226. Countdown

This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 55; the fifty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with Rashmi Kumar, the author of Hooked, Lined and Single and Jyoti Arora, the author of Lemon Girl.

10.

Sometimes I don’t understand my anxiety. I know you are not accountable to us and you always keep the date. However, I still check weather predictions. The news of your arrival helps me to survive the heat.

9.

It is unfair to say that summer is always horrible. The kids have vacations; ample mangoes and rounds of ice-creams. Meeting friends and traveling. However in the corner of my heart, I know I am waiting for you. I know some people around me do not bother about you. They think everything could be purchased by money power. They are wrong. I argue with them. Such arguments make me feel vacant within. I wish you come a bit earlier this year so that I can forget and forgive these people.

8.

In the world I live, there are multiple worlds. Women walk miles for a pot of water; farmers will be forced to either end their life or migrate. Animals are thirsty. The trees are dirty. The sky seems distant. The Sun blazes and we wait for you.

7.

The evening brings cool breeze. On the western horizon I see black clouds. Will you come today? Oh, No!  Within few moments the clouds move. May be not here but somewhere it is raining.

6.

I am away from home for a week. It was work, so I could not avoid it. And then I see you meeting my home town – on the television, in the newspapers, on FB, on social media. Everywhere. Well, what wrong have I done so that you avoid me?

5.

I am frustrated with the heat, with the work, with the world. I feel lonely. I feel like crying. I just want to go away. Problem is: I cannot go away from myself. I know I would be happy again when you come. When are you coming?

4.

They say that you have arrived in Kerala. Good to know. This means another seven days. Life ise worth of all this waiting.

3.

Where is the umbrella? Do I need to purchase raincoat? What about Floaters?

That is the problem of being a human. On one side, I wait for you like I have never longed before. On the other side I am thinking of all the things to protect me from you. Is it not ridiculous? Yes, it is. I can see you smiling on my contradictions.

2.

I feel you around. I smell you. I look at the elephant like clouds, big, black. But they keep on disappearing. Why?

1.

Will you come tomorrow or today? Will you come in the morning or in the evening?

0.

Finally you come.

You make this world beautiful. You change lives. You make lives. You bring smiles. You bring value to everything around. You bring smiles.

Thanks for coming!

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. Participation Count: 48. Image Credits: Monsoon by Yann (Wikimedia Commons). Shared with GNU Free Documentation License CC Attribution-Share Alike.

213. Apology

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 48; the forty-eighth 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.

“You owe me an apology”, she demanded.

“I am really sorry,” he said controlling his tears.

“I did not ask for “sorry”, I want an apology,” she was stubborn.

“I apologize”, he said in a low voice.

“You too owe me an apology”, she turned to the silent woman and demanded in the same tone.

“I apologize”, she said in a low and tearful voice.

There was pin-drop silence.

The child moved away, very slowly, without looking back.

“So, coming back to the custody of your only daughter….” the lawyer continued.

They knew they would be apologetic all their 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. Participation Count: 40

* 

195. Wrong Message

I hardly watch Television.
And when I watch, I have learnt the art of doing some important tasks during the 'break'.
That means I hardly watch advertisements.

However, this one I watched and was amazed.

A bell rings.
Father opens door.
Son enters - he is obviously a cricket player.
Father asks, "Is the match over?"
Son says, "Everybody has gone out on vacation. When will we go?" (As if the boy did not know that others are not there and went in to play match with full preparations! The kids today are not so dumb!!)
Daughter says, "I too want to go Papa."
Father promises, "Ok, we too will go on vacation (and visit some places)".

Then the wife (mother of kids :-))  says,"Why did you give such a false promise to kids? We don't have any saving after we pay y EMI (Equated Monthly Installments)"
And the man replies, "Don't worry, now I have transferred the housing loan to State Bank of India" (The EMI is less and so the family can save).

And then a photograph of the family on tour.

However, there is one absolutely fundamental wrong message in this advertisement,

Can you guess what it is?

180. Game

"How was the marriage ceremony?" the moment I stepped in, Sudhir's grandmother asked.

