Broken

Searching for the sun

No, not a ray of hope

A dull blanket of mist

As this sadness spreads 

Tears well up as clouds

And our heavy hearts heave

Peep out of this window

See a sad world so broken

Waiting for the breeze

No, not a flutter of hope

And the air so still

As this madness spreads

Anger clouds a clear sky

Our muddied minds sink

Peep out of this window

See a violent world so broken

Looking for the moon

No, not a sliver of hope

A music so haunting

As this darkness spreads

Hate scars the night 

As peaceful smiles disappear

Peep out of this window

See a dark world so broken

Why peep out of this window?

To see a world so broken

A world so much in pain

Nothing much to gain

Close your eyes to this world

So heartless, so hopeless

And peep into your own self

Heal a world so broken

House of Dreams

An old mansion, neglected by time and weathered by the elements...... Have you looked at it and wondered if there is a story behind that? Have you ever seen someone's sweat and toil in its image? Have you seen someone's dream in its facade? Have you ever seen someone's soul in its corridor?

Today, as these weathered old mansions are broken down, lets spare a thought for someone else's dreams. Let us reflect on an unknown love song....or is it a song for the divine?

The house of my dreams,
What would it be if not for you?
The air stands still,
But for the breeze of your movement.
The walls look plain,
Ah, the color of your imagination.
The windows are dull,
But for the sunlight from your heart.
And the garden empty,
If not for the wholeness of your love.

The house of my dreams,
What would it be if not for you?
The love in this house
From your compassionate heart
The life in this house
Your laughter and joy
The soul of this house
In your silent gaze
You are its center
You are its living deity

The house of my dreams,
what would it be if not for you?
Not an emptiness made of bricks
But filled by the fantasy of my dreams
Not a tower of spiraling staircases
But elevated by the flight of my dreams
And my dreams are always 
of you, my dear
So the house of my dreams, 
What would it be if not for you?

Remember this day, lil' champ !!!

My dear lil' champ,

Today is a day to remember. We have many life-altering days in our life but we forget them in the daily humdrum as time passes by. But, I don't want to forget this day and I don't want you to forget this day. It is a bright Sunday, the day you ran your first mile race. Your family has no running bone in them, so you surprised us with your desire to run this race. Your dad's obsession with the races is limited to viewing appearances, in the race course egging on his favorite horse, or on TV watching Fernando Alonso drive to pole. So, genuinely I was surprised that you insisted on running this race!

It was last week that you came back from school having signed up to run this mile long race on a Sunday morning at 5 am. I know we asked you to reconsider. I was not sure you or I would wake up so early to make it to the race track. I tried to explain that to you, but you were certain that you would wake up on time. I was concerned if your seven year old legs could run a mile on an unfamiliar road-track. I tried to explain to you what a mile is and how long that winding track was, but you were certain that you would run the course. I tried to tell you that there would be cars on the road and I was worried about you running on the road, but, you used logic to tell me there would be no traffic that early in the morning. You were persistent, my dear. To run that race was your dream and you let no one come in the way. You persevered, you ran your dream race this morning.

My sleepy groggy eyes woke up to your excitement this morning. You were passionate, my dear. I could see it in your eyes as we got ready to leave this morning for the race track. Your passion was contagious and my apprehensions about you being up to it were laid to rest. We reached the race track and it was heartening to see you warm-up and get ready for the big moment. And when the starters gun went off, everyone set off on the mile long race, except you. My heart stopped a minute when I saw you kneel down and look back. I thought your eyes were searching for me. I could see you through the crowd but could not get to you. We were not sure what happened to you. Then we figured out that your shoes had come off and by then, everyone else in the race was so far ahead. I thought you'd stop, but you fixed your shoe, got up and ran. You ran your race with heart. You did not give up this morning, you were determined, my dear. To see you run alone behind the pack was heart-breaking for me, so, I ran behind you that I can keep you company, that you don't feel alone. But, such was your spirit that I could not catch up with you, I saw you reach the leading pack and merge into it. I lost sight of you, but I knew you had fought back. You fought hard, you made your dream race count this morning.

It is not about winning or losing, but, I write this to remind you of your own passionate spirit. This letter is not for today, but it is for times ahead in your life. This letter is for those times when life throws a gauntlet at you, when there are ups and downs. This letter is for those times when you are feeling blue. This letter is for all those tests in your life ahead, when you need to remember this day and the spirit you showed today. 

I glimpsed the soul of a fighter today. I saw the spirit of a champion this morning. I felt the heartbeat of a hero in you this beautiful morning. So, remember this day, lil' champ ! You will see your true potential in this day. Persistence, perseverance and passion you showed today is for all times. You can always make your dream come alive.

All the best,
Your father.

The Gaze

If silence is the language of the Gods, then poetry must be the divine interruption. The words that fill a silent heart, the words that enter a quiet mind can only be one of harmony, peace and love. My tribute to the divine romance...

If your eyes are the window to your soul

then into your eyes; I gaze forever

And in your eyes; I see the world

a beautiful world in your eyes forever

In your eyes; I see the sparkle of the morning dew

and the laziness of the afternoon cloud

In your eyes; I see the hues of the setting sun

and the serene blue of the twilight hour

In your eyes; the moonshine of a pleasant night

and suddenly still; the blinding light of your beautiful soul

If your eyes are the window to your soul

then into your eyes; I gaze forever

Believe, you are worth it !

Said the rose plant "Oh, I am not as good as people think. Look at my thorns, I am so cruel. "

He replied "But when I look at you, I see a lovely red rose. When I look at you, I break into a smile. When I look at you, my face glows with joy. I can't take my eyes off you, and when you are touched by dewdrops glistening in the sun, I wonder what great sorrow is hidden in that tear. I look at your tears, and my heart aches. I want to take the thorns away that cause this sorrow. O rose plant, you are not as good as people think you are, you are worth much more! "

Believe in your self worth always. You are worth it, really!!

