From the mouth of babes

Best argument in support of vegetarianism I've ever heard....

Baby vegetarian speaks some hard truths here.

...

All in white

White hot raging fury.
Age looks back at youth
memories pale and misty.

Crisp white cotton sheets.
A lone white cloud
in the shape of your lips.

Black boots, white lace.
Clouds of white hair
around a wrinkled face.

In aqua sea, a white sail.
All in white people carry
a body minus soul.

Swans in the sky, sailing.
endangered polar bears
hoping against hope, waiting.

Mogra chains in braids.
The full moon emerging
from the arms of clouds.

Bright fluorescent light.
Tuberoses in clusters
serenading the night.

Two tiny baby teeth.
Thick layer of cream
sweet lassi underneath.

Starlight and angel-dust.
Bride’s white to widow’s white
a single death betwixt.

Crystal sugar jar.
A dove’s tentative flight
in a world of war.

White confetti rain.
Snowy autumn blooms
lie under snow slain.

~~~

(for a fun prompt 'White' from a FB friend :)

The War on Consciousness

The War on Consciousness - another banned (and then unbanned) TED Talk

The Science Delusion

TED (can you believe it?) has been censoring talks. But word got out and there was a furore and they were uncensored. This is one of them - The Science Delusion

Simple truths

Watch a young girl talk about her awe-inspiring work helping others.

This being human

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be cleaning you out
For some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from the beyond. 

~ Rumi
 

Kerala Kaleidoscope

These last two months that I have been in Kerala, I have been taking lots of photos. I finally managed to put them into an album (of sorts)

Kerala kaleidoscope


Even though the photos were high quality, uploading the movie on to YouTube compromised the quality somewhat, Even so, view in full-screen, if possible.

Spoken word poetry

Three amazing spoken poems ....

Aloneness

"Aloneness and silence are two aspects of one experience, two sides of the same coin. If one wants to experience silence one has to go into one´s total aloneness. It is there.

We are born alone, we die alone. Between these two realities we create a thousand and one illusions of being together - all kinds of relationships, friends and enemies, loves and hates, nations, races, religions. We create all kinds of hallucinations just to avoid one fact: that we are alone. But whatsoever we do, the truth cannot be changed. It is so, and rather than trying to escape from it, the best way is to rejoice in it.

Rejoicing in your own aloneness is what meditation is all about. The meditator is one who dives deep into one´s aloneness, knowing that we are born alone, we will be dying alone, and deep down we are living alone. So why not experience what this aloneness is? It is our very nature, our very being." 

~Osho

 

Wake up. Day calls you

Today is my birthday. Happy Birthday to me :) And I got this wonderful poem sent to me. What a wonderful gift and an awesome way to start the rest of my life ....


Wake up. Day calls you
to your life: your duty.
And to live, nothing more.
Root it out of the glum
night and the darkness
that covered your body
for which light waited
on tiptoe in the dawn.
Stand up, affirm the straight
simple will to be
a pure slender virgin.
Test your body's metal.
cold, heat? Your blood
will tell against the snow,
or behind the window.
The colour
in your cheeks will tell.
And look at people. Rest
doing no more than adding
your perfection to another
day. Your task
is to carry your life high,
and play with it, hurl it
like a voice to the clouds
so it may retrieve the light
already gone from us.
That is your fate: to live
Do nothing.
Your work is you, nothing more


by Pedro Salinas

Translated by Willis Barnstone

Wabi Sabi: The Magnificence of Imperfection

Cheryl Hunter shows that a simple story, well told and presented, has tremendous potential to educate, entertain and impact people .....

A powerful talk with deep meaning.

Being solitary

An Excerpt from The Stations of Solitude by Alice Koller

Philosopher Alice Koller explains the benefits that ensue from solitude and the creativity that is birthed there. Here is an excerpt on nurturing.

"I surround myself with silence. The silence is within me, permeates my house, reaches beyond the surfaces of the outer walls and into the bordering woods. It is one silence, continuous from within me outward in all directions: above, beneath, forward, rearward, sideward. In the silence I listen, I watch, I sense, I attend, I observe. I require this silence. I search it out. The finely drawn treble song of a white-throated sparrow is part of it. Invasions of it by the noise of engines are torments to me.

"This is my solitude.

"I do not cloak it among other persons, and I know how it appears. No sign of submission, in the eyes of most men; too assured, in the view of most women; not properly respectful, to the gaze of all those in authority. I have become that third gender: a human person, the being one creates of oneself. I fell in love with my work, became fiercely protective of my freedom, started to make new rules. In this, Sartre is surely right: persons are not born but made. The choice lies escapably within ourselves: we may let it wither away, or we may take it and run."

Night - haiku

 

I miss the night sky
that invisible net
that snagged the stars

