Aashrama in the southern corner of the country.

Initially KaNikaa was worried that her father would find her out and she would have to go back. But she went on traveling to strange places, stayed in strange environment, always protected by Swaameejee. Days passed, months passed and KaNikaa became sure that her father had lost her forever. 

KaNikaa had felt that she was free at last; from her father; from her past; from her fear; from the insecurity; from potential ugliness; from her deadly life.

****

(4)

Swaameejee never asked KaNikaa any question and she never bothered to explain. There was a tacit agreement between them. KaNikaa was amongst people but she was left alone whenever she desired so.

It was only once Swaameejee broke his silence on the topic. He addressed her as “my child” on which she just smiled. She was no more oversensitive about those words. He said, “KaNikaa, my child, I love you. But what worries me is that you carry the burden alone in your heart. By running away, you have not solved the problem, you have just postponed it. I would like you to be brave and face whatever scares you. The freedom you enjoy is artificial, you are not free! The impact still lingers on you – on your body, on your emotions, on your feelings, on your thought process. That is another kind of bondage; I wish you were free from that. However, you have never really tried.” And then he mischievously added, “to be free from others is comparatively easy, to be free from ourselves is the real challenge…”

KaNikaa very well understood what Swaameejee was talking about. She wondered why Swaameejee was suddenly worried about her. She decided to talk to him later; but it could never happen. Within a week after that particular conversation, Swaameejee passed away.

KaNikaa was not after all free to choose her moment.

***

(5)

KaNikaa knows, she does not belong to the Aashrama – its rituals are cowardice and stupidity according to her. Her binding with Swaameejee was the connecting thread so far. She has been always wondering why Swaameejee chose to be amongst such fearful, irrational people. Maybe, he was not free to choose his disciples. She has no other choice but to leave the Aashrama. It would be good for the Aashrama and also for her. . And when one wants to leave, one should not wait for the right moment; there is never a right moment – or leave immediately because every moment is right moment.

Indirectly KaNikaa is compelled to leave Aashrama. She realizes that she is not completely free to take decisions according to her choice.

***

(6)

“Madam, have sweets” her co-passenger is all smiles.

“Thanks, what are we celebrating?” she politely asks.

“You seem to have arrived from another planet,” someone teases her and everybody around laughs merrily.

“Today is our Independence Day Madam, how can you forget it….” Another one remarks with irritating look.

“What are you celebrating guys? Corruption? Scams? Inflation? Poverty? Discrimination? Exploitation? Crime? Riots? Recession? What?" another person explodes.

“But isn’t it good that we are free?” one more passenger joins the conversation.

“We are free from British Empire, but we are suffering from our own weaknesses. We are cowards, we are beggars, we choose the easy way out, we want success by shortcut, we are power hungry, we talk the language of soul but we are materialistic to the core….” Another person laments.

“We are free from outsiders, but we are bound by evils within, not free from its clutches…” another voice.

Everybody agrees.

KaNikaa remembers Swaameejee. His last remarks to her: “to be free from others is comparatively easy; to be free from ourselves is the real challenge…”

In a strange way KaNikaa understands that her destiny, her freedom is associated with destiny of others, freedom of others.  To be Free is not to be ‘away’ from something, but to be connected in a detached way. To fight social evils, to try to support poor and exploited, to lead from the front, are all aspects of this detached involvement.

‘Freedom is not Free, it demands high price; those who pay the price only are FREE’, KaNikaa thinks again and smiles with determination.

Yes, KaNikaa probably would be Free in this very life. 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Happy Independence Day!

119. Being a Hindu

“Are you Hindu?” he asked me.

I was bending down to tie up shoe lace. Still I managed to look at him in an instant (without breaking my neck, that is.)

No, he was not mischievous. Nor was he teasing me. He looked very serious.

Actually, just a nod from me would have settled the matter.

But as it always happens with me, it triggered a chain of long hidden thoughts.

I was with a group of total strangers. We all had joined together one Sunday afternoon with a group named ‘Delhi Metro Walks’. The idea was to explore Old Delhi that evening and taste typical Delhi food. We were walking, eating, chatting for last few hours. We were a group of just 9, and more than half of them were obviously non Indians.

On the way, we came across a Jain temple. Some were not interested but I went in. It was not an ancient temple as such and I was disappointed with it.

While coming out, I was thinking about ‘Role of Temples’ and suddenly this question was thrown at me.

And this young man, non Hindu, non Indian asked me this particular question.

I am rather stubborn about certain things. One of that is ‘not allowing people to recognize my religion from any external signs’. For long, strangers have assumed me to be anything but Hindu. So, when this man asked me this question, I was really surprised.

“I was born and brought up in a Hindu family”, I answered honestly.

Now it was his (and others’) turn to be amazed.

“What do you mean? Have you changed your religion?” he asked.

“Oh, no, that is not the case,” I said, though my ideas about Religion are still evolving.

From casual conversation, the discussion was fast turning to be very personal.

“Being Hindu is very easy”, I was thinking aloud.

What is the essence of Hinduism?