On the turning away

Under the shadow of a loss in the family, life has posed many a question at me this week. The ultimate futility, the ceramic frailty of everything we chase through a lifetime only to leave behind stares at us, while we continue to forget the fleeting nature of this life. We continue with our busy lives chasing the things that satisfy the 'I' in each of us. We build the walls and finery around us somehow hoping they insulate us from the dust and suffering of common human life. We wish away the pain by living in our golden illusion without acknowledging the hollowness in our hearts. We become what we are not, we become insensitive, we become indifferent, we become selfish. We refuse to acknowledge the pain of others, we refuse to acknowledge the pale and the downtrodden. We turn away....

On the turning away

From the pale and downtrodden

And words they say

Which we won't understand

Don't accept that what's happening

Is just a case of other's suffering

Or you will find that you're joining in

The turning away

The questions pour in. To what avail is this meaningless pursuit of selfish happiness? Are we joining in the turning away? While we despair at the indifferent state we are in, we find the encouraging signs that lead us to find some meaning. As we despair at our helplessness in changing the world, we find inspiration in the everyday. The inspiration I found this weekend was in a group of young men and women who are doing their bit to change the world. They are a group of young corporate executives who take the time out on their weekends to help the downtrodden. In today's times, when we don't have time for ourselves, finding time for others, for the service of others is refreshing. These folks help poor children with education in the rural areas. They support an old women's home with more than 100 women abandoned by their families. This started as a small idea when 5 people came together, 5 years back. I witnessed the birth of this idea from afar. Now, I see they have built a movement that is growing from strength to strength, that has many volunteers and many beneficiaries. I have had the privilege of seeing them come together and persevere over the years, single minded in their determination to serve, to make a difference to other's lives. In doing so, they provide meaning to life.

No more turning away 

From the weak and the weary

No more turning away

From the coldness inside

Just a world we all must share

It's not enough just to stand and stare

It is only a dream that there'll be

No more turning away

P.S : Follow this enthusiastic group on www.whyfoundation.org . March on forward, folks!! And thanks to Pink Floyd for their music, for the lyrics "On the Turning Away"

65 years of my life and still...

A sad song of one people divided by our own blindness, by our own short-sightedness....there is someone just like you on the other side, give peace a chance.

Lets talk about us, what's right, who's wrong?

The bitter aftertaste or yesterday's passion

A hollow victory or the blood and toil

Empty accusations echoing off the walls

What's right, who's wrong, lets talk about us

Lets talk about us, what's good, who's bad?

Before we forget yesterday's passion

Lest we stop seeing the blood and toil

Or start believing the empty accusations

What's good, who's bad, lets talk about us

Lets talk about us, what's won, who's lost?

Before all that is left is bitterness

Lest we celebrate a few empty victories

Or stop believing in human goodness

What's won, who's lost, lets talk about us

Lets talk about us, two countries, one people?

The invisible lines that tear us apart

Some dark clouds that blur our vision

Or noise that drowns our cry for peace

Two countries, one people, lets talk about us

Lets talk about us, no one's right or wrong!

We won together, but we lost ourselves

Now see the division, but not our oneness

Feel the pain, but not the human goodness

One people, one people, let's talk about us 

Strange beastly tales from then and now

Then

A five year old child is crying and refusing to go to sleep. The mom gives up and passes the parcel to her mother. The grandmother rocks the child on her lap and starts telling him a story. It is a strange tale of beastly battles. It is a story from a long time ago. The Asuras were mighty and powerful evil lords who fought with the Devas for control over the dominion. The Devas were the sublime and gentle lords with innate goodness. The night the child refused to sleep, the grandmother recounted the strange tale of the Asuras and the Devas. The Asuras and the Devas were always fighting each other to dominate the world, or rather all the worlds. However, due to a strange twist of fate, the Devas lost supremacy and shared control of the world with the Asuras. At this time in history, the Asuras and the Devas discovered the nectar of immortality deep down in the middle of the cosmic ocean. The only way to get it was to join hands and to churn then ocean. So, the Devas and the Asuras made an uneasy pact and they prayed to the Lord to help them churn the ocean. There was no big rope that one could use to churn the mighty ocean. The Lord sent down his confidante, a serpent king named Vasuki. He was a long serpent and agreed to be used as the rope to churn the ocean. The Asuras and the Devas churned the ocean seeking the nectar of immortal life, Amrut. There were many skirmishes in between, but finally the nectar was found. Once the nectar was discovered, the Asuras and Devas fought over it and many more lives were lost fighting over immortality. The little child was fast asleep by the time the nectar was flowing. He dreamt of the glorious battles between the Asuras and the Devas, he believed in the heroics of the good, he was enamored by the fight between good and evil, and by the eventual triumph of good over evil.

Now

A five year old child is crying and refusing to go to sleep. The mom gives up and passes her woes to soothing sights and sounds of the television. It is a strange tale of beastly battles. It is a story from the recent past. The Middle East had just discovered black gold in the seas. The western world was keen to help with technology and expertise to extract the oil riches for mutual benefit. The two powers made an uneasy pact to help churn the oceans for the nectar of prosperity. There were many skirmishes in between, but the oil was found and prosperity reigned. Overpowering greed lead to a fight over the control of the riches. The world fought over it and many more tears were shed fighting over prosperity and happiness. The little child was fast asleep by the time they struck oil in the rigs off the coast. He dreamt of technicolor battles between the good and the bad. His definitions of good and bad shaped by his own side of the world. He was enamored by the fight between good and evil, and he dreamt of the triumph of good over evil.

Forever

The stories are the same forever. The drama is the same, and the dharma is the same, good over evil. The beastly tales will never change, only the players will. Once it was Draupadi being humiliated by the Kauravas in the Mahabharata. Now, it is another Draupadi being molested by the beasts of Guwahati. How can man be so barbaric? Evil lurks in the dark corners of your own mind. The evil is in your beastly impulses. The good is in your sublime control. The battle between good and evil is always fought in your own mind first. The Asuras are the materialistic impulses, the Devas are the sublime signs of moderation, and you are the storyboard....Strange beastly tales forever.

Wow, these God particles......

July 4, 2012 - It is the big day when the proof of the God particle is shared with the world. Scientists at the CERN have close to demonstrable proof of the existence of the God particle as we have come to know it or the Higgs Boson as it prefers to be called. Some trivia I picked up as to why it is called Higgs Boson as opposed to Higgs bottom or Higgs bosom is due to an India connection. Boson it is because Higgs proposed the existence of this particle based on some early particle physics principles laid down by Satendra Nath Bose, and the Bose somehow leads to Boson. 

