Self immolation of a mind

The bhajans were going on in the background. People were immersed in chanting the lord's name, the singer was authentic and at the top of his voice praising the lord's name and the dholak accompanied it merrily and was even overtaking the singer on some notes and it seemed to an outside observer, that fortunate must be those who could sit in that satsang and amidst that group of people, who all were so sincere and devoted to baba. Yet, if you observe closely, there was one unfortunate soul, who was having a hard time over there. Why shouldn't he have a hard time, after all he gave up after yet another failed attempt at meditation. He tried for forty long minutes in vain to focus on lord and eventually gave up.

He now has a mind that is in a self-flagellation mode and his feeble attempts in controlling it were simply not adequate. It questioned about what he had learnt after so many visits to the temple and why he was still not firm in devotion? It rebuked him about wasting such a wonderful oppurtunity, where he got to see the lord from such close quarters. His attempts at explaining that spiritual growth is an organic process and it takes a long time to grow fell upon deaf ears. The mind simply didn't give up. On top of that, along with self-flagellation, self introspection was thrusted upon him and he started noticing all the rough edges within him, that were previously hidden under the garb of ego.

For instance, he realized that the love and affection that seemed so natural to other devotees was almost alien to him. He didn't greet anyone in that satsang with an affectionate 'sairam' and was mostly quiet. He conveniently casted this quietness, which is typically associated with some sort of superiority complex or egoism to a philosopher's disinterest in worldy affairs. However, a philosopher doesn't covet worldly association, whereas he loves worldy affairs. His face lits up when someone comes and makes small talk to him. He covets to be talked to, enquired upon and may be praised.

As the self flagellation and self introspection were hand on hand, for the first time in his life, he realized how feeble he was. Technically, he was in a bhajan, but most of the time, his mind was occupied in worrying about worldly affairs. And to make matters worse, he had the knack of associating things with lowliness, that his mind couldn't grasp. He never could understand how people can cry at a bhajan or how they could shake all over while chanting the lord's name and hence he associated these things to a weak mind or some sort of outward show and pomp. Never did he even once ponder that it could happen because their hearts were overwhelming with love or that they could be feeling something that is way above than what normal minds could comprehend.

It was not that he was a bad person. He was genuine in his own way, except that he needed to be a bit more adaptable in his outlook. His worldly ways and his numbers game has no meaning in spiritual world and perhaps that was what he needed to learn, that god loves everyone equally and he needed to see the goodness of hearts, rather than over their weakness. Self flagellation was not a bad thing after all. It was nature's way of eliminating the dead and unwanted growth and providing an opportunity to grow something more positive and helpful.

Omsairam!

broken dreams

"what do you want to become when you grow old?"...my grand father asked me on one of those sunday afternoons, after all of us had lunch and were gathered around him. Grandfathers are popular usually and i can proudly attest that even among grandpa's, my grand father would be rated very highly. It is not just the stories he told us or the gifts he bought for us, but his ability to strike an adult conversation without making it look boring as well as treating us as mature people, even when most of the world clearly did not, made him truly special to us. For me, he was extra special, because he always looked after me and made sure that i didn't get left out of the conversation. As a kid, i was bit shy and had some self-loathing, which he must have spotted early on and hence he made sure that i was the one first to answer these questions. I heard the question and was a bit hesitant to answer. My grandpa gave me a nodding smile, asking me to proceed and clear any doubts i had in my mind. I replied with a slow murmur, "airforce pilot". All of the kids laughed out loud and it was difficult even for my grandpa to suppress his chuckle. Every kid wants to be a pilot or join the military, but not for a kid who was notorious for falling of the bike or for being too late to react. Even at that age, most of them figured out that the future of IAF (indian airforce) was safer without me crashing their planes. Come to think of it, the air force did lose a whole lot of MIG-21's due to some mechanical problems and me being there wouldn't have added to the damage.