~~~

the sickle moon reaps
a thousand laughing souls
put away your tears

~~~

a lone cricket
punctures the night
looking for light

~~~

the early koel
pokes awake the sleeping dawn
call by strident call
 

~~~

the Ides of March

the night pulses psychedelic
with lightning strobe lights

I wait for the drum rolls
but the sky is strangely silent

in God’s own country
in the land of hartals

it seems the God of Thunder
is faithfully on strike

as fields high with grain
ripe for harvest lie torn apart

by the unruly fists
of an angry Wind God

I think then of the Ides of March
how Caesar ignored the warnings

in the flashing light I look for
the writing on the wall

I hope it’s not ominous
I hope the Earth has forgiven us

our Caesar-like greed
our clawing, controlling maw

now parched and cracked
and thirsting for rain

praying to a bereft Rain God
now crackling in anger

flashing in fury
pointing sparkly fingers

at us who have robbed
our sons and daughters

of their unseen paradise
taunting, it is only just

that Caesar should die
so that the Earth may live

~~~

The Old Man and the Sea - Animated

In 1999, Aleksandr Petrov won the Academy Award for Short Film (among other awards) for a film that follows the plot line of Ernest Hemingway’s classic novella, The Old Man and the Sea (1952). Petrov’s technique involves painting pastels on glass, and he and his son painted a total of 29,000 images. Rather incredible.

Awesome!

My Kindle book is FREE today

Today, my Kindle book of poems  'In praise of sparklets' is FREE on Amazon. 

If you were thinking of buying, this is the chance to get it for free :)

Reviews would be welcome.

~~~

How to be soulful

“You have the need and the right to spend part of your life caring for your soul. It is not easy. You have to resist the demands of the work-oriented, often defensive, element in your psyche that measures life only in terms of output -- how much you produce -- not in terms of the quality of your life experiences. To be a soulful person means to go against all the pervasive, prove-yourself values of our culture and instead treasure what is unique and internal and valuable in yourself and your own personal evolution.”

-Jean Shinoda Bolen

Silence

I am not experiencing silence/peace.
I am silence/peace experiencing the experiencer.

~ Cesar Teruel

60 of the world's happiest facts

60 of the world's happiest facts

Cool!

We Are One - The Science of Interconnectedness

Awesome article!

We are one - the science of Interconnectedness

Males were once females too

A very interesting animation on a known scientific fact -

The science of how we are all female

3 o’clock

3 o'clock
empty cafe
just me staring at a guy
staring into space

his thoughts crackle
into the summer air
nervous
hopeless
jobless
debts mounting
coffee going cold
no cash for a bun

while pastries shine
behind the glass
beckoning

I think of Jean Valjean
and his stolen loaf

and hope floats in
on a stray sunbeam

maybe just maybe
this man will meet
his Bishop

~~~

(written for the Bentlily prompt - go to a cafe and write about a person there)

The bleating sheep

the river flows placid
clattering over the pebbles
as cicadas tone down
their fervid cadences
and quieten for the night

on a tiny patch of farm
across the road
a sheep bleats into the night
I worry about it,
is it thirsty? is it hurt?

it strikes me as odd
that I worry about a sheep
while in parts of the world
people die of hunger
and children get robbed
of their souls
bit by bit day after day
by abuse

I keel over with helplessness
by the enormity of it all

“answer me, you answer me”
I beseech an unseen God
“surely there must be a reason”

‘you tell me’ he retorts right back
“why human beings are so intent
on hurting one another.
why do they lock up the love
that is their real nature
and embrace fear, you tell me”

I keel over in defeat
silenced into submission
by the stark truth of it

“maybe your creation is flawed
maybe you wired us all wrong”
I use a rallying point

“maybe you prefer to be blind
else why would you court darkness
when you are in reality
nothing but pure beings of light”

“so how do we begin to see?”

