Musings & Reflections

Why am iSad? | 7th Oct. '11

2011-10-07T22:07:00.003+05:30

Why am iSad?

Well, that last word is from a phrase doing round online. A tribute to perhaps an icon - Steve Jobs.

I remember as a kid having read that Steve Jobs along with his friend had made the Apple computer in a garage. And from their they moved mountains. As I was grew up and learnt about computers, I was saddened that despite having the best features, Apple was not the number 1 selling machine. Much later, not until I had done my management, did I understand the difference between a great product and great business.

The non-understanding of why Apple was what it was and the understanding of why Apple is what it is, does not change one thing - I feel sad on the loss of Steve. Honestly, I do not care what happens to Apple's share price. But I do care, on what has happened to Steve Jobs.

And, I am surprised at myself. He was not related to me. I am also not a gadget geek - I have till date not worked on a Mac or an Apple machine. I have seen the fancy stuff around me, but never worked on them. I am fairly technology neutral. I do not particularly love inventions, nor do I love challenging the rules of science. Steve and Apple did not change my life - as they perhaps did to the millions around. Yet I mourn. And paradoxically, the death of a figure that is impersonal to me.

Or maybe not. Perhaps, it is about the Steve Jobs - the person. Not the inventor, the creative genius, the maverick - but the person, who relates to the person within me. I remember having read Steve Jobs Commencement Address to the Standford University graduates in 2005. It lodged itself at some place in my heart. And I forgot about it. And now, I see it all over the net once again.

As I read each and every word of it - again and again - I realise what profundity of thought lies behind those words. Behind the creative, maverick, genius, lay a person willing to see himself vulnerable. A person willing to chase his dreams, a person willing to fail and then rise up again. It is not the spirit that moved Steve - he moved the Spirit within. For a person who is willing to be vulnerable is a person with the maximum strength.

As I look back at the history of Apple computers and of Steve Jobs (from whatever little I know), I realise one thing - what made Steve Jobs the man he was, was his strength of vulnerability. It sounds paradoxical - but to me, it does not. Only a person who has the courage to be vulnerable, is the person who has the 'courage' in life.

I am reminded of Rudyard Kipling in "IF" (ladies, please pardon the sexist word 'he':

"If you can fill the unforgiving minute,
with sixty seconds worth of distance run;
Yours is the earth and everything that's in it -
and which is more,
You'll be a man, my son."

To give the unforgiving minute, the sixty seconds worth of distance run, requires one to put all at stake. For each second is just in the moment. Giving that minute a run means letting go of yourself and running. And that is life. Steve Jobs perhaps lived that. We do not know his deepest thoughts, but from his actions and life, we can surmise, he had the courage to be vulnerable.

Or perhaps, is it that Steve Jobs, though a being outside, is also a construct and a concept inside. A voice somewhere deep within me - that calls me to my destiny. That calls out for me to listen to my own self. And perhaps the recognition that one man i.e., Steve Jobs lived it all. As he said in is Stanford Lecture:

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma -- which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

Perhaps, it is that voice within. Maybe, he is just the archetype (to borrow from Jungians) - the archetype of Steve Jobs - and it is this archetype that calls me. And at this moment confronts me - with an example of a life lived. Maybe, all this while, while Steve lived the life he did, I could project my own archetypal Steve Jobs on him and not live it myself - the life that the voice deep inside wants each one of us to live. And perhaps, with his death, the curtain has fallen and now we are confronted to see our own selves as the actor has gone. They say that the actor is actually in the audience and the audience create the cast. As we stare in the mirror, all that we see is a vacuum where we cannot project that voice and live our lives vicariously.

Perhaps, that is why I mourn the death of Steve Jobs. In some ways, it feels like a stage of suspended disbelief. And however, hard I try to write or think or feel, deep down in my heart, I still do not know:

Why am iSad?

Reflections | On Life as Pilgrimage | 17th July '11

2011-07-17T18:30:00.008+05:30

I wonder...

I sometimes feel I am weird. Actually, it is just this sense of strangeness with my own self that comes across at times. The times when one feels so familiar with oneself, or an aspect of self; and yet, that aspect or the self at that moment seems so distant and so different. Maybe not 'normal' as far as the events of the world go by.

Have you ever had that sense of waking up one day and realising that there is something at work. Some hand that you cannot name or hold or see; yet, that hand is behind you - guiding, beckoning and taking you forward. No matter what happens in your daily life, you go to bed with the sense of something or someone just there. The presence is so palpable, yet, it is elusive. And the frustrating question: What is the meaning of it all?

If you have had that sense, then perhaps, you can understand what I mean. Why do I write this? I write to commune with you. So that the same spirit / principle / Being / Entity / call it whatever is honoured and reflected upon. You need not be alone, nor do I need to be alone - in this experience of mine. There is a great temptation to put a name, a label, an image to this experience and to this Being. We can call it God, or Divinity or The Holy Spirit or whatever. But that I feel would be missing the point.

It will be missing the point, because then it is so easy to get away. So easy to walk away from what is calling me. So easy to duck what comes along with it. So easy to rest in the warmth and comfort of humanity and be with it and yet duck what is at hand. Modern depth psychology has a principle of 'projection'. Simply put, something that you have deep within but cannot admit it as yours - so you go ahead and dump on the other. Now this could be good or bad (when viewed as a moral judgment). I may feel you are the biggest liar on earth (and deep down not acknowledge that the liar lies within me too). I could equally see the Divine in something 'out there'; and not within - for acknowledging that is so so so difficult.

I guess part of the reason (at least for me) is that there is a confusion between that spirit and 'goodness' of daily life. There is a moral judgment I have about what I do, how I behave and how I am in my daily life towards people and things. And inexorably, to live this life, I have to be all - good, bad and ugly. For e.g., I may think of myself as the gentle helpful nice person; but one day when I caught myself boarding the local train pushing and jostling away with people equally ready to throw you off and get inside, I saw that I was not all that nice and gentle. It was painful to see that. For I have a moral judgment about it. But then I learnt to forgive myself. To own up and realise that I owe myself a duty of survival, of care. And then it helped me a lot - it helped me as I learnt to be less angry at others - for the pushing and jostling they did. I could understand them. I could understand their fears, and concerns, and anxieties. I had them all within me. Jungians would call it an encounter with the Shadow.

So I was at the point of acknowledging the spirit. I carry this judgment within me, having seen the bad and ugly of me. And with this judgment or view of my own self, I make it an either - or situation. That if, I am not wholly pure, then I cannot really have the spirit within me. I find this logic cracking now within me. And that is what causes me bother. I am reminded of Lord Krishna - for all what his life was, he is still a manifestation of the Divine, of the eternal spirit. So what is it really to be in touch with the spirit. Yes, at one level, there is a certain degree of detachment, but at another level, it does not mean being completely above and over the emotions and thoughts of human life - of la vie quotidienne.

And this is what bothers me. We all have those experiences. And I wonder how do we make sense of it? What is the meaning of it all?

Sometimes, I feel that life is like one endless pilgrimage. The only thing that happens at times is the inversion of what constitutes a pilgrimage. It is something like what pilgrims encounter in their quest for a glimpse of divinity: Whether they are doing the pilgrimage or the pilgrimage has happened to them? The other day, I was reading the book, "Tibet's Sacred Mountain: The Extraordinary Pilgrimage to Mount Kailash" by Russel Johnson and Kerry Morgan. At one place, they write: "A true pilgrimage lifts the traveller out of his everyday self into a realm beyond ego. When it returns his self back to him, all of life has become a single, endless pilgrimage."

So it is with life: Do I live life? Or does life live me? No, this is not rhetoric; but a real struggle within me. And I share with you - maybe, you may have something to offer to me. What I mean is this: If the circumambulation around Mount Kailash (or any other holy place - call it Kaaba, or Jerusalem or anything), is a physical manifestation of the urge within to glimpse divinity, is not this daily life a circumambulation around the divinity one can call as the Self. The walk around the temple, the altar or the mosque - are they not symbolic of the walk I do every day around my own inner being? Is not the life that I lead every day, nothing but a small inwardly going circle to the centre - the centre of being that we can call Self and that which is perhaps the spirit?

But why all this circling? Why not go straight - as the Americans say, 'straight to the point...'? I guess maybe there is some meaning in the circling - in the meandering.

I've started liking the word 'meander'. It is the fate of every major river in its middle stages. What is the purpose of it all? - I can ask from a general standpoint. What purpose does it serve? If ultimately, the river is to meet the sea or the ocean, then in its course of its evolutionary journey, the river is wasting time. It will be better off if it moved straight on. But would we value such a river? Would such a river ever make the land fertile? Would such a river ever be respected? You see, it is paradoxical that the same river whose purpose is to meet the sea or the ocean has to meander. It has to go through apparent purposelessness. I use the word 'apparent'. For, to the river, the purpose is not clear during the meandering phase (I write it if I was the river).

But then, it is the very meandering of the river, that gives meaning to so many; that gives purpose to so many; that gives life to so many. And perhaps that is what happens to us all. We meander during our life - and we may feel that we are lost, actually, that may really be the process of generating and creating meaning. Is meaning and purpose found or is it created and generated? Does it exist outside of itself or does it exist within? For the river, is meaning present in its destination or in its journey? Paradoxical.

I don't know I like what I just wrote because it holds true or because (as I suspect) it provides me with an answer with which I can assuage the questions that emanate from somewhere within - at least for the time being. When the mystery is too great, one has to unravel it bit by bit. So maybe, this set of reasoning helps me find meaning in where I am. Maybe as I meander more in life, I may find other sets of questions and other sets of answers. Till I reach my ocean / sea.

And that's when confusion happens. Where am I? What is my sea? Do I have a sea? I don't know. I just have some questions. I still search for answers.

I do not have the answers. I wish I had them.

And then, I wonder...

Reflection | On Blogging & Meaning Making | 16th July 2011

2011-07-16T11:46:00.006+05:30

I saw a light flickering. Oh, that was a beep also from my cell phone. Message from a friend, "What is your blog ID?" I smiled. The sense of shy pride that fills our heart when someone asks about what we consider our own; but somehow refuse to openly acknowledge it.

I shared the blog link and as I sat wondering on the long silence I've had on my blog, saw another message, "You better start writing... as i want to read and reflect." My fistful heart simultaneously swelled with pride and cringed at the thought. I am still trying to sort myself out.

I mean, this is the second time I have received something like this. While I now do acknowledge that what I write has its own strength, I also can't help but wonder at the underlying thought: "Hey man, help me make some meaning." Is that not what I do myself?

As I write, I help uncover some meaning, to my thoughts and to my experiences in life. Sometimes, I wonder if the Forum Leader at The Landmark Forum was correct in saying, "We are nothing but a meaning making machine." At one level, meaning making gives purpose and a sense of direction; yet at another, it just robs one of the spontaneity of life. They say that in the Taoist thought, 'meaningless' of life is the greatest virtue. My little reading of Carl Jung tells me that even in his scheme of things, there is a similar metaphor for the highest objective of life.

Where does the sense of meaning and purpose reside? We can explore it from all angles, but eventually, I wonder if anyone ever has a sense of what is "it" all about! I like the word 'IT' - a good word to use when something can not be defined; alternately, at times a way of getting to state without stating yourself. For e.g., "It was a great function." Superb - where are you in the statement? What were your feelings? No - that all can be avoided by use of the word "it". And as you can see that is precisely what I have done too!

For I don't know what to even feel or think. Sometimes, there is that deep sense withing that life "is" - on the "isness" of things, people, events, place, whatever... But still "it" eludes - and so I try to fill with meaning and purpose. Somehow, just sitting and doing nothing is so ridiculous. I am reminded of another friend of mine who once said: "We are so scared of ourselves, that we fill ourselves up every moment with anything that comes our way - anything that can occupy us." Even Krishnamurty used to say something similar. How convenient (and necessary) it is for us to "fill" ourselves up.

And so as I write this, I am "filling" myself up with the meaning of writing - the purpose of writing. Perhaps you will read this and comment on it. Good / Bad / Ugly - while all comments will have their affective level response from me, yet, underneath them all, I will smile inwardly - for the I would have gotten some meaning!

Perhaps my friend who asked me the question might also read this - and find some 'meaning'. Did I give her something to reflect upon and find meaning? Or did she invest in me to get this writeup for herself and find meaning? Having said that, the question comes back: What does it matter? And how does it matter? Maybe, it matters just as much as a candle matters - it burns and shows its alive and finds its significance. Maybe, that is why it matters. A candle of me!!! Aah.

A see a light flickering...

Muse | There are those times... 26th March 2011

2011-03-26T11:16:00.001+05:30

There are times...

Ah, well; this one starts out on a reflective mode. "Oh Yeah! Which one does not?", asked a friend of mine to me once on my blogs.

You know sometimes in life it is that feel - that feel to which you cannot give a name or meaning; or rather you "DARE" not give it such. The feeling that there is something in life which is far deeper than what we experience in every day life (la vie quotidien)? The feeling that, borrowing from Carl Jung, there is a rhizome underneath and what we see is only the exterior. The feeling that there is life in that subterranean that is always 'as is' despite all the mental and emotional complexities of our daily actions and reflections.

I was talking with this friend of mine. Incidentally, in today's world text messages also are counted as 'talk'. Well, coming back to our conversation. We got sharing on how our lives have been the past few months and both of us felt that there is a life other than what we call life or live or see it every day. It is the inherent silence, depth, richness, call it whatever which is ever present; and possibly what we call life is only an offshoot of that real life.

How else do you account for the experience that despite feeling terribly low or mighty high, there is a sense inner calm that we experience at times. There are times when no matter what our emotional and mental state is, there is a sense of peace deep down. No matter what happens on the outside, there is still something within. I wonder often what it is; and I pine for those moments more and more.

Yes, There are those times...

Muse | On being lost...

2011-01-03T14:41:00.000+05:30

“Where are you?” “Kahan ho tum? Kahan gayab ho gaye, yaar?”

Some of the phrases I’ve heard in the recent past. And reluctantly, I am now coming out – like a crab. Crab – aah, my moon sign is Cancer!

Yes, I have vanished. Vanished from my blogs, vanished from my ‘witty repartees’ and ‘soulful thoughts’ on Facebook. I wonder sometimes that do I really need to do all this? Why do I blog? Why do I make my presence felt on Facebook or LinkedIn? My friends find it silly that one should “think” so much of such trivial matters. A colleague of mine said, “You know what – I don’t know why you think so much. I cook because I like to cook. I go for a movie, because I like to see a movie. My life is simple and not so complex.”

Complex – well, can’t help but think if my life is complex or I have a ‘complex’? Somewhere, something deep down does not allow me to rest in peace. It craves for more and more. It craves to know me more. It craves to go deep down to the deepest.

Ok, I digressed. Back to the point of vanishing. Well, I did partly because I was in touch with myself and trying to get to reality. Well, I made a trip to the Holy Kailash Mansarovar – the desire of lifetimes (yes, I believe in rebirth) and the fulfillment of purpose and meaning. Coming back, I just had nothing to write. What can I write of? What can I write about? There is no place of majesty and serenity as is the divine place of Kailash Mansarovar. Where our mere standing is a fulfillment of universal grace. English does not have an equivalent word for what in Hindi we say, “nistabdh” (loosely translated as ‘the awe of silence’). Yes, I was ‘nistabdh’ after my trip. Thank you Lord. Thank you universe.

How does one describe the sense of oneness? How does one describe the sense of being? How does one describe the sense of ‘feelingless feeling’?

But now that I am back from the trip, back to ‘la vie quotidien’ – familiar problems plague me – of job, finances, education, love and so on. But I was supposed to have transformed? After all, a trip like this acts like the alchemist’s stone. But here I am back to earth and worried over what I used to worry over. So is it that I have failed or what? Was this trip a pass-fail examination? My deep inner sense says it is not. So, perhaps the answer may lie in my understanding of transformation?

Dr. Wayne Dyer in one of his books writes about transformation as a conjunction of ‘trans’ + ‘form’ + ‘ation’. Which means going beyond the current state through action. While I agree to this definition in some ways, I also find it is incomplete. It is incomplete because it talks of reaching an altered state by way of action. Logical, Cartesian-Newtonian physics would make me agree to this statement. After all you need action to alter a state.

But is it so really? Does transformation come from action? What is action? Is it something that you see (as in breaking a wall)? Or is it something whose effect you see (like a seed becoming a sapling)? In case of former, there is an agent who undertakes an action. In the latter, who is the agent? Does the seed which we all agree is inert act? When does a seed sprout? My biology tells me that it sprouts when it gets the right conditions for germination – adequate water, temperature and nutrients from surroundings like soil etc. So lets assume we put all the necessary conditions and the seed in that condition. When the seed sprouts who took that decision to sprout? Did the inert seed take it? Or did the environment take a decision? That cannot be, for then it means admitting that wind, air, water, soil are animate! So the question still remains – who took the decision to sprout? A seed that has germinated is said to have life – it is animate and alive. An ungerminated seed is intert – it is inanimate and does not have life. But what happens in the transition? Or can I use the word ‘transformation’?