Now, the idea is not to sound knowledgeable, but neither do I want to exhibit my extreme ignorance of this phenomenon. So, I read up on this God particle. Well, I get it that the Universe came into being as matter was formed, that matter gained mass because of the God particle. I grew up thinking God made man, but somehow thinking the God particle did that is close enough. So, that is easy. Now comes the difficult part. So, you are telling me that electrons, protons and neutrons have mass but photons don't. Why would something as crazy as that happen? Oh, because the quarks and the leptons came together because of some energy field. Must be some energy field like a Beatles concert for everyone to come together, right here...wow, these God particles must be something. Well, anyway, my day goes on with no flashes of extraordinary. It does not have to be extraordinary just because someone found the God particle...

I had enough of the God particle and its mystery, so,  I decide to do something less stressful than think about that. I am in New York on the 4th of July and want to soak in the NYC experience on this American Independence day. So, I say to myself, let me walk down Broadway, the whole length to Times square. I get to further ahead of Lincoln center and start to walk down towards Time Square. As I start to walk, I notice that I am pretty much the only fool on a hot afternoon going down that path. You would expect New York to be crowded so I wonder, I am going the right way? I stop to ask and the unfriendly person I meet, he nods his head curtly. I carry on down the road and as I pass Lincoln theatre and some more, I start seeing other folks all walking down that path too. Not too many but there are people now on this road. Great.... I think we are like quarks and leptons, we move in seemingly aimless ways. And I walk some more before I need a break. I stop by the sidewalk cafe for a Corona and some eats. I watch the people go by and I realize that the foot traffic is picking up. Yes, and they are all going the same direction towards Times square. These people look like floating particles illuminated in the sunshine, like God particles....I laughed off what the Corona was trying to do to me and continued my walk. The traffic grew and I hit this sea of humanity in Times Square. In joy, in celebration, I see milling crowd, I see a mass of humanity as One. I see flashes of extraordinary, I see joy, I see oneness, I see extraordinary. Because I found these people, these God particles. Illuminated in the sunshine, illuminated in joy, these God particles.....wow, these God particles must be something.

A Shahrukh Khan moment?

I was passing through airport security, and the officer said "Sir, can you step aside for some additional screening?". I did as I was told, but in those few seconds, my mind raced through a whole lot of "why me?" conditions. It is not the first time this has happened to me. And so I wondered momentarily, what is it that I have done that auto selects me to the additional screening. Is it my color, is it my nationality, is it my name? I quickly shut that inner whisper temporarily and go through the formalities, it is not half as bad as it sounds and the officers are courteous and professional. But, it does leave you with that niggling thought, why me? I remember the media frenzy some months earlier when Shahrukh Khan was detained by airport security and I guess this is the same thought that went through Shahrukh Khan's mind at that time. Why me? Is it my color? Is it my nationality? Is it my name? And here I was having a Shahrukh Khan moment, well almost.

How much do we all love playing the victim, sometimes the victim of an unjust, irrational system and at other times the victim of our own nationality, color or race. We play this game all the time, some through the media and others through the inner recess of their own mind. Why me? Why not me? And it replays like the much abused breaking news channel, in your mind's emotional TV watched by that Big Fat ego of yours. Really, what joy do we have in playing the victim? It is just our Big Fat ego telling us that we were not treated right. Our Big Fat ego paints a picture of ourselves and how the world should behave with us. The laws of probability apply everywhere,  the world does not always behave the same way with us. And when that happens, we turn on our emotional TV and sulk in front of it. We have our own Shahrukh Khan moment, well almost.

Actually, I was having a pretty good time right before Mr. Big Fat walks into the room and says that is not how one should be treated. Really, Mr. Big Fat, how do you know? After all, we are a series of probability events, right from our birth through every moment in our life. We are a walking talking probability equation, and any thing can happen at any time. We are random samples in a large population, a larger design. We will always be, so Mr. Big Fat, why do you spoil the moment with your false pretenses. You take a big bet on a best case scenario, but remember, there is a probability of occurrence and it can go the other way. When the hypothesis goes the other way, don't sweat, don't rant, just move on to the next table. Move on to the next pack of cards, the next roll of the dice. You ain't no victim, you are just a random sample. No one is taking a potshot at you. No one is mocking you. You are not that important, there are bigger puzzles to solve. And that Shahrukh Khan moment, well no thanks.....not anymore. I walk through security without a sulk. In fact, I thanked them for their professionalism.

Father to Daughter

It is heartening to see children pray, the intensity of their conversation with God is overwhelming. It is especially overwhelming when you ask them what they prayed for and they say that they prayed for the entire family. This is a small thanks to my little girls for all their prayers. For their prayers today on Father's day and on every other day. God bless!!

Every time a tremor shakes my world

and when I feel so weak and troubled

I see you close your eyes in prayer

and then I find strength in your prayer

Every time a big wave hits my shores

and when I feel so shaken and disturbed

I see you fold your palms in prayer

and then I find peace in your prayer 

Every time a storm threatens my haven

and when I feel so lonesome and lost

I see you whisper to God in prayer

and then I find the calm in your prayer

In your prayer for me, I find reason

the reason to carry on down this road

In your prayer for me, I find love

the love to carry me down this road

Little girl, thank you for your prayer

Your father finds his reason

And yes, he finds his purpose

in seeing you pray for him forever

Upbeat

Every time I visit Bangalore, we usually end up doing a family dinner at Upbeat. Upbeat is a small rooftop restaurant where they play some nice music and have a small dance floor to jive. I am not giving you directions to the place, because I like the place the way it is now...lets keep the crowds away. Just kidding, I am sure you can find the place quite easily in today's google world. In any case, I am not here to write a restaurant review but more so to share a little incident from my last visit that is so etched in my memory.

