But...

I was walking down the memory lane. There were familiar landmarks: some imposing and inspiring, some insipid; some beautiful, some ugly; few with deep foundations leaving a mark on my memory landscape. Time had weathered many of them: some lay in ruins while others were covered by vines of forgetfulness. I remembered the places, where I had stood earlier truimphant, defeated, vindicted, confident, sad, lonely or hopeful. The grand monumental events that looked so important at the time of their construction seemed small as I reflected on them. The path was not shaped, as I observed standing at the beginning of the lane, by these grand edifices: they just stood there by the side of path lined with thousands of ephemeral daffodils.
As I ambled on the paths, a little note with rain or perhaps tears blurring the letters, lying in the bushes caught my attention, it read,"But... I loved you".
Startled I woke up. I thanked my stars, it was just a dream.
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Waves...

"Ripples of thought arise in mind and bring confusion to clear, calm waters of life. Mind in vain tries to catch them with the net of logic and muddies the waters still. It seeks to bait infinity with religion and dogmas. It seeks to measure infinity with a finite vision and claims to have complete understanding. Confuses between infinite forms and loses the vision of forest for the trees. Fights over the debris of words and thoughts floating on waves of time, claiming one to be better than the other, while the vast ocean of truth lies ahead...unexplored. It watches helplessly as the ripples of disturbances it created grow into lashing waves. Where is the peace it asks pointing to the loud lashing waves on the shores. It talks of probability and claims everything should conform to its rules and whims. It sulks and becomes angry when things do not go its way. Torn between ideas of dreams and reality it doubts its own existence and for a moment causing me to doubt my existence. The gaze turns from the play of shadows on the wall to the lamp in the corner of the room, and to my hands that delighted me with their shadow play, the play of shadows ceases and I utter, 'Aham Bramhosmi' (Iam the inifinity, Brihadarnyaka upanishad) ", Jnani thinks as the joy brings a smile.
The Jignasu asks, Who am I?
Jnani replies, 'Shrinvantu vishveh amritasyah putrah' (Hear you child of immortality, Svetashwara upanishad), when the mind ceases its wanderings, and cotemplates on the truth like a child looking into the calm waters of the pond, you will realise that 'Tat Tvam Asi' (You are that,Chanddogya upanishad).

Kabuliwala...

Open any newspaper, website or a news channel and most likely you will hear about kilings beheadings and bombings by the terrorists. What is the damage they cause? to the property? No..that can be replaced. killing people? Unfortunately when so many are being killed, body count has become just another statistic we stare at for a while before getting lost in our own small world. But the greatest damage these terrorists cause is to the fabric of the society, basic trust on which the socity is all based on.
On one my journeys in a truck, the sikh driver asked me where I was from. On hearing my reply he remarked, when I used to drive truck to your state in late 80's everyone used to suspect me to be a terrorist from punjab hiding from police. I asked him how was the perception of people now, he said it took a long time for that to disappear. I was reminded of the Pathan, I had travelled with...
The train was moving to Guwahati and those were the days after Kandahar incident. A 6.5 foot hefty built guy walked into the compartment with a big bundle of clothes and was looking for a place to sit in the sleeper compartment I was travelling in. I moved a little sideways making place for him. He managed to squeeze his huge body into the small area with his huge arms and legs spreading to the path between the berths. There was a gentleness in his eyes and he reminded me of Kabuliwala of Rabindranath. Soon he was conversing with everyone hapily. He told us that he was a merchant from Afghanistan who sold clothes in some area of Guwahati. He went to Delhi to buy them and was returning. Curious passengers, when they heard he was from Afghanistan asked a lot of questions and he lamented the situation in Afghanistan (Taliban were still in power then). I was watching everyone and occasionally adding a nod or a smile to the conversation. After some time , the train entered Assam and a few policeman boarded the coach. They were looking for possible terrorists and explosives in the train(Which BTW is still very common in NE and was boringly routine for me) and one of the guys stopped and asked the Pathan about his business etc etc. He told him exactly what he had told us a few minutes earlier. I was watching the policeman, who went to the end of the coach and spoke to his colleagues. Few minutes later they appeared and questioned the Pathan again. By this time I was getting angry at the policemen as I suspected that they were after him just to get some money. They questioned him in detail in front of everyone, opened his bundle of clothes which had nothing but loosely tied shawls and blankets of various kinds. He told them with a little pride, 'saab hum do numberi kaam nahin karta hai' . At that point, my sympathies were with Pathan and I was angry at policemen for harrassing a poor man. But a few days later, I read a small newspaper report that a pakistani miliant was caught coming out from the same train I travelled two days ago with a huge cache of explosives and ammunition. I thought about the thankless job that police were doing too, they had to find these perverts while having to deal with thousands of innocents. We only heard of needle in haystack they must be feeling it everyday in their jobs. Dont we all have failed hunches? I could not decide who was wrong, Pathan for having come to NE in search of livelihood or the police doing their duty.
Even many years, I see the same pattern in India and the world again. The damage to property and people killed may not be the worst damage that Al Qaida or Jaish e Muhammad are doing. It is the destruction of trust giving rise to suspicion about a particular community that their henious acts have given rise to that are more damaging in the long run. Frankly, I do not see a way out. God, save this garden from pests!
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Enduring images...

