Why don't I remember that Buddha statue....

Have you ever wondered what would it be like to go through the same path you travelled in one of your excursions from the past and hope to see things differently?

It was in  Sri Lanka in 2002. It has been one of my favorite countries that I can proudly say, ' I have been there.' Catholics, tamils, hindus, buddhists, muslims and their harmony and friction of cultures, its a bit like India, only smaller but similarly filled with wonders. For one, our guide took us to one of the most rarest coral islands in Asia - Pigeon Island near Trincomalee. Imagine a building sized island bed filled with only white corals, surrounded by deep blue water, trees scattered at distance and one which allows just 30-40 visitors at a time. Never did I see such distinct colors arranged in an order by nature. With my eyes already awed with some of the architectural wonders I saw on the trip I had decided to just lay on tree bark hanging over shallow water and take pictures. I thought I would remember that scence but I frankly just remember a cliched view of a beach and the ocean. May be it wasn't that rare.

On my way back west towards Colombo, our guide asserted that we visit this giant Buddha statue in a random location.  We decided to take an off road towards the site mostly because we couldn't face his unparalleled enthusiasm and decided to concede. 

There are many many many Buddhist paintings, statues and temples around the world with even more statues. So I proceeded to inquire: What's so different about this one? "Oh its very rare. Its sacred. Not many people know where it is" he replied in a broken accent. "Fair enough" I said excitedly.

 At that time peace had returned to this riot ravaged country but we were just starting to get concerned about the really bumpy roads and the heavy downpour rain for the entire duration of our trip. "Oh this is normal" he insisted. We couldn't help but think of ways not to dishearten him but explain our concern. 

"Not many visitors know about it." he kept on going. 

A heavily unchartered road, with holes, rain puddles, screaming lightning and dwindling daylight all started to set on our spirits as we pummeled through the thick forest. "Sir, we will be there in 10 minutes. Its worth it." he said. "We will see it in a few, in fact", he continued.

As we reached the edge of an uphill road, our car just clamped on sinking mud. As my father's patience started to wear off, I decided to call it off and face our guide. As he dislodged some 2 feet of mud surrounding the car in the heavy rain and faint light, he realized this one wasn't going to work. As he grudgingly reversed the car in this one way, rocky, "katcha" road, we saw a slight glimpse of the statue for about a matter of 2 seconds. 

It was gold plated, may be about 30-35 ft tall standing in the middle of nowhere, with no trees to shadow it, no rocks to envelope its majestic shine, but all it possessed was a glowing light in a distance. My father let a "wow- what a statue" out and I panicked. I could just see a golden light and the soaked windows and thick forest didn't offer much of a view! I know it looked like a statue and then I think I caught a glimpse but then I don't remember anything after.

I have always played that scene in my mind several times but I can't remember the rest. I don't know where we were going that evening. I don't know where I was coming from. I know we were headed west. I just remember seeing the light of that statue in a such a dark setting. I can't remember anything else about the car, the drive or the guide. My parents in last several years have mentioned that incident atleast once and they have mentioned our itinerary, our guide's name, and the mishap with the mud-hole. Yet, all I remember is that I missed seeing that statue but I don't know how I do see it again? How do I track that guide down and will he remember us? TO begin with, how safe is it to even visit this violent place now? How do I retrace my steps? 

Oh well, the memory of that light is etched in my memory and hence may be I can't see beyond the events on that evening. Its funny how our brain works sometimes, doesn't it?

NY memories:

Clubbing scenes, dirty streets, late night escapades, kati roll and sweets, cold stones, central parking, jammed parking, miniscule dogs barking, lombardi’s, puk, zanzibar, Lesouk, pipa, faluka, 3 AMs but still bhuka, afghani, rice to riches, beautiful piers, but no bloody beaches, karaoke, Ethiopian, crazy people on the streets but thankfully egalitarian, chika on a day off, then movie in AMC, Saravanas or chennai garden?, better than cheesy serendipity, Chinese mirch, bowling alley, chelsea beers!, the taste of mango lassi, maritime and rooftop bar, underground, lotus, and “subway” not London underground, analyst events, cruise around the city, no dinner and its freaking 2.30!, khyber pass with the closest 2, mughlai food obsession, and golfing but no bloody participation!, work soups at hale and hearty, plaza terrace with times square view, hampton chutney fusion, café lalo with a chosen few, glass, sheesha with fuss, max brennars!, boathouse but no veggie food for us, world cup soccer on the beach, FIFA soccer on the xbox, crazy car drifting game, yet no cable for the idiot box, wireless blues, visits from babsonites, cooking spree, traveling with samsonites, cooking spree with yum kadhee, iron chef gowns, kantaben’s excellence but indiscipline, halloween clowns, jaiya thai, pam real, CFA beard, honey bunch cereal, disappearing grocery stores, run by the westside highway, megu with colleagues, walking people uttering, ‘get the f out of my way’, byrant park performances, hand in hand in times square, remembering torta, demonstrations about tiananmen square, taking lovely to la lanterna, cityseach all the time, poker nights, getting tempted for a gamble some times, atlantic city plans, vegas plans, cape cod plans, and then some unfulfilled plans, blonde moments, procrastinating champ, erratic pundits, starbucks in hand, financier find, duane reade visits, new york public library, trailers at lowe’s and other youtube snippets, gmailing on 17astuds, crazy good time at kush, bhai-bhabi’s trip, dave and buster’s and me khush, Macy’s confusion, thanksgiving day parade exclusivity, 25 broadway office, client office proximity, statue of liberty, empire state, highline with work folks, trips to DC, NH, MA states, exciting thursday nights, exhausted Fridays, worthless Saturdays and then anxious Sundays, imaginasian, MOMAs and METS, Lincoln tunnel, queer looking pets, bar hopping, yet abstinence, nagin dance, coffee handi, drive on FDR, chipotle, taco bell and finally 24G and 17A . . . .