“stop thinking and just be
realise who you are really”

I am floored by the simplicity of it

The sheep has stopped bleating
the cicadas are quiet
a resplendent full moon
admires its shimmering image
on the singing rippling water

The Unity song

Dusk 2 - haiku

day’s fiery flare-up
at the prospect of leaving
sets the sky afire

night laughs indulgent
tosses a handful of dusk
wins the round hands down

but Day she awaits
on the other side of dusk
the fight continues

transient are we
but eternal meeting places
dawn and dusk be

Dusk - haiku

birds wing in to roost
trees get smudged into greyness
I wait for a knock

the knock never comes
as shadows climb up my walls
azure fades to black

behind closed eyelids
the sun blazes brilliance
dusk a long way off

~~~

Haiku Heights / Dusk

Death - haiku

the clock’s second hand
chops away bits of life
until none is left

~~~

the river meets death
when it merges with the sea
yet it willing flows

~~~

if death had a voice
it would be melodious
soul suddenly free

~~~

Haiku Heights / Death

Raindrops - haiku

broken string of pearls

laughing, hey! come on! catch me!

raindrops on my deck

Neon leaf

Possessions

Every increased possession loads us with a new weariness.

~ John Ruskin


Life is not about our physical or material possessions, it is about the Agenda of our Soul. When material possessions serve that agenda, they can be wonderful and are to be celebrated. But if they come between us and the soul, then we may very well be delayed on our holy journey.

Our journey is the path back to peace, to harmony, to deep inner joy, to love, and to God.

~ Neale Donald Walsch

Script - Haiku

Night composes scripts
tangled lines of light and dark
for Day to play out

~~~
 

Prancing butterfly
wings writing a love poem
the sky reads and smiles

~~~

If only I had
let my soul pencil the script
life would have been joy

~~~

Haiku Heights / Script

Among the clouds

Parasailing on Rotorua lake ....

Jetboating on Rotorua Lake .....

 

~~~

Christmas for Mystics

A great post by Marianne Williamson about the true meaning of Christmas.

Read Christmas for Mystics here

"We're preparing for the birth of our possible selves, the event with which we have been psychologically pregnant all our lives." - Marianne Williamson

Wedding Night

MAWLANA JALAL AL-DIN AL-RUMI passed away on Dec 17, 1273. This date is known as Sheb-i Arus (Wedding Night). Every year the 17th of December is celebrated as the night of Rumi's reunion with his Beloved.





When I die
when my coffin
is being taken out
you must never think
i am missing this world

don’t shed any tears
don’t lament or
feel sorry
I’m not falling
into a monster’s abyss

when you see
my corpse is being carried
don’t cry for my leaving
i’m not leaving
i’m arriving at eternal love

when you leave me
in the grave
don’t say goodbye
remember a grave is
only a curtain
for the paradise behind

you’ll only see me
descending into a grave
now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down

it looks like the end
it seems like a sunset
but in reality it is a dawn
when the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed

have you ever seen
a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life
why should you doubt the rise
of a seed named human

have you ever seen
a bucket lowered into a well
coming back empty
why lament for a soul
when it can come back
like Joseph from the well

when for the last time
you close your mouth
your words and soul
will belong to the world of
no place no time.

~ Rumi

In Praise of Sparklets

In Praise of Sparklets – My book of poems on Amazon (Kindle). 

The incredible lightness of flying

One more story on Stuff -

The incredible lightness of flying

:)

The sure-fire life purpose

If I had the chance
I’d be a dessert spoon
the bringer of delight

Imagine,
tucking into delectation
every time

brain to hand
sending frantic messages
hurry hurry hurry

mouth closing in
tongue in rapture
lips in melting caress

imagine,
transporting pleasure
every time

how could you go wrong
with a life purpose
such as that?

(written for the Bentlily prompt - write a poem about an appliance you love or love to be)

Enchantment

Found this flower blooming in our garden today. I was totally enchanted by its unusual pattern and of course, it's unique beauty!