For that matter, what is the essence of any religion?

Philosophy, Ritual and Social Rules are the three major aspects of religion.

Now the social code has been replaced by Law. So, no question of following religious rules.

Ritual I have hardly ever followed. That has not stopped me from being a Hindu.

And Philosophies – there are so many, I like many of those. I like Charvaka and Shankaracharya, Gautama the Buddha and Ramanujacharya, Kapila and Patanjali; Shrikrishna and Ramkrishna Paramhamsa, Tukaram and Kabir, Aurobindo and J Krishnmurty .. the list is unending. I can criticise any one of them and every one of them and still I can be a Hindu.

Hindu philosophy in a way is a big 'HoldAll' and I like it that way!

Some say: Rebirth, Law of Karma, Liberation are the basic tenets of Hinduism. I don’t think I believe in any of those seriously. Intellectually I can argue about it and write articles .. but they do not constitute my core values of life.

Still I am 'a' Hindu – because I am born and brought up in a Hindu family and I have not converted to any other religion.

You can do anything, you can do nothing, you can criticise, you can rebel....but still the Hinduness remains intact.

That is the beauty of ‘Being a Hindu’.

47. In a Metropolis

In a metropolis, would you advice someone to sit in a car of strangers? Especially if one is new to the area and it is late in the evening? And more especially if that person is a woman? But I was exactly doing that in Bengaluru.

Sometimes by breaking norms, you get stimulating experiences.

There were three people, an old couple and their working son. I had known the couple for just two hours and the son for 15 minutes. But we were chatting as if we knew each other for ages.

I was flying from Raipur to Bengaluru, via Hyderabad. I liked the new look of Hyderabad airport, the cleanliness, the speciousness, the arrangements …. Everything was good. As I had to catch connected flight, I had to spend few hours at the airport. A couple of about 55 to 60 years joined me in the lounge. Only three of us were there. Both of them were looking bit nervous, stressed and lost. They were throwing glances at me and discussing something in Malyalam. I could understand their anxiety and I smiled at them. They were relieved and immediately started conversing with me.

The couple was originally from Kerala, but due to job they had stayed in Bhopal for many years. Now they were traveling to their son at Bengaluru. They wanted to travel by train, but the son had sent flight tickets. This was their first air travel; they were anxious and worried about their luggage (that directly went to the Bengaluru plane.) They were not sure whether they should have security check again, whether the son will come to the airport, how to pick up the baggage at Bengaluru….. I could understand their emotions and assured help. I promised that I would give them company until their son arrived.

We had a cup of coffee together, exchanged feelings on Bhopal, they told me about their granddaughter, and I shared my work with them………… and our flight was announced.

When we reached Bengaluru, I helped uncle and aunty to pick up their baggage, pushed their trolley, we came out. I patiently said ‘no’ to many taxiwalhas…. The son was not there to receive them. Uncle hurriedly tried his mobile, but the son was ‘out of coverage area’. Uncle tried his son’s office number, it was engaged. He tried residence number, could not connect. Both uncle and aunty visibly started shaking. Holding their trolley by one hand, and taking care of my luggage with the other hand, I was trying to calm them down.

I asked uncle to keep his mobile open for calls in case his son tries to contact. From my mobile, we kept on calling different numbers. After ten minutes, we could get in touch with the daughter in law. She got worried that her husband was not at the airport. We tried different numbers. In the mean time, I sent SMS to the son…… I asked the daughter in law the residence address and was ready to take the old couple to their residence.

Then the son appeared (he was waiting at the other side of the arrival gate)…. The son was touched by my help to his parents. The family invited me to stay with them. When I told them about my travel plan to Chamrajnagar, they decided to drop me at the spot where my colleague was to wait for me. Actually they forced (with affection of course) me into their car.

We had interesting talk on the way. The son was born and brought up in Madhya Pradesh, annually visited Kerala, post graduated in Pune and now was working in Bengaluru. When he knew that I was from Pune, he became very friendly to me.

He said, “I am going through an identity crisis. To which place do I belong? I speak Malyalam but I have no place to go and stay in Kerala. Bhopal, I have good memories, but I cannot get job there. Now I am placed in Bengaluru, but I keep on feeling that I am an outsider. What is my identity? Which state, which culture, which language do I represent? In my country, I am an emigrant.”

I could understand his sense of isolation and loss of identity. I can understand the feeling of ‘not being part of the crowd around’. Identity crisis emerges when people around you are so different. You start questioning yourself the meaning of all your actions, thoughts and emotions, because nobody seems to understand those. True, when one has firm roots, one can live with better confidence and better self-esteem.

But what if one has no roots, nothing to fall back? I guess, one chooses to move forward – may be by compulsion or by choice. But one moves on. The moving itself creates an identity which is a combination of multiple aspects. A metropolis, a crowd is a good background to create a new identity, a new way of life, a new thought process, because nobody has time to inspect what you are doing.