A piece of poetry is a manifestation

Of the self in a form

Unadulterated by realities

And unrestricted by pretences

Old Stories. .

Are we writers or actors, you and I?
I guess it’s like an opening act
Of every play, we were introduced
But ourselves we crafted each scene
With patience and tact.

Did we crumble the paper each time?
We just inaudibly brainstormed
An embryonic idea, we quietly refused
The ordinary or unexceptional but chose
The one that was majestic and splendid.

Did we follow the plot as directed?
I guess we just played our part
Like the sailors at sea, workers in a factory
Soldiers at war or citizens by a decree
Eternally in sync from the very start.

Were we separated or together?
Writers don’t depart from their story line
But all is not blissful and cheery
Sting is released onto the actor’s life
“Part of life”, they say, “It will be fine.”

Did we bring our panache into the act?
Like natural actors and their flair
Embodiment of the tragic and heroic
Story is there for readers to read
But splendor we bring

- Niral

...to be continued . .

With every shade of orange, white and green in my heart, the Ashoka Wheel in my ideals, the prospect of imminent contribution to my country in my mind, and the respect and love for the Father of our Nation in my very soul, I kneel down humbly in prayer and solemnity on this very day which marks 60 years of success, struggle, endeavour and freedom in our Nation's great history ...

- Niral Parekh, Son of India

At the age of 10, rummaging through the pile of history books, I never thought that the speech that Nehruji delivered at midnight on August 14th, 1947 would get dusted away in the vacuity of my mind. However, since this year marks 60 years of our motherland's awakening I thought to keep a record of it in my blog.
I dedicate this blog in as much to our optimistic patriotics as to our cynical lot. To the optimistic lot who might turn a blind eye to our leaders, freedom fathers and nation-builders just because they were/are more powerful than they are. To the cynics who think parading some ill-gotten information about Nehruji's frivolous extra-marital and external affairs, Gandhiji's stumpy paternal abilities, and our nation's debilitating situation at dinner tables is a matter of personal pride.
As clearly stated in the intention of this speech, hard work still lies ahead and to make India the greatest country in the world will take us, the middle-people, between the optimists and pessimists, a lot to dodge through the idealistic and sarcastic banter.

Speech in the Constituent Assembly of India, on the eve of India's Independence
Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny, and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance. It is fitting that at this solemn moment, we take the pledge of dedication to the service of India and her people and to the still larger cause of humanity.
At the dawn of history, India started on her unending quest, and trackless centuries are filled with her striving and grandeur of her success and failures. Through good and ill fortune alike, she has never lost sight of that quest, forgotten the ideals which gave her strength. We end today a period of misfortunes and India discovers herself again. The achievement we celebrate today is but a step, an opening of opportunity to the greater triumphs and achievements that await us. Are we brave enough and wise enough to grasp this opportunity and accept the challenge of the future?
Freedom and power bring responsibility. The responsibility rests upon this Assembly, a sovereign body representing the sovereign people of India. Before the birth of freedom, we have endured all the pains of labour and our hearts are heavy with the memory of this sorrrow. Some of those pains continue even now. Nevertheless, the past is over and it is the future that beckons us now.
That future is not one of ease or resting but of incessant striving so that we may fulfill the pledges we have so often taken and the one we shall take today. The service of India means, the service of the millions who suffer. It means the ending of poverty and ignorance and poverty and disease and inequality of opportunity. The ambition of the greatest men of our generation has been to wipe every tear from every eye. That may be beyond us, but as long as there are tears and suffering, so long our work will not be over.
And so we have to labour and to work, and to work hard, to give reality to our dreams. Those dreams are for India, but they are also for the world, for all the nations and peoples are too closely knit together today for any one of them to imagine that it can live apart. Peace is said to be indivisible, so is freedom, so is prosperity now, and also is disaster in this one world that can no longer be split into isolated fragments.
To the people of India, whose representatives we are, we make an appeal to join us with faith and confidence in this great adventure. This is no time for petty and destructive criticism, no time for ill-will or blaming others. We have to build the noble mansion of free India where all her children may dwell.
The appointed day has come -the day appointed by destiny- and India stands forth again, after long slumber and struggle, awake, vital, free and independent. The past clings on to us still in some measure and we have to do much before we redeem the pledges we have so often taken. Yet the turning-point is past, and history begins anew for us, the history which we shall live and act and others will write about.
It is a fateful moment for us in India, for all Asia and for the world. A new star rises, the star of freedom in the East, a new hope comes into being, a vision long cherished materializes. May the star never set and that hope never be betrayed!
We rejoice in that freedom, even though clouds surround us, and many of our people are sorrow-stricken and difficult problems encompass us. But freedom brings responsibilities and burdens and we have to face them in the spirit of a free and disciplined people.
On this day our first thoughts go to the architect of this freedom, the Father of our Nation, who, embodying the old spirit of India, held aloft the torch of freedom and lighted up the darkness that surrounded us. We have often been unworthy followers of his and have strayed from his message, but not only we but succeeding generations will remember this message and bear the imprint in their hearts of this great son of India, magnificent in his faith and strength and courage and humility. We shall never allow that torch of freedom to be blown out, however high the wind or stormy the tempest.
Our next thoughts must be of the unknown volunteers and soldiers of freedom who, without praise or reward, have served India even unto death.
We think also of our brothers and sisters who have been cut off from us by political boundaries and who unhappily cannot share at present in the freedom that has come. They are of us and will remain of us whatever may happen, and we shall be sharers in their good [or] ill fortune alike.
The future beckons to us. Whither do we go and what shall be our endeavour? To bring freedom and opportunity to the common man, to the peasants and workers of India; to fight and end poverty and ignorance and disease; to build up a prosperous, democratic and progressive nation, and to create social, economic and political institutions which will ensure justice and fullness of life to every man and woman.
We have hard work ahead. There is no resting for any one of us till we redeem our pledge in full, till we make all the people of India what destiny intended them to be. We are citizens of a great country on the verge of bold advance, and we have to live up to that high standard. All of us, to whatever religion we may belong, are equally the children of India with equal rights, privileges and obligations. We cannot encourage communalism or narrow-mindedness, for no nation can be great whose people are narrow in thought or in action.
To the nations and peoples of the world we send greetings and pledge ourselves to cooperate with them in furthering peace, freedom and democracy.
And to India, our much-loved motherland, the ancient, the eternal and the ever-new, we pay our reverent homage and we bind ourselves afresh to her service.