Pain - haiku

some aches can be seen
others eat up the insides
just the shell remains

~~~

let me feast on joy
as pain slinks ‘neath the table
awaiting its turn

~~~

bruised purplish-black
amidst bright yellows and pinks
warp and weft of life

~~~

Haiku Heights / Pain

Rain cloud Mother

I felt it the moment
I let you go
bursting my birth sac

and you rushing headlong
to meet that other mother
that steadfast one

singing as you fell
black-slapping
racing each other

like little sperms intent
on meeting those seeds
waiting for your embrace

that sweetness of release
for I, the surrogate
had only held you for her

~~~

(written for the Bentlily prompt - Rain -from the perspective of the clouds)

Storm - haiku

in the aftermath
among the deadened rubble
little shoots spring forth

~~~

heart lacerated
night in the grip of a storm
ends in glorious morn

~~~

my muse brews a storm
of words, plot-lines, characters
a novel is born

~~~

The Modern Da Vinci's 5 rules of success

A fascinating read! Mind-blowingly inspirational!

The Modern Da Vinci's 5 rules of success

Just being

There is great happiness in not wanting, in not being something, in not going somewhere.
The mind is not tranquil as long as it is traveling in order to arrive.

 ~Jiddu Krishnamurti

NaNoWriMo

November was National Novel Writing Month at nanowrimo.org A site where every November novelists and would-be novelists congregate and write a novel of 50,000 words or more in a single month.

I found out about this around the 3rd of the month and decided to give it a try. The first few days went swimmingly well and I even wrote a couple of thousand words. And then I hit a road-block. The plot just wasn’t going anywhere. It wouldn’t even move. It had turned into a cul-de-sac. I fretted and fumed, but to no avail.

Then finally around the 22st of the month, it all fell into place all at once and I was faced with the prospect of writing around 45000 words in about 8-9 days. What followed was frenetic writing, sometimes belting out almost 8000 words per day.

And, I’m happy to say that yesterday, just before midnight, with a few minutes to spare, I crossed the 50000 mark and also completed the novel. So, now I have on my hands a first draft. 

I must admit, writing a novel is like being caught in a tempest. Thoughts, words, plot lines, characters, they all churn up within you demanding to be written. It begins to live inside you, all the time. It blots out everything else. Its characters living and moving and scrambling over each other, talking, fighting, falling. And you, like a shepherd, have to herd them, align them, put them in place, and make sense out of it all. Quite an exhausting experience and even more so, quite an exhilarating one.

And to add to the fun, I got it into my head to design the cover as well. And so, precious hours were spent designing, editing and creating a cover.

The novel, of course needs a lot of work, plots have to be straightened, characters have to be fleshed out, emotions, motives, explanations all have to given. It might change, might morph into some thing else. Who knows? Even the cover might change, but here it is the cover of the first draft of my first novel - Dharma.

The human house

This being human is a guest-house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
Who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture.
Still, treat each guest honorably.
Who may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi

My stuff on Stuff

I sent a couple of stories to the web version of the newspaper and unknown to me they were getting published. I found out finally :)

Lessons from seagulls

Zen and the art of driving in India

:)

 

Says Hafiz

"I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of you own being."

-Hafiz 

AEDM - 19 Tender was the day

Photo for today - Art Everyday Month

Tender leaves at the tip of the tree ...

Truly an inspiration

The inspiring Sunitha Krishnan giving a talk at INK

Sunitha Krishnan's INK Talk

My story published

I forgot to mention that my story was published on the website dailylove.net on 15th Nov. Had meant to announce it but it kind of slipped by unnoticed.

Anyway, it can be found in their archives - An Afternoon Requiem

 ~~~

AEDM - 17 / The Lantern

Photo for today - Art Every Day Month.

The lantern flower (dunno what it's really called :))

AEDM - 17

AEDM - 14 / All lit up

Photo for today - Art Every Day Month

Rhododendron flowers lit up by sunlight ....

