July 19, 2016

                     Keepers of Destiny

A friend gifted me a tiny booklet on a winter afternoon in Dehradun.

Those first few lines by Vivekanand, touched me somewhere deep down and have clung to memory since..

“Education is the manifestation

                            Of the perfection

                               Inherent in man.” 

                                              

                       …..Monsoon Rivers

The sky is grey and heavy                                                                                            

With the rain in its womb

The first few drops hesitate
And the rest follow in a tumbling rush.

I watch
The drops hit the window pane
And trickle down in streaks
Flowing with gay abandon.                                                                                           

Like children rushing to play                                                                                    

The streaks sparkle, stop suddenly on tiptoe
And change direction…

Slippering across                                                                                                           

Without constraints or boundaries.
Masters of their own destiny.

In the soundless stillness                                                                                       

There is only the sight of raindrops                                                                                

Falling on the leaves                                                                                                   

And shaking them in the rain.

I feel the tug of their exhilaration

And in the whisper of their silence

I hear their rustling laughter.

The fragile fabric of hoarded self-illusions                                                                          

Fragments in the wind                                                                                               

And the song of the monsoon rivers                                                                  

Echoes through the falling rain.                                                                                                 

The raindrops wane                                                                                                                   

And the rainbows peep out                                                                                                       

To dance on the gossamer spray.

          *         *         *

As the monsoon rivers                                                                                                      

Seep into the earth                                                                                                               

They whisper:                                                                                 

“Nurture and sustain                                                        

The tender little shoots

Hold them gently

And give to them of your warmth

For in their tiny palms

They carry their childhood                                                          

And cradled in their innocence

Lies the oneness and the freedom

We all aspire to be.”

                    
       

                  In times to come when they are grown tall

                       And walk their own path

                             We will watch the rain and the wind once again.

                                   And be what we have always been:

                                                 - Keepers of our own destiny.

July 1, 2016

A Parting...

there was never any beginning and there will be no end; 

except when the two meet.

                         

                             "the first step is not the journey,

                                the journey is not the destination,

                                       and yet

                                               where i want to go

                                                       it all becomes one....."

haridwar   -  and a boat of leaves

The current was swift.

Soft peepal leaves

Woven and stitched into a boat

Decked with flowers

Carried the flickering flame.

It danced on the waves

And swirled through the waters.

Holding within our prayers, grief and pain.

The evening aarti glowed

On the opposite shore

And dark shadows moved across

The rushing waters.

The flame, tear-like, 

Glistened once on the wave tips

And was swept away

In the gathering dusk.

The consigning of grief and pain

To the sacred waters

Was complete...

Only the memory

Lingered.

Your journey with us was over.

It was a letting go,

A giving up,

A cleaving away of the carpace

Leaving behind a vulnerable emptiness.

Along with the river

The memory of our togetherness

And the journey flowed on...

December 31, 2015.

                                               .......Departing Stars

The grief of the passing of a close one ebbs reluctantly. One can seldom reconcile and stop grieving. And yet the passing is an undeniable fact of life that touches all our lives.

And being so, the belief that it is not an end but a return to the never-ending peace of one’s origin, uplifts and gives solace.

Sometimes written words lead to the unspoken, creating bridges into the realms of knowledge unknown ... 

Unsaid Goodbyes…

I did not know that it was a parting

And we would never meet again;

That I could never hug you

And feel the warmth of your love

Hold me close.

We never had much

And I wanted to give you the world.

Never knowing that

My being there was enough,

The pain of unsaid goodbyes

Lingers still…

Now 
In the cold winter evenings
When the chill winds freeze the air
And the dew turns to frost

I weave another memory of your love

Into the tapestry of our time together

To keep me warm…

October 20^th, 2015.

An Amber Evening

It was a pre-winter night with the lights and shadows moving with the breeze on the lush green grass. The amber liquid twinkled in the glasses. On the stage swaying figures danced to the music. It was a heady mix of the old and new. The company of close ones gave it an additional flavor tinged with nostalgia.

It was the cocktail party prior to the wedding.

The Ocean Around Us…

The grass is still green 
And there is a bite in the wind
Winter comes.
The moon still shines.
And I have heard the music,
The laughter of children 
And in the quiet of the shining stars
And the silence of the night
I have no regrets.
I have lived and loved
And held destiny in my palm 
And let it go.

The legacy was not mine to keep,
But belonged to all who have lived
And loved
And still do.
For it carried the nectar of bliss,
And eternal peace
Ever flowing.
We could sip from it 
And it would not diminish.
It was a subtle fragrance,
A whiff of eternity, here one moment
And gone the next.
Not ours to own,
And yet there to tap into, to nourish and sustain..

                              ...... Lives Slipping Away 

As a child I attended a wedding in the village - a three day affair. 

I remember most the sight of the glow worms at night. You could see them flitting around totally without fear. Holding them gently within a closed fist I could see the twinkling lights through the gaps between my fingers whenever their glow came on. 

Even as a child or perhaps as one, it was pure joy to slowly open the fist and see them fly away.