In a metropolis (crowd), one can choose to feel alone…

In a metropolis (crowd), one can choose to feel free…

In a metropolis (crowd), one can live with oneself…

36. Cog in a Machine!

I cannot claim to ‘feel’ like a ‘cog in a machine’.
Even by using my wildest imagination, I cannot think that a cog can feel….. I confess that. I am a victim of human arrogance.

Have you ever felt that something is going around you (not necessarily at your back) and you cannot understand its meaning and hence feel either lost or foolish?

Have you ever come across threads and with your Sherlock Holmes type of enthusiasm still been beaten like Dr. Watson?

Have you some or the other time lost the road in a big, crowded, unknown city and panicked?

Have you ever missed a train after reaching station, in a city where you do not have a place to stay and do not know a single person?

Have you experienced a kind of emptiness when you understand that the trust you have put in someone is violated?

Have you felt that people used you for all your goodness and threw you in a dustbin once the task was over? And they come up to you again with all hypocrisy because there is another task that only you will do better, and they forget the wrong they have done to you…

Have you wanted to speak but could never reach to?

Have you faced sudden closure of a till then smooth road? Dead end, with a devil behind you?

Have you grappled with unknown, without any hints, without any idea?

I believe we all have such kind of experiences. The Astrology columns thrive on the human psychology of ‘feeling like a wronged person’. Almost all of you would say ‘yes’ to these questions and you might have recalled the painful moments …. Sorry for that.

I mean all these situations show that life is just normal. These things happen to us and to others, to everyone. Sometimes we are at the ‘receiving’ end and feel all the pain, but sometime we ‘give’ and take pride in that, forgetting how it hurts.

With all such ups and downs in life, I had never felt like a ‘cog in a machine’. I have always been lucky enough to find intrinsic value, joy, satisfaction, fun in whatever I am doing. Even the challenges were charming. Whenever I felt suffocated, I had been courageous enough to change track of life, without feeling guilty, without blaming anyone. I have always taken responsibility of my choices, my actions and its consequences.

But presently I am feeling like a ‘cog in a machine’. I am just one of the many faceless entities, which could be easily replaced, without anyone else ever missing it. The meaninglessness is frightening. I am trapped in a system which has reservations regarding freedom and apathy to sense of fulfillment. I have nobody but myself to blame for taking on series of ‘piecemeal’ works and loosing the broad picture, the goal, the vision and the relentless passion.

I can still decide not to be a cog….and of course not to be a machine! Bigger is not necessarily better. What I feel about myself is important and not how others measure me….

Looking at the positive side of this situation, I know what is wrong, and I know how to make it good. If there is still this little touch of creativity in me, that means after all I am not a cog in a machine! That means nothing is lost.

Hmm… Not bad….

9. Salute!

Every morning it happens and every morning it gives me a cause to smile.

I am at the present workplace for more than 8 years now. Till then I was always a wanderer, so this is a kind of change time has brought into my life. In the early days, I was reaching office by bus. Then for couple of years I stayed in the campus itself. Then five years ago, I shifted to my new home. It is just a 15 minutes walking distance. I love to walk and I do walk a lot.

For various reasons, I did not purchase a too wheeler for many years. First of all, my workplace is at a walk-able distance. Secondly I travel a lot – I am a kind of NRP – Non Resident Punekar – so did not need two wheeler. Third, I do not have the courage to travel in the interior of the city – the roads and the traffic confuses me.

There are couple of security persons at the office entrance. When I used to walk, sometimes I exchanged words with them. Nothing of much consequence, just a curtsey conversation.

Because I thought I was forgetting driving skill, I decided to have a two wheeler. One fine evening I purchased a two wheeler. First day I did not notice it. For a week I overlooked it. But it kept on happening.

Those security persons, who did not pay much attention to me, unless I spoke to them, started saluting when I entered the office gate. It was a salute indicating hierarchy. I was puzzled. Then I thought it must have been a ‘mistaken identity’ – they must be thinking me to be someone else. But no, I had shared pedhas of my two wheeler with cleaning persons and security persons too. So, they knew me. Funny, they never saluted me earlier, why are they doing it now? I do not like people saluting me – because I do not deserve to be saluted.

Then I realized. It is not what you are people are concerned about; it is always what you have. Every day they do not salute me, but they do salute the two wheeler –as if it adds value to my status, my existence.

Anyway, the security persons (and the world at large) do not take notice of me – they take notice of my possessions (i.e. achievements). It is very droll. I am not valued for what I am – but what I have and whether it is useful. When my qualities are needed, I am treated like a queen; when my qualities are not needed I am treated with indifference. This is the reality in the world and we have to live with this utilitarian world.

Then I remembered the story from ‘Chaturmas’ story book. A poor sister was never invited by her brother, always treated with contempt. Suddenly by worshiping some goddess she becomes rich. The brother now invites her to lunch – she exhibits and puts all her jewelry in front of the food, and tells her brother that she is aware that ‘he is feeding the gold and not her’. If anyone of you have this original story, do give me a copy. Now I can appreciate the depth of the story,

Yes, the world remains the same though times change!! That brings a smile to me. Every day.

I salute the world for what it is!
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