Their laughter caused a little bit of nervousness in my stomach. I didn't know how to answer the why part and i was thinking of what to say next. My grandfather who was clearly trying to steer the topic to a serious note asked me, "why do you want to be a pilot?" These days when someone asks me on why i want to move to a company, i would end up saying something along the lines of corporate excellence, moving up the ladder, great perks, location etc, etc but as a kid you are immune to these reasons. I don't know why i said that but the answer was almost instantaneous.."because, it is a great honor to die for your country!"..

A few years went by...The commentator was clearly all excited. After all, it was the final of the world cup and what could be more better than india playing with their arch rivals. However, the indian fans had no reason to rejoice, since their notables had been back in the hut and there was this new guy in crease, mostly untested. The commentator was heard saying that unless some miracle happens, the cup is heading towards karachi. I was nervous as i took guard and had to control my heart, which was beating almost twice its usual rate. I stepped back, took guard and then looked around. The famous pace quartet of pakistan were staring at me as if they are ready to pounce on me anytime and my batting partner was nervous on the other end. I signaled that i was ready to face the ball and i totally blanked out for the next few seconds and i could then hear a roaring crowd waving indian flags frantically as it was the first six of the match from the Indian side. Slowly, for the next few minutes, all i could hear was Indian crowd emphatically waving the tri-color flag and the pakistan side slowly sinking into despair. Slowly, i gained confidence and it came down to the last over, where we needed 15 runs in one over. To top that, i reached to my ninety's and i walked over to talk to my partner. We discussed that, both of us will take our chances and we would like to go blazing guns to finish off. The first ball was a cheeky single from my partner and here i was facing my childhood icon, wasim akram, in what was to be one of the greatest matches for both of us. As i slowly took stance and millions of people all over the world were anxiously waiting, i could slowly see....my mom? my mom was trying to get onto the pitch and was arguing with the security guards. The commentators were visibly annoyed and i had to quickly run off towards her. The match had been stopped due to a rogue spectator and while i ran towards her, asking her what was she doing here, she said, it was dinner time. Unbelievable, here i was playing the most important cricket match ever played and all she could think of is dinner? I threw my hands in exasperation and  had to convince the umpires to delay the game for about 45 minutes, while i go and finish my dinner. Slowly, i closed the book and meekly followed her wondering whether she had her usual sambhar and stuff, which means that it is hard for me to play a pull or hook, in case the bowler decides to go with a bouncer. But, i knew it was no use arguing with her.

I closed the door of my room and locked it tight. I got up and went towards my almarah. I opened it up slowly to avoid making any creaky noise and then grabbed the book with both my hands. I looked at the cover and it had a beautiful picture of swami yogananda. The shining,glossy letters read, "Autobiography of a Yogi". I sat lotus legged on a mat, held the book in my hands and then tried to meditate. In a few minutes after i closed my eyes, i could see an expanding light between my eye brows and time went by like that. Ah, the joy of meditation and being oblivious to the pressures of real world.