AEDM - 14

Silence - haiku

bee-buzz and birdsong
in deep silence of forest
God listens to Self

~~~

Haiku Heights / Silence

AEDM - 13

Meaningless - haiku

Sometimes it feels like
there is no reason to life
but to be alive


(my predominant feeling these last few days ....)


AEDM - 12

AEDM - 11

Photo for today - Art Every Day Month

This iris had just bloomed and after the rain had acquired this jewelled look...

AEDM - 10

Photo for today - Art Every Day Month

The daisies are from my garden. I tried to give it an oil painting look in GIMP with a canvas overlay. Was trying to go for an Impressionist feeling. :)

November is Art Every Day month

Ok, so I joined the November is Art Every Day Month Movement at http://creativeeveryday.com/ We are expected to create some art everyday and post it on our blog.

I know  I am 9 days late, but I decided not to let such minor matters deter me from participating.

The photo below was taken on my cell phone and so is not the best of photos. I am still being mule-headed about not taking my camera with me when I go on my walks. I feel my walk then turns into a photography expedition and I cannot enjoy my walk as an experience in itself. At some point, I'll have to make a compromise because I'm missing out on too many great photo ops because of this.

Even though it's past midnight and it is now the 10th, I'm entering this for the 9th because it took me too long to write up 3 sentences. So here goes (finally) ....

15 ways to mindfuck yourself

Some interesting reading -

Go to 15 ways to mindfuck yourself page

The Journey

Over the past few months the name Mary Oliver has been jumping out at me from blogs, websites and even Facebook and a little voice inside kept saying ‘read her, come on, read her poems’ and I, stubbornly, kept putting it off. Until today, I found a poem of hers whose first two lines so resonated with me and with my present state, it was like I had put on an old pair of shoes that fits ever so comfortably, wrapping its knowingness around my heart that I just had to read further and needless to say, I am hooked :) Well, simply because the whole poem is so simple and so incredibly wise and gets straight to the heart of the matter, what could I do, but just nod and nod and swallow the lump in my throat and share it. Maybe, I’ll also get down on my knees and thank the Universe ....

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

~ Mary Oliver ~

A life less NORMAL

"The pursuit of normality is the ultimate sacrifice of potential.”  Faith Jegede

Faith Jedege talks about what I've learned from my autistic brothers

THE MONKEY TRAP

By VIKRAM KARVE


“And what are we doing tomorrow?” I asked my uncle.

“Let’s catch some monkeys,” he said.

“Monkeys?” I asked excitedly.

“Yes,” my uncle said and smiled,” And if you catch one you can take him home as a pet.”

“A monkey! As a pet?” I asked in astonishment.

“Why not?” my uncle said.

“But monkeys? Aren’t they dangerous?” I asked.

“The monkeys here are quite small and very cute. And once you train them, they become very friendly and obedient – ideal pets.”

And so, next morning, at the crack of dawn we sailed off from Haddo Wharf in Port Blair in a large motorboat. Soon we were crossing the Duncan Passage, moving due south; the densely forested Little Andaman Island to our right, the sea calm like a mirror.

I began to feel seasick, so I stood on the foc’sle deck, right at the front end sea-sick, enjoying the refreshing sea-spray, occasionally tasting my salty lips.

I looked in admiration, almost in awe, at uncle who stood rock-steady on the bridge, truly a majestic figure. He signaled to me and I rushed up to the bridge.

“Vijay, it’s time to prepare the Monkey Traps,” he said.

“Monkey-Traps?” I asked confused.

“Tito will show you,” he said. “You must learn to make them yourself.”

Tito, my uncle’s odd-job-man, was sitting on the deck, seaman’s knife in hand, amidst a heap of green coconuts. He punctured a coconut, put it to his lips, drank the coconut water, and then began scooping out a small hollow. I took out my seaman’s knife and joined in enthusiastically with the other coconuts. The coconut water tasted sweet.

“Keep the hole small,” my uncle shouted over my shoulder, “and hollow the coconut well.”

“But how will we catch monkeys with this?” I asked.

“You will see in the evening,” he said. “Now get on with the job.”

We reached a densely forested island at five in the evening.

It was almost dark. The sun sets early in these eastern longitudes.

And soon we set up our monkey-traps.

Each hollowed-out coconut was filled with a mixture of boiled rice and jaggery (gur) through the small hole. Then the coconut was chained to a stake, which was driven firmly into the ground.

And then we hid in the bushes in pin-drop silence.

Suddenly there was rattling sound. My uncle switched on his torch.

A monkey was struggling, one hand trapped inside the coconut. In an instant, Tito threw a gunny-bag over the monkey and within minutes we had the monkey nicely secured inside.

By the time we lit the campfire on the cool soft sands of the beach, we had captured three monkeys.

My uncle put his arm around my shoulder and, “Vijay, you know why the monkey gets trapped? The monkey gets trapped because of its greed.”