If this transition of seed to sapling is a transformation, who took the action? There is no agent (and I don’t mean this as a laboratory usage) – even then a transformation has happened? So do we really need action for transformation? And if transformation can come about without action, then what / who makes it possible? Extend this logic further, and this is what I’ve been grappling with. Do I take action and write a blog OR is a blog written (just like a seed grows when right conditions exist)?

And then I ponder over these questions? Pondering is going within – away from action. But alas, I find no answers.

And then I ask myself this question:

“Where are you?” “Kahan kho gaye ho?”

Reflection | On appreciation | 22nd July 2010

2010-07-22T09:35:00.007+05:30

Do I really need to shy away from appreciation? Why do I shy away from admiration? What happens to me when people admire me?

A follower of my blog wrote something yesterday which I have conveniently taken in as admiration. For all you know, she may have simply left a comment / remark from her side which expressed what she felt. And I choose to look at it as admiration.

Well - this is surely one inner process I need to examine. What happens when someone says something? Why is there a need to attach a 'meaning' to it - so that I can then feel something about it? A friend of mine tells me that I think too much asking me, "Is it really necessary to think so much? Yes - we attach meanings - so what? Everyone does. So let go on with life..." I usually hear some variant of this from a lot of friends.

But somehow, my heart deep inside is not convinced. It wants to delve into depths hitherto unexamined. It wants to examine each and everything that comes the way. My quiet rejoinder to my friends is: If we are unwilling to examine ourselves and want to be what we are because everyone else is, then we should be ok in the way everyone else is treated by life. We need exceptions on how we should be treated; yet we are unwilling to examine ourselves.

Coming back to the issue of admiration. I feel cornered. Let me admit that I do like it. Come on - who won't. Sometimes we don't. I recollect the times I used to cringe from it. Now I at least accept it, though still find it difficult. It occurred to me in one instance of an intensive self work that for me the sense of appreciation was linked to the issue of feeling 'worthy'. There is this inner voice within that constantly used to ask: Am I really worthy? Do I really feel that it belongs?

It has been a troubled quest and in that quest, the quote from Marianne Williamson, which Nelson Mandela had once used, has helped me stand in good stead:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are younot to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” (Marrianne Williamson in "A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles").

If this is so, do I really need to shy away from appreciation?

Inner Dialogues | July 09, 2010

2010-07-09T13:07:00.006+05:30

Inner Dialogues - well, that's the name. The name of my first book. It has not come out yet, but it will. I have the name now with me. It came to me as I was traveling in the train on way to work one morning. For a moment, I took a pause. What does it mean? What is it for? Will I really write a book?

Well, if I look at it, ultimately, it seems that we live life all in dialogues. The more I see of life, the more I realise that what I create and live in is my view of the world. I feel safe inside, and the world feels safe outside. I feel insecure inside, and I am scared outside. And I realise that it is so beautiful. Just as in a movie, multiple dialogues can keep happening, so is the case with me. I suspect it happens to others too - including you, the reader.

What is a dialogue? The online etymology dictionary has this to say:

dialogue: early 13c., "literary work consisting of a conversation between two or more people," from O.Fr. dialoge, from L. dialogus, from Gk. dialogos, related to dialogesthai "converse," from dia- "across" (see dia-) + legein "speak" (see lecture). Sense broadened to "a conversation" c.1400. Mistaken belief that it can only mean "conversation between two persons" is from confusion of dia- and di-. (Source: http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=dialogue).

So, basically it is about a conversation - of coming across to each other. When I speak with myself, I find that I do not always come across. Speak with myself !

Yes, I find that I talk with myself. Not like the way I used to in childhood as part of growing up (well, to confess, sometimes, I still do that); but as a way of communing with myself. I go out and see a finely dressed person and I say to myself, 'what a gentleman!' The next moment, I see him spit on the road and my thoughts are: 'ughh! what a disaster.' Usually, it happens this way.

So I come back to my dialogues. No one hears them, or knows about them. Yet, they feel it. I however, not only feel them, but also know and hear them. Remember how as a child, our parents would catch us and ask, '...so what are you thinking...' God - how I hated it, to be caught. But then, come to think of it, they perhaps experienced the outcome of the inner dialogue within me. And that inner dialogue creates my reality. I experience them in various forms: thoughts, emotions, feelings - call it what.

If you thought that the Inner Dialogue is about having a thought, then you are both right and wrong. Right because it is indeed a thought. But wrong because the Inner Dialogue is that primordial conversation that I have with myself that there is no one really there in that space to be there with me. I am utterly alone in that conversation. It is that conversation which blends all myriad forms of expression known to me: feelings, thoughts, emotions. It is that which keeps me alive to myself and to this world OR it sometimes divorces me from myself.

The inner dialogue is my inner frame of reference. Long ago, I read that behavioural scientists use a peculiar terminology: "schema". In their view, each individual has a "mental schema" which put very simply is a 'mental model' of the world. And we live our life based on that model. I suspect that that mental model is composed of the Inner Dialogues.

But sometimes, I pause and reflect. What is reflection? Comes from the verb, 'reflect'? And that is what a mirror or any polished object does. It shows what is. And the degree to which it shows is proportional to the degree to which it is clean and shiny. The degree of cleanliness and shine is proportional to the effort gone into cleaning or the process of making it. So does that mean, that for my reflection, I need to have something clean within?

Well - what does that mean? I suspect it means that I should be able to examine the thought for what it is? And not add on other pieces of data. Something that the humming voice within my head does. And what happens in these moments of reflection - of the pause?

I stop. I find that when I just stand, I do not see motion elsewhere. In the motion of my thought, is there a motion of the next - one I say, the other, something within me does. Call it 'sanskar' or 'karmic imprint' or 'memory' or whatever. And that is what I mean by inner dialogue. This inner dialogue is what keeps going on - till I pause and reflect when if I am blessed, it slows down.

But more often than not, the dialogue goes on. In my understanding, this dialogue goes on irrespective of our level of consciousness - awakening, dreaming, sleeping. In wakening state, I can hear it the loudest - if I pause. As for dreams, I guess it is obvious - they are the conversation. I am not so source of sleeping, but I suspect that it is still there - for I wake up to the feeling of having been there as I lay sleeping.

One way to become more aware of myself, is to examine these dialogues within. I realise that the next step I take is based on the outcome of the inner dialogue held previously. And I continue and I go on. I have found it of meaning to stop and pause from time to time. And just see the dialogue. Sometimes, I have found that it is not just a dialogue - it is a complete script. Other times, it is a full play. Sometimes, it is just a playful banter - at other times, it is a wall of stone, as strong a wall as any medieval castle or fort would have.

Over time, I have learnt that it is this inner dialogue that gets entrenched and makes my reality. It is the inherent tension between the uttering of the 1st statement by myself and the 2nd by something within (I as of yet don't want to label it - but you may equate it with a variant of 'subconscious'), I find that creativity exists. That is the space for choice. Of an alternate. Of creation of an alternate reality. Of examining a possibility.

But what exactly is an 'Inner Dialogue?' I seem to have meandered all over as usual. To be honest, the answer eludes me. Perhaps, that is why I search for it. Quantum physicists tell us that reality is changed in the way it is observed. In my keenness to observe this Inner Dialogue, and give a definition to it, I seem to be changing it. Honestly, I don't want to chase. I seem to like the fact that I can sometimes (and I wish I could do it more often) just observe and be with it. That moment is so empty and yet so full of itself. So nothing of fullness and so full of nothingness.

It is to these Inner Dialogues that I pay my respect to. Respect: you may ask why? For it is these inner dialogues that have helped shape and sustain me - to be in this world. Granted that not all are the ones, I would like to have, they nevertheless have served a purpose - a purpose that I chose at some moment. Only when I can respect what is, can I move to 'what could be.'

What could be: _________ (fill it for yourself). In the space and pause between the Inner Dialogue, there is nothing and there is everything. And that too is an Inner Dialogue.

Muse | Khoj | 29th May 2010

2010-05-29T19:47:00.002+05:30

Ek khoj mein hoon main!
na jaane kahan kahan na dhoondha:

dehleez ke paas,
tehkhane mein bhi;
par nirash ho kar main
baith gaya hoon

thodi der apne aap ko sambhalne ke liye
apne wajood ko jaane ke liye;
lagta hai ki main woh aadmi hoon -
jo bhari dupahar mein andhkaar khoj raha hai

haan haan... dhoondh raha hoon main -
un taaron ko, un sitaaron ko;
jo mujhe ej saagar kinare raat ko
moti ki tarah ret mein jilmilate hue dikhe the

jinhe choone se keval ehsaas hota tha
girti hui ret ka;
par us ret ko toh main thoda choo to saka -
woh baat alag ki kuch pal ke liye hi

waise to ab bhi main un smritiyon ko choota hoon
jo mujhe apne ki khoj mein phir se chala deti hain...

aur mere lad-khadate kadam phir se chal dete hain
ek khoj mein...

Tribute (to the one who knows its meant for) | Tum | 12th May '10

2010-05-15T12:04:00.005+05:30

"Tum"

Tum jo baith kar shaant
aatur hoton ko sun
meri jeevan kavita saar
--- us se mujhe jeevandaan mila.

Tum aakhir ho kaun?
jeevan ka ek musaafir,
jo raste mein kahin milte hain -
apne un sambandhon se -
jinhen weh jaante he nahin;
par koshish karte hain:
ek seema lagaane ki,
ek naam dene ki...

aise tum ek pathik -
mujhe jo mil gaya -
aur meri kavita sun
--- mujhe alankrit kiya...

Reflection | On ISABS | 12th May '10

2010-05-15T10:23:00.002+05:30

My journey - I never quite understood
My path that just came along
as i walked - pulled on by a
force unknown.

But I cry now - in joy or pain
I know not - for which
Now - when I get in touch
with the stops of a journey.

When a human heart
logical and on its quest of life
A life on mission and purpose
marching ahead to its own drum
deaf and mute - to the grass,
the lilies and the butterflies.

And then at some point
at some moment,
at some occasion,
when something happens
and there is a stillness, a silence:
of reflection, of realisation, of introspection.

It is for the joy of that moment, that silence
that I pursue the path...

Muse | How much do I need? | 30th Apr. '10

2010-04-30T19:49:00.000+05:30

How much do I need after all?

The though troubles me – a question became a niggling doubt and now it seems to flow as a muse.

The thought struck me yesterday when I took out a few old clothes that did not fit me any more to give to my bai (maid). She has a son who is about my age and nearly my size; as also a younger son – so, my stuff pretty much fits either of them. As I took them out, I realized that in the past 1 year, I had let out and given more than half of my wardrobe to different persons. And still, I do not find that I have a dearth of clothes.

It is not that I ever had too many clothes – for I’ve naturally liked things sparse. No – it is not austerity or anything; its just that managing too much is too difficult a task. So the less there is or the leaner things are, the more easier they are to manage. Typical management gyaan – but it works for me. So instead of buying bulk packs, I buy food in packs that can be stored till I can consume them. A couple of times I have made the mistake otherwise on persuasion from friends, I have ended up regretting it. So over time, I find it better to have less to the level I need.

The other day, a friend of mine was shocked to note that I have only a couple of bed covers – to me a sufficient enough change when one goes in for laundry. I was greatly persuaded to buy more – to stock up for future needs. But what need – I asked? If one goes to laundry, I put the other one – simple. Well, no doubt there are times, when I want a change, and I would want to put different colours, but for the sake of that how much do I need? Ok, I might be a bit more leaner than others, so maybe I can do with a few more. But five: what for, as was suggested?

Coming back to clothes. So, it was quite funny as I reflected upon it. I had nearly given out half of my clothes – and from the above para you know how much I actually have – and still have clothes. Well, ok. I don’t have all clothes that I need. I don’t have separate clothes (and accessories) for an evening wear, an office wear, a party wear, “a whatever else” wear! Well – back to management concepts. KISS – keep it simple & straight. The more manner I have, the more trouble for me. Having different types of wear means: having the ability to match them; having the finesse to manage them having the capability to carry them off. And that is so so difficult – for me as a person. So KISS!

A few of my friends call me mad. A few others mad. And some real perceptive ones call me ‘eccentric’. Maybe I am eccentric. But hey – who is not. Had read a quote once which was, “Eccentricity / Idiosyncrasy is like having an accent – its what the others have it!” Brilliant – whosoever wrote that line.

Long ago a friend of mine had taught me a fundamental difference between “quality” and “quantity”. Except for a few people who have both quality and quantity, most of us have to manage with a combination of either. A typical Englishman would have quality. He would buy one good coat but keep it such that it lasts him years. Many of us to the contrary buy one every winter – cheap and cheerful stuff that lasts only that time. Which one do you choose? I found some wisdom in the former. The energy grows on you with time as also on your clothes. Now this is freaky stuff. Where you inhabit or where you are, you invest your energy there. So the more your clothes stay with you, the more their energy is.

I recollect my mother telling me as a child: if you respect your clothes, your clothes will respect you. I used to be a careless child who never gave a 2nd thought to keeping things properly. Some treatment of advice, counseling, cajoling, coaxing, and not sparing the rod helped me tide over my rebellious years and I find that I’ve pretty much liked that philosophy in life.

Not to say that there are no pitfalls of such an approach. When you choose quality, you need to manage it well. That calls for time and attention. At the same time, a replacement comes with a cost – of both time and money. So if you’re going through a lean patch, you have to compromise or wait. The choice seems frivolous, but sometimes it is a question of life and death. Would you rather wear a shirt with frayed collar (obviously not visible to all) for a while and wait a while for the new shirt or replace with a new rough and tumble shirt? I guess that’s the moment of reckoning for each one of us. Philosophy is not such a boring subject – when life is looked at this ways. Or maybe such mental gymnastics provides a touch of Tabasco to what they say, ‘la vie quotidian.’

But having said all this, I still don’t know why I don’t feel a dearth of clothes. I can count my pants in single digits and still I don’t feel I have less – so was it that I had too many to begin with? Or have I changed with time? That my needs have reduced? Or that I don’t consider them worth it? But what is my need after all – do I know it? I guess not. If you gift me something, I won’t back off – will gladly accept. “

And so, the question is, “What do I need?” And, “How much do I need after all?

Muse | Paribhasha | 21st Mar. '10

2010-03-21T11:26:00.004+05:30

main - aur meri paribhasha:
lagta hai ki main ek nibandh hoon;
apne likhe hue lekh -
kuch shabd jo vyakt karte hain
apne astitva ko;
cheshtha karte hain: bolne va batane ki

-----apni ek kahani

jo shooroo hua likhna toh
na jaane shabd kahan se
anayaas hee aa jaate hain;
mano gomukh se jaise na jaane kaise
ek boond jal - ik ganga bana deta hai.
is silsile mein na jaane aaye kitne
gadya aur padya, prishtha va pustak

-----anokhi - par ek dooje se gunthi hui

par kabhi kabhi lagta hai ki main
to sirf baadhya hoon,
ik nibandh ke shabdon ki tarah
jo apni bhasha ke dwara
paaribhashit karte hain;
aur us paribhasha mein hi

---mujhe lapeete hain - baandh kar, seemit karte hain

aise kshanon mein jab maayoos main
un lekhon ko padhta hoon,
unke arth jaannee ka prayaas
toh na jaane kyun shabdkosh vyarth lagte hain;
mere shabdon ka arth keval
meri hi likhit shabdkosh mein hain;

-----unme nihit poornta meri abhivyakti hi toh hai

mera hi lekh, meri hi shabdkosh
mere hi arth, mujh mein nihit saamarth;
jaanne ki koshish karta hoon main
kai baar bhatak kar doojon se raasta pooch,
main pathik chalta hoon; ek bindu vishraam baad,
naye shabd jaal likhte hue...

--- ek nayi paribhasha mein apne ko khojte hue...

Muse | Reflections of a humbling experience | 22nd Feb. '10

2010-02-22T22:03:00.002+05:30

I feel humbled.

She must have been in her early 60’s – but looked in her 70’s. Or maybe she is indeed in her 70th. As I walked towards the station in the morning, I saw them walking past in a file. Once again, I saw all three of them – women ripe with age, yet carrying the responsibility of life – on their head. They walked steadily; this one had a staff in her hand to support herself. They walked exactly like they had done the previous few days – around the same time that I head to the station to take the morning train to work.