I was little surprised at that question. Because not only Sudhir's grandma did not know the bride and the groom (and their families), she also did not know me well enough to ask this question. 

Sudhir is my friend's - Nirmala's - husband. I was in the town to attend one marriage - which I could not afford to avoid due to my close relations with both the families involved in the marriage. I had taken this opportunity to stay with Nirmala and to chat with her. 

"Oh, it was good," I answered grandma with a smile and immediately switched the topic. Grandma naturally had more questions to ask but my reluctance was visible to her too. Fortunately at that moment Sudhir came. 

"How was the marriage ceremony?" Sudhir asked. Though Nirmala was my close friend, I had hardly met Sudhir. We knew each other mostly through Nirmala. So I glanced curiously at Sudhir. I get tired of entertaining people in a meaningless way. So, I completely ignored Sudhir's question and said, "Sudhir, did you see the news of this new scam?" (That was equally meaningless question!).

Sudhir smiled clearly showing his understanding of my thought processes. He pushed the easy-chair in front of me and said, "Now just relax. I will bring you a cup of coffee. Nima would be joining us any moment."

And Nirmala came. Surprisingly, she too asked the same question: "How was the marriage ceremony?" 

That was it. "Nima, the marriage ceremony was like any other normal marriage ceremony. The bride and the groom put garlands, the Pandits and some of the old ladies sang mantras, people queued for lunch, the video cameraman's presence was overwhelming .... Is it not that each marriage ceremony is the same except for the changes in few details? One glance at the invitation cards tells you what to expect!!" 

Nirmala must have sensed boredom in my voice. After a moment's pause, she said, "Well, there are certain things which are beyond all this obvious. I know you don't like to attend these ceremonies but you attend because you don't want to hurt people's beliefs. You also look at this opportunity to meet many people. So when I asked, 'how was the marriage ceremony?' what I wanted to ask was - 'Did you meet any other friends? Did you enjoy the gathering?' Now that you answered with such irritation only shows that your time was not well spent."

In spite of my irritation I smiled. That is the specialty of Nima. She always speaks in such terms that I can understand. 

I turned to Sudhir. "Sorry, Sudhir, and what did you really want to know?"

Sudhir said, "Like Nima, I was also interested in knowing whether you enjoyed. Also I think we have similar views on  the give and take part, the show of wealth in these ceremonies and the meaningless rituals etc. I wanted to know your remarks on these aspects of the ceremony."

"And what was Grandma's intention?" I asked feeling little guilty.  

"Oh, being a lady from old generation, Grandma was naturally interested in knowing about ornaments, menu, rituals etc" Sudhir answered with smile. 

"Oh! Then why don't we ask directly what we want to ask? Why the mask of words? Is it not confusing that each one of you wanted different set of knowledge but used the same words?" I was talking to myself but spoke out aloud. 

Sudhir smiled again. He said, "How can we change language? Sometimes the direct questions sound very rude and undesirable. Instead of that why don't you take a challenge of interpreting the question in the right way? It all depends on the persons with whom you are conversing and your relationship with that person. We keep on using the same words, but each one has a different expectations from the same words, for each of us the hidden meaning of the words is different. It is a game of interpretation. One has to play it with interest and not get irritated. In reality everyone plays this game ...."

Same words, with different meaning, with different intentions, with different expectations. 

This seems to be an interesting and challenging game. 

**

174. My Choice

I was visiting this particular city after a long time.

“How many years ago, did I last come here?” I asked myself.

Well, maybe five years ago, maybe seven; I did not even remember it.

So, I gave up that idea. If I don’t remember, then it is not important for me at that moment.

I suddenly remembered my friend. In all my earlier visits, this particular friend’s home was my contact and staying place in the city.

“For how long we have not communicated with each other?” I asked myself again and had no answer and so gave up that too.

I found the phone number of that friend in the contact list.

I was not comfortable in directly making a call. I was not connected and I know I cannot take for granted anything from anybody at anytime.

I texted a message on that number even when I did not know whether the number still existed or not.

“I am in your city today. We can meet if you wish.” I knew this was rather a cryptic message.