There were many reasons to celebrate that day. My wife's birthday was coming up, there was a wedding anniversary in the family, and we were all together after quite a while in any case.  That was reason enough to celebrate and we ended up going to Upbeat. It was a wet evening and the rains threatened, but the regular crowd was in. The owner of the restaurant in fact joined the conversation at our next table where someone's birthday was being celebrated. The dance floor had the occasional couple go up and swing to the beat. The jukebox said that Buffalo Soldier was living in the heart of America, that he was stolen from Africa....I sang along and my daughters gave me the "We are not impressed, old man" look. But, you get the idea, the whole atmosphere was uplifting.....conversation flitting in and out, laughter from the nearby tables, music from the right decade. Here was a moment when a whole lot of strangers forgot themselves for a while to create a perfect symphony of happy notes. 

Suddenly, I noticed the chatter at my table lowered a bit and all eyes were staring in the same direction, looking beyond me. I turned to see what piqued the interest of my daughters and I saw an old man with a walking support and his equally old wife walking to the dance floor. He gently rested his walking stick by the side, pulled his wife a bit closer, he lifted his left arm to hold her hand and slipped into a slow dance. His wife asked him to stop, she readjusted the "pallu" of her Kanchivarum saree  and tucked it in, went back close to him and they swayed to the lilting music. And then, for a while the two of them swayed to their favorite songs. This old man who needed help to walk had two dancing feet with a life of their own, the old lady with an equal zest for life. They danced and they smiled, their joy was infectious. They celebrated life, they celebrated togetherness. We shared their cake, we cheered them on.....

There are times when I wonder what the meaning of this existence is...there are times I wonder where all this is headed to....there are times I am distraught with small meaningless things. Now, when that happens, I see this image of the old man and his lady in togetherness swaying joyously in unison, to the gentle beats of their hearts. You can find happiness everywhere and at all times, if you only let it enter your life. Upbeat about life....always, that is my wish for you and me.

Fluye como el agua

An ex-IIT professor turned Ganga activist, Prof. GD Agarwal is on a fast unto death to force the Government to take steps to clean up the river Ganges. The Ganges are so much a part of Indian life, that it is symbolic of our nation. Flowing across the heartland of India from its source in Gangotri to its destination in the Bay of Bengal, the Ganges sees our country like no other traveller. Sadly, the pure and holy river is no longer in its pristine form being polluted through the course of its journey by the side-effects of our material prosperity. Industrial waste, construction activity and human callousness combine to turn this pure bustling stream into a meandering menace of a river before it empties itself into the bay. This is much like our lives sometimes, when material prosperity becomes the mainstay and inner peace and tranquility is polluted. The innocent blissful child is corrupted by the similar forces to turn him into a dark shadow of his former self.

If the river is a metaphor for your life, the water is the essence of your inner self. Flow like water, or Fluye como el agua as they say in Mexico. Think about it, water always finds a way. It flows through the hills and the plains. It finds its way past boulders and mountains. It never resists, but finds the path of least resistance. It reaches where it has to, slowly and maybe with a different course than the shortest one, but it never stops flowing. It finally merges with one sea, with one ocean, with one that has the very same essence. Is there a lesson that nature teaches us? Is it that we feel pain and loss because we resist, because of our need to control, because we stop and regress? Is it because we fail to flow in harmony? Is it the river that teaches us the simple principles of living? The principle of living in the present moment and going with the flow. Flow like water, Fluye como el ague!!

Ancient Toltec wisdom draws this allegory, as does Lao Tzu in his spiritual text, the Tao Te Ching. Tao Te Ching states that water is the most fitting metaphor for the Tao, one that resembles the highest goodness. Water quenches the thirst of all, the good, the bad and the ugly. It treats everyone equally and does not differentiate, it recognizes the oneness. Water passes through all terrain, the high, the low and the dirty. It flows without distaste and dislike, it recognizes humility. Water provides equally without expecting anything in return and it flows on. It flows without expectation, it recognizes true and deep caring, it recognizes compassion. Water can take any shape, that of a container or of an ocean. It does not hold on to a fixed image of itself, it recognizes flexibility and adaptability. Water takes any form, be it steam, snow or rain. It recognizes that it has to give itself to the larger design of nature, it's only purpose is to be of service. What better way to recognize our nature, our purpose than to contemplate on the nature of water, as much a part of the grand design as we are. Life is about flowing like a river through pollution, through difficult terrain, but not losing the essence of being. It is about not losing the essence of your inner self. Flow like water, Fluye como el agua!!

The Abundance Story

We have all heard stories that make us smile, the stories that pass on simple practical messages. Remember the royal wisdom from the stories of Birbal, the deeper meaning beyond the comic relief of Tenali Raman, the quiet contemplation provided by the stories of Bikram and Bethal, or the sagacious simplicity of Mullah Nasruddin's outrageous stories. It is always the simple stories that speak to us, that stay with us in our hearts etching it with its little message. I heard one such story this weekend set in the familiar surrounds of my own town, Hyderabad.

We were talking about personalities making it on to the cover of the Time magazine. And my friend says " Did you know that the Nizam of Hyderabad was on the cover of the Time Magazine in the early twentieth century? He was probably the richest man in the world at that time." Really?!! I googled a few hours later and found out that the Nizam did appear on the cover of the edition published on Feb 22nd, 1937. And my friend goes on to relate a story about one of the Nizam's sons or nephews who had a reputation of being extremely miserly. He would shun his royal gowns outside of his courtier duties and dress up as a common man. There is no way he would stand out as a royal prince. At some point, he became a victim of ridicule by the other courtiers for his very simple living. The story spread and it is not only the courtiers but also the sepoys and guards who heard this story. One day, a palace guard spotted the prince walking out in plain clothes jingling some coins in his pockets. As he walked by a small gold coin fell out of his pocket. The prince stopped to pick it up and put it back in his pocket. At this point, the palace guard who was used to seeing grandeur and pomp, laughed at him and said, " O Prince, you stoop down to pick up a small coin. What is that coin worth for you, one who has millions?" To this the prince replied, " I will show you the value of this small coin". He spotted a bullock cart going by filled with groundnuts. He asked the cart man if he would sell him the groundnuts in exchange for that one coin. The poor cart man gladly agreed, amazed at his stroke of luck. The prince then told the guard, divide the groundnuts into fifty separate packs and send it out to all the rich folks in the neighborhood with a note of thanks. The guard did as he was told. Very soon, in return for the prince's gift, the rich patrons send back loads of gold and riches. The prince showed that huge tranche of riches and said to the guard " Here is what that one small coin of gold is worth!!"