JAI HIND.
Retrieved from "http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/A_Tryst_with_Destiny"

Anger and Me

Through life’s benevolence, I befriended Anger
A blessed gift from the heavens
Mere mortal was I till I met her,
Power was vested, and responsibility hence

Way worn was I till life needed refinement
A mere philosopher was I seeking nature’s stasis
Anger lived her life, with a smidgen of confinement
But her divine arms sought me a process of catharsis

While the world and our own minds portended
An unhealthy mix of mania and confusion
“Befriending Anger is one thing”, the saint extended,
“But seeking love is a voluptuous allusion”

“Is it not logical?” my inner voice retorted,
“Not a befitting conclusion to this state of bliss?
A sacred nuptial knot that my mind had invented?”
So I broached, a dubious endeavor sealed with a kiss

And then, as the story goes…
I swayed in Anger’s contention
An emotional ride, an ethical convention
A muted war ensued,
A clear reason was needed,
With not an ounce of pretension
A turbulence of the seas,
The lightning of her rage,
A tirade of her emotion
Seeking nothing but devotion

As I walked through the passage of time,
In quest for answers thus far, unrequited,
I tottered; I stumbled, in the puddle of slime,
Unenlightened was I, unkempt and unsolicited

Through Lord’s grace, I started observing
The joy of togetherness, a remedy for solitude
Passion, patience, regulation was up for serving
As I hungrily absorbed the basis of fortitude

And then, the story continues…
With renewed zeal, love, but the same intention
I entered the realm of reasoning and contention
The verbose war, unlike last time
Far too hurt were we to play mime
As love surfaced through the murky waters
Distrust was tucked away in forlorn quarters
And we fought the armies of Pain & Arrogance,
It helped to have Anger by my side, as she lanced
Our allies were Rage and Fury, indomitable
Under control we truly were just unconquerable

So as I stood and stared at the state of regression,
A note shoved in a seed dropped from the sky
Which evoked King Asoka’s pensive recalibration
"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to Heaven", a Shakespeare quotation

“Is there a need,” I ruminated, “For a canonical remark?”
My duty henceforth is transcribed onto me
A helping hand, a salubrious candor so stark
“O Anger, please accept my apology to thee”

A soothing voice I shall maintain,
So Anger’s allies and enemies shall never return to her
Anger gave me a new life, a reason to sustain
Which I shall forever remember and how I befriended Anger

1 Year on.
Wow! Cant believe its been 1 year since I started blogging:

Status Check :-

Receieved enlightenment: Check
Life got busy: Check
Regrets that life got busy: Check
Knows that thats the way it is: Check
Spends free time on youtube: Check


Yes, there are million ways to past time now and I wish I could take more time out for blogging. However, my support for blogging is it at its fullest. Long live the bloggers!

Ekagrata

We are intuitively aware of the inaccuracies and fallacies of the English language, yet we are aware of the facts associated with it's prevalence, just like the overall score sheet of that one student in high school we always competed with.

It is the first language spoken by approximately 380 million people in the world, and second language to about 1 billion people and is the official language of 71 countries. Most of the translations in the world today are being performed in this language, call centers teach their employees English and that too with certain accents, most blogs (e.g. this one) are in English and yada, yada, yada.

Yet, non-native speakers feel a sort of vacuum when it comes to expressing certain notions, feelings, and ideas. It is obvious. May be one of the reasons could be in a way English proliferated. Historically, English wasn’t taught to people with the intention of making them experts at it. English was a colonial medium imparted for “mutual benefit” of the rulers and the ruled, where the benefit was ‘mutual’ to the extent of the ruler’s whims and desires. Yet all the historical bantering aside, what I find most frustrating is that even today our schools don’t teach English as a translation and expression tool but as a method of communication, if that makes sense. Point being, we learn English from scratch, just like the westerners, without learning the full English Vocabulary pertinent to our countries. But then at a tender age of 3-7, we rush back home and ask our Moms to heat milk in that little native Indian “bartan”, not knowing that there are about a dozen names for different sized vessels and containers in English. Sometimes it matters to know these things. Most of the times we get by.

There are many words in Hindi, for example, which don’t have any direct translation or at least are not immediately accessible. What does an individual do then? It is not a paralyzing handicap, but definitely a mildly stunted expression issue. Many people get befuddled when trying to think in Hindi and speak in English, but without self-training, this problem doesn’t improve.