Five minutes passed away. Another ten minutes ran away. I was waiting for the reply and was anxious about what it would be.

After half an hour, I received a text message. It said, “I have lost contacts from my old handset. Whose number is this?”

I wrote my name, which on second thoughts I should not have.

If somebody who was your close friend once upon a time has lost not only you but even your contact information - the message is loud and clear.

You are lost – forever.

Why try to keep things which are not yours?

I smiled and then forgot everything about that friend.

But then afterwards I asked one more question to myself – “What is the difference between two of us?” Nothing; actually.

So I have no business to feel bad about how others treat me.

"They" have their choice and I have my choice.

172. Mind Games

On that day, I was traveling from Mumbai to Pune once again. During summer vacations it is difficult to travel on this route. Though there are innumerable options, they are all crowded. It is hard to book tickets in advance and even if you have 'reserved' seat, it is of no use is my experience. So, there is an inevitable discussion among the co-passengers on "vacation - crowd - railway reservation - corruption - railway management - government - increased population ..." and so on. Some respond to the situation coolly and some show their experience by saying something like "Oh! This crowd is nothing. Last year I was traveling to ...." 

We Indians like to discuss. The discussion does not end even if everybody agrees. The disagreement is generally on un-important points. These points vary according to the season and situation. On that particualr day everybody agreed that 'the summer is getting intolerable' -and on this the discussion continued. 

In my childhood the topic of summer had a short life. The summer was either mild or strong or severe. Now even kids talk in terms of temperatures like "Yesterday Pune was 39  (degree Celsius), our Mumbai is much cooler you know, it was only 34." The credit goes to 24X7 news channels as well internet. I never find news on TV channels interesting, but people refer to those news bites seriously in various discussions. 

Everybody was sweating during the journey. The price of cold-drinks was making poor parents sweat more. Then the discussion as expected turned towards 'water' and especially 'drinking water." People remembered how the delayed monsoon caused trouble last year and hoped that "this year the monsoon is on time."

The discussion continued. The train passed Kalyan station and then Karjat station. The train was on time. People were planning what they would do when they reach Pune. Outside, the Sun was blazing, the hills were barren and dry. Everybody was waiting for the end of the journey. 

When we reached around Monkey Hill, there was a sudden change in atmosphere. There was wild breeze and the sky was covered with black clouds. The blazing Sun had disappeared behind those clouds. There was the typical smell of earth when it rains .. and within moments we met stormy Rain.

I love rain. Even by its hope, I become happy and fresh. My mind becomes rain when it actually rains outside. 

I was happy. I looked at my co-passengers and was surprised!  Nobody was in a mood to welcome Rain. All windows were hurriedly shut down. The train lost its speed. It stopped for ten minutes in Khandala station and took twenty minutes to reach Lonvala from Khandala. Passengers were not comfortable and everybody was looking at his/her watch after every minute.

Slowly, people started complaining about the delay, about the railway management, about the rain. Someone said, "Why this rain had to come only now! It  could have come later!!" Others agreed. They continued the discussion on 'how untimely the rain always arrives". Some other even suggested that "why it does not rain only on agricultural and forest lands? Why do we people in cities need rain for?" The argument no doubt was unwise, foolish and disastrous. It clearly showed selfishness and lack of understanding and respect for Nature. However, nobody argued and it seemed to be that everybody was thinking on the similar lines. 

I found the change in response of the people around me rather funny. Why are we always dissatisfied with what we have? In summer, have we ever tried to exchange a smile with the Sun? In summer we complain about the heat, in winter we complain about the cold and in rainy seasons we complain about rain. Why do we do that? Why do we behave and respond like this? Why do we think that only a farmer could be happy with the arrival of rain? 

"I should get what I want" is not a very healthy attitude. 

And do we really know what we want? 

Are we aware that our wants, our desires, our demands keep on changing. 

Whatever we have, we are not happy with; and whatever we don't have, we always want. 

What kind of Mind Game(s) are we playing? 

Will it ever end? 

**

163. World of JH

Oscar is a socialite. He likes to attend various social meetings in the town.