Why did they catch my attention? As I walked wondering what the purpose of life it – trying to iron out an intellectual debate within myself and feel great at the end of one more such resolution – I saw them again. Defining and re-defining life and exploring its various facets is such an intellectual high for me. Sometimes, it makes me oblivious to the mundane reality. And in front of me was the mundane. Was that profane?

They were carrying a pile of dry wood on their head. At 7.45 in the morning headed back; that means the wood gathering would have started much earlier. A quick calculation told me that they would have been out of the house not later than 6, maybe, even earlier. That wood would see them through the day – it is that wood that would warm the hearth and feed the stomachs. It would be fair to assume that they would be staying in houses without titles. Equally fair would be to assume that the concern for keeping the hearth warm is a daily affair. Needless to say, they would not have a gas connection or the like.

In some ways, I felt a bit miserable. For a moment, I experienced a pang of guilt – here was I wondering about life and trying to solve imaginary problems and there I saw them fulfilling what life demanded of them. Were they happy or not? I don’t know and I dared not ask them? Why did they carry it – and not a young son or daughter or daughter in law or even a grandson / grand-daughter? That was not within my right to ask them.

Yet, I experienced a sense of resoluteness on their face. The feet and hands were callused. As they walked, they covered their head with the ‘pallu’ of the saree. Perhaps I was a bit too rude – in retrospect, I realized that I had stared at her long. And she glanced at herself to see if her saree was draped properly around her – one tug, and she gathered her saree. Another tug: and she managed the pile and her gait with the staff. I had not intended to intrude into her space, but I could not help look at her in respect. I took my glance away like a recalcitrant school boy chastised by the teacher’s “glance”.

I had no business to analyse her and intrude into her dignity.

Muse | On grooming - a babble | 21st Feb. '10

2010-02-21T10:41:00.003+05:30

"Change your specs. "

That shook me up. I had heard this before, but this time round it was different - it came from my mother (once again). And it came more as an “insistent pleading directive.” Yes, that sounds oxymoronic, but there was a sense of pleading, as if, "why don't you please do this for me?" At the same time, it was a bit authoritative, just like parents do when they really want to say, "I am saying this for your own good and so do it."

Well, I realise that times have changed. My being has changed. My equations have changed. Of course, what's the big deal? Things change with time. But some things don't change - or so I had assumed. And that is the mother - son relationship. That my mother would suddenly be interested in how I look, how I groom and preen myself is something new to me. I had never experienced that aspect of her.

In fact, while growing up, it was quite to the contrary. Spending more than half a minute in front of the mirror aroused her curiosity (and I guess some suspicion that I was dating girls) that led her to "innocently" comment, "you take quite a while in front of the mirror". And as if to discourage the behaviour, the stereotyping was completed with, "...just like girls." And this when in my whole of school days, I must never have stood in front of a mirror ever for more than 2 minutes at any given point of time.

But this is new to me. Suddenly, I found my mother different. She has a view on my clothes, accessories, and my grooming. Not the regular types that mums have, "have you had a bath" etc. Usually with boys, mums have this issue. This is not the issue I talk about. She can’t find fault with my personal hygiene. Well, let me share some examples. "So do you use the ‘Tabac’ Eau-de-Cologne that your sister gifted you?" Or, “which perfume do you use?” Weird - mum never asked such things. Or something like, "...that's not quite a combination…" referring to the North-South looks of my pant and shirt.

I am partially colour blind (I am not joking - I take a friend along for shopping). To add to it, I have not yet mastered the art of matching colours. So usually I stick to the solid colours. Of course white and black / blue are eternal matches. I mean, I just find it so difficult. I must confess that I've given up. I don't really care now except for ensuring that I am "by and large" ok. When it is some important occasion / meeting, I will ensure that I land up in black/blue and white - it just helps me skirt the whole issue of ‘making a choice’. Maybe I don't want to learn - well, not maybe, definitely. I just find it too boring and complex. My mind stops working. My heart beat increases as soon as I see multiple colour dresses - how on earth does one figure out the combination. I feel like a rat in a maze who has no clue of his / her surroundings when it comes to these issues. And so I console myself by saying that it is a man thing; finally, I have this excuse of colour blindness (God bless)!!!

So coming back to my surprise when my mother had a view on it. As a kid, she did have a view, but on most occasions, it was she who simply decided what we'd wear when going out of home for an occasion. I took that for granted - sigh, life was so simple (at least in that context). But now it’s all on my own. The other day we were to go and meet an acquaintance of ours. I put on a kurta and jeans and found my mother's piercing eyes examining me from head to toe. A volley of questions followed.

Post which an inquisition on not having had a hair cut. Just to pacify her and not give her the opportunity to pounce on me to have my specs changed, I went out and got one. In military strategy parlance, I did not want to be attacked on multiple fronts. I land up in office the next day and my colleague (a lady) tell me, “…hey, you got a ‘crew’ cut done – you look like a school boy!!!” So much for keeping mother happy!!!

It did not require me much time to figure out the change. Has mom changed or have circumstances changed that have made her change? She herself blurted it out, "... with this kind of dressing and grooming, how girls will like you..." Aha - mom interesting in me being liked by girls. That was new. And good. As a kid, I always got not so approving looks when I happened to share a story regarding any girl. The moral of the story was, "good boys don't go out with girls." So, at some subtle level it became, "good boys don't groom to impress girls."

And then came college, girls, and friends. Then came work and so on - and I moved on in life. To a stage where I am comfortable in the "mediocrity of my grooming." Well, that phrase actually applies to me. I have had so many friends (both men and women) come up and say, "...why the hell can't you follow what we suggest?" But you see: I am a rebel. The youngest of the 3 kids - what else can you expect? My attitude has fossilised to something like, "...if you like me for my looks and my presence, I don't care a damn about you..." In the process of growing up with my own insecurities, I learnt early on the psychological principle of "compensation." Because I could not make myself "up there" by my looks and grooming ('coz my grooming IQ tends to single digits), I actively worked to gain approval from extra curricular activities. Debating, Writing, Elocutions became my passion. I learnt to "intellectually challenge" peers around. That also provided me a safe play area - especially when it came to girls.

I grew up at a quaint rustic place (it really was rustic back then). So, given that I was not sophisticated and as I moved to various cities in progressive stages of "hep-ness", I too learnt to sharpen my defense mechanisms that provided me acceptance from peers and others. With time, I've learnt to accept my own inadequacies; and this is a journey that will continue for the rest of life. I've found that there never ever is a stage where I've been able to say, "I've ironed out myself and I am ok." Every time I see myself saying that, the universe conspires to create a meltdown (like a nuclear meltdown) and I am back to square one. So as I move towards "wholeness", I find that I have chosen consciously different approaches to different things. In some areas, I strive to excel and better myself. In other, I've chosen to let go and not try to keep up with the Joneses.

Grooming (beyond the point of personal hygiene and basic decorum) is one such area where I've given up. I mean I just find it plain silly to fret over what I consider the smaller things of life. I like things of utility - bless my professor who administered MBTI (Myers Briggs Type Indicator - look it up in the net) and gave me another excuse to comfort myself. Being an INTJ, I look for utility in things. So my choice of specs is based on utility. I like to read; so when I am home (post work or on weekends), I like to lie down and enjoy a good read. You can't have some slender delicate sophisticated frames. You need sturdy, durable and flexible frames. I had one rimless specs earlier, but the trauma they went through coz of my lying down and reading ensured a very small lifeline for them. So when my ophthalmologist changed the numbers, I took that as a God sent opportunity and promptly changed my specs. They've been faithful for a year now and on occasions I've even managed to put some of my weight on them. They are now part of my identity and utility.

And my mother wants to take that away!!! No wonder I felt so insecure. Then followed a dialogue with her. My mother thinks I am now of a “marriageable” age - which I am for quite a while. But now she is concerned and worried. So every little thing matters. She (of all the people, mum) gave me a lecture on how one should keep up with changing times and how she “knows” (from newspapers and page 3) that girls these days don't like guys who wear specs which make them look "studious / professor". Gee - I just wished my mum asked me to carry a condom in my pocket ;-) But sigh – that advice has not yet come :-( Then followed another chapter and verse on the importance of having a good haircut. It is true - and I admit to it - that many a time, I take a while to go and get a haircut. Its not laziness - or maybe it is. If you spend 3.5 hours a day traveling to work and back and work for 12 hours every day, who the hell wants to get a haircut done on a weekend!!! Consider (if you wish to) that as an excuse, but I do ensure that I don't look like Andre Aggasi ever (when he had the pony tail). So why the hullabaloo?

Sometimes, I realise that I am obstinate to the point of cussedness in these matters. I just find a great amount of joy like Calvin in harassing the harried person in front of me who considers this very meaningful. A friend of mine shared with me her first impressions of me - not so flattering though. We had met at a workshop and she told me that by day 2, she could predict what I would be wearing when she would see me next. Well, no smart guesses. For a week long workshop, I had taken 3 T-shirts and 2 jeans. My logic of utilitarianism: "Why on earth do you have the laundry service in a hotel? And if I am to spend 8 hours inside a room in a lab, why should I carry trunk full of clothes?" To add icing to this cake of logic, “travel light!” What I did not share with her is that half of my suitcase was filled with books – so where the space was for clothes?

We are good friends now. And that is exactly my point. She did accept me for who I am and not how I groom. This provides me enough fodder to stick to my guns and not attempt the painful (to me at least) process of re-orienting the brain to pay attention to such matters. After all, how much can a human brain handle!!!

Thank heavens, my mother has not yet thought of what some of my colleagues and friends tell me. "Shave off your mustache." One day I was quite taken aback by this comment from a colleague. She told me that I needed to become more "hep". Pat came the tongue in cheek reply from me after which I experienced her as a slab of ice frozen in Pleistocene era, "will you give me a kiss if I shaved off my mustache!!!" Soon she laughed it off and said, "...not me, but maybe someone else will."

"MAYBE". You mean to say that I should remove my mustache in the hope of getting a smooch from some hot nubile babe. And ‘hope’. Sigh – might as well live the current reality than hope!!! Well, as I said, I've been a rebel. If a girl does not like me the way I am, too bad. But if things do work out, I would be glad to hand over expertise of professional grooming to her (assuming that she has a better sense than I have – which usually is the case). After all, it is my Achilles heel and I do need some help in that area. Will I accept it from everyone - maybe not. Will I take it from my girlfriend - why not, if that is what makes her happy. But should I do all this in order to get a girl - no, thank you. Maybe I feel scared. Scared that if a girl likes me for my grooming and looks, she may not really appreciate me for who I am. So I follow the reverse psychology: show the worst of yourself and if they like you still, then you can become normal and better.

All these thoughts were going up in my head, when I heard mum say once again,

"...change your specs..."

Muse | On being single and exploring sexuality | 20th Feb. '10

2010-02-21T00:42:00.000+05:30

“How does one explore sexuality whilst being single?”

Well, an odd question. And I can’t help but ask it - at 11.30 in the night. I guess only because I am single, I can get to ask this question at this odd hour. To which the question I need to explore first is, “What does it mean to be single?”

A good friend of mine, now married for a while, shares sometimes with me how his life has changed post marriage. On how he juggles between sleeping, pretense of being asleep and listening to his wife who is ready to handle him after a good afternoon siesta (she’s a housewife). In the past 1 year, I’ve seen him change. Earlier, he would get some whacky ideas at midnight and off he would shoot a text message to me and other single friends. Now I hear a silence! Naturally, things change.

But coming back to me – I am actually questioning as to why am I still single? What’s the trigger? Actually, I am very angry right now. I was online and met a friend of mine who asked me something that triggered it off. A few hours ago, I had updated my facebook status to something like, “…feel content – found my first love in school…” You see, I had finally managed to meet my first love. A cute girl in 2nd grade who had taken me under her wings as I moved to the new class without friends. For some reasons (beyond the scope of this blog), I had moved directly to 2nd grade from Upper Kinder Garden skipping 1st grade. Obviously, I was miserable and had no friends. This girl made friends with me and I used to hang out with her during lunch time. She just made me feel me – accepted me when no other kid spoke with me. I was a shy kid – very reserved for most of my school life. In some ways, I still am reserved. But talking of school and that time, I was mortified on not having friends and she was my saviour. All my life, I had carried this sense of gratitude for her and a sense of warm affection. Which is why she was / and is my first love. Through social networking I met her again. And we realized that we had both known each other as grown ups too for the past 3 years – how little interest do we take in the other!!!

Oh – ok, as usual, I’ve wandered, so coming back. This friend of mine (who had read my status on facebook) wrote to me on chat – hope it is a girl!!! What the heck. Just because I am single, does it mean, you will come and question my sexual preferences? A part of me asks me as to why am I so touchy? And in fact, at one point of time, someone did ask me that question. I must confess that I carry with me a sense of anger on being judged. Yes, I do feel let down in allowing others to judge me – and more importantly, in letting myself get swayed by those judgments. But I am a human being. I have my own frailties and soft spots. I feel scared and afraid of expressing them – and I am aware that this is my blog, it would be in public domain soon. But will I be free – if I am scared of what you feel upon reading this? No, I won’t; so inspite of knowing that I may be judged and I would have to deal with those feelings later on, I will write on. What you feel is your feeling – don’t project on me; and I’m learning not to introject.

Quite a few times in the past – while growing up through college years and beyond (in early working life) – I had experiences that left a sad taste in my mouth. I am slow in building relationships – that is just who I am. I tried changing myself, but I’ve found that it has not helped me. I like my own pace of building and maintaining relationships. I realized that when I tried to change what I was deep down, it was a charade. I needed to be me – and so I decided to trust my own instincts and not judge myself for not being ‘social’. A couple of women had asked me point blank, ‘… are you gay…?’ Well, let me share that I have nothing against anyone’s sexual preferences / orientation. In fact, in my early working life, I’ve shared room as a boarder with a friend who had a homosexual orientation. He was actually a very honest guy and from him I learnt to be empathetic to the other person and respect the person for what he or she is and not his/her sexual preference. Both of us learnt what respect means. And I define it as: the ability to be with and for each other and remain non-judgmental despite knowing the contra preferences of the other while managing boundaries of self and other...

So coming back to the times I’ve heard this question in various shades – questions on my sexual preference. Sometimes, I’ve asked them as to why they got so moved to ask me the question. To which the most common reply has been a variant of: well, you’re young and single and don’t chase girls. As if underneath that is the statement, ‘…we expect you to and if you don’t something is wrong with you…’ Sometimes, I’ve felt like replying back, “…why, do you wanna jump in bed with me and so want to test me out – do you want me to chase you – is that your fantasy?” On most occasions, I’ve ignored it. But I have indeed felt hurt. As if it is a crime to be single.

At the same time, I also guess in some ways, that question has opened up something that I’ve not been able to close on my own – and that is about exploration of my sexuality. Reminded of a woman who had told me once, ‘…how can you be with yourself unless you give yourself to another?’ She was explaining her stance of asking me the question about my sexual orientation. I can see that underneath my anger and resentment lies a hurt – that perhaps she too has a point of view. Her view may not be complete and it perhaps requires both of our views to co-exist. The Yin and the Yan.

Let me handle the easy part first. What does it mean to be single? To me it means the ability to be. The joy of taking care of my own self – the narcissistic delight of loving and pampering myself! The freedom to do what I wish to. The joy of being a vagabond. The pleasure of dating multiple women at a time – without either one realizing ;-) The ability to sit back on a Saturday late night and write a blog. The freedom to be with myself and read. The joy of meditating.

At the same time, I must admit, being single also means a lot of other things. On occasions, it means loneliness. The pine and yearning to hold a woman (other than a mother or a sister or a friend) who you can call (to whatever extent) your own. The helplessness on being with my own feelings of vulnerability or intense joy and searching for someone to share them with in that moment (so that they remain significant).

The other question that I’ve asked (or am asking myself) is about exploration of sexuality. How does one explore sexuality despite being single? To a certain extent, given the word, there is no going back that it is connected to the 3 letter word ‘sex’. But the question that then crops up is, ‘what is sexuality?’ Obviously, sexuality is not about the act of sex. To me, it is about a quest for inner self. Is it about an exploration with another being or it is about exploration of my own inner self with the other person as the instrument? Is it not about coming face to face with the rawness of my own nakedness – the fantasies, desires, vulnerabilities, fears in the deepest recess of me? And if that is so, would not this coming to terms with happen in presence of another? Is it possible (theoretically even) to come to terms with it on your own? Men of God (the monks et. al.) may perhaps do it – but even for them, there is the other. The Lord is the other for them. For mortals like me, it necessarily means another person – depending on your orientation a man or a woman.