So I tried to look for meaning of the word “Ekagrata”. Closest I could come to was ‘wholesome’, which I know is not completely right.
So if I am explaining the benefits of Pranayam to a colleague saying that it brings “Ekagrata” to life, I naturally feel stumped. And I blame the Britishers for this!

Ratatouille (Rat-a-too-eee) C’est Magnifique

‘Ratatouille’ – the movie is a surprise treat not only for food connoisseurs but for the entire bourgeoisie, the aristocrats, and the critics clan of the cinema world, but most importantly for my type of movie goers – Insanely-tired-from-work-need-break-on-a-Friday-night-and-what-have-you.

This movie offers superlative graphics, unmatched comic timing and an entertainingly uncanny plot about a rat who wants to become a famous chef in Paris despite familial pressures and an obvious problem of genetics - of being a rodent in the human world.

All of Brad Bird’s movies advocate the underlying counsel that 'everyone is special', and as the great chef Gusteau in the movie rightly says, “Anyone can cook”. This is quite appealing as it relates to clichés we have been hearing since our childhood– “believe in yourself’, “passion and hard work lights the way”, “trust your instincts”, and “bla-bla-bla”. Even if one doesn’t get teary-eyed and nostalgic on the times they have given up on themselves, the comic flow of this movie ensures that you are having a good time laughing at the gestures and consistently amusing misfortunes of the human character of Linguini.

Pixar does it again – and better. It is safe to proclaim that this movie outdoes their last vennture 'Cars' just as how Iphone is outpasssing every mobile mp3 player techonology available – by offering a complete package of visual delight of insane proportion.

If one gets past beyond the funny pronunciation of the name of the movie, I think this movie on significance on believing in one's self and cooking 'gourmet' food did what no movie has me feel before – Hungry for more!!!

My Existence as it relates to, ' The Danish Poet'

This is a short film on how the narrator is born from a young poet’s quest for inspiration. Quiet literally so. The woman narrates a simplistic story about Kasper’s journey to Norway and back, where he meets the love of his life and through their long-drawn-out love story somehow leads to two people meeting on a train and falling in love themselves and so on… The questions posed are very simple - Can we trace the chain of events that leads to our own birth? Is our existence just coincidence? Whether they are worth pondering is something left to each individual's discretion a.k.a whether they have time to kill.

For example, I have always found hard to believe that my father somehow found the nerve to sign up for an Indian folk dance show and then voluntarily danced with a lady he was being set up with in the first place – all this a coincidence? While I say his dancing skills are well intentioned but fiercely limited, all in all, nothing nightmarish, I know that he knows where he stands when it comes to the skill of the feet. How my mother ended up admiring him for his efforts is something definitely worth pondering. “Do little things matter?” the narrator asks. I say they don’t when it comes to assessing someone for their hip-shaking abilities, but hell, they do when it comes to marrying them and spending the rest of your life with.

While I categorically avoid watching stretched-out Hindi love stories centered on love as a result of destiny, I think I enjoyed the narrator’s banter on existentialism and how she herself might not have come into being had it not been for the Danish poet's love quest. I guess I should thank the organizers of the Indian folk dance … without which I wouldn’t be writing this long overdue blog..aah?!? Hah! I guess it is the way it is.

I dedicate this to those undecided...

What good are we doing here...
If the western lands be an entrapment for the misled. If the opulence be as blinding as forgetting to catch the essence of a beautiful sunrise and serving our kinfolk be as banal as performing chores. If the world be a haven for the few fortunate and the untouched unfortunate be deemed as a result of maintaining a balance. If plenitude of stamped metal be our only desire, earning for which we spend our lifetime. If parting from our Mother be a necessary evil for thirst of contentment and worldly riches.


Inspired from irreplaceable and inimitable Rabindranath Tagore:
"The child who is decked with prince's robes and who has jewelled chains round his neck loses all pleasure in his play; his dress hampers him at every step. In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps himself from the world, and is afraid even to move. Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keep one shut off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life."

funny how our random conversations at random meals are with friends - all from different places, eras, schools of thought, some know each other, some don't, some are surprised at some info, while some remain nonchalant and so on so forth.
Scene 1. Mind you: food has not been served yet:

"well in my city we eat in highly sterlized bowls" "o yeah there are many places i have visited which do that"; "like where?"; "dont remember, but my dad told me about this uncle whose friend had visited some place like that three years back"
"as per our religion, we stare at our food for 35 minutes till our minds starts to explode thinking why the hell are we doing that"; "see its better for us, since we believe to eat as fast as we could, using all our fingers even, if need be"
"did you guys read how there have been 400,000 deaths in Iraq so far"' "oh yeah thats crazy"; "so sad, you know i was just about to finish my venture with this new recipe when that came on" "oh yeah - what did you make?"
"whats the name of the guy who went to college with us, remember who overdosed himself one night by smellin cement and charcoal?" "dude i never went to college with you" "oh yeah? never mind - turns out he is a big time druggie"; "oh yeah- dont say!"
"half our country is in shambles"; "no man, look at the new phones release - there is definitely growth there somewhere'; "only when corruptions goes..."; "but thats true for every country, right?"; "well my grandfather used to say that in his times..."; "well those times were different" ; "yeah man, those times were different"; "dude, you werent even born then."; "shussh, you know i read history...

