Oath of The Vayuputras

The Oath of the Vayuputras by Amish Tripathi

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Was waiting for it for months – but am sad to say Amish lost his speed. At time it seemed he was too much interested in making the ends of the puzzle meet. And at times it tended becoming a movie script with details of each costume than the action unfolding.

Yet it was definitely easy read – takes the trilogy to a justified end and has the flavor of Amish and Shiva connection.

View all my reviews

 

Baul : Wandering Minstrels of Bengal

“Ore Chhere Dile Sonar Gour
Khyapa Chhere Dile Sonar Gour
Aamra Aar Pabo Na
Aar to Pabo Na
Tomay Hrid Majhare Rakhibo
Chhere Debo Na
Tomay Hrid Majhare Rakhibo
Chhere Debo Na”

Once we part with golden “Gour”
Dummy – if we part with golden “Gaur”
We can never be back again
Can never be back
But will keep you in heart
Won’t let you go
Will keep you in heart
Won’t let you go

A patchy saffron gown and old white lungi, curly hairs flowing up to shoulders, “Jhola” – a side bag on a shoulder, “Khamak” – “Ektara” or a “Dotara” – their musical implements in hand, “Ghungur” – anklets in their feet and music in their lips and heart – that’s the “Baul” – the “Wandering Minstrels of Bengal”. No one can pin point their origin, and they themselves care the least. Yet the world knows about them and their song.

Travelling from Kolkata to Bankura, Birbhum or Bolpur, you can hardly miss them; on railway coaches, on busses and around the villages. And these are not those who you see on TV or those performing the world over. They are the original keeper of “Baul” heritage. They are supposed to live on your alms, that too allowed to spend only “char anna” (25%) of what they collect on themselves and rest for others. Yet, when they sing – they are lost in it, even a note of hundred bucks, won’t make them budge or stop singing. If you enjoy their songs, they will keep singing and engulf you with their song. You can either get lost in the soulful tune and earthy sweetness of their musical instruments or choose to listen to the lyrics too. If you choose to listen to their lyrics and the passion with which they utter them, you can never escape from wondering about the life they lead.

Listening to two of the Bauls on a recent trip to Bolpur, I got amazed by the zest for those lyrics. The happiness they derived from going over those lyrics took me to path or wonder. What do we strive for in life? Peace and happiness? And what do we do to get that? We plan to buy them with money. So we work all our life to earn and then run after Peace and Happiness to buy them out with the money earned. Simple isn’t it? Can it be simpler than this? And if it is really so simple why cant we get that Peace and happiness? And why do I see those Peace and happiness oozing out out from the faces of these Bauls lost in their song?

I guess I know! They have found the short cut. They have realized it’s not with money but with Love you get what you seek. They know the futility of running after money. They know the futility of life itself that only distracts us from reality. Reality that this life is a dream – maya to keep us busy. Life only leads us to “Aham” our ego and far away from the “Atma” our soul. To realize what your soul wants is to immerse yourself in love. Singing again and again the futility of the rules of society they have found Peace and happiness in their God. That’s why they say in Lalan Fakir’s word :-

“Khachar Bhitor Ochin Pakhi, Kemne Ashe Jae?
Tare dhorte parle mono beri, ditam pakhir pae.

Mon Tui roili khachar ashe
Khaccha je tor khacha bashe
Kondin khacha porbe khoshe
Lalon kede koe

Kemne Ashe Jae!”

Look how does the Mysterious Bird inside the Cage
comes in and goes out.
If I could only hold it back,
I would put chain around Bird’s leg

Lalon Laments,
‘O mind you are deluding in your dependency on the Cage,
Your cage is made of weak wood
your cage is destined to doom someday.’

See how it comes and goes.

While they sang, many were moved – most may be because of their soulful music. But it was their state of bliss that touched my soul. And their touch warmed my emotions, and I helplessly cried in joy !

 

Tracks and Trails of India: “Adina Fast Passenger”

Originally Published on: Jul 5, 2006

Indian railway tracks and myriads of roads connecting the corners to the neighborhoods holds millions of stories. In my life, like others, I too had many memories scattered on these paths; and in turn I have treasured many an event that I have experienced. These are some of those, a collection of facts, as all what’s there in my abode!

This was in the early nineties, when I was a sales and support executive for a leading IT company, making frequent and long tours all over eastern India. To repair the UPS systems installed in many BPCL depots I used to frequent cities in middle of nowhere. This was a trip when first I went to Malda, a town middle part of west Bengal and famous for its Mangoes. The morning I was supposed to finish my work, I got a message from office that I need to go to Barauni from there – a town in North Bihar, supposedly close and accessible from Malda. I finished my work at Malda within 10 in the morning and came back to hotel, inquired to find that there is a “Fast Passenger” at 1 PM. Asked them to keep a bills ready and wake me up if I fall asleep. As feared I was not awakened in time and I had to rush to station in a cycle rickshaw. I took a ticket and rushed towards the platform, asked the ticket checker at the gate about the train. He pointed towards platform No. 3 and there was it – “Adina Fast Passenger” already started moving, leaving platform no. 3.

I rushed through the over-bridge with my rucksack on my back and the brief case in hand, climbed down the stairs and still had enough time to select a relatively empty compartment to board the “Fast Passenger”. It was supposed to be a six-hour journey. I looked around the sparsely populated compartment to only see a few locals and farmers.

Couple of hours into the journey and I was enjoying one of the most amazing route on single line track, winding its way though farms, gardens, villages and at times it seemed we passed though someone’s backyard. Soon the train came to a halt, the scene outside gave the impression of a mid-sized village, with fences touching the train and windows of mud houses at handshaking distance from the window of the train. The train stopped and didn’t move for at least an hour. Peeking out from the window, I saw a big commotion in front of the train and all passengers slowly getting down and walking towards the front. It seemed almost the entire village was already there. I too got down and walked towards the scene. Soon I found the reason of the stoppage. The train has killed a goat of a villager, and he has squatted on the tracks with other villagers supporting him. He wants a compensation from the driver or the guard, and demanded if required let the Railway minister come and solve his plight.