In some ways, I do see merit in what the woman was telling me – I can’t explore myself completely without surrendering to another. And that is scary. It means giving up the meaning of being single. And till such time, I find someone, the question remains, ‘how does one explore sexuality whilst being single?’

Muse | 19th Feb. '10 | On Relationships

2010-02-19T16:57:00.000+05:30

An afternoon question that nags me and here am I sitting and writing. Yes – a Friday afternoon that one thinks is associated with TGIF (Thank God, Its Friday). Personally, I’ve never really understood the concept. For a Friday afternoon only heralds the coming of the next day.

Coming back to where I am. Am actually in a phase of deep cogitation… A friend and colleague of mine this morning remarked, “…don’t think so much…”; she takes my face book messages as indicators of my existential reality. Well, in some ways, they indeed reflect what I feel within; but then am I not eligible to be what I am? Or what I feel?

I don’t want to get into the bit about “what / who am I”. Go to the philosophers for that or religious preceptors for that. Not to me. But yes, I am in quest. My blog name says it all; and the quest is different. It could be for a thing, a person, an idea, an abstract concept, an image of self or other – the list goes on.

Right now I am examining my relationships. Of late, I’ve become superstitious. I use the word in the sense of a belief or extra attention to synchronistic occurrences. One can debate the idea of synchronicity, but right now for a change, I am with my heart. For the uninitiated, synchronicity is about examination of near simultaneous occurrence of two events that are acausally related and yet are linked with each other. Carl Jung (to the best of my knowledge) was the first one who extensively worked on it in scientific manner (whatever that word may mean)! Deepak Chopra in his book, “Synchro Destiny” gives multiple examples.

Ok, ok – I do meander a lot. But what the heck – this is my blog!!! Well, I am reflecting on relationships. It started off sometime (means a fortnight or so) ago when the inevitable question cropped up from my mother, “so what about marriage?” I’d once written a long blog on marriage; but what I’ve been thinking about is about relationships? The past 2 days has seen me receive forwards on “relationships” like never before. They provide different and interesting perspectives – some find favour with me while others seem pedestrian bookish discourse.

What does relationship mean to me? Logically, a relationship cannot exist standalone. It needs two or more. Let me get into it a bit deeper – so let me google it out. Got an interesting take, at the site: http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=relation which goes thus:

relationship
1744, "sense of being related," from relation + -ship. Specifically of romantic or sexual relationships by 1944.

Let me see what it has to say about “relation”

relation
late 14c., from Anglo-Fr. relacioun, O.Fr. relacion (14c.), from L. relationem (nom. relatio) "a bringing back, restoring," from relatus (see relate). Meaning "person related by blood or marriage" first attested c.1500. Stand-alone phrase no relation "not in the same family" is attested by 1930.

So, where am I: back to square one – the etymology has not really helped. So I will go ahead using the word in the way I understand it viz. building the ‘ship’ of ‘relations’. And for me a relation is about the investment made in order to build / sustain / nurture a sense of emotional connect with the other. And that other could be any thing or any one.

You may ask what am I looking for? Well, I am looking for a relationship – a means of relating to myself. I see many different aspects and facets of myself. Some that I like and some do not agree with me; yet, they are aspects of me. How do I relate to myself? And what does it really mean to relate to myself? Does it mean relating to my dreams, thoughts, ideas, ambitions, fantasies, wishes, desires, feelings – what else? These are all aspects internal to me – private of me that originate in my being (either at cognitive, emotive, conative or psychic levels). Or does it mean relating to others – to the outside world – to the world of men and women, plants and trees, animals and materials? Actually, all of us relate to both.

But why is it that I find that in my relations I am not there? Or in some cases, the other person is not there? An act of relating pre-supposes an effort on part of self. When I say, “I relate”, I am in effect saying that I take responsibility and invest emotionally in…” The only question that nags me now is, “what about the thing / person invested in?” Am I aware of and sensitive to them? When I say that I relate with (say for example) my mother as her son, I am saying that in my eyes she is my mother and assuming that in her eyes I am her son? I will not know the latter till I ask her. So does it mean that a relationship is built on part projection and part assumption? And further, does it imply that to the extent of my assumption and projection, it is not based on what the reality is / could be, but on what / how I perceive it?

To clarify that muddle: Do I love my mother for who she is or for my perception of who she is? The same goes for any relation (and we talk of persons here). Does it mean that I relate with the person or my idea of / about that person? In all honesty, I must confess, that in many of my relationships (with family, friends et. al.), I relate to my idea of them. In that sense, I am not fully aware to their world, to their reality and to them. With both conscious and unconscious projection, I impose my view on them – on the idea of who / what they should and can be.

And if that is so, “do I really have relationships and what do they mean to me?”

Muse | What is a Question | 14 Feb. '10

2010-02-14T00:00:00.021+05:30

What is a Question? Aah - what a question, I thought to myself. As I sat this morning (13th actually) spending some time with myself, this thought cropped up. And ever since has bothered me. I tried doing many things, but have not been able to come to terms with it. So late night, I sit here - writing this blog. And its 14th morning. Wish you all a very happy Valentine's Day.

Ok - so what I just say, "...come to terms..." But are you not supposed to "answer" a "question"? Let me see what the dictionary has to say. And the prize goes to Wikipedia!!! (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Question) for the answer (searched on 14th Feb. '10 at 0005 hrs.):

"A question may be either a linguistic expression used to make a request for, or else the request itself made by such an expression. This information is provided with an answer.
Questions are normally put or asked using interrogative sentences. However they can also be put by imperative sentences, which normally express commands: "Tell me what two plus two is"; conversely, some expressions, such as "Would you pass the salt?", have the grammatical form of questions but actually function as requests for action, not for answers, making them allofunctional. (A phrase such as this could, theoretically, also be viewed not merely as a request but as an observation of the other person's desire to comply with the request given.)"

{I do hope this does not constitute a violation of copyright laws - does it (now that is a question too)?}

So does that help me? Well, it "defines" what a question is - but does it tell me what a question really is? Is that splitting hair or is it really about getting into it? Now this is a question too? But do you sense what I sense? Do you feel what I feel? Does it communicate what I am trying to do so hard viz. communicate? Does it bring to you the sense of frustration I experience in not being able to find what I seek? If it does, then, to me that is a question - right here, right now. So I can see that for me, a question really is something that has an emotional valence (I guess I'm borrowing this word from Freud - or was is someone else?).

What is emotional valence (in this context). It is about the underlying feeling - of non-completion that propels me to ask what I want to. It is that urgent call that a sensitive friend responds to. Underneath the articulation, you connect to me - with my vulnerabilities / frailties / sensitivities. You experience empathy. Unless it elicits something like that in you, would it really be a question? For how can a question gain its legitimacy without the voice of someone who articulates. And that voice is a quest.

You see, to me a question then is not necessarily an issue of syntax. Yes, grammatically, a question is something to which you give an answer. But is a question really that? Or is it the first of the many stages of enquiry? An enquiry into something that is not known or held in the immediate present (immediate - in this moment) realm of know-how (or something we can call "consciousness") of the person who seeks? By that statement, I also imply that a question pre-supposes a seeker. Or rather it provides for the existence of a seeker.

Can a question exist without a seeker? Even if you ask my question and say that is Mr. X's question, you would be able to attribute the question to me - I suppose so. And I am thus the seeker. So what existed first? The question or the seeker? I think it was JK who said what runs in my head right now.

Come to think of it - can a question really exist independent of the seeker? Let us consider this question I just asked. It exists. In black and white. Independent of its own - a few words joined together coherently in an interrogative manner seeking something. It just stares out of the screen - to you the reader (as much as to me - the writer). What did you say, "the writer"? So that means someone wrote it - yes, I did a while ago. So it's existence came into being once I wrote it? What if I just thought and did not write - would it then still not exist? After all, can existence only be defined in what can be written? Surely not. So even in my thoughts, a question can exist.

But that brings me to the next part? Did the thought exist independently? Rene Descartes said, "I think, therefore I am." This is an area for a big debate. So I don't want to get into it - not right now. But I can't help not recollect the Advaita Vedanta epistemological analogy, "When we get up after a sleep, do we ever question as to who slept? Is there ever a doubt that the "I" who woke up is different from the "I" who went to sleep? Is there a continuity or a discontinuity in the experience of that "I" that sleeps and wakes up? That "I" may feel / think many things, but that "I" never fails to experience its non-existence." Taking this reasoning forward the Cartesian doctrine of a thought existing 'a priori' can be rejected.

So if a thought did not exist 'a priori', then can a question exist as such? For after all, what is a question? Is it not a thought? A special form of thought - something that has the note of a search? So, the differentiation between a question and a thought is the degree of emotional valence? The degree to which it causes the one who seeks to move out from within to the without? Because would not a question arise only (and only) if there is nothing within w.r.t. the issue at hand? Let me take a practical example. I know sugar tastes sweet. And if I have sugar with me, do I not know it? Do I go and ask the question, "what is the taste?" No, I don't (not normally). Because, I had the knowledge within, I do not seek outside.

And by a corollary, if I do not have it within, I would seek outside? Or would I not? Is that a right corollary? Let me try to tease that. If I do not have it within, I have two options: seek it or do nothing about it. The latter leads to no activity; while the former does.

What does it mean "to seek"? Is it not a search outside? Outside of what / whom? The taste of sugar is a search on the palate while the query, "does she love me / does she not?" is a search on the mental faculty (that leads to thought) - apart from the word called fantasy!!! So coming back - a seeking implies an activity (be it mental or physical). And that is the hallmark of the emotional valence of a question. Which means that because of the emotional valence, there is bound to be activity by a seeker. That activity could either be mental (non apparent things like thoughts and feelings) or physical (demonstrated observable behaviour).

But I think I am into a contradiction here. The last paragraph is valid IF and only IF we accept the notion that there is a seeker who seeks. The view that thought (and therefore a question) exists 'a priori' is untenable. And that leaves me with two possibilities: a seeker who does nothing and a seeker who seeks. A seeker who does nothing does exactly that - nothing. And because a question distinguishes itself from a thought in terms of its emotional valence and thereby the propelling activity of a search, a seeker must seek (in order to maintain the legitimacy of a "question" to be called a "question").

And if the seeker seeks, and going by what we speak above, the existence of a seeker is independent on its own. And if that is so, what is it that the seeker seeks that which is not present already? For if something exists outside of the seeker, it is an 'a priori' existence. Since I am talking not about matter but only about the special thing called "thought", which cannot exist 'a priori' (ref. above), the case for a seeker seeking outside is redundant.

So that means that I now have no seeker who seeks. This contradicts the paragraph above. After all this "round the mulberry bush", I am left with one question:

"What is a question?"

Muse | Purpose of Education | 05th Jan. '10

2010-01-05T18:36:00.000+05:30

What is the purpose of education? A friend of mine was with me and shared her anxiety over her children’s education. The kids are ready to move to school – to the mad scramble of life. Like that song goes in 3 idiots, ‘…saari umra bhar mar mar ke ji liye – ab to hume jeene do…’

She shared as to how she took the plunge to put her little ones in an alternative education school. A school that teaches that education is not about learning to read and write, but about exploring. Where children for the first 3 years learn to be with nature – with home – with all the things we do at home – with sound, with art, with play. And only later on, do they migrate to learning how to write the A-B-C and the 1-2-3. And se is worried; because, her friends come and ask, ‘Oh, did you get the new counting book? I’ve got different coloured pens for my son so that he develops an interest in writing.’

Upon some probing, I figured out her clarity. When I asked her, ‘What is the purpose of education according to you?’ she replied with, ‘…to be able to find happiness in life…’

And indeed such a fine answer. A few days ago, I too had been thinking something like that. What is education after all? Is it about knowing facts or learning how to find the facts? As JK (most likely) said, ‘I shall not teach you philosophy, but I shall teach you to philosophise.’ Thus, is knowledge education? Is 'knowing' facts, the names and places education? Is thought education? Or is the ability to think education?

If I look back at it, I feel that despite a blessedness of growing up, I still did not grow up educated. I ‘know’ a lot and that is a hindrance to my learning. It is a hindrance to my being. The holistic organismic being that I am. Do I have thoughts? Yes. Do I know how to think? Maybe. Have I learnt how to think and what is the best means of thinking? No. And to that extent, my life is poor. It is limited – by the limitedness of my own knowledge – of my own thoughts.

They say that this would fall under the topic of ‘philosophy of education’. But after all, is learning to learn not the biggest learning of life? And how I wish I was taught that. Today, I feel lucky that I at least have this realization of my ignorance – but the weight of this ignorance lies heavily on me. there is a stage in life, when one learns to question – to question what he/she has and what is considered the given. And is that not the purpose of education – to question the givens and to strive to find your own purpose and meaning.

But is purpose and meaning in life not pre-ordained? To a certain extent? Pre-ordained not necessarily by the cosmic or the divine, but by my own limitations of understanding? And if that is so, then is it not a conundrum – that brings me back to the question, ‘what is the purpose of education?’

Muse | Security | 30th Dec. '09

2009-12-30T10:28:00.002+05:30

What is my inner security like? Or rather the lack of it? As I walked to the station from home this morning, I got in touch with the way I cling to my bag. A small handbag that contains two books and usually my mobile phone.

It was kind of unusual. For the first time I became aware of the way I hold my bag - hung on the shoulder and with the hand of that side, clutch onto it - for dear life :-) What for? A near empty road and a safe area. Can't it just hang neatly from the shoulder? What is the need to cling onto it - as if someone is going to run away with it the next moment?

Nopes - I am not asking myself to be careless. Carelessness is about not caring enough for my possessions. But can I be careful while being carefree? The question is of inner security. How safe is my world?

Mse | Redemption | 29th Oct. '09

2009-10-29T15:13:00.000+05:30

It is sad how impulses and conditioning take over life. How we deaden ourselves to things in life and don’t live moment to moment: alive to possibilities, sensitive to the universe. Feel a sense of burden.

Where do I begin? It was an office lunch out – the whole team had gone out for lunch. As is normal, while returning, people returned back in small groups – chatting and walking. I too was with one group – with three colleagues. And from nowhere, from one corner, a voice cried out, ‘…saabh, khana khila do…’ (sir, please feed me). We all ignored that voice and continued walking. As I was walking past, she tugged the sleeves of my shirt. I shrugged off and walked off – without even looking at her. After I had done that, from the corner of my eye, I saw her – it was a old face. A sad face. And a desperate face. A toothless woman begging. A woman with no possessions in life – abandoned by hope and life…

But it was as if my sanskara (‘propensities / tendencies’) were leading me. I had already shrugged her off – and walked ahead. And then the realization dawned on me. A bit late: just like things strike (mentally) the protagonist of a Bollywood masala movie after the train has chugged off and a good-bye wave is reciprocated by another good-bye wave at the platform. But in Hindi movies, the train stops, the protagonist gets down and redemption happens.

Suddenly it stuck me – the voice had pierced within my heart and I did not realize it then. The woman indeed was hungry. And I felt ashamed. Worried. Sick. By then I had reached office. The thought kept troubling me. And then it dawned on me. That she felt compelled to tug my sleeve because I must have given that vibe. I was offered this opportunity by the cosmos – the opportunity to feed a hungry soul. We can quibble about it, but deep down in the heart, each one of us knows the intent behind a voice (if we listen deep down). And deep down a voice told me: the old woman was indeed hungry. So I walked back – to find the woman and feed her.

As a principle, I normally do not give money, but take a beggar (esp. if he/she is begging for food) to the nearest eating joint. That too I learnt from my sister ages ago. A few rupees feeds a hungry person and costs me nothing. In fact each one of us on an average had spent money on one lunch that would have bought the woman 10 days meals.

Do I call it my misfortune? She was not there. I searched the whole lane. But she was not there. She just seemed to have vanished. As if she had been an incarnation to remind me about life.

Crestfallen, I came back – to my desk. And as you can see I write this muse. A muse to myself – with a silent prayer of forgiveness and redemption…

Muse | Grace | 5th Oct. '09

2009-10-29T15:12:00.001+05:30

Grace: May I have:

The grace to accept, the grace to surrender,
The grace to forgive, the grace to understand,
The grace to give, the grace to receive,
The grace to protect, the grace to nurture,
The grace to live, the grace to love,
The grace to be, the grace to act,
The grace to know, the grace to accept the unknown,
The grace to stay, the grace to leave,
The grace to smile, the grace to weep,
The grace to let go, the grace to forgive,
The grace to remember, the grace to return,
The grace to play, the grace to stop the play,
The grace to go out, the grace to get in,
The grace to be the actor, the grace to be the witness,
The grace to make life, the grace to let life flow.