Scene 2: Food just got served

"oo that looks good buddy..."; "well in my house we put the sauce on top"; "oh no - sauce - my mom doesn't prescribe since we going to drink water anyways; "hey by the way how many glasses of water per day"; "12"; "10"; "well you shouldn't overdrink"; "well thats true with anything"
"man - i wish they could serve this with a little bit of that homemade spice"; "damn goras - make everything bland"; "hah - they are so calorie conscious, they will nibble on fly carcas if some tells them it helps burn fat"; "dude, why would u say that while you eating"; "haha, sorry it didn't sound that disgusting when i was thinking it in my mind"

Scene 3: Dessert
"damn - thats some big ass chocolate cake you ordered" ; "yeah they serve these in a better way in my city - with those sterilized bowls"; "you and your bowl obsession"..."even i haven't heard of that system"...and there it goes on till its time to part...

World Cup '07

New mantra - all mind, no heart!

Oh well. Let's face it. They have been unbeatable for the last seven years and in cricket thats a long ass time. Not because its a long ass game lasting longer than ekta kapoor's serials, but because there are technicalities involved with the game which we all know make the game so darn good.

and yes, there are decisions to be made, who fields where, who bowls when, who bats first, who says what and all the googlies not just associated with bowling, but with the entire process.

I am not writing this post as a means for rooting for India for '07 but just as a concern that Australians have no heart while they play cricket and that sucks. All their decisions are safe and sound and its a pity sometimes teams like India and Pakistan follow suit and play it safe.

The new mantra is to create a kit, i.e, to mould a bagful of players so they come in handy under different situations. For e.g. Sehwag doesn't get chucked out since he has displayed winning abilities in WI and there is a chance he will play again. ...reminds one of Hayden years when he was suffering from slump.

It is funny what Greg Chappel recently said that Indians need to make up in batting what they will loose in fielding. Yes, there is a higher level of fielding expertise required, but it seems like his aussie ways are again suggesting mimicking the success teams like australia and south africa have had.

But - WHO CARES? If Indians cant slide enough due to their exposure to hard indian grounds, what can we do? As long as they can take catches and make runouts happens.... If our bowlers are not quick enough, how does it matter? doesnt just line and length matter? Look at Zahir's newfound accuracy...and batting....bloody hell - no one care dare say that the combo of Sachin, Sourav and Rahul can ever be matched by any team?

So high time we start cheering for India from our hearts since our players play with their hearts and lets show some support.

We dont want India to be a new Australia...

The Importance of talking to Ernest.

On my hurried ride back to the Union Station, DC to catch the 6 o clock back to NYC, I got an opportunity to strike up a conversation with the African cab driver named Ernest. I guess that’s how being international affects you after a while. The racial lines start blurring and an untainted kinship develops. You know longer see men/women in other countries as men/women from other countries. After all, we all live here in America dangling on this rope of hope that soon we will all go back to our motherland, soon.

"I asked him, Do you miss being home, Ernest?"

With a thick Ghanian accent (he said something like Dangme, Dagbane as being his mother tongue) he articulated one valid point -

“You live where you are most comfortable”, something his father had told him.

"Of course I miss being home", “Your home soil is your home soil”, “Nothing gets better than working for your people, your country” “We come here for technology, and we take that expertise back” “We should know our task, our duty.” were few things we discussed.

But do we, really? Are we in it for ourselves? Did Netaji Subash Chandra Bose think like that when he went to Cambridge? Did Gandhiji think like this at University College London? Did Sardar Patel envision his role in the Independence fight at Middle Temple, London?

Blah! May be - at times! May be - all the time. May be Higher Duty called when they least expected.

As the Interstate 495 traffic began to intensify and the prospect of not making for the train started looming over me, I saw what impact my conversation was having on the two of us. Free fleeting moments of pensive expositions and reverie started setting in. While I mused over about career opportunities in home country, I saw that he took deep interest in beating the traffic and helping me reach the station. "Its 5.20 - and these cars better move fast"

“I came here 18 years ago and I still feel the same when I go back to my wife and kids in Ghana”

Hah- He beat my 6 years away from home three times over. And Hah- that puts things into perspective.

25 minutes to go for the Acela express to depart and 5 miles in bumper to bumper traffic left. “Wonder how all our countries would be if whites hadn’t ruled over us?” I asked him. “Would we have been here today talking in their language?” “Would we have boarded that one way plane to take us to another land?”

“May be not.” he said. “But they made us love our motherland even more.”

10 minutes to go and I had to yet go to the travel desk and renew my ticket. As I paid him money, jutted out with my suitcase, and stepped out of the cab, Ernest exclaims, “Hey man, don’t worry about shutting door or anything, just run! You don’t want to miss it.” And so I sprinted and wala! Made it on the dot. In the midst of cultural exchanges, historical accounts and nostalgic memories, I realized how he did what he said – stuck to his assigned task – getting me to the station on time.

“We should know our task, our duty.”

So at least one of us knew their task, their duty, their Higher Order.

Bull shit estimates that help.

Faced with an odd problem yesterday. Was chatting an old old friend about his project situation. Seemed like he was working in a foreign country but doing some good work. Problem: He didn’t want to be there and wanted to be home. Bigger Problem: I didn’t know what to tell him.

Often times the remedies for disgruntled employees are in form of reminders. They are either performed by ourselves or then our friends, families and colleagues. The reminders are simple. “Your time will come, just wait it out.” “Hang in there buddy” “Well at least you are not doing …… kinda crap work” “Don’t lose sight of the goal” “Everybody goes through this, you are not the only one” “What other option do you have any way?” So reminders go from infusing positives about better things to come, to updates on current status to threat about the “what ifs” and “what else”.