There are few things in the world that can inspire by their mere sight or thought. Two of the enduring images I carry are that of Nataraja's cosmic dance and Krishna charioteering Arjuna in the Mahabharata.
Long time ago I visited chidambaram as a kid. An imposing Idol of Nataraja stood in the hallway right next to the 'garbha griha' (the main shrine). Hundreds of earthen lamps lighted with ghee enveloped the image in a heavenly aura and a magic that still endures and inspires. As the time progressed the meaning of the sculpture, the concept itself became even more appealing to me.
In hinduism, bhakti tradition places a great emphasis on music and dance. They are considered to form a direct connection with the god. There is an underlying vedantic concept behind it... both forms of art represent the highest forms of artistic unity because they cannot be separated from their creator. This is what vedanta claims...the creation and the creator are one and the same. They cannot be separated, just as the dance dissolves in the dances the moment dancer stops dancing. No one can separate the dancer and the dance just as creator is integral part of creation. When a dancer stops, where does the dance go? it goes back to the dancer. Then does it mean it didnt exist earlier? No, there was dance and the dancer earlier. Similarly, creation and creator exist only until the creator performs his dance of creation. The moment he stops, everything is dissolved in him.

Nataraja's cosmic dance mirrors this concept in a beautiful way. He is performing a ananda tandava, holding a drum in right hand depicting the primoridal sound and creation. In the left, is the fire depicting the dissolution of the creation. The right foot is placed firmly on the demon named 'apasmara purusha' (ignorant man) showing the conquest of ignorance. His hair sway wildly depicting his escasty. The snake is coiled around his neck to show conquest of desires and the hidden power kundalini( it is described as a coiled snake at the base of spine in tantra). The crecsent moon depicts the waxing and waning of the lifes cycles. Tiger skin around his loin, the courage that is so important in any spiritual quest and life in general. His other right hand is in 'abhaya' (benediction or protection from the ignorance) and the left hand shows the way to reach him...it points directly to the raised left foot. Intrestingly, the pose in which the left hand points to the left foot is called 'gajahasta-mudra' elephant trunk pose and points to Ganesha, the removal of obstacles in the path. Meanwhile, Nataraja is surrounded by a fiery ring of fire, depicting 'shakti' his consort in the creation. The dynamism that is captured in a static image is simply divine.
There is a room next to the main shrine where devotees are taken to see the 'chidambara rahasya' (mystery of chidambara). Its an empty area lit by a single earthen lamp. Maybe that is what it is...empty space symbolic of all pervasive yet invisible the primoridal thread that runs through our very existence and an earthen lamp indicating the light of knowledge to uncover it.
And as an ever inspiring upanishadic verse declares:
Purna madah purna midam, purnaat purna mudachyate,
purnasya purna maadaya, purna mevavah shishyate.
(That is infinite, this is infinite, infiniteness can arise out of infinity;
Infinity alone remains after removing infinity from infinity.
Interestingly this makes perfect mathematical sense too as purnam refers both to zero and infinity in Indian philosophy and maths!)
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