Muse | In Quest | 31st Jul. '09

2009-07-31T17:20:00.002+05:30

A quest – a search. For oneself – for meaning and purpose…

I find a paradox in me. Things that excited me do not excite me any more. Sometimes I ask myself a question, “Am I queer? Am I different from others?” Then other times there is this refrain within, “Why can’t I be like the way others are.” “Why do I have to think so much?” But I still know that it is part of me.

What is the purpose of my existence? At intuitive level, I know it is about "healing."

There are two planes I live in. And at times I judge myself as an imposter in both. For I don’t live both of them together; nor do I live them…. There is one within me that gets happy with the little things. For e.g., the other day we had gone to Bombay Gym for lunch – hosted courtesy my boss; today it was another place. It does feel good being there – the gentry, the works, the civilization etc. Yet, the moment, I step out, the question comes to haunt me, “for what?” There is one aspect of me that takes joy in buying a neat little cuff link, in picking up some good stuff, in buying and savouring a good Scotch, in just being “suave”. And then there is this other, that just has utter disregard for all this – this is so fake and fleeting.

It is this other that really questions all the little pleasures of life. I was sharing with a colleague of mine and she got concerned. The question that haunts me is, “for what?” The funny part is that in my mental scheme of things, either there has to be a negative push from the current situation or a positive pull from a desired future for action to happen. Yet, I find that I have neither circumstance in my life currently. I work with pleasure and I rest with pleasure. Paradoxically, even though I am happy, I do not find contentment.

My well wishers tell me that I should not think so much. But is it not “normal” to think of existential questions? After all, what is this life if not lived purposefully?

My boss tells me that it is all related to monotony and that I am trying to find a purpose and meaning in “work”; while real purpose and meaning lies elsewhere. I buy that thesis – but where do I get that purpose? How do I effect it? – for I know my purpose...

Is it that we give meanings in life? And live that meaning? Like a dear friend told me, “we all live the meaning we give to life – we do not live life.” How true – I ascribe meanings to all the things of life – the colour of the hat, the manner of speech, the socio-educational-economic background, the shoes worn. All are but meanings.

I remember JK who wrote somewhere that between someone in quest for inner peace and another in quest for hedonistic pleasure, there is no difference at a fundamental level. Both of them are still seeking; and real contentment comes not from seeking but from a deep understanding. From a deep understanding of what is and what should be.

Is it simply another phase of life? Or is it a desire to understand? I don’t know. I used to feel like Siddhartha earlier – in quest. But now while I am like Siddhartha, I do not feel like him.

I feel like myself. And “In Quest.”

Muse | On Relationships | 30th Jul. '09

2009-07-31T09:50:00.002+05:30

In the train - on way back home. Met my brother after years. Don't like calling him my cousin - more like a brother. But that is odd. For it is not that I've been too closely in touch with him all this while in life. Still the bond remains.

Perhaps it is this shared common bond that makes a difference. Youngest of two sisters. Always protected and provided for. Physically too - we resemble a lot - both of us are have a slender built. And an intellectual (you may call it bookish) bent.

But that is not the point. The point is about relationships. What defines a relationship? Is it continuity of contact? Is it kinship? Is it shared meaning and purpose? Is it simply a bond?
Memories go back to childhood when we both spent a summer together after our sacred thread ceremony.

Then we grew up - each in different cities and on a different course in life.

A couple of years ago, he and I were in Bombay - but we hardly ever met. Our non meeting was punctuated by occasional visit of elders and then we would bump into each other. And this time he is back for a while after 2 yrs. in the U.S. And we did met - a while ago i.e.,. He married before leaving offshore - so it was the three of us.

It was as if life is still. An aspect of growing up that I missed. Maybe it would have been lovely to have spent more time together while growing up. Or maybe kept in regular touch thereafter. Does it really matter? I don't know. Yet, I know I like him and he likes me. And when we met, it was like meeting someone my own.

So what then defines a relationship? I am no longer any close to an answer than I was when I'd started off.

Musing on a Quiet Sunday evening | 26th Jul '09

2009-07-26T19:02:00.003+05:30

It is a quiet Sunday evening. Remember the poem "Leisure" by Henry Davies. A senior colleague of mine introduced me to the poem. And like Davies, I wonder what life is about.

So here am I this Sunday evening, sitting by the big window overlooking the hills (with some green cover due to the rains) and enjoying the clouds passing by. I recollect that as a child, I would spend hours staring at the sky, the clouds, the stars and everything around. Contrast it with the life today which is spent in Bombay locals, laptop computers, books and sleep.

The other day, I was in conversation with a friend. I posed this question, which I pose to the blog too: what is the life that we will lead in time to come? My friends will laugh at me, but despite not being married, I wonder what will my kids grow in? Will they ever experience the joy of chasing a hen, of running after a cow and playing with her tail, of being kicked by a horse, of shooing away the birds that cover the sky the moment grain is spread out for drying?

A few years ago, my cousin had to take his son to a dairy to show him that milk indeed comes from cows and buffaloes. The little one picked up an argument with his school teacher who taught such nonsense, when he knew better - milk came from the Mother Dairy push button technology. Drop a small coin, and out pours the white liquid they call milk. I had laughed my guts out then, but come to think of it, I feel worried.

Every generation cribs about the forthcoming one. With that reality in mind and the realisation, I am not here to crib about the coming generation; but about my own generation. Actually, I am not going to crib - these are some of my own reflections - for myself - to make myself a bit more clear. In the process, if it helps you as a reader, so be it. The muse is for me.

So coming back: would I want to trade off my childhood to a Nintendo V (I didn't even know what it was till a few wise colleagues - wise after kids - of mine enlightened me). I remember that come winter, we would convert a part of our garden into an open air badminton court. It was time of great fun. A man would come over with a measuring tape and put some lime powder marking the court. Then the nets would be out and voila - we would all play badminton every evening as a family. The joy was in the game, and not to forget the fights between us siblings as to who would play first and for how long!!!

Maybe I was fortunate - to have been born and brought up in a rustic place. Perhaps that's the reason why I love rusticity. Why I associate 'civilisation' with plasticity. They are all meanings I give. I recognise my prejudices, but then I see that some of them are my preferences. Give me an option between a movie and sitting in the park, I would choose the latter. Offer me chocolate moose vs. a desi 'gulab jamun', you know by now what'll win hands down.

So why am I worried? Surely, one aspect is that the environment around has changed. But can I sit and crib about it? Is it fair? Is that not a choice I have made - a choice to be in the cacophony of a metropolis? Am I willing to admit, that other choice which possibly may be more affirming to me, may mean sacrificing a few other things that accompany city life - privacy, anonymity, comfort, opportunities and not to forget Godess Laxmi!

Maybe you'll say that I've got all the time in the world - what else will a single "unhooked" man do? Except be with himself. But then, the question does not get answered. Or are there ever any answers? Thus far, I don't think so - at best they are my tentative views. And in that moment, I take an option based on the limited view of life that I have. But seek I still must...

As I sign off, let me post the poem.

"LEISURE"

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

By Wm. Henry Davies.

Muse | The Quest | The Search | 22nd Jul. '09

2009-07-22T16:07:00.000+05:30

A quest – a search. For oneself – for meaning and purpose.

I find a paradox in me. Things that excited me do not excite me any more. Sometimes I ask myself a question, “Am I queer? Am I different from others?” Then other times there is this refrain within, “Why can’t I be like the way others are.” “Why do I have to think so much?” Yet, even without trying, thoughts simply come.

What is the purpose of my existence? I know in intuitive way, that it is about healing. Healing the self and in that providing a safe outlet for a few others to heal. I don’t know if that sounds pompous.

There are two planes I live in. And at times I judge myself as an imposter in both. For I don’t live both of them together; nor do I live them…. There is one within that gets happy with the little things. For e.g., we just returned from Bombay Gym where a few of my colleagues were taken by my boss for lunch. It was good being there – the gentry, the works, the civilization etc. yet, the moment, I stepped out of it, the question comes to haunt me, “for what?” But it is this former me that takes joy in buying a neat little cufflink, in picking up some good stuff, in buying and savouring a good Scotch, in

Then there is the other which really questions all of this. I was sharing with a colleague of mine and she got concerned. The question that haunts me is, “for what?” The funny part is that in my mental scheme of things, either there has to be a negative push from the current situation or a positive pull from a desired future for action to happen. Yet, I find that I have neither circumstance in my life currently. I work with pleasure and I rest with pleasure. Even though I am happy, I do not find contentment.

Is it simply another phase of life? I don’t know. I used to feel like Siddhartha earlier – in quest. But now while I am like Siddhartha, I do not feel like him.

I feel like myself – different. In quest.

Muse for the Day | 11th May '09 | 'Trishanku' In Quest

2009-05-12T10:16:00.004+05:30

I straddle 2 worlds. And I find it odd. Actually I don't. I am learning. That both stake claim to me. And yet paradoxically, neither defines me.

I work in South Mumbai, a posh residential area and prime work locale. Office is characterised by colleagues who have what you would call 'finesse'. There are of course a few dark horses like me who are learning the ropes. Yes. There is this aspiration within. To be part of that world. Yet, the more I have tried to be that, the more I distanced myself from me. My own inner self. Somehow, despite all efforts, some facade creeps in. Let me be careful to say that I do not say this of others but of myself.

Somewhere the touch of the earth is lost. In the manner of dress, of style, the base instincts get metamorphosed. They become subtle. In becoming suave, the spontaneity is lost. There is a 'measuredness' in the tone of voice, the expression of thoughts, the deportment of conduct. The child within is attenuated. As if a royal family child denied the environ.

And at night time, it is the reverse. The train ride, the crossing of creek, the walk from station to home, the interaction with vendors - it is an altogether different ball game. There is a sense of freedom. My sensibility baulks at the sight of a man walking carefree on the road wearing just a vest over his pants. Yet, I can't stop a smile when I see that. There is a sense of respect I have for that man too.

He is carefree. Not bothered about what you or I would think of him. He is blase to judgments. He is his own being. Given the humid heat, I too wish, I was in a far comfortable clothing. But I have some culture drilled onto me. The pedestrian is a sight. Of awe, of freedom. As I walked back today, I stopped by at my regular grocer. He was calm. His son sitting happily and chatting. His wife cutting coriander leaves (perhaps for dinner) with a smile on her face. He does not have much, but he seems to smile much more than I see folks do (including myself) at work.

I find it a paradox as I can relate to both of them. And yet neither one defines me. I feel like an 'in-betweener' if such a word exists. I was born and brought up in a small town place in India. The rusticity, the expression of emotions, the general purposelessness (not in a pejorative way, but in terms of non hankering for power), the silent acceptance of destiny, the will to strive and achieve, the need to save, the denial of pleasure in the moment (for a future), willingness to accommodate (if you want to experience it, find out by traveling in 1st class vs. 2nd class compartment in a Mumbai suburban local); I can see parts within me.

Crossing the creek (ah, the expression makes another sense to me now), I admire myself in polished shoes, ironed shirts, odour free body, the personal space (and non intrusion into my life). Talking about 'crossing the creek', my train crosses the creek to reach from Mumbai mainland to Navi Mumbai. But in ways more than one, I actually cross the creek.

So where do I stand? As I said, I can identify myself with both - aspects of it, yet neither of them defines me. So why is it a subject of muse? Because, when neither defines me, there is no security. There is a quest for identity.

I don't fit in perfectly in either - so I seek those who might be similarly in between 2 worlds. The same applies to all other spheres. I am as they say a 'Trishanku'. In Quest.

Muse | On washing clothes, awareness | 3rd May '09

2009-05-03T09:02:00.003+05:30

A forward once from a friend had it that we are here to learn lessons in life. And that we will keep getting things back till we learn the lesson.

I just completed washing clothes. Mind you - this is not the modern version of washing machine et. al. But the traditional ritual. Dip the clothes in a bucket of water, and then wash them. This is one thing in life (as far back as I can remember), I did not like. Rather, must confess, that I hated washing clothes. They were such a bore. But the universe time after time, provided me with situations where I had to wash them. Week after week. All on my own - poor me!

Now the paradox. Today, I am in a position to buy a washing machine. More than that, I have the space to keep one. But I am not inclined to buy one. "Why waste so much of water?" That's one thought. "Washing machines are good for sturdy big clothes, but not for delicate ones!" Ah - old wives tale; or should I say in my case, young bachelor's tales!

Let me confess, I have grown fond of washing clothes. You see, it is part of my structure now. If I don't spend an hour or two doing that over the weekend, what will I do? The joy of finding out the right amount of "soapiness" in water after the detergent - does wonders to my sense of ego as the personal agent! The joy of watching my own self, your my thoughts as I wash clothes.

Thoughts - well, that sets me thinking. They say that in our most private moments, our real self (or an aspect thereof) reveals itself to us. Washing clothes is an intensely private activity. With nothing between me and my clothes. Just the awareness.

Awareness - did I use that word. Am I aware of my thoughts as I wash my clothes? Or for that matter as I do anything? Am I aware of how my hands move, how the muscles contort to provide the rubbing action, how much water am I utilising? Are these trivial questions?

There is the story of a Zen master who for 10 years practiced Zen. One day, he goes to visit another master. He enters his hut and as he sits, the master (2nd one) asks him, "So, where did you keep your umbrella as you came in - to the right or to the left of the door?" The Zen master was embarrassed - he did not know the answer. And so he chose the 2nd man as his master and studied Zen under him - AGAIN!

Awareness. So what is awareness? How different is it from 'alertness'? A soldier on the battle front too is aware - or is he alert? I guess (and I am not sure) that awareness has to do with a sense of recognition of the present moment, without a judgment or a desire to act. Alertness is the sense of not just recognition of the present, but an anticipation of the future.

Ah. Definitions. How convenient is it for humans to provide a structure, a definition, a name - to box things. "Thingification" - as Kantha (my HR guru) calls it.

So where was I? On washing clothes? Was I aware or was I alert as I wrote this? And now you know why I like washing clothes now? It is an intensely private activity. And I can be with myself.

Myself - did I say myself! Does that mean "my-self" or "my thoughts"? What is it that I like and have grown fond of? My narcissism on the "enhanced self awareness while washing clothes"? That perhaps is for another blog :-)

Muse for the day | On Abundance | 2nd May '09

2009-05-02T21:37:00.004+05:30

Managing abundance is not easy. I just realised this. Having wished for abundance, I have it now - the abundance of time at least as I see it.

For the past some time, time just creates itself for me. Vacations coming on the way. Though going forward, I can see no further vacations for a while.

Back to abundance. I am wondering. Have I utilised this time well? Do I do so? Three days have gone by and one more day to go. What did I do? Aha - the natural propensity is to ask about "doing something."

I have this mental makeup that I can see. I have "to do" something in order to feel that time has been properly utilised. So time for me is a utility - to be utilised. We choose our words based on what we feel about issues / objects / things / ideas. If I accept that statement to be true, then this is what I feel about time. And this stems of course from the way I have been born and brought up - to use time. Time is a linear entity. Once it goes, it goes. And then what. Then the next time moment comes. So here am I sitting on a beautiful Saturday evening wondering about how well have I used the past three days.

Let me see what all did I do. I slept. Lots. Oh, it has been bliss. I read - stuff on Advaita Vedanta that I like reading. A friend of mine came over for a while today. I cleaned up the house. I washed my clothes (round one, another round due), I did some office work (some more pending that I had carried over for the long weekend). And yet, there is this feeling. Could I have done more? Surely, I could have. Like gone out of the house; met up with friends; chosen the curtains for my house; washed even more clothes (perhaps ironed them for good measure), completed my ISABS logs and what not.

But where am I right now? Where was I when I did what I did and did not do what I did not do? I was enjoying. I loved sleeping. I loved meeting my friend. I loved reading. But I must also admit that I also carried behind in the head a small tape recorder that said, 'XYZ is incomplete; PQR needs attention...'

Voices, voices, voices - sigh, voices all the way in the back of the head. Which voice is to be heard and which one to be ignored?

Abundance - I meander a lot. Back to that word. So where am I right now? I am thinking of my relation with time, with abundance. Managing paucity is easy. Actually, paucity manages you - its the other way round. But not so with abundance. How do I manage it?

Before that, 'is it a thing that needs to be managed?' Or is it something that is just there? I want to manage it - being a manager in professional life, has its rub on effect on other spheres of life! Feels like being in control! Bingo - that's the word. So that's what I have been after. Control - caught you young man. I need control of the world, of my things. Things that I think are mine. So the time is mine. And so is money. Gets me to another relations that I am wondering - when will there be abundance with money.

Actually, as I write this, I am getting more and more in touch with how I actually avoid abundance. When it comes, I want to manage it. I want to 'do' something about it - I want to control it. I want to make it my handmaiden. And I don't think that is what the universe wants.