I came back, and the train started moving after another hour or so. I guess the Panch of the village must had convened and found a solution. The train was already 3 hours late. The evening fell and woke up from a doze to discover there was no light in my compartment. In the pitch darkness of the compartment and matching black outside I waited till the next station. The plan was to get down and change the compartment. After waiting for about half an hour the train chugged in to a station. I got down, stood in the darkness of the platform, watched the train from end to end, to find that it was a train without a single light barring the headlight, which was just enough for the driver to see the track far enough to drive.

I came back to the same compartment and sat through the journey clutching my two luggage.  Was sure that there was not a soul in the compartment. Even if there was some, they must have got blacked out by the darkness. The train reached Barauni at 11:15. The tea stall owner informed that it will be futile to go out and look for a hotel at this time. I inquired abut

the retiring rooms, The second class waiting room was just a shade better than a stable, and the upper class retiring rooms were locked, with the in-charge not to be found anywhere. I didn’t have any upper class ticket either, so talking to the station master was not feasible. So I asked the tea stall owner to inform the retiring room in-charge, if he is found and helped myself with the newspapers I always carried. After nearly an hours sleep on the paper spread on the platform with the hordes of mosquitoes, a guy waked me up. He was the in-charge; he took 30 bucks for the first class retiring room; it went to his own pocket obviously. It was a 20 by 20 room, with two single beds, with mosquito nets and a toilet clean enough to be used. He even helped me with a dinner against 20 more rupees – dal, chapatti and mooli.

And that’s how I mostly used to reach Barauni, a “Rocket” bus to malda, and “Adina Fast Passenger” to Barauni, with the night at upper class retiring room.

Just another mark…

End of another year. Usually I have stopped taking notice of year ends. In the endless flow of time, end of a year is just another man-made marker. That too depending on which calendar we choose to follow. It’s just because the Gregorian calendar is being followed by the largest percentage of this planet, this has acquired added significance. Yet on days like these, sometimes, the mind tries to take a break and ponder on the days that went by.

And this is the very reason why I avoid thinking about the yearly round-up – it makes me travel back. And most of the times than not, it becomes difficult to stop within the desired distance. And while counting my blessings and all that I got, it’s also difficult not to think about what we’re lost and what could have been. There is absolutely no doubt that this past twelve months has showered countless rewards. Have received joys for which I have waited all my life. Joy of togetherness, joy of unconditional love, hugs when I needed them badly and also when I never expected. The 31,622,400 seconds were filled with reasons to thank the almighty for finally listening to me. Yet… yes the crazy heart still says yet.

For a person who years to do so much and more, not being able to be allowed to do as per my capability, for reasons beyond my control is unthinkably frustrating. Though this is not the first time I have experienced this. And all those time, I had directed my energy and thoughts to somewhere else. At time they fetched good results and also at times they had devastating consequences. So this time – I tried to rein in the wanton mind. Slowly tried to soothe it and made it fall in line. The Bohemian was domesticated; with obvious fall outs. Time and again it tries to break the shackles and run away.

Luckily, after a long hiatus, the words finally decided to march back. They arrive the moment a domesticated sheep breaks the shackles and decides to become the blue songbird. It sings his heart out –

Some answers still waiting
For their questions
Some stares still waiting
For their smiles
Some silence still waiting
For their sighs
Behind the veil of morning fog
Lost as nameless star in moonlit night
And mid-summer shadow of flying bird
Some void still waits
For eternity
Some Answer still waiting
For their questions

It’s not easy to swim across the tide. But then that is something I always knew. Still the renegade sometimes gets tired. And these are the time when looking at the pale tired full moon peeking out of a piece of cloud, he sighs. The melancholy takes over, and droplets of fire rolls down the cheek, unnoticed. He keeps pushing the rewind and play buttons, hoping to hear some quickly fading lost words. A waft of breeze sweeps past his forlorn face, nudges it back to reality. Soon he is happy to lose himself in the cacophony of life, grinning and enjoying the world dancing around and telling him how lucky he is.

Lucky indeed, to have someone promising to be a journey-mate, an equal among the herd of sheep, helping me paint my canvas with my rainbow. It’s just that the Gypsy heart keeps bolting to places which world only looks with a frown. Yet I live, I love, I laugh and wait for the world to become Gypsy with me.

 

Back From The Brink

Reblogged from Abode of Horus:

It was an unusually sultry Saturday night. He went to sleep late, after spending the hours in front of the two screens – TV and his laptop. He thought he would be oblivious to the proceeding of the night. But he woke up, with perspiration dotting his forehead, the throat dry and an unusual emptiness inside. Hand went out; in the darkness of the room he searched for the bottle.

Read more… 462 more words

Something I wrote years back - thought about sharing it again !!

Shamed… Now what?

 Shamed 

So the entire nation along with the capital city is up in arms. Seems like finally it has crossed the tipping point and the nation has started moving towards some activity. I sincerely hope that this time it’s just not show of anger against the perpetrators and solidarity with the victim for a few days but eagerness to finally ensure some solution. But every time I look at the news coverage or read it on the paper, somehow am unable to withhold my emotions. Unknowingly a few droplets find their way out of my eyes. The heart has gone numb. Couldn’t write or think of anything else.