As much as we don’t embrace these ideologids wholeheartedly and feel we need to constantly try to find a better life - no matter what, point is simple: they work.

However, this time I engaged in another form of pacification for the soul: Bullshit estimates or guesstimates (academic lingo, may be) or rational streamlined assumptions from varying pieces of information (consulting jargon, has to be).

I told him there are two things to be considered here. A) Happy Personal Life B) Successful Career. Now you can’t have both all the time. So either you are happy with both A and B which makes you part of 10% of the population at given point of time. Or you happy with either A or B which makes you part of the 70% of the population. Or then you are the sorry remaining 20% and you better do something about A or B.

My Source: I have no freaking idea. But it worked! He realized what I was talking about and made a choice and with that ended his two day depressing period. I told him there is nothing to worry about, if you feel you have a good personal life, be happy about it and seek a better job. If you have sucky personal life, then seek to improve it with job, heibus corpus.

This leads me to believe that bull shit estimates really help, I would say 3 out of 10 times :)

Institution of Anger

Dear Bapu,

I have realized one thing. I may let myself feel anger. Anger serves as a reminder to shed my comfort zone.

Your teachings have clarified my understanding of Anger.

I want to dedicate this post to You – The One Who Totally Owned this Institution of Anger. The more I maintain my life long fight to grasp the fundamentals of controlling anger, the more my respect for You grows. I wish to thank You for reminding us to shake our comfort zone which make our minds lethargic and complacent.

I am reminded how Satyagraha was founded on the notion of understanding the root causes of most of our rage – injustice and oppression. Through all Your effective systems of passive resistance, patience, and non-violence, You created this magnificent power within us. I have realized how passivity in the mind is far more damaging and can only be cured by passive resistance. After all, the source of the anger was from a certain injustice and it is that basis of that injustice we need to eradicate and change, not the person, not the object – just the action. The result will naturally be a change in the person.

I apprehend the importance of simplicity of shedding my anger as I pray and rest my eyes every night and importance of action required for remediation as I plan my day in the morning.

I have realized that feeling angry is just beginning of a struggle and not the summit of turn of events.


Your Humble Satyagrahi,

N



Bapu -
Quote # 1) "I have learned through bitter experience the one supreme lesson to conserve my anger, and as heat conserved is transmuted into energy, even so our anger controlled can be transmuted into a power which can move the world." Quote # 2) “Man should forget his anger before he lies to sleep.”

My Prayer to Ramji.

Lord, bless our ambition. Through our ambition, we seek to accomplish the most impossible personal feat. Give us the courage not to be blinded by arrogance and greed. Just like a flower ascending towards sunlight, shower us with the valor to achieve our goals with a passion.

Lord, bless our passion. It is through our passion that we are constant in our every action. Passion may render us sightless at times, and it is in these times that we call upon You. Make us not a tree but a grass stem so we remain grounded in our values and live through the winds of turbulent times to return back to our original principles and beliefs.

Lord, bless our beliefs. We carry our beliefs throughout our lives and sometimes make them the basis of our existence. Sometimes they originate in the external world and sometimes they stem from our own insecurities. Give us the strength to know the origins of our beliefs and hold on to the right ones so that we may walk on the path that leads to You through our every action.

Lord, bless our action. Our actions make us who we are and what everyone perceives of us. However, we forget sometimes that our every action helps us reach You. It is not but for Your benevolence that farmers toil, middlemen facilitate, sellers supply, and our mothers prepare the very bread we eat. Give us the courage to help us find divinity in the most menial tasks so we may find Love and so we may carry our actions with hope and perseverance.

Lord, bless Us, because our ambition, passion, beliefs and actions make Life and Life is the only way we have of making manifest Your miracle. May the earth continue to transform seeds into wheat, may we continue to transmute wheat into bread. And this is only possible if we have Love; therefore, do not leave us in solitude. Always shower us with Your presence, Love and accompaniment in every stage of life.

The McNaught Comet: Different cities, same object – Life and times of January 2007.

Ball of inferno, fiery trajectory, longish white tail, and a sky ripping spectacle – something any ordinary comet or a heavenly body would appear to be.

It sometimes amazes me how many times we just sit and ponder the vastness of cultures and traditions in the world. The Italians grow up this way, the Indians grow up that way, bla and bla and all the allegations of dissimilarity and cultural arbitrariness. Million generalizations, a hundred apologetic repulsions, a thousand feelings of sheer bewilderment are felt around the globe about just different we all are.

Then there are real and reel life examples that reconfirm our notions. For example, while watching the movie, Blood Diamond, I wondered why so much blood was being spilt in this land that forgiveness for some people is simply deemed impossible. I felt alien to when DeCaprio sighs about Sierra Leone, "I used to wonder if God could ever forgive us for what we do to each other. But then I realized God left this place a long time ago.” People are just wildly fighting their own kind and tearing everything in their path, much like a comet. What is the deal with ethno-conflict?

On Big Brother, a Third Grade Reality show when Shilpa Shetty, an Indian actress gets insulted by being called a “Dog”, my cultural reflections take a more repulsive turn. We are so dissimilar that we just have been reduced to racism – people are fighting other people just for fame or then worse still cultural ignorance. What is the deal with this xenophobia then?