Money. Is that why the universe is holding back - wanting me to learn how to handle abundance first before providing it in abundance :-)

Musings on Self | Reflections on "learning" | 25th Apr. '09

2009-04-25T09:51:00.001+05:30

I am learning – from the child. Perhaps, I have stopped learning all this while; and after a few hard knocks, life is providing me with a moment to redeem myself.

I saw my nephew after almost a year and he has grown. Lovely and adorable he is; and totally “in the moment”. At 1.5 years of age, he is all of himself. He wants something, he goes and grabs for it. There is nothing between he and his immediate need. He needs mom, he shouts out; he needs dad, he shouts out.

Not to say that he is all innocent. He is shrewd too. If Dad scolds him, he starts making a sorrowful face and goes to his mom. His mom and dad of course realize his. What I find most revealing is how he keeps his face ready after he has done something. If there is appreciation forthcoming, he will display a big grin; if a frown is the response, he will turn it to a sorrowful face. And in that face, you can’t help but laugh and love him.

I had read all this while in child development how children learn. And learn they do so fast. Sets me thinking – I too was a child once. And this is how I learnt! So what was my free will? Save the immediate action of the moment; but after the reaction that came towards me, I altered myself. My own meaning was overshadowed by the conditioning. Yes, as part of growing up it was necessary for me. had I been let near a fire, I would have burnt myself. But it is not just the fire. In the process, I ignored my own fire. The fire within that I slowly now reclaim.

What is choice? This little one chooses – and everything that comes his way. He sees something new, explores it and then leaves it. I saw this and this blog came to me. What do I do? I see something; desire it; strive for it; and if I don’t get it, spend a lifetime doing something ‘correctional’. And that applies to anything. If I have done something I would not be too proud of, I carry it within me, with a smart question, “what is forgiveness?” – all this without attempting self forgiveness. And when I don’t forgive myself, how can I forgive the other?

Another question that strikes me is, “what is freedom?” “How free am I?” I look at this little one. He does what he wants (most of the times he is successful unless it is a life threatening situation). He teaches me there too. He is not ruffled too much by what has happened a moment before. He may have been scolded or loved a while ago, but that does not stop him from going out and exploring something in front – even if he has seen it before. He is free – of the moment of the past. Am I? Guess not – considering that seeing him, I asked this question of myself.

I remember a story I had read somewhere. A learned man was once asked by someone (like me) on what “freedom” is? “How free is indeed a human being?” The wise man asked him to stand on one leg and raise the other from the ground. The man did. The wise man then asked him to raise the other leg too – and the man was foxed. That is how free we are.

So how free am I? Freedom to me now has two meanings. The freedom “to act” and the freedom “to be”. The wise man’s question applies to the former. To the latter, I suppose (am still not very sure) it is about choice – like the one my nephew makes. To let go of the past moment (with no thought of the future) and be where he is.

I am also in deep reflection over what I see his struggles (and in that my own) of learning the laws. He did not mind the hazards of fire or electricity or anything like that. So he would go and touch everything. Either by force of experience or by forceful admonishment, he has learnt that it is safe to stay away from things that mom and dad call out with, “No – garam (Hindi for "hot"); or No – current”. The question to me is, “does his ignorance of the nature and law of the physical sciences stop the law from impacting him?” No. A fire burns, irrespective of whether you or I know that it burns. It is then for us to find out what is what.

So I get some hard knocks in life. I cry out – am not too happy. Is there something there that I have not yet learnt about the law. The law that operates in the realm of action is perhaps different from the law that applies to physical sciences. I think so – and life seems to be turning me towards that to teach me. I had this image of life as a signalman at the railway junction, gently moving a lever to move the train onto another track. Each track is learning – and life is changing a track for me. The question I have is, “am I willing to surrender and let be guided?” “Am I free to drive wherever I want to?” “Or perhaps, in all humility accept that neither do I make the rules for train or car driving.” These rules exist – and to learn to drive a car or a train, I need to learn the laws. I am free to learn how to drive the car or a train, albeit within the rules (the law governing that realm).

And I find that it is not easy for me to accept this. I am learning – that at times, I am not willing to learn!

Musings on Self | Questions on Questions | 21st Apr. '09

2009-04-25T08:39:00.006+05:30

"How can you say that?" She looked at me incredulously. "I mean so openly. To share that requires... (her voice trailed off)."

What had I said?

That in my past I had relationships on the basis of 'kick me' philosophy. That I would go only 'this far' and after that let go? That while I said what I said, I invited rejection!

We had started talking about 'Who Am I'. I did the seminar (actually no word is a right word for it be it workshop or seminar or whatever). On the spur of the moment I asked her weekend plans. And she said nothing. I extended the invite to join in for the WAI.

What is it about? What does he teach? Is it religious? How do they organise it? When all is it held? So many questions.

So what does asking questions signify? Another question. I too ask too many questions. Under normal circumstances questioning is a symbol of seeking. Of the urge to know. But why does it then become self limiting for me at times? When I feel stuck as if at an impasse. With only frustration and anxiety.

So then there are two types of questions. One of the inquiry kind. The other of the inquisition kind. When I enquire, I am full of wonderment. Eager to absorb. When in inquisition, I am all set to prove. And I will only believe you when I have proof.

So do I really experience?

The Daily Muse | A dialogue and enquiry with my fear | 19th Apr. '09

2009-04-19T10:44:00.011+05:30

I am scared. I just got in touch with it. Yesterday's muse was on what had occupied me. It still occupies me, albeit in a different way.

I was angry yesterday; I am scared today. Scared because as I was analysing and exploring my anger, I realised that I have no answers. And having no answers makes me feel insecure. It makes me feel incomplete. In that incompletion is my fear.

I was restless. So I picked up a JK book and searched for the topic of fear. If he has spoken about it. And right enough, he has.

"Fear exists in the conflict of opposites. The worship of success brings the fear of failure. Fear is the process of the mind in the struggle of becoming. In becoming good, there is the fear of evil; in being complete, there is the fear of loneliness; in becoming great, there is the fear of being small. Comparison is not understanding; it is prompted by fear of the unknown in relation to the known. Fear is uncertainty in search of security."

(J. Krishnamurti, Commentaries on Living - First Series, Fear, p163, Penguin Publishers).

But my fear also is deeper. It started the moment, a question popped in my head, "fine, all this happened; what next? What do you want to do? You asserted yourself; the matter is over. What do you want to do now?"

The answer is obvious - move on. That's what I want to do. For that is freedom. Being stuck in the past moment is painful. I find that I don't enjoy the joy of where and what I am right now by being in the past. But to let go, I have to let go also of some of the animosity that came along with within me. In the process of standing up for myself and resisting, I also shaped a part of me which would resist not just the issue, but the person too.

Being stuck where I was, they remain the same. But when I move, they too move. And then I have no issue, no grudge. And it starts with a fresh slate. It also means forgiving - for whatever
transgressions that may have happened. It means willing to let go of my own need for being treated in a particular way.

And that thought of forgiveness gives me fear. What if I am subsequently overwhelmed by them? What if people take advantage of me? And then immediately, I see myself doing an intellectual flight of defence, "Am I really the one to forgive? Who can forgive - only the one with strength; oh, so does that mean that I am not strong?"

Forgiveness is not only letting go of the attachment with the other, but also of the attachment within. It is not about an issue or a person; it is about my own structure and "should". There is a reality of hurt; at the same time, there is a possibility of forgiveness.

Aha - I think JK has a point when he says that fear exists only in relation between the known and the unknown. The unknown here for me is the future of the relationship in question. How will my colleagues be? What will it be like? What all dialogues will have to take place? What all emotions would need to be expressed and managed? What will I be like?

In the safety of, "I am right", there is great security. And the thought of stepping out of it makes me feel vulnerable. Scared. In where I stand, there is safety of holding on to something that is there right now. In letting go, there is the expanse of the unknown. And that is my fear. Understanding - yes, that is the word.

I just felt a silence after I had typed the last para. A dialogue within me that was going on; and writing as a process of clarifying the dialogue to myself. I guess it is true that understanding of "what is" leads to freedom.

So back to the question. Am I willing to let go? Am I willing to be vulnerable? The intuitive answer now leaps out a big "Yes".

What about the fear? Is it still there? Yes - it still is there. But now I understand it. The same fears exist - will I be shortchanged; will I be taken advantage of?

But why are those questions there? What is the relation between forgiveness / letting go and the fear of being taken advantage of? In saying the latter, where am I being? My reference frame is still of the past. Of the moment when a display of strength was needed?

Why is this need to display strength?
So that all around do not take me lightly?
But why?
Well, so that I am not pushed around?
Who pushes you around?

My fingers have paused here: I dread to see the answer. Which is obvious. If I say others, the
question is, 'who gave them that power?' And so it comes back to me. That I allow myself to be pushed around? Or is it that I push myself around?

What is the fear in being pushed around? Well, it just changes my concept of who I am. When I say, being pushed around, I refer to being different every time. And there is security in stability. In being what I am every time. But is that called living in the moment?

I took a long pause here and am back now typing further. That pause was a long pause of stillness - of some clicks in the head. As if some glass jig-saw puzzle pieces are moving in and producing a light 'click'. In that stillness, I was raw - emotional, vulnerable. And paradoxically, strong. Strong is not the right word. How do I describe the feeling of a stillness in the pit of the stomach? And in that moment nothing else matters - absolutely nothing. There is no need for a solution, no need to ask a question, no need to dwell on the past, and no need to dwell on the future. That is the feeling. I don't have the word - and I don't care.

I have experienced many a time earlier also. And so far, I would always say, "In my moments of greatest vulnerability, have been my greatest strengths."

I am not quite sure today about it. It is neither a moment of co-existence both nor is it a moment of absence of both. Both vulnerability and strength were present, and yet they were not.

Does is matter? I would just like to be with myself right now. The enquiry for now takes a pause.

Auf Wiedersehen.

The Daily Muse | On Anger and Myself | 18th Apr. '09

2009-04-18T11:35:00.005+05:30

What is anger? What causes it? What is the root within that projects out anger? These and more are some questions that I have.

For, I was upset and angry yesterday. I had a huge row with a few colleagues. The specifics are not important (for this blog). But what is of meaning is that at the end of whole thing, I myself was surprised by the intensity of my anger. And that is what sets me thinking.

That I was angry, is not surprising to me. I was indeed upset over what was going on in the room. That there would be a tiff was not news to me - it just had to happen one day. In the name of "professional" behaviour, we mask our emotions and thereby the real issues - be at home or work. Emotions are not bad - we have to learn how to deal with them. And an emotions is not permanent - just like logic is not.

Well, I digressed. Back to my anger. What surprised me (and still does) is the intensity or ferocity of the anger. I am myself puzzled. As of course are quite a few of my colleagues. "You could become THIS angry - I never knew!" was one such comment. Well, yes - it has been quite a while since I was "THIS" angry!

Perhaps it might help to reflect and study on the moment. What happened in that moment of anger? I experienced agitation, trembling in the body, thirst in the stomach, readiness to give a jab - all aspects that i realised even then. Something that my graduation in life sciences teaches as "Adrenaline surge" - a fight or flight response.

But what happened mentally? I experienced being taken for granted; being pushed to the wall. And I had to resist. Frankly, I actually feel very very good that I resisted. And it was one solid hard resistance - a big smashing cut in a boxing match that knocks off the opponent stunned for a while. It feels good. Not the act of hitting out; but the act of resisting and standing up for myself.

I also feel good to note changes in me. Of not willing to hold on - to let the moment pass. I realised that the language at one moment that I used was not appropriate. So I've apologised to the concerned. And I feel good that I am able to differentiate that apology from what is still unacceptable to me. I can only clean up my backyard - I can't clean up the others! Having cleaned up mine, I am eager to move ahead.

I normally take life easily. Between a few heated words, it does not do any good to reply to every thing bit for bit. One can just let go. As I write, I recollect what I read in one book about teaching from the Mahabharata: that the middle path is important. Too much of goodness without self-assertion, leads to no good. It only encourages what should not be encouraged. Thus, too much of niceness from me also is not too good I guess.

Does that mean, I will be a nasty fellow from tomorrow? No! No way. But yes, where need be I will stand up for myself. As I have tried to do. What is important to me is not the "what", but the "how", albeit relatively. How do I stand up for myself is important. And which is why this reflection - how did I become "so" angry?

I have no answers, but only questions - that I throw up to the universe.

What is that hot spot that got triggered yesterday? Was there a projection or introjection involved? Was that a momentary spurt or is there something deep within that needs a closer and more attentive gaze?

In some form, I might get my answers; in some form, a leap beyond the need for answers :-).

Remember that quote from Aristotle:

"Anybody can become angry, that is easy; but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody's power, that is not easy."

What bothers me is that I am not sure if I had the right degree and right way - the rest I am clear on. Ah - it helps...

Musings on self | Meaningful Reflections | 18th Apr. '09

2009-04-18T11:21:00.003+05:30

I was cleaning up my mailbox, and chanced upon a mail that I had sent to quite a few of my friends quite sometime back (last year). I had been through a few intense human processes at that moment of time, and had shared my reflections.

Reading them again, I found them meaningful and relevant even now. So I paste them here. The manner of writing is inspired from Carl Rogers:

1. It is not necessary to be a facilitator; what is important is to be a facilitative person.

2. If I run after a professional membership (of ISABS), it will elude me; if I try to be a person, it will be rewarding in itself (whether I become a professional member or not).

3. You don't become perfect after becoming a professional member.

4. The challenge is to reach a stage of "reflection in action" – that is something rewarding in itself.

5. I cannot hope to change myself by making action plans; nor can I change myself by lazing around – the key perhaps lies in accepting and then transcending.

6. Acceptance is not merely acknowledging and taking it as part of you, but not having judgments about it.

7. We will forever be lonely in life; I can fight being alone, but I cannot fight loneliness. Loneliness is not about not being with someone; it is about not enjoying my own company enough.

8. It is ok to be weak – so seek care and nurture. I am a human being and as long as I keep an overall perspective on growth, accepting weakness of the moment is not a digression.

9. In fact, some of the moments that gave me maximum strength and sparked a fire within me that burns have been those where I have been the most vulnerable.

10. I am willing to be hurt. Resisting or trying to be strong does not help.

11. "Process" is neither positive nor negative – it is my own judgment and connotation that makes it positive or negative.

12. Accepting myself for who I am and what I am is the most difficult task. The struggle continues. As soon as I accept one thing / aspect of myself, another one crops up.

13. Self growth is a never ending journey. And at times it is tiring – perhaps that is when I need to stop looking at it as a task to be accomplished. I cannot (not yet) and want to win over that freckle or the irritating part of me.

14. Reality has multiple faces – what you see could be different from mine. Accepting that multiple faces is not easy.

15. Personal growth is a question of choice made at that moment. Sometimes it is ok to choose to not grow – perhaps I need that stability at that moment. I should choose my growth path.

16. No moment is ever lost or does not come again – the karmic cycle comes, albeit delayed.

17. All "processes" are not ends in themselves. The attitude of, "how can I benefit from this" reaps rewards than, "I need to imbibe this process". Fanaticism of all forms does not help.

Today's additions:

18. Emotions are with me all the time. My willingness to acknowledge them is the first step to understanding them. In doing so, I understand myself.

19. Acknowledging and understanding of emotions is not only about "what " is happening to me, but "how"? What are the triggers, the hot-spots of mine and thereby what are the life scripts that I have and I live on?

20. Being "in the moment" is tough - considering that there is a life script that I tend to slip back onto so easily.

21. Sometimes, life is all about simply sitting still, have the wind ruffle your hair, a sense of contentment as a fed cat - with nothing to "do" the next moment. When the urge to chase (either the world or my own self development) has been silenced: in that moment lies the potential of transcendence.

The Daily Muse | What does it mean to "Muse" | 15th Apr. '09

2009-04-16T08:55:00.003+05:30

So what does it mean to muse? I got rapid fire reactions from people as I put up my Blog. The day I decided to muse in public was also the day I updated my Orkut profile - with photographs and interest section et. al.

Oh my God - is that you? You have put up photographs.
Well yes, can't I?
Yes, but it is so unlike you.

So what is like me?

On my blog on relationships and marriage, I intuited right. One set found it insightful, another was in a reflective mode and a third set was confused. It validated the 3 states that I wrote for comment. The 1st group was this which said that they found a part of themselves in my muse. The 2nd group gave the emotionally detached look. The 3rd group ranged from the placid, 'what abstract you write' to the hostile, 'you say all this in your blog, but your weekends are all planned with your study group and not with a girl!'