As usual when I started looking at the views from fellow countrymen, and sadly it was again the same old rant. Some were angry on the government and its mechanism, some blamed the political parties , some religions, regions and some as usual the females themselves. Yet no one actually had a concrete solution. Made me wonder that isn’t this same anger behind all the crimes against the fairer sex? So what is the solution? My mind was just unable to accept that any of these so-called solutions will just wave a magic wand and all the trouble for the females would go.

In my heart, as usual, I believed that it needs a long-term approach. I believed that we need to change the mindset. We as a nation need to believe that both the sexes are equal and need to be treated as equal. And the solution needs to start at home. Each one of us needs to teach our next generation how to behave with the females. Then I came across several write-ups, such as the one by IHM, at Hindu, by Shilpa and Anand. And could not but agree with them. The chain of thought was quite similar to mine. But still it was either anger or a long-term solution.  So does that mean that the millennia’s of social injustice cannot be changed in one generation or a decade for that matter? What till then? Will 50% of our nation keep suffering? And what happens if some of our present generation fails to teach the next generation? Do we have to only wait till the system AND the mindset change – and pray that it changes fast? Can’t we do anything ourselves?

The mind kept roaming – the anguish of helplessness made my shoulder blades stiffen. With all my pride of coming up with a solution for so many issues faced by people, where is the solution now? And to find out how other countries are addressing the issue – I was more surprised than ever. It’s not India alone. The “Violence Against Women” is a global phenomena. Whether it is Somalia or USA, Bolivia or Australia, it’s the same grim picture everywhere. The picture looks a bit better in China but whether it is an actual picture or due to lack of genuine data available was not clear. Well France, Spain and couple of other European countries seemed a bit better. The data for Sweden, Germany or Australia might look a bit skewed because of how they define “Rape”. But then that’s how it is in those countries. They ARE more sensitive to it because that’s what their society demands. Yet it was amply clear that it was not a National issue. I was very clear in my mind that it was not the system, not the political class, or regions, education, wealth – its plain simple male arrogance hit hard by female advancement. The oppressed class is coming out of their veil and men can’t take it anymore. They are becoming more and more brazen day by day. And it is getting aided by low conviction rate and social apathy.

Then it stuck – and the bleak ray of idea kept circling in my head. And when I read last morning the 6 Point Action Plan that TOI came out with, my smile was just a teeny bit wider. Of course all that it says, such as awareness of people and sensitization of policemen is required. But they will only give you results in long-term.  Sometime back a few incidents of eve-teasing on metro created quite a flutter, and a number of groups came forward to help with their action. Add to that a few technical apps such as Cell Phone tracker apps, sms message sender and cheap web cams. So the idea is to create a group of “Citizen For Women’s Safety”. Then these volunteers will:

1. Register their Mobile numbers and location
2. Help seekers call the registered distress number
3. The Software locates caller location, and alerts all the members available nearest to it
4. Volunteers rush to be available in numbers to help the help seekers
5. The software also alerts police as an additional measure
6. As an additional coverage, put as many web cams as possible on your home (that are near main roads and crossings) facing the street.
7. The central server keeps record of all camera’s for a fixed number of days, to refer back if required.
8. Activities of offenders recorded on web cams or mobile phones gets uploaded on the web site
9. Any offender if identified and implicated by multiple person goes up on “Board of Shame”
10. Tag these offenders socially

I know whenever there is a new initiative, there will be a lot of detractors and Nay Sayers. And on the other hand there will be a handful who might get wrongly implicated. But as male (who has firsthand experience of this kind of wrongful implicated, yet) I would say I am ready to be one those handful people who might get wrongly implicated to ensure that a much larger females might get benefited  Till such time that we have enough number of Police on street, helpful and effective, we can try to aid the system instead just being angry and blaming everyone.

What I am suggesting is just an idea that I wanted to share – and will try to see if I can reach mass and get support to put in place. Alternatively even if someone else gets the vibe and creates an even better idea and puts it forward before me – that will be even better. I simply don’t want to be “just angry” and continue the blame game!!

This post is part of the contest Who is to be blamed? on WriteUpCafe.com

The Dark Tan Diary

The sky was ablaze with crimson fire, as the sun was about to set. With trembling hands, Shataneek slowly lifted his battered body to rest against the nearest boulder. A labored glance at his wrist watch told him it was indeed dusk he is watching. But he has already lost count of days. Is it the ninety third day? Or was it eighty-two? Flicking his tongue on the parched lips, he drew his coat over his neck; the fever is rising again. Will it be his last day in the treacherous Australian Outback? He looked around to find his empty bottle lying a few feet away. The last food he can remember having was a tiny Bilby, the desert rat. He remembered Wannamutta, his native guide telling him what are eatable and what to avoid. This was before Wanamutta perished in front of him, trying to save him from a pack of Dingo’s. “Bahba, if you see a pack of Dingo at night, you don’t look back, you don’t run, simply look for the nearest tree and climb” And to help Shataneek climb the tree, he slipped, and all that he could say was – “Kungadgee Bahba”.

Wanamutta told him again and again if he is sure. It’s not easy to take on the desert of Australian outback, relying on just the direction given in the diary of a dead adventurer. He found the diary in an old book shop, a dark tan leather-bound cover with golden embossing. He was surprised when he flipped through the pages. He saw three different set of hand writing. It was a single note-book having entries by three different people. He just had to buy it. Few cups of caffeine and several hours deep into the night, Shataneek was finally gone through the pages. The diary started with account of Capt. Standish when he embarked in his journey in August of 1876, with his troop to scout for the missing idol of Tlaloc. The idol of goggle eyed deity of Aztec god of rain and thunder was stolen by the Spanish conquistadors. It was not only for the two pigeon-egg sized diamonds, set as his eyes, but also for the supposed power it gave to its owner, – the power of thunder!