This is truly a story of abundance. There are some simple lessons in what is otherwise a funny story. Lesson one : Respect what you have however small that might seem to be. And I am not talking about a little gold coin. The little gold coin is but a metaphor for your talents. Respect it, nurture it and one day it will give back in abundance. Lesson two : Share what you have, and it will come back to you in abundance. Again, I am not talking about money, I am talking about anything you want in abundance in your life. If you want a lot of kindness in your life, be a little kind first. If you want a lot of love, be the love you want in return. If you want lot of peace, share a little peace with your loved ones. This is the wisdom from the little Hyderabadi story. This is the cosmic conspiracy behind abundance. Practice it wisely, enjoy it wisely.

Possessed

Instant inspiration while idling at an airport store watching shoppers and their short-lived excitement.....forgive the man for trying his luck with poetry. Here goes....

For every man with a Rolex
that tells him time is precious
there is a man without a watch
one who wanders freely
One who wanders joyously

For every man with an iPhone
that tells him conversation is important
there is a man without a phone
one who listens attentively
One who connects easily

For every man with a Dior Homme
thats tells him world is tinted
there is a man with no shades
one who sees clearly
One who understands deeply

For every man clothed with a Brioni

that tells him appearances matter

there is a man dressed simply

one who attracts magnetically

One who loves unconditionally

For every man possessed by his own possessions

that traps him in his own illusionary world

there is a man who owns nothing

one who lives carefree, happily

One who lives his life fully

Lost

Last evening at the big temple, many folks descended for their weekly tryst with divinity. Being a weekend, the crowds were probably on the higher side. In that sea of humanity, we meandered through and I noticed a few paces away from me was a little girl. She was probably five years old and seemed to be immersed in her own world. Suddenly, the girl stopped and looked around. She seemed to search for someone with her eyes. Failing to find that person, she called out a name. I stopped and looked around to see who she was calling out to. Many people walked by, immersed in their own thoughts either asking the divine for favours or thinking of some closer to earth mundane matters. No one seemed to take an interest in the little girl. Everyone was doing their rounds of the temple in auto-pilot mode, and the distressed little girl was off the flight path. It was clear to me that the distressed little girl was lost. The little girl was now calling out someone's name loudly and desperation was creeping into her voice. I moved closer to her and heard her say "Appa". My knowledge of Tamil helped. I realized that the girl was looking for her father. I asked the girl if she knew her father's name. My intention was to get that announced on the public address system if there was one. However, she seemed more intimidated by this strange man asking her for her father's name. I pulled in additional resources, asking my wife and daughters to help the identification process. The sight of the girls calmed her and she mentioned her father's name. I walked up to the temple office and started explaining the situation to the person there. Within a few minutes, a lady with an infant in her arms appeared and the little girl's face lit up. She had seen her mother. The mother looked equally distressed and lost. She asked us if the kid had troubled us, about how she had suddenly disappeared and thanked us all in one breath. Her pleading eyes said " Don't judge me. I am not a negligent mother." We saw the pain in her eyes as she hugged her daughter and took her away. As the mother and the girl went away in happy re-union, my daughter remarked "I can still feel the shivers. Imagine getting lost....". 

Yes, imagine getting lost in a sea of humanity. Imagine your fear as indifferent folks look through you and walk past you. Imagine the rush of distressing thoughts as strange people crowd you out. Imagine the feeling of being lost. I recollect my school days when I had moved from a little hill town to the big city. In the little town, I used to walk to school. But in the city, I had to go to school by the crowded local bus. The bus was usually overcrowded and people were hanging out of the open doors. There was usually no way you could get in especially as the bus hardly stopped, it only slowed down at the bus stop and you had to jump on or off. I really felt lost in that big city transition and that bus was just a metaphor for a lot of other adjustments. I remember falling off the bus on my second week and being rather embarrassed by the fall. I felt humiliated, lonely and lost. Today, when I look around I see enough people with their fears and lonely battles. People lost in the social milieu and the humdrum of life, with no one to notice the pain. Everyone has the same fears and pain, the need to be recognized, the need to find their way. Look around and see beyond the facade of indifference. Be it at your workplace or community, there are people needing to be acknowledged. New collegues finding their way around new settings, first time workers understanding the corporate workplace. Can we help them please? Imagine being lost in a crowd. Imagine being lost in a sea of humanity. Imagine being lost in indifference. I can still feel the shivers.

Unlock hidden realms, imagine new realities

If you mix your drinks, you will wake up with a hangover. But if you mix your worlds, you wake up with the imagination of a new reality. The rational mind believes in what it sees, hears, touches. But the imaginative mind sees beyond the clear blue sky. After growing up in a fantasy world of Grimm's fairy tales, after falling asleep to the whispers of mythological stories that are not always that logical, after waking up to the sounds of Alice in wonderland, it is hard to believe that you don't imagine. What if Alice in wonderland was not a fantasy, but a real world? What if we set out on an expedition to find that crack in the world to slip into a different reality? What if? Different writers have explored that notion, Neil Gaiman's dark twist in Coraline or Jules Verne's classic tale of the journey to the center of the earth. They all talk of a hidden realm and we read it like a story and let go. But, what if it was more than a story, what if it was someone's reality?

I came across this book at the airport bookstall last week, this book called "A Step Away from Paradise". I didn't know what to expect but the book called itself a Tibetan Lama's extraordinary journey to a land of immortality. Sometimes, you are not sure what attracts you to a book. But, my casual interest in Tibetan spirituality, my intense love for deep blue skies captured so very well on that book cover and my huge curiosity about all things paradise propelled me to pick up this book by Thomas Shor. I am halfway through the book and so, this is not the point where one would write a book review. But, for me, this is the point where you roll your eyes and imagine the world differently from the one you know. This is where you begin to imagine a new reality. The book tells the story of a crazy Lama called Tulshuk Lingpa, who leads a band of followers to unravel a hidden valley of peace, prosperity and happiness. This  hidden valley is called a Beyul. Tibetan folklore has it that such beyuls, hidden realms exist in this world for believers to retreat to in times of cruelty, plunder and disaster. These beyuls are only unlocked by the right chosen Lama. I am still not at the point in the story to know if the beyul was unlocked or not, but, the beliefs and experiences of a life unlike any we can imagine is beginning to question my sense of reality. Atlantis, Avalon, El Dorado, Shangri-la and all those hidden mystical lands...are they real? America was not real until Christopher Columbus chanced upon it. The earth wasn't round until Magellan went around it. A beyul remains fantasy until some unlocks it? What if there are realms unseen by the eye? What if there are realms beyond the comprehension of a sense conditioned mind? What if you looked beyond the crazy, what if these dimensions were for real?