When the door is left open, Hamish runs away from the surgery and sits patiently waiting after reaching home.

Judy the nurse, dutifully watches everyone. She is always there to attend the ill.

Gertrude gulps two gallons of beer.

Bobby is a picture of massive muscle power.

Skipper is stunned by the death of Jingo and almost gives up his life too, only to be revived by presence of another young one in the family.

She is hiding her new-born baby.

What am I talking about?

Last few days, after reaching home from, I did not do anything but spent my time with those whom I have mentioned above.  

It does not matter that Oscar is a cat, which was found by a girl and brought to surgery.

I forget that Hamish is a Dog of a retired school teacher.

I have not mentioned that Judy is Eric Abbot’s sheepdog taking care of ill bullock and small chickens.

Gertrude is sow who has is just not allowing her newly born baby’s to come near her. The baby’s would die if it the mother continues to behave so.

Bobby is a splendid horse belonging to Mr. Mount.

Skipper and Jingo are two dogs.

There are not only cats, dogs, cows, horses, pigs.

There are interesting human beings as well.

Who would forget Tristan’s pranks? And his brother Siegfried?

The benevolent Mr. Barge with his Soothitt; Mr. Hollin the farmer with traditional wisdom; Mr. Mount with probing grey eyes; the overconfident Mr. Seth Pilling who had to eat his words; Mrs. Ridge who was happy even when her car was stolen because her dog Joshua barked at the thief; how lonely James feel along with number 87 of Mr. Blackburn; Paul Cotterell who appears so strong and James thinks that nothing touches Paul deeply.. how he commits suicide after his dog Theo had to be put to rest;    how blindness of dog Digger helps Andrew to come out of the dark phase of life…

There are stories after stories. Enchanting stories of the world of Darrowby .. World of Yorkshire.

As seen by James Herriot.

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)

159. Not Enough

When I entered Mumbai office, the first thing I noticed was that poster. Nobody remembered from where it came from, but it was there.

A young man was jumping from a hilltop into the deep sea and the poster said, 'One Life is Enough.’

I liked the poster.

People around me thought that the poster gave a contradictory message to what the organization and everybody around stood for. They wanted to remove it and I stood for it.

My teammates believed in re-birth. My team argued with me about this ‘One Life’ concept. Well, I don’t mind dreaming that in next birth I would be this and that. But I know: then I won’t remember this birth. So logically, in each life there is only one life. We should live this life fully as if it is never going to come again and that is why I liked that ‘One Life’ approach.

Moreover, I do not know anything about ‘Life after Death’ or that ultimate ‘Truth’. Many scriptures and saints have said so much about that ultimate Truth – I do respect them. However it is their knowledge and experience they are talking about; until I have that experience, I cannot talk about Ultimate Truth and series of life etc. – though I know many theories.  I am not ashamed of declaring that ‘I do not Know’.

We kept on arguing. Once when I returned from a week long tour, I found that the poster was removed and was replaced by something else.

Well, majority wins – almost always wins.  In democratic set up, one can argue and one can try to convince others, but one can’t always win. Fair enough.

Days, months, years passed by.

Now-a-days I feel that life is moving too fast. There are many things which I need to do and need to learn, but there is no time.

I would like to study Mathematics again. If time permits, I would like to spend some time on excavation site. If I get some time, I would resume my association with flute and/or harmonium. If I have some spare time, I would like to read many books. There are places to visit and there are people to converse with.  

I have an ever-growing ‘to do list’ and somewhere deep within I know that I won’t be able to all that in this one life.

Indeed; One Life is not Enough!


(Delhi) 

157. Footnote

What happens when you observe more space occupied by footnote than the main text?

And what when it happens page after page? When it looks like never ending? With lot of patience I counted footnotes on the first 100 pages of the book and I came across as many as 123 footnotes. Is it not an overwhelming number?

Footnote is not something new to me. I have come across it as a reader and have used it – but used sparingly – as is the norm.  I generally find them useful.