So what is like me? And do I have to prove myself to others? Do I need to continue to be what I have been like? And be a dead wood in the process? I feel pained on the reactions that come with hidden hostility. Is it not ok to try and understand yourself? Is it not ok to work on yourself? Is it not ok to find meaning and joy in the process of discovery and learning? Is it not ok to pursue your own passion? Mostly the pain is about not being understood.

So why do I want to be understood? For in the reaction of another set - those who resonated with what I wrote - I felt content. And a spark of 'wow, I was there with someone'. And I like this - I shun the former.

So do I write a muse because I would like to be understood? To re-experience a communion externally what was actually internal?

One of my friends wrote, '...you seem to be asking... I see you 'on the edge'... where are you in this? What's happening to you?...' I got worked up by that comment, 'here am I expressing myself, and here is this bugger asking me where I was!'

What does it mean to be there - does it mean to perpetually be in the experience? The other day I wrote in my journal on my current state of life, 'I feel like a traveler who is on a vast plateau - with no way to turn back - and no future road ahead. And in that moment of utter helpless loneliness, I feel weary and tired. I feel intoxicated by the sheer power of the moment. I feel like a budding seed - a germinating sprout - pregnant with the joy of growth and abundance.' But however hard I try, the words don't do justice. They are just approximations that my current cognitive and linguistic capabilities can express.

Is it not paradoxical. When I experience, I can't express. And when I express, I describe a past experience - a memory of the moment gone by. And that is mauled, battered, raped by the cunning mind, the ever eager to impress ego and the brain. In the name of adorning and expressing it aesthetically, it is pillaged and plundered. And when it lands on a blog or a journal, it is not the experience, but a memory, a figment, a word craft with past and current residual emotions.

Or could I call it a muse?

The Daily Muse | Marriage & Relationship | 12th Apr. '09

2009-04-12T21:28:00.022+05:30

Good News. My friend sent a text stating that his 'roka' has happened. {Roka: Hindi word derived from the root which means, 'to stop / put hold to.' In this context, refers to a ceremony prior to a formal engagement. This is the time both parties stop looking out for a prospective partner}.

Well, I feel so happy for him. There have been so many struggles for him. And in many of them, I can identify. Being a single, uncommitted male is not easy. Contrary to what many may think, life is not a bed of roses.

First, of course are the distant family members who leave no stone unturned in poking the rib, "...so when are you getting married? Its high time." Heck - do girls grow on trees? That I go and pluck them? Then of course, come the so called friends, "...what are you doing? She is such a good girl - the right one for you..." And they go about trying to get you hitched. Then come the last of the lot, "...is everything ok? Hope no alternate preferences?" Well, sounds funny, but when you go through it, it is not.

The point is not about marriage, nor is it about preferences. It is simply about my own dignity as a human being? Am I really incomplete without marriage? No - I don't say that I won't get married; with a right person, I will settle down. But what is this hurry to get hitched?

And if marriage is about a commitment and a relationship, then why is there such a brouhaha about 'conventions'? Is it that we are too scared to question ourselves?

What is the purpose of marriage? From an evolutionary perspective, it is about ensuring perpetuation of species. But talk as we will at a philosophical and psychological level, what is it really about? Is it not about relationship? In building relationship with one, a person builds up a family which in turns builds up the society. To my judgment, a marriage is as much about family as much it is about appreciating the opposite sexuality as projected out and slowly over time finding a manifestation of the same within? For a man, it is about coming to terms with feminity and for a woman, about coming to terms with masculinity?

The individual starts with his / her need first and places it before the society for its fulfillment. In order that a fair process takes place, society builds around that process / transaction a set of contracts, which convey the expectations and over time become conventions. So to my mind, managing a family and thereby society are the contracts; the individual need is to merge with an aspect of self that he/she has not yet found within. Call if found within, unacknowledged, rejected or projected out - whatever it may be. Perhaps this is topic for another enquiry.

But do I not have both the masculine and feminine self within? Is not the purpose of life to integrate both within our self? Not having a partner then is not so much about another person missing in life, but about an aspect of my own self missing.

If I pine for a woman, then does it mean that I am "normal?" Or does it simply a reflection of the unacknowledged and unexplored feminity within? Reverse would be the case for a woman. I recollect Eric Fromm in "The Art of Loving". At one place, he speaks about two people hopelessly falling in love. They talk about it as a sign of true love; but in reality, it is only an expression of the earlier utter loneliness. Can loneliness ever be cured by presence of another?

Or am I confusing being alone with being lonely? The more I see it, the more I realise that I will forever be lonely in life. I can manage not being alone - the social circuit takes care of it. But in my deepest of moments, I am utterly helplessly lonely. My moments of utmost profundity, bliss, deepest agony - all have been with myself. The only communion I had was with my inner self. If this be the experience I have, and nothing could be truer than the experience, then, why is it that at times I still try to not be lonely.

I recollect that on one occasion, I'd written in my journal, "Loneliness is not about not being with someone, it is about not enjoying my own company completely."

While, I do recognise and experience what I write, I also experience at times a desire that this loneliness be wished away. Is this then a question of "understanding the truth of loneliness" vs. the "truth of desire"? What is the issue then? Is it the conflict of understanding of the truth of "what is" with the desire / hope of "what could be"? Perhaps.

As a logical step, understanding 'what is' is about being in the moment; while desire for 'what could be' is about a flight to a place that is away from the moment, from the 'here and now'.

But a question comes to me, "If I were to accept 'what is', then what is the motivation to move forward?" Would not everything be ok and acceptable then? This incidentally is a question not just for the specific issue of relationships, but also for our whole lives? Would it not lead to inactivity (or 'tamas' as they call it?) I ask this, as I am tempted at times. Or have I understood this wrong somewhere?

I have no answer. Am stuck. Food for thought as I push off to sleep. In that moment of utter loneliness, possibilities emerge. Hey - talking of sleep and loneliness therein, why is it that I have a negative connotation of the word 'loneliness'? Is not sleep the most enjoyable thing - for me? So is it the situational and contextual meaning that I give? Which comes from my pain of ''what is not" which in turn comes from a desire for "what could be"?

Circles - all the way. Having written all this, I come to the circle again. I still feel happy for my friend. His text radiated the joy of a heart. And in this moment, he is pure joy. And is joy not about communion with my own self - in its complete loneliness?

I started off with relationship, meandered all the way, and am back to it - relationship. With another query: what indeed is a "relationship"?

The Daily Muse | Perspectives (contd.) | 27th Mar. '09

2009-04-12T21:15:00.001+05:30

Talking of perspectives, here’s some more musings. Albeit random…

Life is full of contradictions; and in those contradictions is hidden some truth. Scarce did I realize that I would be here again penning my angst and emotional state.

Late last night, I got a call from 2 people in my society. It transpires that Wed. night, there was a break-in in 2 flats in our society – my neighbour’s and mine. We have 4 flats on our wing and 2 are unoccupied. While we were away during the day, someone broke in our houses.

I felt stunned – actually not. Mixed emotions; as if a sense of continuity – first the missing phone and then this event. And yet both have similarities. In both cases, there was loss, an acceptance of it and thereafter a mild shock. My friend tells me (he rushed over to the place to figure out things) that nothing material has gone out.

Having said that, I feel a bit naked – it is not about anything material having been taken away, but the feeling of utter loss and helplessness. As if someone has raided. Also a sense of, ‘why not face me directly man? Why this stealth?’ In this, I see perspective – the pain on a theft (or attempted – in this case) is not only of a loss of things, but also a loss of inner innocence and faith.
Yet the question comes, ‘what do I choose?’ Yes, there is pain, there is hurt; but should this lead me to view all with suspicion? Given our hectic work lives, we’ve hardly met each other (we refers to all of us living in the society – almost all of us travel at least 1-2 hours to work). And yet, it was 2 of my society fellows who helped me yesterday. It was my neighbour who I’ve met only twice, who took my friend to the police station to get a clearance for sealing the house on my behalf. Help from all who were not known to me. What goes around, comes / goes.

I was returning from the temple a while ago and got up thinking that my stop was about to come. The conductor thrust the hand of a blind man in my hand and told me to help him cross the road. I did that and after I had put him in the bus he wanted to be in, I realized that I had got down at the wrong stop. As if he had chosen me to help him. That I was talking with my sister and lost on road sense was another facilitating factor. I remembered the “blind walk” and realized that I actually did not have to do anything. I just had to hold his hand and tell him once in a while on the incline / steps etc.

As a survey of my house and information given on phone by my neighbours, society friends and my colleague, I realized that nothing material had actually gone. Apparently the thieves were after cash and valuables. What is valuable? I am actually thinking. My neighbours and friend confirm that the books are there, so are a few pens that I have (though one seems to be missing), so are the other accessories as well as a small collection I have of Scotch. What is of value to me vs. what is of value to another. Is it not a shifting perspective. For the thieves, a Cross pen did not hold any value, nor did the books hold any value; yet perhaps for a behavioural science student, some of the books in my collection may be worth salivating over. So what is value for me – I see that over time for me too, it has shifted.

My first Q&A session with Anirban (a society friend) was, “can you see a black leather bag – yes – open it – done – can you see my certificates – yes – thank you, and please keep this with you”. It taught me as much about my own mental makeup as much about the thieves. My own attachments to my books, to my certificates – and in that I remembered something I’d read, “attachments are attachments – whatever they may be with”. It also does not mean, throwing the baby out with the bathwater – getting rid of things is not the solution. Nor is avoidance.

At the temple, the swamiji was giving a lecture on “Brahma” (the Advaita Vedantin’s perspective on reality) and he put one thing very succinctly. He asked, “If you were to travel from Kanyakumari to Kashmir and know that a dear friend will receive you at Jammu station, then while you start your journey, is your friend near or far from you? Taking that further, if you complete the 3 day journey as most people do, was your neighbour in train near or far from you?” “So what is distance?” “Is that Brahma near or far from you?” “Because I am not focused on so many things in life, I am not in touch with my self. to get to my self, I do not have to do anything, I just have to drop all that I am glued to.”

Indeed – what is distance. My neighbour, who till yesterday, I’d met only once and know as a name and as someone working in another Tata company today is different to me. And nothing seems to have changed – what has changed is something within me. What – I care not at this point of time. While being acutely awareness of that awareness!!!

I’d started off on contradictions. Well, so here they are. I can in some ways relate to the analogy of life being a vast play. And on occasions, I become fascinated with a part, play that and when time comes for change of cast, I resist. Not playing the part is not the answer. And I see merit in what Swami Vivekananda had once said, “Develop within you the power to detach. Work as if your whole life depended on it; put your heart and soul into it; but when the time comes to give it up, pick up and move on.”

Ah – writing helps. A catharsis, and a perspective building for myself. A small note of gratitude to all of you for being there as a clearing ground for my own perspective building…

Love,

P.S.: I get a sense that the mythological story of “samudra manthan” (churning of oceans – and the 10 things that come out subsequently) is about the churning within. As we start on our journey of self development and growth, churning happens and in that churning are produced various things. In the focus on the outcome, I see that I forget the process of churning. In the mythical story, even at the end, one ‘asura’ remained (Rahu-Ketu), and so did the ‘Devs’; but perhaps that is not what the story intends to convey. What does it actually intend to convey – I don’t know yet; perhaps in some time I’ll know the answer…

The Daily Muse | Perspectives | 25th Mar. '09

2009-04-12T21:04:00.004+05:30

Life is about perspectives and our journey is about expanding those perspectives.

I sit here in the train on way to Delhi enjoying the joys of August Kranti Rajdhani and the fact that there is power to charge my laptop and mobile phone.

Mobile phone – perspective… What about that? Let me tell you a short story.

I left office at around 4, got into the ATM (building next to office) and then got into a cab for Mumbai Central. Half way through I realized that the mobile phone had been left to cool itself over the ATM machine. Stopped by at a PCO, and called up a couple of colleagues at the office number. A few tries later, got in touch with one of them and requested her help. She went to the bank only to be told by a lady there that she will need to prove that I have indeed asked her to get the mobile.

When I call up again (on reaching Central), I get to hear the missing piece of info. and so I call up the lady (God bless her) and tell my story. Kavita (my colleague) goes there again and she gets the phone. Another colleague of mine then sprints from office to Churchgate, takes a fast train and gets to Mumbai Central – at 5.21 (ample time to spare – given that 5.40 is departure). He recognizes me siting with laptop open and communicating with my colleagues over mails.

What happened to me? At the moment of realization of “missing” phone a sense of distress. “Oh my God – how daft and absent minded of me?” A stark contrast to a thought that had come to me as I boarded the cab (outside the bank), “awareness is about being aware that you are aware…” And here I was – aware of my distress. Of my attachment. As realization sunk it, the mind played games – what if, what if not. And some voice also spoke, “so what? Does the world collapse – is your world in that?” I must admit that peace did not come, but a face to face encounter with my own self.

I have a hypothesis which I shared with a friend of mine the other day, “we as much do not accept our superior as much we shirk confronting our inferior”. Being in the moment and aware of it, is oxymoron – a deafening silence. Actually Hindi has a better word, “nistabdh” – I can’t translate it.

Where am I right now? A realization of the game of life and a lesson – that the game goes on. Nothing changes – every moment is a choice. The other day, I was reading a lecture by JK, and after a few lines, I found myself in communion with myself in a deep introspective silence all the way to office (in the morning train). Enquiring from someone, JK asked, (not verbatim) “…so what is there in your self esteem that you hold on to? It is not what we have that we fear or what we don’t have what we fear but the fall that we fear. We are constantly placing ourselves on a pedestal and when the fall happens, we suffer. Is it necessary? Remove the pedestal and you won’t fall. Then you will be able to see the reality as it IS – and when you see yourself the way you are, without judgment or desire, you will find peace. Judge, and peace is not; love and peace is.”

What does it mean – and awareness of the pedestal of “spiritual growth”, the pedestal of “knowledge”, the pedestal of “emotional maturity” – all pedestals. With it comes my judgments – oh my God, “how could I do something like this?” The “Who Me!!! Syndrome”

I see that I have meandered – in between witnessing the farewell exchanges of a family at Borivli station. Back to the phone – actually the story does not matter anymore. I write as I write. Seeing the flow of life; the train chugs along, the moments go by.

I go off to enjoying the journey – what is journey? Suddenly, each word seems to pick on a new meaning and a new context.

हमारे सफर में एक हमसफ़र है
कोई आपने साथ है
कोई एक ऐसी बात है
कोई तो एक राज़ है

उस राज़ की राह में मैं मुसाफिर
कभी खुदा तो कभी काफिर
अपनी ही खोज में खो गया
हिमगिरी की एक बूँद नया

जा रहा हूँ मैं एक पथिक
अपनी ही घटना में हूँ घटित

यह राज़ जो मुझ से छुपाया
ऐ खुदा तू तो निर्दय हुआ
पर जब उसका हल भी तूने बताया
तब बनाया मैंने तुझे खुदा

इस उल्झान में ही मैं बाँध गया
अपने से ही दूर हुआ
मेरा हमसफ़र ही तो है तू
जब अक्ल आई – तो क्या मैं, और क्या तू?

Chalo then – I sign off for now…

प्रारंभ (The Beginning) | 12th Apr. '09

2009-04-12T19:51:00.016+05:30

ॐ विश्वं दर्पणदृश्यमाननगरीतुल्यं निजान्तर्गतं

पश्यन्नात्मनि मायया बहिरिवोदभूतं यथा निद्रया।

यः साक्षात्कुरुते प्रबोधसमये स्वात्मानमेवाद्वयं

तस्मै श्री गुरुमूर्तये नम इदं श्री दक्षिणामूर्तये॥

With the obeisance to Lord Dakshinamurthy who resides within, I begin this blog. Actually, I was never going to write this blog. I do write my journal - almost daily. For me, my journal is a record of the internal events of my life; and where there are external ones, on how they impacted me.

I started writing a journal in 2002. After I finished my first BLHP, I got initiated into writing a journal. So there go all my reflections, internal processes, my dreams, my fantasies, my convictions, in short all that happens to me either because of myself or because of the environment.

Of late, life has taken another turn. I started writing a muse. The other day, I wrote in my journal that I should write a book. A book of my experiences. A name also came, "Experiences with Myself." I did not actually dismiss the idea, but I know that this is not the time. So how do I prepare? I simply decided to share more of what I write.

As I shared a few of my muse with my soul group, Sukhi urged me on to put my writings up on the blog. So here am I, slowly publishing my writings on the blog. I will in due course of time, dig out some more matter and put up online. Of course, some things don't go online - for that you'll have to know me really well!

When we begin any enterprise, we always end up thanking those for being there - who have in their own way made it possible for us to be where we are. And so I would like to remember at this moment: My Guruji, Lord Dakshinamurthy, my parents, my ISABS journey mates (and I'll call all my facilitators as my mates), the souls with me in the "Who Am I", my HR guru Kantha, my soul connections, Sukhi - the soul who urged me to put these online and connect with the universe.
As I write this, I become more clear - I write for myself, for my own learning, for my own clarity. In that quest, if there are others who find a light, or can shine a light for me, our lives would be blessed and enriched.