Knowing only what we know, we are limited by the constraints of time and space. There is a thin line between reality and imagination, the thin line called perception, or as William Blake calls it, the doors of perception. "If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern" Open your mind, explore the possibility of the unreal....unlock hidden realms, imagine new realities of a borderless, limitless world of peace and happiness.

La Dolce Far Niente

Sometimes, we try too hard. Sometimes, we lose our soul trying too hard. We lose balance in the pursuit of a meaningless goal. It would all be worthwhile if that goal was not purely selfish, if it was purposeful. It would be worthwhile if our goals are not fleeting. Moving targets, one after another, and we chase them without respite.  Sometimes, only to reach a goal and then feel a sense of emptiness. The hollow ring of achievement echoes in an overcrowded marketplace of compliments and no one really hears it. But, there are the few that stand out easily with elegance. There are some folks who are not trying too hard, and yet stand out distinguished. There are some folks who want to step away from the limelight, yet shine out bright. There are some folks who bask in effortless achievement. And you wonder what they do right?

If you have seen the movie "Eat,  Love, Pray", you will be familiar with the protagonist and her Italian friends in the "Eat" section of the movie. It is here that she gets a little taste of Italian Tao. It is here that she learns to "be" without worrying too much about consequences. It is here that she learns to "be" without running around after myriad goals. It is here that she learns the sweetness of doing nothing. La Dolce Far Niente, or the sweetness of doing nothing. Isn't that a lovely phrase? It paints a picture of unhurried lazy action. Contrast that to the hustle and bustle of self-imposed deadlines and overambitious goals. Wouldn't you rather be working calmly and quietly in harmony with others? Achieving in slow motion so that it is captured in the hearts of those you touch.

Today's quick paced life is like running on a treadmill, running hard, breaking a sweat but reaching nowhere. The slow charm and lazy elegance of purposeful action is lost on a generation that needs a metric to rate itself. If there are quarterly revenue targets and cost reduction burdens at work, then you have calorie tracking and weight loss targets at home. Of course, in life you have a few other targets, say, own your car by thirty, your house by thirty-five, and the list goes on. And then depending on your personality type, you have additional targets around marriage and household. Well, you either marry and have children or remain like George Clooney and get arrested over Sudan. And finally, you target to have a mistress by eighty because if Hugh Hefner can, you can too. You feel uncomfortable if you don't have targets to run after. You feel you might not accomplish, you might not achieve but for these targets. So much to achieve in so little time, and it makes you run and trip over the next hurdle. So, wouldn't it be better if you did the little you did very well in an unhurried manner, in harmony. The Tao calls is "Wei Wu Wei" or as I understand it means "Action without Action" or effortless action. Look around and you see effortless action in nature, the earth goes around the sun in 365 days, you hardly notice its movement, but move it does. The river meanders to the sea in an unhurried manner, you hardly notice its movement, but move it does. The mountain changes shape everyday, you hardly notice the change, but change it does. What if the earth, the river and the mountain were in a big hurry? That would cause a cosmic collision or a flood or an earthquake, or something dreadful beyond imagination. So, if they can follow the cosmic laws, why can't you? Why are you in such a hurry? Why don't you experience La Dolce Far Niente?

Angelina's right leg, other OMG's and WTF's

Angelina Jolie's right leg wanted to stand out on its own on the Oscar stage. Well, it is a couple of weeks past the Oscar ceremony, and the right leg is still standing out there on its own in photographs, cartoons and every possible media outlet. So much so that it found its way into my blog now. It gives immense joy to some seeing it make a naked fool of itself. It provides solace to some others that a leg is a leg is a leg, whether it is Angelina Jolie's or some Tom, Dick and Harry's. And it provides teeth to many fashion critics to chew on another tibia bone of contention. 

Now here is a leg that has its own twitter account and overnight, has created a life of its own. Everyone wants to stand out in his or her own way, everyone is looking for their few minutes of fame, everyone is looking to be instantly valued. So, why can't Angelina's right leg do that? But then, it is worth the debate on what one would do to grab that headline and what actually grabs the headline these days. Would you grab a headline at the cost of your happiness and inner peace of mind? In today's extrovert friendly world, there are many folks who wonder if only gimmicks sell in the world? I have heard many colleagues at workplace ask the question if quiet dedication and consistent results working in the shadows is less valued than the suave and bashful headline grabber who is glib and smooth? Are we increasingly in search of the overnight matinee idol when all you need is a good script and fine actors? The world has some collective thinking to do. Elections are being won based on the oratory skills of contestants, not on the dogged hard work of the reformers. News is being sold on the sensationalism of Page 3 stories, not the true heartwarming stories of hoi polloi. And so it begs the question, is this society about Angelina's right leg, other OMG's and WTF's? Or will it reward the consistency of the hard work and toil,  the blood and sweat ?

For an over-"news"-ed yet uninformed society today, it is time to focus on building the solid, the scalable, the lasting. It is time to build that which lasts, it is time to buy that which lasts. I remember in the old days, when my folks were buying, they would look at durability first and everything else later. Today, we are taken in by the fancy and the fleeting, but it's time to change. Jim Collins, the management thinker and Level 5 leader proponent, states in his book, " There is a direct relationship between the absence of celebrity and the presence of good-to-great results." It is time for such leadership in civil society too. Not celebrity, but true defining leadership. It is time for the solid and durable versus the fancy and the fleeting. Don't you think?