And then I come across such manifestations of such majestic sights - of such comets of beauty and consistency. Such strikingly ethereal photographs of this comet taken in Australia, Americas and Africa on 20^th January may serve as a reminder that we still share what mother Earth has provided us and that we are not all that different. We share everything - our Green, our food, our anatomically similar bodies, and …our skies and the sights of its many celestial bodies. If we can just stop, stare and learn to admire the magnificence of McNaught Comet of January 2007 witnessed across different parts of the world, may be we can treat a lot of barriers in a similar manner – as if our own. Just May be

Author: Ruben Garcia A.
Location: Villa Alemana, V Region, CHILE

Author: V.A. Watts.

Location: Durbanville,
near Cape Town, South Africah

Author: Makrod
Location: Perth, Western Australia.

Those Seven Blocks

Relieves the disquietude
Qualms of a busy mind
My morning walks
On those seven blocks.
Wind injects fresh air
To the parched lungs.
Dreams of a unison
Hoping and praying
For Lord’s benevolence.
Pondering the daily chores
The noise, the hustle bustle
Gazing the half open stores
Stalling, but just a trifle.
Pace picks up and thoughts unite
A jolly stride and a ray of light.
What bliss and glimpse of divinity
Exhilaration, faith, sanguinity
All on those seven blocks.

Introduction to Managing Your Ambition.

Many strains in relationships and many career pitfalls later, I decided that they should start a class in college/high school: Manage Your Ambition. So many coffee conversations in college and thoughts about some maniacal aspirations come to mind. I remember my friends and family members mentioning how they want to start travel companies, desert bars, join the IMF, work in Japanese Stock markets, learn Chinese in college, learn Chinese from Self-study books, take courses in renaissance art, study in Italy, work in a marketing company in France, start gift shops, open up restaurants in Dubai, start medical mini-vans shops, set-up coffee vending machines on city streets, teach in under-developed schools in India, buy property in Switzerland and what–not.

Most of these are ‘goose-bumpers’ and sometimes serve as curtain-raisers. The main performance turns out to be all together else. The problem is simple: Life has infinite possibilities. More than a mantra to feel the influx of positives in our lives, this problem seems to get us through a million other problems. Take, for example, relationships. Once we have reached some level in our goal towards ambition, we quickly move to sort out all our million relationships. Before we know it, time is out. We are back to working towards repairing some parts of our ambition. Bottom line, ambition, to me, is simply similar to a machine. Quick fix there, quick oiling there and we are back at managing our personal life.

Sometimes we give up the most important things in life for this illusion of ambition. Other times, we strike the right chords and all is in place. I just think it will be super if there is some guidance at a younger age.

I don’t know what they can teach in this class. A weekly lecture on Writing Your Dreams or then How To Fulfill Your Uncle's or Grandfather’s Last Wishes, Encourage Others and How to Alter their Ambitions To Make them Feel like Yours, How to Calm Down when an Exciting Thought comes so as to Avoid Stepping on Dog-poop, How To Tone Down Your Own Far-Fetched Aspirations, or then - How to Make an Idea so Grandiose that People Want to Invest in Just the Thought and so much more.

They can write steps for you like (in a decision tree format):

1. Write down your ambition (in 10 words or less and limit to 5 Goals)
   
2. Put the date range to each (5 years 10 years)
3. Write over-arching plan to help you reach the goals
4. Write simple tasks that you need to follow – more like course of action
   
5. Jot down Restrainers – things that might impede your ride
6. Jot down things that will help you fight the restrainers
7. Write down simple weekly duties (working towards your over-arching plans and goals) fulfilling which you feel the blood rush

Ha !– I am no pro, but I just wish there was one out there (to hell with psychiatrists!) to help you manage our ambitions, however far-fetched they may be.

Another word of globalisation

I always wondered what true globalization would mean in the years to come. Will it mean talking to your uncle in San Francisco while checking your shares on a Spanish bourse, messaging your Swiss bank account manager and watching a video of your nephew in London in any given hour with ease? How much ever Friedman will draw his points about free flow of information, and Europeans rave about a central economy, the point remains. I think globalisation exists in an individual experience. While traveling on an airplane more than 10000 miles to another continent, it hit me.

The French gentlemen, Olivier, sitting next to me and I had one big barrier – language.

Side note: While Indians pride themselves in speaking English, I realized that is not the case for so many cultures. A large portion of the population in India is detested since their English is not up to the standards and we find the same population fetching ranks in all our state exams. No, English is not globalisation.

Anyway, I realized I should exhibit my sense of European culture by throwing in things I know. Things like French wine, independent movies, soccer memories, music and travel. My presumption was clear, if not anything I can extract some valuable input from him about economy, politics and things he would find important. 'Cultural exchange', I thought should be another word for globalization.

We talked at length about Le Bordeaux, Fleurie Villiers morgon, Chateau De Raousset, and some small wineries in west France. Pouilly-Fuisse Vielles Cringes, Jean-Paul Paquiet, and what not. He gave my some websites to check for these indepent wine salesmen. "Zha best in sale of wine" he said and I figured this is truly valuable, since where else will you get location of small village independent vineyards. While alcohol is not my interest in the least, its great to see how much passion the French have for their wines. “Aa, zha warm-cool wind mix, in ze temperate giveen it za colour la exquisite,”, he points out gives the appeal to certain wines.

After listing some scenic places to travel in Central France, we landed with the topic of my country. Travel, it seems he had heard of just Agra, Mumbai and few places of interest. It was also great to know his interest in Indian culture, which is something Indians constantly come across. Indian Movies, music by Talvin Singh, and his interest in Tabla and the group Tabla Beat Science. I pointed him to listen to Zakir Hussain, quite obviously and Karunesh which he quickly jotted down, along with musicindiaonline.com, where he would find all the Indian classical.