The diary details the account of Capt. Standish and his team of troopers as they set on their journey, following the account of an old sailor at the port of Darwin. The spiraling handwriting gave account of all the dangers of Australian outback, and a vague direction to the point where the idol might be found. Captain Standish seems to be careful of not divulging the actual location. He gives account of losing his troop to the summer of Australian Outback by the time he reached near his goal. But his account stops where he mysteriously ends with a call to fellow adventurers to follow his footsteps, to the base of a hill and rescue Tlaloc. And he got a follower. Kevin Hartman starts his part of the account from October 1948. He was an expert prospector, who wanted to get his hands on the diamonds of Tlaloc. And who knows the powers mentioned by Capt. Standish might give him enough power to raise his own army! Kevin knew the perils of Outback. And he knew how to track the animals around. He survived the pack of Dingos, and he survived the heat of Outback. He nearly got killed by the Taipan, and survived on lizards.

Kevin’s crispy straight handwriting suggested that he has seen the idol. Or was it his dream? Was he hallucinating before he ended his account? Interestingly though Kevin Hartman’s account doesn’t mention if got his hands on the diamonds or what he did with its power, the account of the next owner clearly mentions that he found the remains of Kevin near a hillock of Outback. Chandrashekhar Apte in his account of journey clearly mentions finding the remains.  No idea how the Indian got his hands on the diary, or what was he doing in the outback. But it was clear that he knew that the idol was not to be disturbed. Or was it his Hindu mindset that made him run? He was very afraid, and running away to safety. Yet through the summer months of 1957 he went in circles and reached the very foothill Capt. Standish mentioned. When Shataneek finished reading, he somehow couldn’t believe his fortunes. He studied geology not to fatten his but on a chair as a clerk in a Mining company. He was after adventure; especially after his university study trip to wastelands of Rwanda. He was itching to find a reason, and this time somehow the dark tan diary in his hand was pulling him out there; in the perilous journey to find the Aztec Rain god. He knew his Anglo-Indian college mate Jacob went to Australia as a missionary, and reminding him of all the smokes they shared and the help he got from Shataneek on the exam halls was enough to secure him an invitation. No one could stop him after that. Leaving the sleepy bye lane of Kolkata, he was in the port of Darwin in August of 1968.

He knew nothing of the country. And it took him three months to earn enough and secure the guidance of Wanamutta. He can’t say the Wanamutta didn’t try to stop him from his journey. But somehow the native Australian started loving him like his little brother. He kept saying, “Bahba, the outback is not for your soft heart; go back when time is in your side.” But Wanamutta’s ‘Bahba’ – his little brother Shataneek was sure he wanted to do this.

He shook his head, is he becoming delirious again? He needs to be awake. Last night he hardly slept, he had to keep staring at the flicking tongue and blue eyes of the Death Adder. Wanamutta’s word saved him. It was one of the most stubborn of all outback snakes and as deadly as the Taipan Kevin survived. How long was it? Two hours? Or was it six? He was not sure. He just remembers that he heard the slithering noise and pointed the frail beam of his torch. The Adder lifted is to striking position in middle of the beam. “It can strike and go back before you blink your eyes!” was Wanamutta’s warning about adders, “and, their name has the word ‘Death’ not for no reason Bahba. If you see one about to strike, don’t take your eyes off them. They are stubborn, so be patient like a Heron”. And patient he was, not taking his eyes of the death dealer. Shataneek lost count of time. Till he suddenly realized it was no longer there, and he slumped into sleep.

In the dying day light, Shataneek took out his fountain pen with last droplet of ink, shakes it, and opens the dark tan diary. He needs to write down how he failed.  Even after losing all hopes and his tracker friend, the gentle Bengali roamed all through the Australian outback. He has created the map, and marked every single hill and hillock. Yet neither did he find the place mentioned by the old sailor to Capt. Standish, nor can he find the trails mentioned by any of the writers. As if all of that simply vanished. Or does Australian Outback keep changing itself like the dunes of Sahara? He needs to warn future readers of this Diary not lose their life in pursuit of Tlaloc’s goggle eyed idol. The pen’s ink is also about to end. Shataneek tried to be as precise as he can be, and then lifted the back cover to close his diary one final time. He knows the Adder will be back tonight, and he doesn’t have any energy left to out wink it this time. But, as he was about to close, he felt the leather jacket of the back cover was a bit loose.

He picked up the diary closer to his eyes to look properly in the rapidly growing shadow of creeping nightfall. Yes indeed, the back cover was loose. In his excitement of what was in its pages, he never paid attention to the back inside part of the cover. He felt curious, and slowly pulled at the leather cover from where it was loose. It came peeling off; the hard board inside the cover too was dark brown. And it had golden lettering embossed in it too. Letters that formed words covered by the dark tan jacket. The words were puzzling. He read it again and again; and then flipped through the pages. Can it be true? His head started to spin! The air around him felt heavy, he was having difficulty to breathe. Is this the end? He was not sure – he can’t die like this. He slowly started flipping through the pages again. It can’t be the same diary that he read till a few minutes back. How can it be? It says Capt. Standish died in Mexico, Kevin Hartman mentions Kilimanjaro, and poor Chadrashekar Apte had his last breath in forests of Java. Shataneek scrambled to open his pen and write down the warning. Very little ink left, he kept shaking it, till he wrote the warning. They were the same six words that all the others before him wrote last; the words that were not visible to Shataneek till now. They were the words that were embossed on the back – under the cover. As Shataneek slowly took his last breath, his warning started to fade. The diary has started to change the notes written in it, this time Tlaloc got buried in wasteland’s of Rwanda. It lay beside the corpse, with its bright dark tan leather cover hiding its name embossed at the back – “This is a book that lies!”