A few days passed by, and i could sense a feeling of detachment. This has become a part of my life to practice a lot in night and then getup early in the morning to attend my tuition. However, my focus was slowing shifting away from trignometry, geometry to other metrics and i could sense that. But, still, coming from a middle class family, i didn't have the luxury to ignore trignometry, even if i wanted to. I, unwillingly opened the book and started to look at some math problems. Some voice inside me cried out loud asking me to take a break and focus on the things that matter me. But, i couldn't as exams were looming around and my parents had a lot of hopes on me. I read it in a disinterested fashion, but at some point, i had to debate with my inner voice. I told it that if i do not make to engineering, i will simply leave the worldly life and go to tibet, practice meditation and then take up the life of a Buddhist monk. A few days went by and i got the results. I passed my exams and was eligible to get into engineering. However, it was not a elated time and i felt disgusted from within. My inner voice told me that it is not pathway to happiness, but the road to entanglement of worldly pleasures. All the praises heaped onto me were chains that will prevent me from doing things that truly matter to me. All the awards i receive were just tranquilizers that would slowly make me immune to the inner voice and then lull me into mundane existence. It kept asking me, why not do something like yogananda? Why indulge in the worldy matters? Why not go away to tibet? Why not seriously attempt to find your gurudeva? I tried to shut it down, saying, times have changed and i cannot leave my parents. However, the voice of reason has lost to the voice of faith and i had this urge to getup and leave the house at that very moment. As i slowly tried to sneak out, an urge told me to seek the blessings of my parents, who brought me onto this planet and because of whose upbringing, i was able to nourish such good thoughts. I went tiptoed into their bedroom and laid my head near my fathers feet. I could touch his toe fingers and felt the warmth in them. I moved towards his face and could see him sleep so peacefully at night. I realized that it would probably be the last time i would ever see him and feel him. It seemed so real and it didn't seem like attachment to me. Tears started coming out of eyes and all the vedanta and non-attachment, i built into my system started to melt away. It looked stupid and sounded stupid but i couldn't argue with my self.  My dad got up and looked at me with a puzzled look about why i was  there and i told him that i was unable to sleep all alone and wanted to sleep next to them. He moved to give me some space and i slowly lay down on my back. I told myself that my adventures have to wait for some days and that i need to fulfill my duties as a son. Alas, those some more days never came and i entangled myself with more responsibilities and more roles.

So, in gist, these were a few of my dreams, a few of my many broken dreams. If you walk along this boulevard, you will see them lying around all shattered and please be careful, otherwise they might hurt you as they did to me. Some people might say that it is natural to dream of things and then be disappointed and hence they do not dream. And there are those rosy eyed optimists, who talk as if every dream that is shattered is a reason to rejoice. They speak as if the breaking of the dream is an opportunity for another one to arise, like a butterfly coming out from a caterpillar.  what do i say, you might ask? I do not know how to say it, but lay down my feelings. I just say that to dream is like being in heaven and to come out of it is like hell. And in life, you get both. What else can we do except for sucking it in and continue dreaming? Is there a choice, you ask? Even if there was, i wouldn't want it.

Journey of Green card

It is the card that millions have been waiting for, it is the card that you want to get your hands on, it is the card that comes knocking your door without any warning and it did arrive one fine day...well, it is not a credit card or a library card, it is the much coveted green card!

I have been in U.S for 9 years or so and finally the day has arrived when this country decided it was time for me to be a "permanent" resident. Looking back, there were times when i was frustrated, there were times when i gave up in desperation and some how destiny nudged me towards making the right moves, giving me patience to hold on and sometimes desperation to turn away from my carefully orchestrated moves! In the end, i almost feel it was not me who needs the card, but my guardian angel who should get it...may be i should make my devotion and love for god a permanent resident, instead of keeping them on probation or interns...not a bad idea, huh?

How did it start? If we take a journey back to the good old days, it all started with the advise from my friend. People say that you should surround yourself with successful people, but i think they are wrong. Instead, you should surround yourself with people who made some mistakes and who repent about them, because they are guaranteed to give you the right advise. In my case, my friend and mentor, who took a little while to apply for GC, made sure that i didn't make the same mistakes...He warned me in the beginning and when i didn't heed, he pushed me hard to talk to my lawyers and press for my GC application. I still took six long months to prepare my paper work, but thankfully, it didn't hurt me that much. Ah, i remember spending time reading those long emails from my lawyer, those long word documents that we were forced to read and understand, and filling out those long forms where we had to remember every little detail until so far, like where did i study for my kindergarten and what all i places i stayed in the last ten years?