Blood on the Balance Sheet

Last week's visit to Orissa still reverberates. During our travels last week, we drove past a bridge over the River Daya. River Daya holds a very important place in history. It is on the banks of this river that Ashoka, the mighty Magadhan emperor turned repentant seeing the destruction that his war on Kalinga had caused. As the clear waters of the river turned to a bloody red, Ashoka turned from war to compassion. As the corpses mounted on the banks of the river, Ashoka repented his meaningless war. Ashoka transformed from "Chandasoka" to "Dharmasoka". Evil Asoka gave way to Pious Asoka, and he then went on to be called "Ashoka the great".

Today, Orissa remains a battleground for different reasons. In Orissa, there is the tribal heartland untouched by modern advancements. However, if the news trickling in over the past few years is to be believed, Orissa is the new battleground between mining companies on one side and the defenseless tribal on the other. There have been Amnesty International reports of human rights violations of the tribals by a certain company in their quest for bauxite. Companies listed on the stock exchange, respectable companies where ordinary folks like you and me could be shareholders, these companies could be built over someones misery? The story is not about one company or one state or one country. The latest report is about a recent poster-child of the stock market, a path breaking micro-finance company who in their zeal for results played a role in many suicides of poor indebted villagers. It is said that their means of loan recovery were violent and brutal. This company was set up to enable and create an inclusive approach to development and it soon turned into the loan shark it was trying to replace, the village pawnbroker himself. The only difference between the two being this was organized business funded through the stock market by people like you and me. And then, who has not seen the headline grabbing news about the big Olympics sponsorship and the row it has created. A big corporation that took over a controversial company that caused the Bhopal gas tragedy and now refuses to acknowledge that as its doing. There are many instances of corporations doing the wrong thing, some thinking about the next quarter results and others thinking about long term empire building accumulating dubious blood stained assets, but all of them thinking about their story for the market analysts, thinking about their attractiveness for investors. All these companies think you, me and other investors will buy because we are only interested in return on investment. Isn't it time we set the record straight? Isn't it time we said "No" to investing in companies that plunder and pillage? 

This is the River Daya moment for all of us. It is time to replace the meaningless pursuit of "return on investment" with "social impact of investment". There are many clean companies out there, there are many businesses out there that truly mean to change the world for the better. Choose them in your portfolio, because they matter to this world, because they matter to your value system. Discard the blood stained corporations, you don't need bad karma. This is what conscious capitalism is all about, what shariah investments are about, what social impact investing is about......Think about it. It matters. Blood on your hands? Blood on the Balance Sheet? Say NO.

Lord of the Dark Ages

Time flies. Last weekend we were in Orissa and our trip started with a visit to the famous temple of Lord Jagannath in Puri. Lord Jagannath is known as per Hindu Mythology as the Lord of the Universe. He is the Lord of the Dark Ages, of Kaliyug. I am no expert on Hindu mythology, but this much I knew and I looked forward to the visit to this sacred temple. My friend forewarned me that there are many so called "holy men" who will offer their services rather forcefully to escort you to the temple. The temple is governed by the priests called Pandas. They are rather persistent about showing you around the temple in return for money. Well, you do encounter such things everywhere but, that did not prepare me for what we experienced.

As we got out of the car, there was already a person taking charge of our tour party to show us the temple.  We politely declined, however, he would just not give up. His speech slurred and his eyes rolled and I was sure this could be no messenger of the Lord. As we sidestepped from the grips of this man, another "holy guide" took charge and he was so persistent that we could not shake him off. This new guide with bloodshot eyes did not provide any confidence.We tried all our tricks on this new guide, all the tricks one has learnt from edge of the seat thriller movies where the hero tries to shake someone off his trail. We failed. Beaten and irritated, we followed the "holy guide" into the temple. As we entered the temple, someone was at the door blessing everyone. He would hit you on the head with a little stick and utter something. Lo and behold, he hit my daughter on her head and blessed her saying "Don't worry, always sing Kolaveri!!". Now, that was a novel blessing but a bit strange. And then we entered the temple, and as we tried to find the sanctum sanctorum,  our "holy guide" took us on a wild goose chase. He tried to lead us everywhere but to the deity. We were a bit confused initially. Finally, it struck us that the many doors on the inner wall, all lead to the deity. We stepped in and we saw the tall deities staring down at us. I suddenly realized that Lord was right in front of us and a strange sense of peace filled my heart. We were running around in chaos and suddenly, peace fills us as we stood in front of the Lord of the Dark Ages. We stepped out of the temple joyfully recollecting the experience, remembering the chaos of the outer world , contemplating the sudden realization and peace in the inner sanctuary oblivious of everything else.

I wondered long as to why this sacred temple had turned into a business for the not so holy "holy men". I wondered why they stopped innocent pilgrims from seeing the Lord in a peaceful manner.I wondered why it had to be so chaotic. And then I realized, here is the Lord of the Dark Ages. His temple is a reflection of the world we live in. We spend our time chasing happiness. We find our own guides, some who tell us the new car or the new house or that lovely holiday by the beach is what happiness is about. We go running after that, and then we discard that to run after the next. We walk all around in blindness, in chaos. And suddenly, we step inside. We step into our inner sanctuary, into the peace that has always been waiting for us. We realize that peace and happiness is within us, if we choose to step in. The Lord of the Dark Ages rules your heart, look inside and find peace.

Beautiful girl

My flight landed on time and as I switched on my mobile phone, I received a call. The cab driver for my pick-up from the airport told me in broken English, " Me waiting at exit, sir". His voice sounded cracked and his accent was hilarious, but he insisted on replying in English to my Hindi replies. This was going to be an interesting ride from the airport, I remember thinking. I waited for the never-ending baggage handler line to throw me a surprise, before quite predictably, my bags arrived next to last. Waiting for the bags, buzzing blackberry messages and other daily drills made me forget the waiting cab driver for a while. So much so, that I was surprised by the person I saw waiting for me with a placard holding my name at the airport exit gate. Here was a weathered beaten down man heavily wrapped in woolens waiting for me. Covered to beat the cold, but not covered enough to disguise his old face weathered by age or more. Life had drawn some long lines on his face, his teeth was more broken than his English and I was in two minds when he grabbed my bags and pulled it along to the cab. Hmm...this man was really old, he was probably closer to eighty or at least looked it, what was he doing driving a cab?