The Cursed Ganga

When Vishnu took the form of Vamana avatar to slay Demon king Bali, Brahma washed his feet in respect, whose three footsteps covered the entire earth, heaven and the head of the demon king sending him to the nether world. The water he collected after washing in his Kamandul came to being as Ganga.

The young Ganga was known and loved in entire heaven for her liveliness and merry dance. But she was not aware of the wrath, ill temper and powerful curse of sages such as Durvasa. Once while walking the great sage Durvasa, collides with the invisible wind god Pawan, and the resulting whirlwind around him took away his garments. Durvasa tried to clutch on to his robes but failed against the power of Pawan. All the gods although bemused turned their faces away – to not look at the embarrassed sage and not to enrage him. But little Ganga, unaware of sage’s infamy for ill-temper, pointed at Durvasa and laughed her heart out.

True to her fame – Durvasa could not stand being a subject of fun. Grimly he turned and his anger turned into a curse – “O impudent girl, devoid of respect as you are for elders and respected saints, you should leave this place and go to earth as a River. When people will wash their dirty clothes and spill all their dirt on you, you will realize the privilege of being in Heaven!” Realizing her folly, Ganga fell on the feet of the great sage and pleaded for pardon. All the other gods, who were so fond of Ganga, joined her to plead the sage to lift the curse. But the power of curse was heavy. Though Ganga promised not to misbehave ever again, even Durvasa couldn’t lift the curse. The only thing he could do was to lighten it. So to balance the harshness of curse, he gave her the boon of cleaning the human’s of their sin along with the dirt they thrown in.

How powerful was the gift of washing off Human sin that Ganga received? As explained by Bhishma in his deathbed to Yudhisthir, after the end of the war of Kurukshetra:

“The places through which River Ganga passes, those places are holy places. A dip in River ganga attains the fruits of performing Yajnas, observing Brahma Charya, Tapas and making charities. Even if the water of Ganga touches the body, all his sins vanish. Whatever be the sins committed by him, if he takes a holy dip in Ganga, he goes to heaven. For how many years the bones of a man soak in Ganga, for such number of years he enjoys heavenly pleasures. Place without Ganga, Yajna without Soma, night without moon, day without sun, Ashram without Dharma are equal to trees without flowers.

Even performing one hundred Chandrayana Vratas is not equal to consuming Ganga Water. Human beings regard Ganga water as Amrutha. Rubbing the sand of Ganga on head and taking holy dip in Ganga removes all his sins. Even the air coming from Ganga is sufficient to vanish all the sins. A holy dip in Ganga attains higher regions to Pitaras. While taking bath in any place, feeling in mind that he is taking bath in River Ganga, is sufficient to attain the fruits of holy dip in Ganga.

One who beholds Ganga is human being and the others are equal to beasts and blind. Thinking about Ganga at the time of death attains him liberation. While Ganga was coming from heaven to earth, in between Lord Siva held it on his head. When the sons of Sagara were reduced to ashes as a result of the curse of a saint, Saint Bhagiratha, while bringing Ganga from heaven to earth, made Ganga to flow on their ashes, as a result they attained higher regions. Ganga had its way from heaven to Moon, from moon to Sun, from Sun to Vishnu, from the feet of Vishnu, Ganga landed on the head of Siva and from there to earth through Himalayas.

Whoever worships Ganga with devotion, he will be blessed with all riches and at last liberation. O brahmin! This much I know about Ganga –  said the Sidha to Brahmin.”

The eighth Vasu, born as Gangaputra Bheeshma further explained to Yudhisthir, – “The sin of killing 1000 Jeeva (animals) is equal to killing one Manav (human); Sin of 1000 Manav Hatya(killing) is equal to sin of one Go-Hatya (killing a Cow). Sin of 1000 Go-Hatya is equivalent to sin of one Brahman-Hatya. And mere one drop of river Ganga can cleanse the sin of 1000 Brahman-Hatya. Thus is the power of purification of Ganga.”

That was the relevance, purity and respect the society and religion gave Ganga. However I guess finally the wrath of Durvasa’s curse is winning the battle over the boon he gave young Ganga. Add to that the Parvati’s curse of being always impure, for not being able to protect his son Kartikeya. Though Vishnu later decided that by flowing into The Ocean and by the mean of cleansing the sin’s she will finally atone her sins and will return to heaven.

So “Sins” it is what she is burdened with. All the chemicals, excreta and remains of animal life being dumped on her, are the sin’s she is relieving us from. With age – she has become slow, adding to her misery, she no longer could carry them to ocean. It is also said the half of Ganga remained in the clasp of Mahadev’s locks, from where she flowed. I haven’t come across any story that narrates what happened to that half. Is it the part frozen as the glaciers in Himalayas – the abode of Shiva? Will it merely unite with the half that flowed out after she dies and return to heaven?

I think it’s time when God decides, it is enough. Ganga has done enough to complete all her curses, suffered enough in the hands of Humanity to wipe off all her sin, and its time she returns to her heavenly abode. Unless we decide to take care of our own sins the way we used to before she came down to earth – through our action, penance and worship, she will surely die soon. And in that case too – we will be left to take care of all our sins ourselves.

So why wait? Lets take responsibility of our deed, lets atone our sins through our karma, and help mother Ganga in return for all the help she has offered us through the ages.

Divided India – Lost and Unaware

It’s truly amazing yet bitterly painful – to see fellow countrymen still enveloped by petty differences based on religious and geopolitical differences. Even the language they speak divides them and the “choose” to look away from the real crisis in hand.

Couple of year back – I had developed and idea that could revolutionize the online news media – in the same way how Google had revolutionized the way we see online content. I even presented that to certain forums hosted by Times of India. I failed to impress too many – yet today Times of India site has part of it implemented. That enthused me more to visit its site and see how people are contributing and reacting to news. My idea was to make news more broad-based and inclusive; to bring all perspectives together and make it acceptable to all. Yet what I saw made me crest fallen.

