The evening shades in the fields of my village

 Not much to write...the canvas of nature says it all... it's an open book..read as much as you can with all your senses open...

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An evening party

 A late evening get together of black kites... maybe to discuss the strategies to get a few fish from the pisciculture ponds under strict human vigilance...

Givers and takers

 

I have seen a few wonderful old women beggars—even though calling them ‘beggars’ would be almost a sin but given my inability to find a suitable title for them I use the word beggar—who would put out their hand with such grace, dignity, motherliness, humility, kindness, gratitude and smile that it appears like a mystical treasure, almost a blessing by a saint. Remembering them I feel that it would be incorrect to call them ‘takers’ because even though a coin passed onto their palms they gave back something far more substantial and deep, something that touches your soul, enriching you in a profound way. And after getting softly, gently touched by their presence, as you walk away, the material burden on you minus by a metallic coin, you feel enriched in a mystical, soulful way.

In contrast, I remember many materially rich people travelling in costly cars, clad in brand clothes, adorned with gold and platinum, the ones whom we mistakenly term as ‘givers’. When they give something to a poor person, something very small that wouldn’t even match the cost of biscuits for their pampered dog, there is almost a malicious frown on their face. The frown, the outer lines of the poverty of the soul inside, conveying deep sense of fear, insecurities, dis-ease and absence of joy in life despite all the material wealth around. They appear to ‘give’ something but do they actually ‘give’? In fact they seem to ‘take’ something from the poor palm spread in front of them. I think with that look of hatred and repulsiveness they take away the last semblance of dignity and self-respect still surviving in a corner of the destitute person’s heart. They take away the smile and belief in humanity somehow still lying in tiny bits in the soul of that poor person.

So we have to think and observe it carefully. Not all beggars are just ‘takers’; many of them are ‘givers’ of some invisible substance comprising genuine smile, blessing, gratitude and kindness. They appear to take a little coin or morsels of food but in reality they are returning something very-very big in its subtle proportions. Also, not all rich charity givers are just ‘givers’, they are takers, almost robbers, of the last traces of humanity lying in a poor person. They appear to give something but in reality they are taking back something far more precious.

A drizzle of flowers

This is just one-fourth of the flowers that drizzle in a flowery, scented rain from the two Parijat trees in the yard. Scented, dewy, flowery nights; and the rain of flowers on cool mornings. With so many flowers around no wonder I find my spirit dancing, intoxicated with the beauty of the countless blooms and scented breeze.

Using honesty to validate dishonesty

 प्रतिद्वंद्वी को निष्पक्ष लड़ाई में कम महत्वपूर्ण राज्य जीतने की अनुमति दें; इस बीच, साथ-साथ अधिक महत्वपूर्ण राज्य जीतें, भले ही इसके लिए अनुचित साधनों का उपयोग करना पड़े। उदाहरण के लिए, जम्मू-कश्मीर और हरियाणा। जम्मू-कश्मीर कम और हरियाणा ज़्यादा महत्वपूर्ण क्यों है? क्योंकि जम्मू-कश्मीर में सर्वशक्तिमान उपराज्यपाल के पास वास्तविक शक्ति है और विधानसभा अब तक लगभग नाममात्र और प्रतीकात्मक प्रकृति की है। इसलिए इससे कोई फर्क नहीं पड़ता कि विधानसभा का संचालन कौन करता है। हरियाणा क्यों है ज्यादा महत्वपूर्ण? क्योंकि यह परम सत्ता की सीट दिल्ली को तीन तरफ से घेरता है। किसान हरियाणा की सीमाओं के बाहर बैठे हैं. यदि कोई प्रतिद्वंद्वी सरकार सत्ता में आती है, तो वह सीमाएं खोल देगी और किसान दिल्ली में अपने अधिकारों की मांग करेंगे। अगले चुनावों में भी यही स्थिति होगी: झारखंड और महाराष्ट्र। निष्पक्ष मुकाबले में कम महत्वपूर्ण झारखंड को हारें; महाराष्ट्र को जीतना अधिक महत्वपूर्ण है, चाहे जो भी साधन अपनाना पड़े। फिर आपको प्रतिद्वंद्वी द्वारा आपके द्वारा चुनाव में हेरफेर के आरोपों को खारिज करने का एक तर्क मिल जाता है। आप बस इतना कहते हैं कि देखिए आप दूसरे राज्य में जीत गए और फिर भी आप ईवीएम के दुरुपयोग का रोना रो रहे हैं। यही कारण है कि एक साथ होने वाले इन चारों विधानसभाओं के चुनाव को दो भागों में बांट दिया गया। यह घोषणा लाल किले पर एक राष्ट्र, एक चुनाव की घोषणा के एक दिन बाद की गई थी।