The next important moment was my filing the I-485 form. It was the time when probably destiny helped me a lot. I had my india trip all planned out in the month of july and then we hear this terrible news that green card was going to become current for all categories and dates. I deliberated for about 2 days thinking of what to do and then finally decided to continue with my trip. This actually meant that i would not be able to file for my GC and at that time, i didn't care much about this. A lot of events happened and finally, the US government decided to allow people to file their applications for about three days after i returned from U.S. It was not a smooth sailing, though since my birth certificate was missing and my parents had to fax one, last minute through some laborious negotiations with indian government officials and i couldn't file my medical examinations as it was too late. Somehow, i was able to file my application on the last day, before the deadline would expire. My thanks to the wonderful legal team at microsoft and my parents who had to go through a lot to get my birth certificate. It sounds weird though that i'm thanking my parents for getting my birth certificate and not for the actual birth...

As time passed by, the wait didn't reach any logical conclusion and there were times when i wondered whether it was worth it to wait for this card to show up? I realized that i was away from my parents for most of my adult life and a thought arose within me on what worth is all this, if we do not spend this with our family? This country, this life, this enjoyment, who do i share it with? Thinking so, i decided to go back to my native place and somehow destiny stopped me again. I do not know why i didn't follow through with some of the plans i made so meticulously and i'm not sure whether it was it for good or bad. I gave up my thoughts of going back somehow and trying to mould in, however unpleasant things could be. Why did i do that? I do not have an answer..

Finally, one pleasant evening, i opened my mail box and noticed that there was a welcome letter inviting me to this country, in which i have already stayed one third of my life and i felt that the clutches that held me back before, were removed and i could see that i was free to do what i want and live how i wanted. It is another thing that if i can escape from the mental clutches that have had their hold and whether the "GREEN" card would be a green light to my life that would allow me to drive in fourth gear or whether i would be that frightened driver, who would continue to stay back on the sideback, imagining that it is better to be waiting on RED than going at full speed...

Omsairam!

Dasvidaniyan

This is one of my favorite movies and it deals with a cancer patient trying to make a bucket list of things to do and how he goes after them. Why does this movie appeal to me? I feel it is because it highlights the trivialness of our dreams and goals and epitomizes that life cannot be fully planned, instead can only be fully lived. Enough of the chatter, and let us go to the depths...I will try to not just write the goals or the bucket list, but also try to write the execution plan and some ways of identifying on when it was done (my google and microsoft experience is talking, baby!). BTW, this blog will be updated as time passes to add to the wish list and update it continously.

1) Drive on US-101 and CA-1 to san diego:

ocean on the side, a continous drive for 8 hours and then reaching san diego is a dream. Then walking on the beach sand with naked foot, playing in the warm ocean waters and then living in a hotel with ocean side view, ah the magic! I don;t want to do anything except lie on the bed and see the ocean from my room, wake up at sun rise and see the morning sun slowly rise from the far side and then go back at the sunset and see the sun disappear into the sea...Nothing, but leisure time and nowhere to go except for the room. I would also love to go there under moon light, may be on a full moon day and then sit on the beach, have the cool breeze touch my face and then may be lie on the sand to feel the coolness? This is my first wish!

2) Join back acting:

Back in 2005, i embarked on the actor's journey and then continued for 2 years. In this time, i did some comedy, some shakespeare, some intense plays and finally two full plays. However, my acting journey was anything but fantastic.  I was nervous and fumbled at times and was never comfortable. In the end, after some failed auditions, i had to finally give up. Sometimes, i feel disappointed and sometimes i feel i could have done better, but there is a part which wants to try again, to go back to the stage and give it another shot. I wish that happens! I know i might have sucked big time, but there were times when i would forget everything else and immerse into the play, to speak my lines with conviction and to bring authencity to my performance. I want to do that again and may be struggle less in acting and take it as a joy ride.

3) Spend a week in a buddhist monastery

A dream since childhood, that i was never even close to achieving. Probably, the dream solidified when i read the autobiography of a yogi and i imagined myself sitting in lotus legged posture in a buddhist monastery. However, i was not even close to achieving five minutes of meditation, forget about a week of focussed meditation. But, i know that it will happen and the reason it took so long is for some inner transformation to happen with me and probably to widen my outlook. 