Every time I see news – be it rape of a hapless woman, corruption charges against a political leader or even an article by a writer, the people who comment on them are anything but clear on what they are reading. They would prefer to jump into conclusions based on their religious – political – regional leaning without bothering to digest even part of the actual news. Rarely would I find a person who actually understand the fact behind the news and respond to it. But even they get hammered down by others with leanings for being upright.

As if in this world it is not right to maintain a vertical posture – you have to align to this direction or the other, otherwise be ready to be object of suspicion and scorn. And this is coming from so-called “Educated” and “Informed” class of people. We as a collective called Indians, irrespective of our location in India or abroad are anything but united. We have reached a state of frenzy where we find pleasure in opposing for the sake of opposing. We would do anything to denounce and pull down others, without spending even an aorta of the same energy to introspect. Yet nearly all of us seek salvation. We would pray and observe all possible rituals specified by the socio-religious norms, but won’t even try to seek the truth.

It’s a pity that even after being the most developed beings in this world, having so much of analytical power trapped inside our skull, undergoing so much training to learn how to use that power only results in using those powers only in the negative direction. Seek all but the truth. Run after everything but away from the reality. And after all of that put the blame of all our sorrow on everyone else but ourselves. I feel pity on all the efforts put in by the stalwarts like, Swami Vivekananda and Mahatma Gandhi to guide people towards truth, yet they will choose to worship their image and not follow their teaching.

For the sake of whichever God you choose to put your faith in, listen to your inner voice. Listen to what all those illuminated souls have told us. The answer is always within – not out there. Look inside and correct yourself before pointing the finger on anybody. The government and police are not the answer to the plight of womenfolks in our country. It’s us who can make the change with our effort to correct ourselves first and our immediate surrounding next on how to respect other human beings. If you want to be religious, first “try” to be religious, instead of being “ritualistic”. Know what has been preached. Feel and unravel the meaning first, before thrusting it upon anyone else. No religion on the world wants us to do so. It’s those who try to wield power and use it for their narrow personal growth who does it. Stop being manipulated by selfish ideologies and listen to your heart and grow the love that guides you to truth.

Truth is we all are part of the same whole. So even to be selfish, we need to love others, who are nothing but part of the same me! Will anyone of us punish, rebuke or scorn our own hand because it looks different from our head? Will we not care for legs because it is not from the same locality where our eyes are? Should the left hand be against our right because its orientation is different? Or do we disbelieve our heart because we can see it? We don’t – cause all of them are part of the same ME. Then why can’t we see that all other entity in this world are ALSO part of the same ME, the same ME called GOD. Who asks nothing from us but to love all other parts of him. The day we do this, we are united. United in idea, knowledge and spirit.

Maran Baarini

About 100 years back, Bipin Bihari Chatterjee got a message in his dream; following it she rescued an idol buried under about 10 feet of mud and cow dung in a neighborhood cow shed. Bipin Bihari took home the Dakshina Kalika idol and started worshiping her as “Maran Barini” – one who rescues from death. She was later identified as one of the 108 such idols distributed by Rani Rashmoni of Dakshineswar to 108 brahmins, dating her somewhere in mid 1800.

Over the generations, she is worshiped by the family till date and loved as one of the family. This year was not an exception. The family got together to worship her and seek her blessings.

Maa This Year

And with this a small piece of translation by Devdutt Patnaik I loved about Kali –

Shiva And Shakti

They say that Shiva never spoke a single word until Shakti came into his life as Parvati. She became not only his wife, but also his student, asking questions, discussing and deliberating with him, till he revealed the mysteries of life. So, one day, she asked him, “What is love?” All he did then was look at her and smile. “Tell me, please, what is love?” she asked, turning away to hide her blush. This is what he said: “When you come to me as Annapoorna, the goddess of food, and feed me and ask for nothing in return, I feel love, for you have taken care of my hunger unconditionally. When you come to me as Kamakhya, the goddess of pleasure, and hold me intimately as no one does, I feel love, for you have made me the object of your desire. This is bhog. This is one kind of love. But there is another kind of love.

“When you come to me as Gauri, demure and delicate, and allow me to dominate you, demand things of you, take you for granted, knowing full well that you cannot be dominated by anyone, I feel love. You made me play dice, laugh at the simple pleasure of games. You made me make you dolls and enjoy entertaining you. When you come to me as Durga, bearing weapons in your hand, and protect me, I feel secure and safe, and cared for, I also feel love. This is shakti, this is power. By granting me power over you, by defending me, protecting me, empowering me, you make me feel loved. This is the second kind of love. But there is yet another kind of love.

“When you dance atop me as Kali, naked with hair unbound, unafraid to be yourself, unafraid to be powerful and vulnerable and unafraid of being judged and mocked, I feel love. You make me open my eyes. I realise Lalita, the beautiful one, who is also Bhairavi, the fearsome one. I realise Mangala, the auspicious one, is also Chandika, the violent one. I see you totally, without judgement, and I realise I am capable of seeing the truth. That you allow me to see you fully, without judgement, tells me that I have become trustworthy. Thus you become the mirror, the Parvati darpan, that reflects who I am. You help me discover myself. You become my Saraswati. You reveal the true meaning of darshan. In joy, I dance. I become Nataraja.”

-http://www.speakingtree.in/spiritual-articles/faith-and-rituals/kali-as-krishna#commentlist

 

Shubha Sharadiya

Happy Durga Puja

Perspectives : A Friday Evening

It was Friday night, and an awesome beginning to a long weekend. Standing in his wide open balcony, Parashar lit his pipe; it black polished roundness radiating warmth in his palm. The drive back to home today elevated his heart; the torrential monsoon finally embraced the city today. The frantically moving wind shield wiper was barely able to clear the water. He hummed Jagjeet’s tunes through his journey.