He picked up a hollowed-out coconut and said, “Look at this hole. It is just big enough so that the monkey’s hand can go in, but too small for full fist filled with rice to come out. Because his greed won’t allow him to let go of the rice and take out his hand, the monkey remains trapped, a victim of his own greed, until he is captured; forever a captive of his greed.”

“The monkey cannot see that freedom without rice is more valuable that capture with it!” he said.

My uncle looked at Tito and commanded: “Free the monkeys.”

And, one by one, the monkeys jumped out of their gunny bags and started running, with one hand still stuck in a coconut. It was a really funny sight.

“There is a lesson for us to learn from this,” my uncle said. “That’s why I brought you here to show you all this.”

I looked at my uncle. His name was Ranjit Singh. And true to his name he was indeed a magnificent man! Over six feet tall, well-built, redoubtable; a truly striking personality! He stood erect in his khaki uniform, stroking his handsome beard with his left hand, his right hand gripping a swagger stick, which he gently tapped on his thigh.

As he surveyed the scenic surroundings - the moonlight sea, the swaying Causarina trees, the silver sands of the beach in between - he looked majestic, like a king cherishing his domain. Indeed he was like a king here – after all he was the Chief Forest Officer, in-charge of the entire islands – and this was his domain.

Uncle Ranjit was an exception in our family—the odd-man out. My father always said that he was the most intelligent of all brothers. But whereas all of them were busy achieving success and earning money in Mumbai and Delhi, uncle Ranjit had chosen to be different.

To the surprise of everybody else, uncle Ranjit had joined the Forest Service when he could have easily become an engineer, doctor or even a business executive, for he had always topped all examinations – first class first in merit, whether it be the school or the university.

“So, Vijay, you like it here?” he asked.

“It’s lovely, uncle,” I answered. “And thank you so much for the lovely holiday, spending so much time with me. In Mumbai no one has any time for me. I feel so lonely.”

“Why?” he asked, with curiosity.

“Mummy and Daddy both come late from office. Then there are parties, business dinners, and tours. And on Sundays they sleep, exhausted, unless there is a business-meeting in the club or golf with the boss.”

Uncle Ranjit laughed, “Ha. Ha. The Monkey Trap. They are all caught in monkey traps of their own making. Slaves of their greed! Trapped by their desires,caught in the rat race, wallowing in their golden cages, rattling their jewellery, their golden chains – monkey-trapped, all of them, isn’t it?”

As I thought over Ranjit uncle’s words I realized how right he was. Most of the people I knew in Mumbai were just like that – trapped by their greed, chasing rainbows, in search of an ever elusive happiness.

“Happiness is to like what you do as well as to do what you like,” uncle Ranjit said, as if he were reading my thoughts. “Happiness is not a station which never arrives, but the manner you travel in life.”

He paused, and asked me, “Tell me Vijay, tell me, what do you want to do in life?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Vijay. You are fifteen now. By next year you have to decide, tell me what your plans are.”

“It depends on my percentage,” I said truthfully.

“I am sure you will get around ninety percent marks in your board exams,” he said. “Assume you top the exams. Secure a place in the merit list. Then what will you do?”

“I’ll go in for Engineering. Computers, Software, IT,” I said.

“Computers? Software? IT? Why? Why not something more interesting – like Arts, Literature, Philosophy, History, Humanities?” he asked.

“Job prospects,” I answered.

“Oh!”  He exclaimed. “And then?”

“Management...an MBA... Or I may even go abroad for higher studies.”

“Why?”

“Qualifications.”

“And why do you want so many qualifications?”

“To get the best job,” I answered.

“And earn a lot of money?” uncle Ranjit prompted.

“Of course,” I said. “I want to earn plenty of money so that I can enjoy life.”

Uncle Ranjit laughed, “My dear Vijay. Aren’t you enjoying life right now, at this very moment? What about me? Am I am not enjoying life? Remember - if you do not find happiness as you are, where you are, you will never find it.”

He smiled and asked me,” Vijay, you know what Maxim Gorky once said...?

“What?”

“When work is a pleasure, life is a joy. When work is a duty, life is slavery"

“Slavery!” I exclaimed, understanding the message he was trying to give me.

“Slavery to one’s elusive material desires, one’s greed, slavery to the rat race, chasing rainbows. And then live a life perpetually trapped in a Monkey Trap of your own making.”

“The Monkey Trap!” we both said in unison, in chorus.

It was the defining moment in my life – my Minerva Moment...!

And so, I decided that I will choose a career I loved, do something I liked, and experience an inner freedom.

And guess what I am today?

Well, I am a teacher. I teach philosophy.

And let me tell you I enjoy every moment of it. It’s a life of sheer joy and delight – being with my students, their respect and adulation, my innate quest for knowledge and a sense of achievement that I am contributing my bit to society.

I shall never forget Uncle Ranjit and that crucial visit to the forests of the Andamans, the turning point, or indeed the defining moment, of my life.