But during last few days, while reading The Life of Ramkrishna by Romain Rolland, I found too many footnotes.  A dramatist, novelist,  art historian who has prestigious Nobel Prize for Literature in his name, cannot be doubted about his writing skills.  I was baffled with the amount of footnotes he has used.  That I found some of the footnotes highly interesting did not make things easier for me.

There is another interesting phenomenon I have observed simultaneously. I have this book in my collection since January 1991, for the last twenty years.  Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa is one of my favorite teachers. My journey with him has been  interesting. I was attracted by his simplicity and clarity but at the same time he challenged my rational thinking - it was a difficult task for me to understand him. But he never demanded anything from me and thus won my head and heart both.  I keep on reading this book as and when I want.I read it partially or fully as per my desire. In my earlier readings, I never remember to have noted these many footnotes – maybe I just went ahead without paying attention to them. Why I stumbled across footnotes this time is another mystery – but I will save it for another time.

Footnote is supposed to provide additional information. Wikipedia says: Notes are most often used as an alternative to long explanatory notes that can be distracting to readers. Most literary style guidelines (including the Modern Language Association and the American Psychological Association) recommend limited use of foot and endnotes. However, publishers often encourage note references in lieu of parenthetical references. Aside from use as a bibliographic element, notes are used for additional information or explanatory notes that might be too digressive for the main text.

What do these excessive footnotes indicate?

• That the matter under discussions is complex?
• That the subject has too many interlinks – all of which cannot be explained?
• That the author has much more information on the topic and he is limited by the space?
• That the matter of this book depends on many external resources?
• The first edition of the book was published in January 1929. So, does this indicate that norms and practices change as per the time?

What does my observing those Footnotes and thinking about it indicates? That sometimes I observe obvious things very late? That I interpret the world around as per my wishes?

Maybe, there is one lesson for me.

I should be cautious about Footnotes taking precedence over the Main Text. 

Keeping those two at their respective places with the right perspective is the key towards making life more meaningful.

******
You might like to read Appeal of Despair

156. Missing Link

While leaving, I felt that I should not have visited the place at all. I had not visited the place for years - in fact, it is my first visit and today was no special reason to visit. However, this day was marked for you; it seems.

Almost everyone got down at Red Fort from the HoHo bus, and the guide looked at me enquiringly. I told her that I wanted to go to the next point. I was the only one getting down there.  

The entry was not a problem at all. No security check, no queue, no tickets.

But everyone is asked to take shoes off. I keep the shoes in the stand and come across one of your well known statements. You say:

The simplicity of your words is touching. I stand there for few moments – asking the question to myself I guess. I don’t have to go inside and take your ‘darshan’ – for that matter you are no God for me. If I could have met you, I would have certainly argued with you and you know I am hard nut to convince. But that is not to be – we never met and will never meet.

I move inside and watch people clicking around – just clicking and clicking.

Only few foreigners are interested in your life and in your actions. At least some people are talking about you finally – better few than none.

I move further around. The original idea of the place must have been great. The surrounding cell-like structures (sort of open cabins) should be a good place to sit and think – like the one they have in Buddhist monasteries.  

But they are so dirty, one cannot sit there. If you were there, you would take a broom and start cleaning those. To young ones who wanted to join Freedom struggle, the first task you gave was toilet cleaning. At least I know story of one person whom you had given this task.  Now you would need more people to clean things around – you alone won’t be able to do it – even with your ‘weapon’ of fasting. I know, weapon is the not the right word!

I sometimes wonder why I treat you as if I know you fully well. I have hardly read anything you have written. You had time enough to write volumes and I don’t have time even to read those.

The truth is: I am not interested.

Do I think you are outdated and hence irrelevant?

I don’t think so. Otherwise why should I visit Rajghat on a foggy Sunday morning?

But what is the relevance? Where is the connection? Where is the bridge? Where is that thread? Where do we stand in the scheme and the dream you talk about?

The link is still missing.

155. Guilt

I know Mumbai has only two seasons – Summer and Monsoon; no Winter at all.

It took me one year to understand that Delhi too has only two seasons – Summer and Winter – no Monsoon at all. I mean it rains, but it is not like a ‘rainy season’.