The rain has barely stopped, the sloping road inside his gated apartment complex had numerous streams flowing down. The trees seemed to be as happy as him, washed, bright, and glowing under the street lights. The evening sky was still loaded with dark clouds. Occasional flash of lightning tearing it’s heart. And Parashar then noticed the chimney – about a kilometer away. That’s were the local foundries are. They started blowing out plumes of whitish grey smoke. Still with the smile of satisfaction hanging from the corner of his lips, Parashar walks in to looks for his Jack Daniel’s single malt.

Bhagwandas, was happy entering the foundry. It was beginning of the night shift,  manager-saab told him, starting today, there will be work for next ten days. Ten days of continuous work. Looks like the tabeez he got from the pandit last Saturday, finally giving its result. What day is today? Is it Saturday again? He forgot to thank the deity while he passed the temple below the banyan tree. No, it is Friday, that’s what manager-saab said. . The rain just stopped as he crossed the iron gates of the foundry. He couldn’t afford to stop and be late. And even if he stopped, the torrential rain wouldn’t have let him stay dry too long. So he drove his rickety bicycle over the broken roads of the industrial area, and enjoyed the rain.

It was quite some time since he allowed himself to get drenched. Usually these rains make him sick. The weak body trying to feed the six heads at home was no longer as strong as it was when he married Durga couple of decades back.  But today was different. He finally got work after sitting idle for nearly a whole month. His savings were long gone. With pandit’s tabeez giving him the belief, he enjoyed the rain. That was why he didn’t mind when the potholed road made his cycle jump precariously, throwing him and his tiffin career off-balance. The four chapatti and potato curry Durga gave for his dinner were now adorning the mud filled pavement. It doesn’t matter, the daily wage he will get tomorrow morning will be enough for the whole family. The added bonus of night shift might give allow a few smokes too.

Every now and then Bablu was peeking his head out of the dark shelter under the tea vendor’s platform. He was hoping the rain would stop soon. The wound on his left fore-leg was still raw; no matter how much he licked it, it kept burning. This heavy rain was not helping much either. Each time the wheels two-legged one’s ride passed by, it sprayed muddy water, and he had to lick all over again.  The rain also stopped him from searching for food in the nearby dump beside the dhaba. That black Kittu and his four litters must have cleaned it by now. There were also very thin crowd at the tea stall. None of the usual guys who gave bread crumbs or occasional biscuits were around today. And then came the “clang” !

The rain was not that bad after all. The puddle didn’t let the guy see the pothole, and his two wheeler dunked in. The metal box he was carrying, fell with a sweet clang – and there it was! The tempting smell of hot food.  The guy seemed to be in a happy mood, and didn’t bother to retrieve any part of it, and simply took his metal box and walked in through the metal gate. He once again sneaked out his snout, the smell in the air seemed to suggest the rain has stopped. Limping on his three legs, he came out. Looked around to make sure no one else has seen the treat in front of him. He took his time to stretch his legs and back. Slowly moved towards his dinner, sniffed it’s savory smell and put his head down to gulp them. He had this feeling that next couple of days might be thin in food supply. And then he felt the warmth radiating from the shed behind the Iron gate, and the sound coming from inside. Something in his head told him,  the two-legged ones are back inside, he might not have to go hungry for a few days now.

 

Some New Designs!

Did these for a friend recently :

Visiting Card Design in Photoshop

Visiting Card Design

Visiting Card Design

Love for Design

The love for designing and creativity was always there; the opportunity to work for a newsletter gave me the perfect opportunity to hone my skills and express my ideas. Over the last 21 months, it was a journey that I enjoyed thoroughly. Building the cover page designs to a related theme for the month has been both challenging and fulfilling; especially when it got the due appreciation. I must admit, that many of the ideas were inspired by some theme or other seen on the web, yet most of them are original creation. I also must admit that though I have put heaps of thinking behind most of these, some of them were made with very little time, and was not very happy with the outcome, yet was surprised to see the positive response it got from the audience.

The journey started with the inaugural Jan 2011 issue with the theme “Enlightenment”

First Cover Design

The very abstract first cover was received with mix reactions, prompting me to shift a bit more to realism, and the next one was an urbane effort -

The 2nd Cover made

This was much more retro, and saw people liking it more than the last one. And then came the month of March with festival of Holi. My license to experiment with color. Also keeping in mind that people start questioning “who is that” – the moment I use some human form. At least editorial team liked the design. They chose from a possible 3 versions.

Celebrating Holi

New month and a new challenge. By this time I had really started enjoying experimenting on Photoshop. Also wanted to celebrate the Indian new year; so brought together all of them to celebrate Indianism in April.

Indian New Year

Month of May was sizzling – and people were dreaming for cool dips. So planned to dip all of em in watery dream in May – not to much of jugglery here. Just a bit of trick to put the 3D letters in Water.

Watery Coolness to Beat the Heat

Heat was still searing the region. Other regions were expecting or were submerged in Monsoon. But no respite here. But wanted people to have some hope. So mixed em. Not too much experiment again. Too much lack of time in this one.

Hope under the Sun

Finally the rain gods were smiling. And as usual it brought cheer to my heart. Full in Experiment mode. Wanted to create water-color effect on Photoshop. Tried doing something new and romantic -

Rain Clouds in Watercolor

Month of Independence day and rain was in full swing. Wanted to make a simple statement. This one was not that much on Photoshop or design, but more on creativity. And quite some people placed this one as one of the best designs.

Indian Independence Day

In September mood again went on Photoshop creativity. Wanted to get Oil Pain effect this time. And theme was Ganesh Puja. Couple of simple images related to Ganesh Chaturthi in Mumbai and sea and the Photoshop CS3 effect did the rest.