~~~ 

A prayer

to roam the sky and steal the stars
on my heart to emblazon
the full sun
let the light shine out bright
through a heart broken
fill my soul with effulgence
become radiance


This is written in the 7-line stanza as devised by Paul Laurence Dunbar, who used it in his poem  Melancholia.

For the Sunday Mini Challenge at the site Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Witch - haiku

reviled stoned condemned
burnt alive at the stake, yet
wise strong powerful

hands that know magic
heart that understands mysteries
soul, ever gentle

beautiful goddess
that witch in every woman
divine feminine

~~~

Haiku Heights / #193 - Witch

Just love

“It matters not who you love,
where you love, why you love,
when you love or how you love.
It only matters that you love.”

~John Lennon

Haiku - Conscious

pain presses pulsates
through muscle sinew and bone
mind flickers through night

dawn comes sniveling
bruised red and torn yellow
like blooms after rain

light prises open
the carapace of shadows
sentience at last

~~~

Haiku Heights / 192 / Conscious

The water-colour sky

Through the windscreen
the sky looks
like a water-colour
azure seeping into cerulean
grey smudging into nothing

trees silhouetted
like sky-gazing spectators

streetlights sweeping by
like light-sabred sentinels
bravely fending off the night

I struggle
to keep my eyes on the road
the spectacle above
so tantalising
so simple
so compelling

I wonder if night sprites
are contriving to carry me off
to their dusky realm

the realm of mystery
the universe of wonder
the magical world
that lies all around us
right under our eyes

if only we would look

~~~

Home - haiku

our floating first home
close to heart-beat pumping love
our mother’s warm womb

~~~

earnest and zestful
I prepared your homecoming
but your coffin came

~~~

fragile miracle
carrying us from womb to grave
this body our home

~~~

yet freedom at last
unanchored and unfettered
my spirit wings home

~~~

Haiku Heights / # 190 / Home

You are not your body

A mind-blowingly inspirational talk -

Watch talk here

All lit up : a photo-haiku

a clash of sounds

I should be doing things
cranking up my portfolio
dusting furniture
cooking

instead

I get distracted
by the raucous crowing
of a hen
sawing at the still air

and

Nature
as though wanting
to keep the balance
drops dulcet droplets
of birdsong
into the gaps

the wind
plucks on leafy strings
trying out new tunes

but

through it all
the clock delivers
the sound
of chopped-up time
to my unwilling ears

tinny and thankless
it accumulates
in a growing heap
on my mind
and grows heavy
with guilt

~~~

Battlefield - haiku

in the war of wills
your smile melts my defense
sweet is surrender

~~~

one more one more chip
until packet lies empty
battle lost again