So, while moving around Nehru Place, I was thirsty. Though it was month of July, the Sun was blazing. I was amused with this habit of Delhi to name Malls after great historical persons. Nehru Place, Bhikaji Kama Place, Aurobindo Place, Rajendra Place …. All these places are basically Shopping Complexes.  

I went to a small shop. There were many ‘cold (soft) drinks’. I almost don’t like any of those. Maybe I should drink water – I thought. Suddenly I experienced some movement at my side. A young girl was standing by my side and looking at me expectantly. She was about 8 to 10 years. Her frock was torn at many places but it was clean. Her hair was unkempt. She looked weak. Her eyes were big – maybe because of her malnourished status, the eyes looked bigger. She was touching my Kurta and was trying to smile.

I smiled to that young girl. I asked, “Are you hungry?”

“No, I just had some food,” her honest answer surprised me.

“Well, “ I did not know what to speak next.

“What are you going to drink?” she asked me.

Well, I was thinking of drinking water – but I knew that was not what she expected.

“What would you like to have?” I asked.

She looked at me in disbelief.

I repeated the question.

“I never had that” – she showed me one bottle with some hesitation.

The shopkeeper was getting impatient.

“Madam, don’t pay any attention to her. They are beggars. All the day they follow some or the other. Give her a rupee or two, that is all.” He advised me.

I asked the shopkeeper to give two bottles of what the girl had indicated. It was badam milk – cold milk with almond pieces and sugar. It was good. I liked it.

The girl was trying to finish the drink in a hurry. I told her not to hurry.

She looked happy and satisfied.

When she finished half of the bottle, she stopped suddenly.

“What happened? Don’t you like it?” I asked.

She was clearly in two minds.

She looked at the half finished bottle once and looked at a distant corner again.

Then she came to a decision.

“I want to take this to my young brother. Can you wait for five minutes? I will just take the bottle to him and bring the empty bottle. You know he too never had this, I liked it and I want him to have this” she pleaded.

I was touched by her innocence. Who would give something for others so easily?

The shopkeeper and the people around were watching the scene with interest now.

I smiled at them, they smiled back to me.

“Finish your milk first. Will take another one for your brother,” I told the young one.

I asked for the third bottle. Gave that to the girl. Asked her if she wanted any more.

She said, only one bottle would do – as her elder siblings and parents have tested the badam milk some other time.

I asked the shopkeeper to charge me for the price of the (empty) bottle – in case the girl forgets to return the bottle to him.

“What are you talking Madam? We are not so bad. Let the girl take the bottle and return whenever. Does not matter if we miss one empty bottle,” he said, everybody around nodded.

“After all she stays here. We are sort of neighbors. But many customers don’t like them around and so we shout at them,” another one explained.

“Come again,” the girl said to me.

“Do come again Madam,” the shopkeepers said with smile.

Who knows, I might have been in the place of that girl!

Or if life changes to worst, I might have to beg one day!!

At times even if I cannot give money or food to beggars, I treat them with dignity.

Life is full of uncertainties – but I have no fear.

Guilt? Yes I feel some sort of guilt.

How can I say that I live in a cultured society where people have to beg for food and have to live on streets?

How can I spend so much for non-needs when millions have no ways of fulfilling basic needs?

Yes, I feel guilty of being not able to change the reality around – as I would have liked!

I guess I will have to live with this guilt forever! 

153. Duel

Someone asked me the other day, “Why don’t you use dual SIM handset?”

That sounded like a good idea.

For more than a year, I am using two cellphones; two handsets and two service providers.

Because one service provider does not provide range to all the places I have to be.

I keep on carrying both the handsets with me.

I went to a mobile shop and explored. Price was not at all an issue.

I liked one and decided to come back for it sometime later.

When I want something, I somehow always come across ‘the other side’.

I cannot and should not throw away things – especially when they are working.

What do I really need cellphone for? For making and receiving calls.

For sending and receiving messages.

I have a digital camera, so I no more use cellphone camera.

I have very few chosen songs, beyond that I don’t listen to anything – so FM (Radio) is not my priority.