The Oil Paint Effect in Photoshop

October brought in two of the most important festivals in India. As a Bong, wanted both Durga and Kali to come in. Yet had to keep in mind the major audience of Northern India and their Diwali. Gave it as ethnic look as possible, along with a Indianized font to go with it. And this time had to use plain simple drawing skills to make half of Durga’s face turn into Kali. This one is one my most favorite work.

Durga – Kali and Diwali

One of the Editorial board members came to me while I was planning what to put in November. Told me in continuation with last months festive focus, why not Guruparv this time. And i was thinking about Eid. So voila –  a combination once again. Amazingly this came out better than I had in mind. And the simple work in Photoshop gave me immense joy.

Eid and Guruparv

Was nearing the end of the year. Some people suggested a collage of all the 11 covers so far. But the collage was already tried in one of the events. And Was not quite enamored by what was coming out. So went back to tried and tested. Christmas season ! And people liked it !!

Christmas & Santa !

There were 5 different versions for Decembers cover. And had to make 4 of them for Jan 12. Though people were rooting for another of the four, I preferred this one for its sheer ingenuity. And yes – this was a pure inspiration from net. Added some touch of my own and finally the collage all were looking for.

Happy 2012 !

There was huge workload and very little time in hand. Some were asking to give a touch for Valentines day. With huge population of young employees around, had to give in to their feeling – albeit in a subtle way. This was again pure Photoshop work.

Celebrating Valentines

Once again comes the month of Holi – but this time had to make it somewhat different from last year. Yet with no time went into a shell of blocked ideas. This was the best I could come out with. Lots of Photoshop jugglery – some people liked, but not too many.

Holi in Photoshop

Was in transition in personal life, very little time to either think or design. One of the poor work in my opinion. Was glad that at least some people were able to visualize the heat I wanted to depict in it.

Phtoshop and me

The Writer’s (read – “Designer’s) Block continued. This was one my poorest work as per me. So don’t wanna talk much about it.

Submerged

Was turning in poor work for two consecutive months. Was desperate to do something good. This was inspired by a UK painter’s work. Really liked her style. Used by thought and her style to finally turn in something refreshing after months.

Bright n Sunny

Work pressure and time got good of me again. All the work to bring in the Olympic figure were proving to be too childish to me. So had to settle for the least bad of them all.

Rainy Road to Olympic

Issues of “Crime Against Women” were engulfing the social and news media. It was painful to me. And convince the Editorial board to share the same pain with everyone in the month of Independence. Original visualization and just a bit of Photoshop skill -

Shame and Pain

Engineer’s day was the focus. Spent quite a bit of time. Maybe just because of that was not sure if this one was going to be liked by people. But was joyfully amazed by the number of people who appreciated this design. Lots of Photoshop skills and visualization !

Engineer’s Day

So with 21 designs in 21 months, when I look back, I surely feel satisfaction to quite some extent on the work I have done. Some pride yet lots of yearning to do  quite some more.

Knowing others like your work is one of the key drivers that drives guys like me. Hope to continue doing it -

Keoladeo National Park

Keoladeo National Park, a set on Flickr.

A few frames captured

End - Begin

Reblogged from Abode of Horus:

 

 

“Meethi, don’t walk so fast! It’s pretty dark out there. Wait and walk with all of us.”

“Its ok Papa, I know the way back home. Don’t worry.”

“But there could be dogs there, wait till I come to you.”

“Then come fast na!”

“Wait a bit beta, Mom cant walk so fast.”

“OK! You come with Mom, I going ahead.” …

Read more… 1,339 more words

Going through the list of old blogs - suddenly this one connected.. so re-blogging !

For Love

Late monsoon’s merciless deluge,
Uncovers decomposed memories tucked away.
Musing magnolia embraces.

Pencil Ganesha

A pencil Work after ages !

Changing our partners !

This is an article I was sent and that being one of my favorite topic, I couldn’t stop pondering on it. The original article can be seen here.

My take on the topic:

The first thing as a human being we need to understand is that we can never “change” anyone else in this world but ourselves. So entering into a relationship with the objective of changing someone is foolish.

Secondly every character in this world is like an onion, with several layers, and layers that are initially invisible. Now mostly when we are attracted into a relationship we get attracted by that outermost shell. Those with some maturity take time to understand the next few layers and take a call if that is acceptable or not. Some who are really dumb are hypnotized by the outer shell refuses to see beyond them. And most think that with time and their love they will be able to change or mould those next few unacceptable layers as per their wish. In both the cases they are met with severe disappointments.

Those who are mature enough, or learns the hard way with failures, in some cases, more than one failure, understands that it is wrong to “Expect”. Its even more wrong to “Expect” the other one to “Change”. It is only wise to calculate, if they are ready to live with those unacceptable layers, and more of the hidden layers. Whether they are confident that they can take enough from the layers they are in love with, and ignore or adjust with the layers that will be visible in times to come, even if they are unacceptable. And those who knows how to adjust themselves with those unacceptable layers, and yet make the other one comfortable are better off. And those handful of pairs, where this happens from both the ends live in bliss.

The power is in “your” hand not with the other one to make the change.

Perils of an Eternal Romantic Optimist

Reblogged from Abode of Horus:

Who is a romantic? A person who despises generic worldly norms; an impractical, unrealistic, a soulful or amorous idealist. Hmm, somewhat like that and some more. Someone who is excited not by mere thought of a companion, but the dew drop on the blade of grass, the thickening of dark clouds, and the squirrel who comes for a visit on the window sill every morning.

Read more… 820 more words

Thought about re-blogging it umpteen times.. finally decided to do so.. just an in-between two original ones !