Ségolène Royal, we concluded would be another Tony Blair of the continent, and I remembered reading about her exploits in education, environment and other ministries on some websites before. Bush, as the world would admit is a Chimp and it was surprisingly discomforting to see his animosity against the American politics. "How did it end becoming my country of residence", I wondered.

Within a few minutes I realized what we were doing. Exchanging websites, online information, emails, google tricks was the basis of so much of information exchange.

French movies and art depict the parallel of French thinking, we argued. I pointed out how Audrey Tatou performed the character of de-employed French smalltowners so well in Amelie and Olivier was quick to point out another good French movie - Waking Life (2001).

We alluded to Indian films and mentioned Le Salon De Muszique which I thought sounded like Sound of Music. Turned out it’s a movie by Satyajit Ray or something in 1950s.

I was amazed. Truly Amazed. All this information available in a conversation, facilitated with a click of a button.

There is no doubt about it. Nothing is better than increasing one’s knowledge about the world. Within reach of a few clicks, the world awaits us. Yes, Internet is truly globalization.

Nathdwara Pictures: Jan 02, 2007.



Nathdwara street with a view of the Temple-Palace dome


The Minimalistic sufficient room in Vrinda



The jam-packed buildings on the Hotel Street

Nathdwara: A Timeless Destination

A 2 hour flight to Maha Rana Pratap Airport in Udaipur and then another 2 hours max drive to the Nathdwara and I landed in Shrinathji’s home on 2^nd Jan 2007. A perfect way to start the New Year.

There is a docking area for cars in the outskirt of Nathdwara. Cars don’t go beyond that point. As you step out of the car, you see hoards of hotel staff members running to your car with a smile and an anticipation of some easy chai-panni. But that’s anywhere and to a certain extent its good since it provides you with an assurance of some quality in service.

The smell, the scenery, the ambiance and the general ease in the air assures you that you have come to a Holy place. As you enter the main market and the walk on the small streets towards your hotel, you see that nothing, nothing has changed at all. The same country side appeal mixed with the resonance of sadhus’ chants, decorated food-stalls with nets around the foods, the cows, pigs, some remodeled eateries, tiny houses and wires dangling from every side of the road.

Technologically, you find few new developments – some electronic message displayers stating the time for the next darshan, some signs showing internet connections in a place that seems like traditional coffee hut, and few billboards here and there. Other than that, it is the exact same place. Standing there quietly untouched and intact with its focus- Shrinathji. As you walk by streets after streets, you will hear bhakti songs from Smarnanjallika or then new bhajans in praise of the Lord. The same trinket outlets, spice shops, shoe/sandal shacks. The same sweet nostalgic smell of burning milk, captivating aroma of loose earth and mud, cow-dung and fragrance of fresh flowers greet you.

Hawkers, beggars, and locals start speaking to you as if they know you for years. Of this, Maharajs or other sadhus those who have affiliation with the temple will perturb you the most. “ I will get you VIP access to the Darshan in the temple.” As if going to a temple is like visiting CXOs. And then you see the door to the temple. All else can change and not change, you know that you are assured if not a few minutes, atleast a few seconds in front of the Lord; when time comes, when right time for darshan arrives and when you have to jostle through a minimum of two-three thousand people in space meant for a 100 people.

So, that’s Nathdwara in a gist.

We checked in at a hotel called Vrinda. The same lobby (for twenty years), same bell-boys, the same couches in the reception and you know the Hotel truly signifies and justifies the timelessness of Nathdwara. The rooms are minimal, yet sufficient. Two beds, a wall-closet and a dressing table from the ‘60s. There is a feeling of being home and then there is a feeling of being invited. No matter how cozy five star services will get, in a place like Vrinda, everyone feels invited, no matter what.

We go for Rajbhog, and the late morning acesss in the temple seems simple enough. Although there is a complete lack of organization going into the room where the Lord resides, the rhapsody of the chants, the unanimous prayers and sincere devotion is the most enrapturing feeling. I might have thought a few consulting points for the temple to improve its condition, but the minute I stepped out of the darshan in front of the lord, I was rendered thoughtless. What Grace, What Swaroop, What Power and Magnificence.

After going for a few remaining heartfelt prayers and chants in the afternoon, we sleep early for the main event. The 4 AM darshan next day,“The Mangla”. Un-linear queues get formed at the gate and then doorman announces its time to go in through rooms en-route to the final room. People rush inside this ancient palace like temple. In an effort to get few seconds again in the front of the Lord so magnificently dressed, we forget the intensely cold marble stones we were walking on, the thousand people flooding in from different gates and few slippery surfaces that lay ahead of us. Patience is the order of the day and finally in the last few minutes of closing time, I get about 10 seconds right in the front of the Lord (which was the only most orderly line). Such Beauty.

Finally, in the afternoon, I left Nathdwara with same feeling of satisfaction, the reverie and spiritual rhapsody that I have felt for years. Although, I still wish pushing through the unorderly crowd and queue system can be changed, I cannot help but feel the one quality about certain places in our country.

The Timelessness.

The Walls, the décor, the streets and the people echo centuries of establishment, systems and processes. Practices that have originated beyond the memories and knowledge of the modern man.

A Faith which draws millions every year to places of worship. Rich, abled, poor, disabled all in unison in front of the Lord.

Their prayers of love, devotion, hope, despair and gratitude.

Nathdwara is truly one to hit the list as one of the many places to travel and pray to connect you to wisdom and methods of our ancestors, the presence of the Lord in front of you now, and witness to prayers chanted in oneness for a brighter future for everyone - all endowed in one Timeless place of worship.