4) Write a book:
   Probably that should happen sometime since i do feel have some creative bent towards writing...my initial experiences of writing came when i took the writers class and i had a pretty good run where my writing was appreciated for its crisp, sarcastic, funny take on society...however, those short pages could never be expanded into a long book and my infant attempt at doing this last year fell flat on its face since i never summoned the courage and will power to finish it. I wish someday to sit back, translate some of the thoughts that go into my head to words on paper and then prove to myself that i can in fact summon the discipline when needed to translate visions of grandiose to actual reality. In a way, the blog is a way to posting my thoughts, but these are too scattered to provide a vision and perhaps a much more focussed form of writing is required.

Crucifixion- part 2

Tip, Tip, Tip, the sound of trickling blood was clearly heard in that dungeon. The last bout of sadism displayed by the roman soldiers and jewish counterparts took its toll on this saint and he was laying there helplessly. His white robe was no longer white and it looked mostly red and his face had blood flowing all over it and since it has been flowing for ever, some of it solidified and there were clots at some places. Some roman soldier thought it would be a nice idea to put a crown on this self-proclaimed king of the jews and hence meticulously arranged a  crown with thorns on it, making sure that the thorns pierced into his skull. Inspite of all this, there was something serene about him and even in pathos, the sight calmed me and swept me away from the worldly desires. How do i describe this feeling? Shall i say, he looked like a rose with all the thorns around him? A rose that is not fresh, but a rose that is burdened by the thorns around it and a rose that is ready to lose its last petal to the cold winter, perhaps?

My blood boils when i think of the attroticities committed to this peace loving human being and how could one be so devilish? It is easy to think that the soldiers were messengers from hell, but sadly they are not. In fact, they would have believed at that very moment, that they were doing because their god said so. Surprised? Yes, we, human beings, the over zealous lot have taken upon ourselves to protect our God and sadly since we do not converge on one god, each one of us has to fight against each other and protect the "TRUE" and "ONE" god.  Perhaps, it is sad and fitting that more crimes were committed in the name of protecting God than anything else. Even if we think that satan sent the romans to kill jesus, what about those ignorant jews who willingly picked a thief and a murderer over this saint? No, this cannot be blamed upon satan or some other external being, but it should be blamed on this collective functioning of society, this organized religion and these ruthless rulers who misguide people and who never let them experience the true taste of freedom, lest that threaten their very existence.

The people of jerusalem chose a murderer over jesus and the roman chancellor was taken back. At that very moment, he gave up all hope and quietly walked back, leaving the people to their own fate. Barabbas was taken aback at this mysterious turn of events and he was rejoicing over his newly found freedom. He didn't bother to look back and who would blame him? The so called protectors of jewish religion rejoiced as their authority would go unquestioned and perhaps their so-called traditions would be upheld for a few more centuries. Why does this happen? When would the so called protectors of religion turn against it? Would they know and do it willingly or would they do it because they are so clueless? The roman soldiers gleefully dragged jesus away from the public and like vultures pouncing on carcass, they were ready to satiate their sadistic pleasures. And the public, clueless to what they had just done, went back to their ignorant self.

Amidst all this, one question would definitely arise.Where were the fans of jesus? Where were the followers of this king? Poof, Poof...All of them fled at that very moment, when the romans captured jesus. These apostles, who had the great fortune of being with this saint left him at the very moment when their faith and devotion would have been truly tested and perhaps shown a glimpse of their character to the world. And should they be blamed for their primal instincts taking over them when they could clearly see a dagger hanging over their head? The cowardice that took them over thankfully was swept away by their devotion and slowly it dawned upto them on what they had done and they started regrouping among themselves to discuss further course of action. Judas, the culprit who gave away the lord for a trifle had no such chance at redemption and he went and hung himself over a tree. Would history forgive him for the sin he had committed? Perhaps not.