And anyway, one of my handsets has all these facilities – including Bluetooth etc.

I am not happy with the idea of creating electronic waste.

 I really don’t need even one mobile, then why throw two and have the third?

I needed a strong argument for purchasing new dual SIM handset.

I did not have that.

So, I did not purchase.

I left early morning at 6.00 from my friend’s house in Mumbai.

Within ten minutes, I received her call.

She informed me that I had forgotten one of the handsets at her home.

I asked the driver to turn back and gott the handset.

I tell myself::  there is an advantage of having two cell phones.

I could get the information on the other phone.

Imagine if I had only one cell phone and I had forgotten that at her home

– she would not have been able to inform me.

So, better not to purchase dual SIM phone  – I tell myself nth time.

Generally I do not read newspapers. But I picked up a copy of newspaper on 10^th November.

The ‘Delhi Times’ supplement of ‘Times of India’ carries a headline:

DOES YOUR MOBILE FUND WARS?

It describes how a film reveals the link between our cell-phones and

the death of 5 million people and 200,000 rapes in Central Africa.

The documentary is ‘Blood In The Mobile’ by Danish director Frank Poulsen.

Well, I don’t know anything about how mobile is produced and how it works.

But better not to contribute even indirectly to so much of pain and horror in the world.

By the same yardstick, I should not be using many more things. I prepare a list.

So, better not to purchase dual SIM phone – I tell myself once again.

I know the argument and the duel would continue.

I realize that as is my wish, I gather evidence accordingly.

Today I do not really want dual SIM handset and so I am collecting all evidence against that sin.

But who knows, tomorrow if my desire for dual SIM handset becomes strong – the same mind and same intellect would keep on collecting information which will suit my decision.

It has always happened like this and it will continue to happen in the same way.

Intellect is just a means for mind to fulfill its desires.

Intellect almost always surrenders.

The duel continues because the desires have no end.

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. 

144. Devotion-less

I never have been a good devotee. Different people have tried to induce at least a grain of belief in me, and have miserably failed. But without any kind of belief in any kind of sect, religion or God, I have had a cheerful life so far.

However, I like to visit temples, especially when they are not crowded. I like to explore the temples. My creative mind can travel in the past and can see certain things – all assumed of course! I can paint the past and compare it to the present and sometimes there is a difference and some other times there is no difference at all. What amuses me more than the God is people’s perception about that particular God, the astounding stories associated with the spot and the thriving market around it. It is always wonderful to note how common people carry on materialism in one hand and spiritualism in the other. Only they know what happens in the process.

So, the other day when we are entering Karaikal a district town in Puducherry, my colleague tells me about the famous Shiva temple nearby. “Would you like to go there?” he asks enthusiastically. We have lot of work ahead that day and so have started from Puducherry as early as 6.00 in the morning. I do not want to throw cold water on his passion. So as I usually respond to such suggestions, I say, “Let us see how our work progresses. If time permits, we will go.” By experience I know that if I do not strongly say “NO” time always permits!

After different meetings, discussions, visit to four villages, interaction with villagers, discussion on issues and strategies to address that etc, it is 5.30 in the evening. “Madam, shall we go to the temple now?” a village volunteer asks me anxiously. One group of our team does not want to visit the temple so they start off straight towards Puducherry.

The day had been hectic enough and it would take another four hours to reach Puducherry. But I know my colleague wants  to take me to the temple. Additional half an hour is not an issue for me. So we go to Thirunallar.

Here I come across a temple which has both Shiva and Shani. I have seen very few Shani temples so far. In Pune there is a Shani temple and I remember to have visited Shani ShingaNaapur. In Delhi to my surprise I have seen many Shani temples. But almost all these temples are surrounded by beggars and ‘differently able’ crowds. For me, Shani temple is associated with sorrow, pain, shattered hopes, dreams and an urge for survival. My memory of Shanimahaatmya is depressing. For this reasons I have instinctively avoided Shani temples so far. On the other hand I have visited many Shiva temples which are generally cool, elegant, and calm. They have always filled my heart with peace.