Allow the rival to win the less important state in a fair fight; meanwhile, side by side win the more important state even if it means using unfair means. J & K and Haryana, for example. Why is J & K less important and Haryana more? Because in J & K the all powerful Lt. Governor holds the real Power and the assembly is almost nominal and symbolic in nature as of now. So it hardly matters who holds the assembly. Why is Haryana more important? Because it surrounds Delhi, the seat of ultimate power, from three sides. The farmers are sitting outside Haryana borders. If a rival government comes to power, it will open the borders and the farmers would be in Delhi demanding their rights. The same will be the case in the next set of elections: Jharkhand and Maharashtra. Lose the less important, Jharkhand, in a fair contest; win Maharashtra, the more important, using whatever means it takes. You then get a logic to undo the rival's allegations of election manipulations by you. You simply say that see you won the other state and still you are crying about the misuse of EVMs. That's the reason the elections for these four assemblies, which were due to be held together, were divided into two sets. The announcement coming a day after the Red Fort declaration of one nation, one election.

The smile of a stone

 

Life invincible 💪 A crack in the concrete wall. Some chance seed of a flower. Rains. Dew. And you have a little flower on the top of a tiny plant. The triumph of life, the urge to manifest from unknown to the known. Is the flower separate from the stone? No. It’s mere extension of the stone from its cracked lip, its mouth open to the possibilities. I would say it’s a smile on the stone’s lips.

Even in its barren womb the stone has the probability and potential for life. All it needs is a little crack, some drops of rain and a chance seed to transform that potential into reality. The stone smiles. The flower isn't something separate from it. It's merely an extension of it.

Manifestation is just a set of probabilities coming together from the infinite, ever evolving fabric of potential and probabilities. And of course it needs a set of appreciating eyes to witness this Leela...to complete one little circle within the greatest circle ever ... things going round and round...little cycles within the bigger cycles and still bigger ones to follow... going so big to again fall back into a point... nothingness and everythingness just the same same..  

Two frogs out of the village well

 

My first independent trip as a traveler came in the first year at college. Me and my uncle—more of a friend because he was of my age, being the youngest of a dozen children fathered by my granduncle—went to Shimla. We have saved enough from our paltry pocket money to give us courage to see the larger world out there beyond the boundaries of our village and the nearby town. As per the fashion of the times, we had long pantaloons, belts with elaborate shining buckles, leather shoes, printed shirts with side-slits to carry them well both in and out of the trousers. All this was topped with dark oversized sunglasses to make it a photogenic presentation.

I had a little red and black rectangular Panasonic camera to capture the moments pumped by the adolescence youth in us. We hit it off with a lot of spirits. Trekking to Tara Devi temple we soon realized that people already knew where we come from. The little shrine is situated ten kilometers down from Shimla on a hill from where Shimla glittered like a tiny heaven. I had been here as a part of the school children tourist group for fifteen days. That was a few years before and the pull of that free fun still beckoned me to the hill. During that trip, we had camped on a hill on the way to the shrine. It was a quaint British-time bungalow where we stayed. It was sheer fun. Well, of that sometime later.

Well, how did the people come to know where did we belong to without even having a word on the issue? Our actions speak louder than our tongues. We had been dislodging dead pine trunks down the slope. ‘You must be from Haryana! No wonder!’ a man exasperatedly sighed.

We captured the best dining moment of our lives at a restaurant at the erstwhile summer capital of the British India. It was a very high-end facility from our rural standards. The table had knives, forks, napkins. We hardly had any clues about this. But we felt bound to use them, so we followed others with a lot of anxiety. Then the beautiful aroma and wonderful taste of the food relaxed us, making us bold enough to click the best moments of life so far. Our bowls and plates had been wiped clean to do justice to the every paisa spent on the order.

There was a gentle hum of the urban people eating with dignity and perfect decorum. We had eaten too fast, we soon realized. The people basically talked and enjoyed the time there and took little bites in between. We had plainly gobbled down the food. The people who were already there when we arrived had barely touched their stuff. Sitting in a restaurant isn’t all about gobbling the food straightaway, first lesson. So we thought of prolonging our stay there. The bowls with warm water and lemon slices arrived. ‘See, they serve lemon juice as well to help digestion!’ we told each other. So this being our last item, we took elegantly stretched time to finish it like the real gentlemen do. We squeezed the lemon slices with a well-meaning look and sipped the digestive juice with a meditative muse. In fact we took many pictures of the cherishing sips. All this while a gentleman—a real one—casually looked and unhurriedly carried on with his lunch. A thorough gentleman not to get judgmental at all. His look didn’t betray even the slightest condemnatory hint towards our manner of treating a finger dip as a stomach wash. So we had a prolonged lemon juice drinking spree.