Jesus barely uttered a word as the soldiers dragged him away. His robe which was beginning to look a little red was also being shredded away by the rocks and stones which were on the street. For the soldiers, this was a routine act since they were used to this scene every day. A few soldiers who were a little over zealous used some choicest abuses hurled at Jesus and a few more took the liberty of landing some punches and kicks onto his face and his stomach. Granted that he was a saint, but he had to go through the pain, the abuse and the humiliation for no fault of his own. Was his devotion tested? Did he even for a split second wonder on why this was happening to him? Did he ever question on why he was being made the sacrificial lamb? I have no answer to this and the only person who could answer this is the man himself. Regardless of what happened, this sort of cruelty which bordered on sadism went on for the next few hours and sadly this was not the worst of the crimes committed on this saint. The best was saved for the last and my heart shudders on what else could they do to torture him?

(to be continued)

Discipline

Ah, i wish i was disciplined and orderly like my dad. This is the thought that pops into my head every now and then..my dad is my idol and i cannot but help try to compare myself to him and feel dwarfed around him. BTW,  it is not his materialistic conquests that impress me or his outworld demeanor, but his inner demeanor is what i long for. I cannot but feel admiration and awe to recollect his daily life and see that he has maintained a very simple and a disciplined approach towards life. I feel i really need it.

This is by no means the dreaded military discipline where things are done through fear but a more wholesome discipline where the routine becomes a pleasure and things are done out of the love for balance and order. As a child, i had the pleasure of observing my dad who would always get up at a certain time, take bath at a certain time, eat at a certain time and then go through the various chores in a certain time. At my rebellious best, i argued that this was too monotonous and not becoming for me, but now i realize that being monotonous is a crucial experience to develop the inner stamina to transcend to higher levels. You might be wondering on what discipline do i crave for? Sadly, i crave for discipline at multiple levels and i wish i could atleast start the work in some.

First of all, i badly need to discipline my thought patterns. My mind is too much accustomed to drag me around with its unpredictable thought patterns and this seems to cause chaos in my life. There are many times it starts randomly throwing ideas and thoughts that seem to disrupt the regular routines and i always seem to be in this phase of looking for constant change. Change is good until certain limit and for the right reasons but change for the sake of change is bad. I seem to be the person who has the gift of finding faults and this seems to put in a state where i yearn for new things and new places more often that needed. I want to be able to contemplate on the need for change and make a settled decision rather than just running around. I want discipline to be able to control my mind, ponder over the ideas it throws at me and then make a calm, composed decision. Is that possible? i do not know.

The second area where i need discipline is around my spiritual practice. My dad has this habit of doing his prayer exactly 20 minutes every day both at morning and evening. I always felt that spirituality should not be bound by time. I scoffed at his prayers saying that they were to be coming from the heart and not by an alarm clock. However, i have realized that over a period of time, my heart thing doesn't seem to always work out. My heart seems to yearn for music and movies more than prayer. I can go on for not praying for many days and then one day i feel guilty and go about praying for an hour. The same body doesn;t seem to have any problem in keeping up with schedule around TV, food and other lower body desires but when it comes to meditation, it somehow doesn't seem to care much about. The worst part is that the guilt seems to be more powerful than my love for god. Dad, i was so wrong about you and i wish i could be like you when it comes to prayer, to be able to resist the temptations and focus on GOD.


What do i say now since i already said what i wanted? I don't know. This blog will perhaps be ended just like my thoughts with no real conclusion or aim. It will be just another arrow shot in the dark without any goal or aim and it perhaps will confuse you. You might be wondering why this was written or what purpose it serves, but, hey that is life. Not every thing has a purpose and not everyone will live to achieve their dreams. But, everyone has the right to take a shot at it and fail in doing so....