~~~

battlefield of mind
good wages war with evil
does not always win

~~~

Haiku Heights / September Heights / day29 / Battlefield

Tying yourself to the bedpost

Excerpt from a delanceypost article ------

The five stages of sleep:

  

"Until the middle of the twentieth century, scientists thought that sleep was an unchanging condition dur­ing which time the brain was quiet. The discovery of rapid eye movements in the 1950s upended that. Researchers then real­ized that sleep is made up of five distinct stages that the body cycles through over roughly ninety-minute periods. The first is so light that if you wake up from it, you might not realize that you have been sleeping. The second is marked by the appear­ance of sleep-specific brain waves that last only a few seconds at a time. If you reach this point in the cycle, you will know you have been sleeping when you wake up. This stage marks the last stop before your brain takes a long ride away from conscious­ness.  

"Stages three and four are considered deep sleep. In three, the brain sends out long, rhythmic bursts called delta waves. Stage four is known as slow-wave sleep for the speed of its accompanying brain waves. The deepest form of sleep, this is the farthest that your brain travels from conscious thought. If you are woken up while in stage four, you will be disoriented, unable to answer basic questions, and want nothing more than to go back to sleep, a condition that researchers call sleep drunkenness. The final stage is REM sleep, so named because of the rapid movements of your eyes dancing against your eye­lids. In this type of sleep, the brain is as active as it is when it is awake. This is when most dreams occur.

"Your body prepares for REM sleep by sending out hormones to effectively paralyze itself so that your arms and legs don't act out the storyline you are creating in your head. This attempt at self-protection doesn't always work perfectly, and when that happens, what follows is far from pleasant. Sometimes, it is the brain that doesn't get the message. This can lead to waking up in the middle of the night with the frightening sensation that you can't move your limbs. In the Middle Ages, this was thought to be a sign that a demon called an incubus was perched on the chest. Instead, this condition is simply a flaw in the sleep cycle, a wrong-footed step in the choreography of the brain's func­tions that allows a person to become conscious when the body thinks the brain is still dreaming.  

"At other times, the body doesn't fully paralyze itself like it is supposed to. This is the root of a series of problems called parasomnias, of which sleep­walking ... is by far the most mild. Patients with REM sleep disorder, for instance, sometimes jump out of a window or tackle their nightstand while they are acting out a dream. Some patients I spoke with who have this disorder have resorted to literally tying themselves to the bedpost each night out of the fear that they will accidentally commit suicide."

--------------------- end of excerpt ----------------------------

Footprint - haiku

footprints in the woods
getting fewer and fewer
as species vanish

~~~

footprints on my mind
some I keep some I wipe off
memory spring clean

~~~

footprints on the grass
flowers smiling up at me
even after death

Haiku Heights / September Heights / Day27 / Footprint

Paper boat - haiku

little chubby hands
set boats sailing on puddle
joy dancing on face

~~~

kites, blue, red, yellow
like sky-sailing paper boats
kissing bashful clouds

~~~

I wish my thoughts could
paper boat across the world
dropping peace parcels

~~~

 

(image : internet)

Haiku Heights / September Heights / day26 / Paper boat

Sleep - haiku

the summer paints dreams
on eyelids shut to the world
sun-baked somnolence

~~~

sleep-walking through life
we arrive at death’s doorstep
begging one more chance
 

~~~

Haiku Heights / September Heights / day25 / Sleep

Paradox - haiku

sorrow with joy walks
relentless we pursue joy
sorrow dogs our steps

~~~

soft eloquent eyes
tender hearted Collosus
a gentle giant

(this refers to Michael Clarke Duncan)

~~~

Haiku Heights / September Heights / day24 / Paradox

Hummingbird - haiku

busy blur of blue
nature’s little acrobat
held aloft by air

~~~

Haiku Heights / September Heights / day 23 / Hummingbird

Creation - haiku

can you hear that voice
that says ‘create’ ‘create’
heed divine command

~~~

Haiku Heights / September Heights / day15 / Creation

The dirty secret truth about talent

A behind the scene look at talent and how to master anything...

Read Justine Musk's masterful article here

The pebble

I stand at the window
the trees unmoving
the clouds still
only a gull flies
cutting through the sunlight
in white-arched flight.

I wonder
about that pebble
lying in the sun.

Does it long to skim
across surfaces of lakes
and then, not landing,
take off, like that gull
piercing through
that blue curtain of the sky
sail through the heavens
like it once had.

Or is it content
to just lie there
kissing the earth
caressed by the rain
nurturing crawly things
under its stony presence
like fatherhood.

On bright nights
when the stars beckon
with their glittering light
does it turn instead
its gaze inward
to the dance of its atoms
the galaxies of molecules
the songs of the seasons
ringing in its silent being.

Smiling
knowing
that flight is possible
even when still.

~~~

The Story of India

A fascinating series by BBC -

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 is missing

Part 7