Then the moment of second learning struck with a nice punch. Very coolly the gentleman squeezed the lemons, expertly dabbed his oily fingers into the acidic concoction and elegantly wiped them on the napkin. The only saving grace was that he didn’t look at us even once while doing all this. A real gentleman, passing the message without making us feel embarrassed. Now it was difficult to stay there anymore due to our shame. We somehow managed to chicken out. Our entire schooling hadn’t taught this much as this visit to the restaurant did in a little time span.

We had shiny clothes, large shining belt buckles and still bigger glasses for our brattish faces. Now here was this beautiful Mall Road boulevard humming with tourists as the evening handed over the baton to a mercury lit arena. A perfect night for a lighted boulevard. But dark goggles are for shading the sun, the night is already shaded. To us a picture was incomplete without sunglasses, especially if you possess them. So we imitated an entire set of filmy postures with our hands on the hips and the legs positioned in varied ways to do justice to the sunglasses. All this while two girls, urban girls a bit senior to us, swankily clad in T-shirts, kept staring, giggling, saying something to each other. Now I realize that it was plain flirting and teasing to get us onto some encouraging frequency. But we weren’t exposed to such fine nuances. We felt offended. We thought they were joking at our expanse, making fun of us, little did we realize that teasing girls are a boon for the boys. It was a belated lesson, which I realized a few years later, as I vividly recalled their behavior, that it wasn’t an insult. It was a beautiful bait of youth. It was a tantalizing teasing. As urban girls and maybe a few years senior to us they knew far more in the domain of boys and girls. So quite foolishly, we felt insulted, scorned at them, threw daggers of hate at them, muttered our dissension in their direction, left the scene to carry on with our photo shoot at some other location.

Enlightenment is just a step away: Awareness

The early mornings in the beginning of winters have a mild chill. So here I’m draped in a chador, the best way the farmers and their ilk feel warm. Give them the best of a thermal clothing, which would keep one warm even in Antarctica, but the farmers would feel unequipped against cold in the absence of chador or blanket load over them. It only shows the level of habits in shaping our realities.

So here I’m draped in a light chador picking up fresh clothes to wear after a bath. The set of clothes slung over my arm, I’m looking for the missing towel. The towel has gone missing. It gives me concern as I go searching over the place. Then the concern turns to irritation for the inconvenience caused due to the missing towel. Then arrives self-justification. I’m sure that I always place my things at their proper place. So the reason for the missing towel must be someone else, not me. My family members can hear my irritated exclamations over the missing towel as I wander around looking for it. It’s not to be found anywhere. I’m sure that I cannot be so careless as to put it at a place where it cannot be found. There is a prompt conclusion that someone else has misplaced it—the very same old habit of putting the blame outside of one’s own self. ‘I always place it here, someone has misplaced it for sure!’ they hear my summarized mumbling over the episode.

Then it’s found. All of them are staring at me as it’s found. It’ there on my shoulder, hidden by the fold of chador draped around me. That was the first item I had picked up but then the chador corner must have slipped over and while adjusting it the towel got hidden. So here I stand with my lost towel found now. The towel that was always with me. But for whom I had already gone searching out, looked for the missing cause outside and already made judgments about the others as the cause.

It’s deeply humbling to be caught so wrong-footed, to be found so unaware. It only shows the level of unawareness we carry with ourselves on a daily basis. Then we go for a frantic search over the missing towel, the towel that was never lost. We go out on a search outside and naturally look for the reasons for its misplacement in other people.

Well, the towel is always there. But it’s hidden in the deep folds of the chador of unawareness. The chador of ignorance spun by a conditioned and customized self; made of the threads of limiting beliefs, fears and insecurities. Unawareness is draped around us like a chador’s folds and hides the towel of our real self. And thinking that the towel has gone missing, i.e., our real essential self, we go on a frantic search. We believe it to be outside. And when we don’t find it, obviously we blame others.

Like the missing towel we have lost touch with our real self. The hiding blanket of unawareness draped around us gives us a false sense of security against cold and vicissitudes of life. The towel of our real self is hidden among its folds. And we going on a futile search, feeling restless, wading our way through the network of family, friends, relatives, acquaintances. Assuming them or the larger world outside to be the cause of the missing towel. And we won’t feel the real rest till we find the missing towel. It but is nowhere to be found. How will it be found outside? It has been with us all along this time. But we have moved far and wide. We judge and blame others for the missing towel. We try different occupations, careers, faiths, belief systems and relationships to find the missing towel but fail.

The experience was deeply humbling. It showed me how our unawareness is the cause of all the unhappiness. From the missing towel to the estrangement with our true essential self, it’s the same germ of unawareness that begets us unhappiness and suffering. We just need to watch, understand and be aware of all that goes within and around us. Then maybe suddenly we find the towel slung right there on our own shoulder, while we had futilely covered miles after miles searching for it.