We got talking, or rather, I should say my cab driver got talking and I replied in monosyllables.  I wanted him to focus on the road. I noticed my slowly creeping irritation at his very slow drive in an overcrowded highway. The pace at which we were going I suspected pedestrians would keep up. But, slowly, the old man drew me into his story. The story of his life from being a soldier at a border-post in the harshest of conditions. The story of his life shared with a loving wife of many years. The story of their life bringing up two sons and a daughter. The story of how he spent all his savings on his sons and their education. The story of how his sons were doing really well. The story about how his first son was in the big financial district making big money for himself. The story about how that son was not so much in touch these days and busy with his own life. The story about how his second son makes him cry by saying things he does not really mean. The story about how it is finally his daughter who gives him joy. The story of his beautiful daughter who he treats as a "son". The story of why he drives a cab so that his beautiful daughter can have a beautiful life. His story of his own dream ..... about how his daughter can fulfill her dreams, find a good job, a great husband and live a life at-least as good as his sons have....His story about his beautiful daughter who is more of a son for him because she cares and is there for him. His silent prayer that his daughter remains beautiful through life. It is a difficult world out there you know especially if you are a woman, he says. 

Suddenly, the cab comes to a stop. I have reached my destination. The journey had actually taken much longer than usual, but it seemed so much shorter engrossed in the old man's story. Coming from a different social milieu, many of us have different ethos and don't realize the challenges faced by folks from a different background. Bringing up a girl child in some parts is still seen as a lesser priority than a son's upbringing. For someone from that social backdrop to care so much for his daughter's upbringing and to provide equally is a story in itself. In the midst of all the debate going on in India about female foeticide and the country's horrible record in number of deaths of girl children below 5 years, I remembered this old man. I remembered his beautiful daughter and how she was a "better son" to him. 

The old man said, " It is a difficult world nowadays. No one cares about you in the city. It was easier at the border-post as a soldier. If I died at the border, I knew that I died fighting for a worthy cause."  Thinking about it now, I should have said " Old soldier, you are still fighting for a worthy cause. For your girl child to lead an equal life. Because of you, she has got a fighting chance." Beautiful girl, you have got a fighting chance. Beautiful girl, you can change the world.

Verses that haunt a lifetime

The big news these days in Indian newspapers is Salman Rushdie and his participation or not in a literary fest in Jaipur. The debate is around freedom of expression. Quoting Rushdie on the cancellation of his address at the literary fest, "In a true democracy, all get to speak, not just the ones making threats". Well said, Mr. Rushdie, but you certainly got your chance to speak through tonnes of books and other literature. The debate is also about sense and sensibilities. And I think in a democracy or otherwise, you don't go about making comments that hurt sensibilities of a large section of people. Not taking sides in an endless debate, but my mind turned away to completely different topic. What would it be to utter a verse that haunts you a lifetime?

Salman Rushdie wrote a book in 1989, the book with verses that hurt sensibilities of a large group of people. Verses that caused angst and anguish to many. Verses that might have been insensitive. I have not read those lines, but have seen the reactions it caused and the anger that followed. Salman Rushdie had to live for years in hiding, his life turned topsy turvy. Did he regret writing those verses? Did he regret the anguish caused? Maybe he did....but when the battle-lines are drawn it is difficult to be sane, it is difficult to remain self-critical. And now 22 years later, time has flown by and when you hope some of the wounds have healed, you see reactions as extreme as before to the verses and the man who uttered them.

The spoken word, the printed word ....can never be taken back. In the middle of an argument, in the heat of the moment, it is so easy to lose control and provoke with your scathing verses and your sharp tongue. And when the moment passes, when you contemplate in silence, you realize that you can't take back what is said. You have to live with it a lifetime. Sometimes in shame. Sometimes in pain. But mostly in denial and in self defense of your point of view. You have to live with verses that haunt a lifetime. Thich Nhat Hanh says " When you say something really unkind, when you do something in retaliation your anger increases. You make the other person suffer, and he will try hard to say or to do something back to get relief from his suffering. That is how conflict escalates. " Well, if we are mindful of what we speak, peace will reign in our hearts. If only we could be more mindful of what we say, and banish the satanic verses that form in our minds. Banish the verses that haunt a lifetime....

Roadhouse Blues

"Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel" and so it rolls. It is a long journey with many twists and turns. It is a journey where one must find the path and stick to it. I am trapped in transit, meandering to an unknown destination. I wander through night and day. I press on through calm and tempest. I look at the morning rays for new energy to carry on the journey. I look at the shining stars for direction to stay the path on that dark night. I fall asleep, tired and troubled, on my beloved's lap for rejuvenation. I wake up to the laughter of my friends, my fellow travelers on the difficult path. The difficult path made easy by this camaraderie, the journey continues. This interesting journey called life with many stops at the roadhouses. The journey and its roadhouse blues....

"I woke up this morning, I got myself a beer". I don't know my destination and I wander on. I stop at the roadhouse. I get myself a beer. Intoxicated by the sights, sounds and smells of the roadhouse, I think I have reached my destination. I believe this roadhouse is the place to be, until I wake up to the reality. The intoxication wears off, the fleeting joy passes over, disenchantment sets in. I am a traveler, I am a wandering soul, I need to move on. For a while, I thought this roadhouse is where it ends. But, hey, the journey must go on. I am trapped in transit, meandering to an unknown destination. An unknown destination that can thrill your soul. You got to roll, roll, roll.....you gotta thrill my soul, alright. The journey and its roadhouse blues....

"The future is uncertain, and the end is always near". I move from one roadhouse to the next, not knowing what I want or where I am going. From one roadhouse to the next, and each seems more like the previous. It is the the same intoxication, the ephemeral joy and then followed by the same disenchantment. I search for joy more permanent, I search for a destination more real. And one day, Rumi asks "And you? When will you begin that long journey into yourself ?" And I wonder, what the real journey is about? Trapped in transit, meandering along halfheartedly..... I cry in anguish. Rumi says " You set out to find God, but then you keep stopping for long periods at mean-spirited roadhouses". Ah! this journey and its roadhouse blues....do you see the light within?