The temple reveals history of conflict between Jainisim and Shaivism. There was a king and a saint and a miracle involved. The place was also association with King Nala (and Damayantee) who invoked Lord Shani for his mercy and was successful. The devotees say that this is the only place where Shani is in a ‘blessing’ mode and the devotees believe that it is because of Shiva’s existence, Shani is controlled.

If you have visited religious places and studied scriptures and mythology, you know that the Gods are always very human like in their thoughts, ideas, nature and behavior.  I think that is the only way human mind can connect itself with God – the known tries to relate with unknown in a typical way.

Well, I like the temple. The architecture is attractive. Before I understand what is happening, I am taken ahead of the queue, a Pooja is fully planned. Here when we break the queue and go ahead, nobody complains. Later I realize that “pay more and have quick darshan’ is the usual practice in most of the temples.  I do not like breaking the queue this way – how can someone be more important (and that too because of money or designation) in front of God? That only shows that people do not really believe in God. I never perform Pooja in the temple – but here I am helpless. Well, I could storm out of the temple without doing any of this – but it took me time to understand what was happening. And by the time I understand it, I have as if given my indirect consent by actually participating in it. I am feeling like an illiterate person lost in the library.

The Pooja  begins with  a little hurdle. The temple priest wants to know my zodiac sign (or whatever it is called) – I say, “I have none”. This makes everybody around speechless. All of them say something in Tamil – which fortunately I do not at all understand. But as I am their guest, they cannot get angry with me. Then the priest asks  -which month I was born. For a moment I am tempted to tell a lie – but well, I give the right information. Then my colleague asks me to donate some money – I have kept my purse in the car, so he hands me a note and I put it in the plate. Later I pay that amount to my colleague and he says that because it is for religious purpose, he has to take it from me. Otherwise, I won’t earn the merit of the Pooja. In short I am forced into paying the amount – but I know my young colleague is doing it with good intention.

Then there is some kind of Emerald. I neither understand its significance not any story related to it. It is locked and the priest comes with so many keys and opens lock after lock. A group of devotees is patiently waiting – underlining the importance of this ceremony.  Then suddenly few women start singing a devotional song praising Shiva. Though it is a Tamil Song, I know it by heart. I had forgotten it so far but it comes back to me without breaks. Long back I used to listen to this song. Like rest of the devotees I repeat the lines and I feel happy like a child that I can still remember and pronounce those difficult sounding Tamil words.

Well, finally everything gets over. The head priest hands over Prasada to me. In his broken English he assures me that :This place is next to Tirupati Balaajee. Well, I don’t understand how there could be such hierarchy in the community of Gods. Are not they all supposed to be powerful and accommodating enough? Just imagine one God – say for example Shiva here – not happy with me because I did not pray him. Sounds like a human being who is hurt if someone does not salute him/her. Gods are not affected by what I do or what I don’t do. Are they not supposed to be beyond all these mundane feelings?

The priest adds: Whatever you wished here, will come true.

Everybody around me smiles. I too smile. Why ask questions if they are happy with their belief?

“What did you wish for?” my colleague asks me on the way back.

“Oh, if I knew the power of the God in advance, I should have definitely asked for certain things,” I say lightly – that is my usual answer to all strong devotees. That generally satisfies them.

I wonder what I was thinking in the temple. I was certainly not praying, I was not asking for anything. I was just watching the devotion of the devotees – there might be honesty and truth in those devotees, there might be quality longing and urge in that devotion. I was as usual observing; I was as usual trying to understand; I was as usual amazed that so much is unknown to me; I was wondering how the place might have been hundreds of years ago; I was imagining how those people might have been; I was thinking what will happen to this place 500 years down the line; I was thinking how everything emerges- lives and gets destroyed; I was feeling happy with whatever I have knowing that nothing is going to last forever.

The best gift of that devotion-less moment is:  Re-establishing of that eternal truth: That my lack of devotion does not affect Lord Shiva and Lord Shani (and other Gods) and it does not affect me as well. We choose to co-exist without demanding, without commanding and we maintain the connection without any apparent give and take.

Well, why do I need devotion?
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