Much of what I write is about my own frailities and vulnerabilities. I have discovered that in my own vulnerability is my strength - perhaps that will be a muse one day.

This to me now is not a blog - but a personal expression, a platform for the fountain of the inner self, a sticky pad for like souls to congregate and share.

May we all reach our destinies and in the richness of our sharing, fill up each other...

The Daily Muse | Questions for the Day | 2nd Apr. '09

2009-04-12T18:02:00.002+05:30

Why do I ask so many questions? Is it inquisitiveness? Or is it simply for my ego to get satisfied that it exists? For after all, unless there is a joy in doing something, why would anyone do it? That I ask questions – too many and too often, means that I get some joy. The other possibility is that I am obsessive compulsive – but would judgment lead to understanding?

Talking about joy – I get joy in doing a thing; I get joy in being with someone. I can either stop at that OR I can ask, “what is it that makes me joyful either with the thing / person / situation?” I see that I end up doing this all too often. “Oh, I like this person; then there is a pause; and then, “but why and what is different here?” Similarly I avoid a few things, a few people. Obviously, I have a block there and unless I become aware of the block, is there freedom for me?” Likewise, if I am not aware of the deeper import behind my likes, would I be free?

So what is this obsession with freedom? Granted that it is fascinating to know a bit more about myself; but does it mean that there be an obsession? Then, am I being “in the moment?” Talking about that, is it necessary to be “in the moment” every time? I ask this for I experience that whenever I find myself not in communion with myself, I get distressed. And then follow all attempts to be in the moment – breathing exercises, watching breath, energy drawing from universe etc. But is that not an obsession unto itself? The obsession to “be in the moment?”

Hey, but hang on, is it not right to pursue your own happiness? Everyone does that. Yes everyone does that, but that cannot be a justification for me to do what everyone does. It is easy to say, “he likes movies, so he goes for it; I like to be in the moment, so I do it.” But then I am doing what someone else is doing – without the application of my own self / my own agency. Then it is his life and not my life. Or is it that one experience of being in the moment creates a desire for it? Just like one taste of Kolkota Roshogulla created a desire for them?

But this scares me, for if I accept it, then, am I not a product of desire? Am I not being driven by it? The desire to “be in the moment”? And by that corollary, I might actually miss being in the moment. I was traveling by train this morning (like I usually do). The train was crowded. Sweat, humidity, heat, crowd all around. And I was irritated, upset. Out went my mind – blame the railways (for poor infrastructure); then it came inside – blame myself (for getting up late); then it decided to be in the moment – “relax Ashish. Observe what are you feeling? Blah. Blah.” And so, here I was, in this packed train, irritated to the core, and attempting self observation. Why – so that I can calm myself. What for? So that I can be in the moment! While actually in that moment, I was there – observing myself too.

Aha – so does that mean, that for me, “being in the moment” has a connotation of pleasure? Is it the pleasure of a previous past experience – like in meditation, in Who Am I, in ISABS lab, in pranayam, in deep introspection, in intense activity etc. And that I try to recreate it? So it is that my “being in the moment” actually is not that, but an attempt at re-creation of a past experience? Which means, it is an attempt to be in “a moment experience sometime which I crave for” So, Mr. Pant, “are you really free?”

Is the desire for being in the moment an escape from the moment? So what does it really mean “to be in the moment?”

Hey – again, you are asking a question. One after the other; and yet another…
Yes, but how does one do enquiry without asking question?
Exactly – but the next question is, “why do you want to do enquiry?”
Simple; so that I can get to the depth of it.
Why?
So that I can really understand?
Why?
So that it will not bother me again later on.
So you don’t want to be bothered?
Yes.
Aha – so that once it does not bother, you can “be with it” – person, event, thing?
Right.
So that means you want to “be in the moment?”
{Silence}
Rrrriiiiigggggtttttt.

Hey – but prior to asking question, was I not being in the moment? What stops me? And in all this who is present? That being who gets joy? Is that me or my ego?

Is this question too a question from me or my ego? I can see myself smiling, as the next question pops up, “When I say “my” it means something apart from me; so then what is my ego?”

Questions, questions and questions JJJ Right now in asking these, I experience being in the moment!!!

The Daily Muse | Aspects of Self | 1st Apr. '09

2009-04-12T18:01:00.002+05:30

Why do we live in this world? What for? What is the reason of our existence? To get to our higher selves: ah, clichéd; as also is the other answer, the cosmic karmic law.

Why indeed? There is the insistence of a child for an answer from the mother – a question to which the mother has no response. For the only answer is in the child’s growth – he/she learns some things only as the child grows up, and no rational answer can ever satisfy the query.

Talking about queries and answers, is there ever any answer at all? I had asked this question before. Is it to “know” the answers? Can one really “know” something? Is “knowing” a function of time? What does it mean when we say, “I know XYZ – a person or a thing”? The question arises, “know when?” Having known once, is the “knowing” sufficient?

We say that change is constant and that the only constant is change. In Euclidean geometry, we would call this statement an axiom. If that be so, then what I know one moment is not the same the next moment – possibly not. Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle demonstrates this for quantum particles. And what is thought after all – is it not a quanta?

So having known, do I know for ever? Perhaps not. Then is it that we have to “know” over and over again? To discover over and over again – is that what life is about? But what does the word “know” mean? I am struggling for an answer. Actually, having asked all these questions, I don’t feel like knowing the answer.

Does it matter that I know something? For if it changes the next moment, of what use is my knowing it in this moment? How many things and how much can I then really know? I would rather prefer to just be.

Ah, so you talk about “being”? “Being” what? Is it important to put the “what” after “Being”? Is not being, simply that – being? However, would just “being” not lead to inactivity (tamas)?

But of what use is being, if there is no “doing”? So the next question is, “why is action so important?” Is it required to fill myself up – so as to avoid myself? For what purpose?

“Knowing” – “Doing” – “Being” – the three positions of self…

Coming back to the original question, perhaps a better question would be, “where does this question come from?”

The Daily Muse | Conversation on a Mirror | 30th Mar. '09

2009-04-12T17:59:00.002+05:30

I look different. And that puzzles me. Actually, why the heck does that bother me? I reached office and was in front of the mirror – and lo, yes, I do look different.

What bothers me is that I had a neutral face in the mirror. Earlier on, I would either be smiling or some emotion would get reflected in the mirror. This time, there is no emotion. And yet, it is not even emotionless state too.

So what does it mean to face up to oneself? Who do you actually look into in the mirror? When I see myself in the mirror, who do I see? Is it me? Who is that person in the mirror that I see? And flip that question back, who is it then who stands in front of the mirror; and also sees the person in the mirror?

Physics tells me that light is both matter and wave. And the image in the mirror is a function of total internal reflection of light waves. While that explains the “image” that I see in the mirror, it does not answer my question, “who” do I see in the mirror? Now how do I know I see it? Because I experience it; and apart from the fact of seeing (a direct perception proof), I have associated feelings within.

But taking that line of logic further, we even see a mirage in a desert. We see water where none exists. The property of light waves getting totally internally reflected explains the image, but do not show the truth. So, it follows that not all that the light waves may show me the real truth. The question then is, “is what I see in the mirror, real or unreal?”

Coming back to the question of “who do I see in the mirror”, we can then explore the two answers that come to me right now: One, that there is someone out there who I see; Two, there is an image that I see. If we accept the former, then it follows that there is consciousness. Going by what we explore in the earlier paragraph, we can only be tentative about the first answer viz. there is someone out there who I see. Secondly, we have no awareness of any consciousness of the other in front of us (unlike when we meet a friend). So I leave this line of logic (rejecting it) and go to the next possible answer, “I see an image.”

Now, if I see an image, then either the person in front of the mirror is an image too (if we accept that what the mirror shows is true) or that or that it is only an apparent reality. Given that a mirage too is a function of the same phenomenon that mirror is, we can not be sure of the 100% truth of what the mirror shows. Thus, on this side of the mirror is not an image and that I who stand in front of the mirror is different from the image.

But, if that is so, then what I see in front of the mirror is only apparent. If that be so, why does it evoke feelings in me? Why does it evoke thoughts in me? This then means that the thoughts and feelings are a function of something within me and not what is there outside. Taking this at a generic level, what I see outside is actually what I am inside. This to me seems like a scientific proof (QED types). However, this poses a problem for me if I have to live my life.

Does that mean there is no conflict in the world outside; that there is no dispute, no crime, nothing that I find abhorrent? For I only see what is inside of me? If I accept the proof above, then the answer is a no. Which goes contradictory to my experience; but then how does one define, “my experience?” We will delve into that question later – at some other time. If I do not accept the proof above, in order to accept the reality of the not to pleasant aspects of life, then I negate my own existence (that is where our enquiry started off from).

So now you see, I am stuck. A colleague of mine was curious and she read this. She has this question, “Why did you think this? How did this thought come?” Actually, it helps. You see, the fact that I thought this, means that there is a being who think and feels. And that means there is consciousness (this is an assumption I make that needs to be tested). But that does not still answer the basic question and the paradox. Either ways, I am stuck for a definitive answer.

Indian philosophical schools (especially Advaita Vendanta) would solve this problem by the use of the word “maya” (neither real nor unreal), but that is a “satisfactory answer”. As per Advaita Vedanta thought, “maya” does not mean “illusion” as most people understand it. It means that a subject of enquiry is “neither real nor unreal at all moments of time”. Basically, something on which nothing “definitive” can be said. It is not the “definitive answer” which is what I seek. Or is the quest itself flawed from the beginning – for there is a search for a definitive answer of the world that exists and yet does not exist. For if the world is a mirror, then the quest could either be directed towards understanding the world; alternately, it could be directed to understanding the self.

With that I sign off for now. The task ahead is to study a few texts and check out. And with another question, “then, is there something definitive that we can talk about our self?”

The Daily Muse | Questions and Issues | 29th Mar. '09

2009-04-12T17:50:00.003+05:30

Dusk time is always a good time – to be with yourself. In the stillness between the day and night, is an inviting and haunting energy; a radiance that speaks of the reality of life – neither day nor night. As in Hindi, “na to Prakash aur na hi Tamas.” (न तो प्रकाश और न ही तामस). It occurred to me that I could do with some writing. A few thoughts I pen down – from my journal (this morning), with whatever changes of this moment.

{After writing half of the stuff below, I got back up again – since I am mailing this to many, the “structure” freak in me wants to put a few words: These are my thoughts as they come in the moment. And most of them will be questions. I like to meditate on them and at the right moment, I will understand it. I have slowly moved to a view in life that asking the right question is most important. And at this phase of life, I am see myself preparing to ask the right questions. I do not look forward to any appreciation (and equally disgust) – but I do look forward to your sharing which can help me enrich not just my own understanding of an issue, but also myself and the you with me. These then are what I can say, “Experiences of myself”.}

I have a lovely mind. A beautiful instrument – that I am slowly learning to respect and understand. As if through a key hole, I have got a preview. The word that came up this morning during prayers was “addiction.” So what is addiction? Remembered what I’d read what JK had to say somewhere on a related issue. So what is my addiction? And in that what is my “avoidance?” The solitude and quiet, the “pranayam” and prayers, the peace of silence and stillness – all are the desires. And anything that disturbs it is to be shunned – be they people, events, objects and life. Life – but what is life? Is it not about people and events and the meanings they make out of it, the causality they ascribe, the web of relationships they make and relate? Is it not so?

But talking of addiction… So is addiction to desire for “peaceful mind” better than say an addiction to desire for alcohol”? Addiction remains. Save that in one case it is “socially desirable” (as also “personally desired” and in the “laukik” (behavioural world – la vie quotidian) does not cause stress, tension and disharmony while in the latter it perhaps does (if left unchallenged and unbridled). But if I study Yudhishthira’s life, then even unbridled “dharma” (धर्मं) lead to “anarth” (moral destruction) अनर्थ. Coming back – if both are addicted, is there any true “liberation”? Big words – liberation…

So is that why Maharaji (my Guruji) and all say Vedantins that first we have to conquer inner evil by goodness (let the latter replace the former) and then later on let go of goodness also? Ah, the desire for merit and the feeling of, “I – a big I am worthy of merit!” How we fool ourselves in the name of outer world, whereas it serves my own inner function and need. Does that mean that I let go of goodness and all prayers and meditations? Well, depends on the stage of life I am in. And each individual (each one of us) knows where we are. Till the fruit is ripe, it needs all nurture and care and once ready, the gardener lets go – the fruit drops on its own. So is the case with our own selves I suppose. Till such time, I feel the need, I have to tend to it – with goodness, working on my inferior and taking inspiration from my own superior. And the day, I am ready, I will get the inner calling – to drop that.

Perhaps this is why “dharma” is the most difficult subject in Indian Philosophy and all treatises go into it. For it is neither collective (in a legal – jurisprudence manner) nor is it personal (in a strict Judeo-Christian tradition); yet is both at the same time. I guess a discussion on that is for another day and moment.

It is an odd feeling to feel as if there is someone (who is you only) watching over your head as you write – I feel it right now. As if I’m being watched by myself? Is that what is called the “saakshi” साक्षी (witness) self?

I am also learning that perhaps there are no “answers” at all. PERHAPS being the operative word. I am not sure yet. For the more I ask, the more questions come – one after the other in their own fashion. And if I look at it, in most cases, I don’t get / have an answer. Meditation / Contemplation on the question stills it. And there is no further need for asking that question. Some quiet comes – I don’t know what as yet. A potential area for research! For if these are experiences of many, then the whole education should be about developing the faculty to think, ask and ponder. Are there ever really any answers – and I ask this in the context of the fundamental “issues” in life? Then I appreciate better what Swami Vivekananda said about the purpose of education viz. ‘to help manifest the knowledge already inherent in man’. Is it that while all thoughts are there, they strike you and become pertinent to you (and therefore you appreciate it) only when you are ready, as in, “when the disciple is ready, the Buddha appears?” Coming back to questions and answers, is it that we are afraid of asking the real questions? For it might expose to us the vulnerability of “no answer.” And left floundering – coz there will be no closure (aha – the desire for an INTJ like me).

Just like I am right now with a thought, “If I ‘get’ liberated (an oxymoron), then what will life be; what will I have to do and not do?” Nothing and yet everything…

So its of a question of what changes? Does the world – the people and events – change? Or only I change? If we accept that the world changes, then the whole concept of inner divinity falls flat on its face and goes contrary to the experience of the self truth of “I”. However, a greater problem arises if I say that “I” change – for if I can change now, I can change later too. And if I change, then the truth of the unchangeable “I” is contradictory. Or is it that we do our roles and pay out our karmas with that understanding (of our roles and self identity – as defined in a Ericksonian way)?

I am aware that some Indian philosophical schools have reconciled this issue by giving talking of the “witness I” and the “ego I”. But I will have to find out more about this – another area open for enquiry for me. Epistemology has its own challenges; and I suspect the biggest challenge is to find logic and rationale for the experience. The biggest and the most undeniable truth is of experience. But all metaphysical experiences may not give a logical rationale answer (which the system of epistemology) demands – for its own sake and for its propagation.

The next topic is “Mine vs. Not Mine”. Actually, I am a shifty writer – moving from an issue to another and then linking them (and many a time not). I write for me and not for you, so coming back to this topic, the question is, “what is ‘mine’?” Where does this question come from? Well, from the recent robbery attempt and the break-in at my house. Eventually, the guys got nothing of what they wanted and left {I’ve written elsewhere on the word ‘valuable’ – in my previous musing – will forward if you express interest}. While they have gone, I am left with a realization of my attachments and my questions. I am glad to be able to see my attachments – and more importantly, not condemn them. For in condemnation and the “shoulds” of life I invalidate the truth of the moment and of the experience – in that I superficially gloss over it, digging the attachment even deeper (as if pushing it into the recess of the unconscious and making it stronger).

None of the stuff I have in my house was mine at some point of time in the past – nor will it be with me for ever in the future. Each item has its own life. Now all this bit – I’m aware of at a logical level? At another level, the question is, ‘then what is mine?’ Asked differently, “am I actually the owner?” Or is it that I am a custodian (like Gandhi used to say)? If so, then the question is, “of and for whom?” Where does this attachment come from? And the feeling of possessiveness that comes with the attachment? Yes, at one level it all is mine – at another, nothing is. I could not prevent the break-in, but nothing was taken away. So who saved it? Questions that deserve an answer; or should I say, “issues” that deserve a “question”? :-) :-) :-)