                                                                           I haven't seen glow worms now for a very long time....

                   Of Glow Worms and Fireflies

It came

An unexpected call from the wild

Carrying

An urge to share

Brimming with a sense of awe and wonder.

Sitting on the verandah

Swathed in the soft drape of half light

He had watched the water droplets twinkling

On the shadowy branches across the road.

-          As if myriads of light-bulbs

-          Were dancing in the air.

The trees and the shrubs

Half seen in the shadowy darkness

Swayed in the gentle wind and the rain

To disappear into a black blanket

Of the jungle beyond.

And then a sparkle

From a bubble in his glass

Floated across the road and flew around

The dancing lights.

Then it become two and then

Many…..

The rain and the darkness had reached

Into glories past

To birth

A million glow worms…    

He had watched the black mantle 

With its dancing jeweled lights wafted by the wind.

He had clutched at the moment in a vain attempt

To hold it

But it slipped away.

And then

Born of the instinctive desire to keep it alive

He shared it.

And when he did so that one moment became two

And then many... 

Till it became the black mantle

                         With its dancing jeweled lights 

                          Being wafted in the jungle wind. 

for Karan who shared; 

Arun who suggested I get back to what I like doing best; 

and to all those who love the forest and all that it nurtures - in the hope they would be able to keep this heritage alive for the coming generations.                                                                  

The Pilgrimage

It was a long, long time ago....

With age memories dim. The essence however remains - in the emotions, the feelings during those moments, that period.

A colleague had shared his experience:

His father waking up in the morning and gathering his family to set out on a journey. There was a strange urgency, a thrilling anticipation which seemed to flow from from him to the others - like setting out on an adventure into the unknown.

 A train ride followed by a bus ride. And finally the dusty town with a worn out path leading away into the wilderness.

The colleague remembered trudging single file up steep rocky inclines with bushes all around -  with these giving way to the deodars and the pines as they trekked higher. It had got very cold. There were others above and below them chanting away. The love and fervour of the chanting was an energy flow that seemed to link all together enveloping them with its caring.

And finally the cave. Slithering through the narrow crack in the rocks to stand in knee deep icy water. And the three headed rock... 

On the return journey they wandered away from the others and lost their way. Weary an tired they found it when they saw a black dog  followed it back to town....    

In remembering he re-found the earlier emotion of the thrilling joy of having shared an epic journey with his family.  

                  *                     *                      *

The word-of-mouth tale was intriguing. An alluring beacon calling from afar - almost akin to a wake-up call; to set out as they and so many others had done before. 

And I did want to share the experience. Driven by an overwhelming desire to carry all loved ones along on this journey I cajoled, persuaded and did all I could to carry  them along.

I failed.

A month and a half went by till it came to me that not everyone was destined to go. The urge within me that could not be denied, was not shared by all. 

In a moment of quiet realization I surrendered and left it to each to decide.

It was a small group consisting of my wife, her mother, my daughter and son and my eldest sister who were in the car when we left at six next morning. 

And of course the driver Ramesh - a bean-pole thin, six feet tall  individual from Kangra - with a propensity to take any road going north if the destination lay in that direction.

              *                       *                         *

Though I had seen the arrow pointing in the other direction away from Jammu City, I believed Ramesh when he said he had been there before. It was only when the sixty foot wide highway petered out to a narrow bridge that he relented and acknowledged his error. 

As a by-passer remarked in reply to my query : 

'Sa'ab the road across the bridge goes to Pakistan.'

              *                        *                         *

When we reached the 'dusty town' it was late evening and darkness had descended. It was very crowded. Splitting the search my wife and I left in different directions to find a place to stay for the night. Coming back after a forty five minute look around we realized there was no rooms to be had. 

Everything was booked. 

Mentally I was already looking at the two of us - the driver and I - sleeping under the car while the children and the ladies slept inside. 

My wife and my sister took that moment to walk into an adjacent hotel that looked decent to use its washroom. As I stood in the reception with the kids I could overhear a loud argument as a customer berated the receptionist : 

' You promised us two rooms and I want them now!'

'Please wait a little bit Sir and let me see.' was the harassed reply.

As the customer turned and our eyes met. There was an immediate spark of recognition. He turned out to be the younger brother of a colleague - a Commander in the Navy. As we stood chatting the receptionist returned.

'Sir I can give you only one room, not two.' the receptionist said. The Commander immediately went and registered. Then he came back and asked me:

'Sir do you have a place to stay?'

We spent the night comfortably in the two double rooms he had booked in a house in that 'dusty town.'

                       *                       *                    *

In the morning, refreshed after a good breakfast we took the necessary government passes for our trek and started off. 

The children were put onto a pony with long-legged Ramesh as their custodian. All carry-luggage was piled onto the pony. My wife and her mother started off behind the pony with quick strides. 

I walked along more sedately accompanying my elder sister - a heart patient. The path was paved. It curved along the side of the hill, climbing steadily. 

As we walked on, it became obvious that my sister was finding it more and more distressing to carry on. After walking for about an hour she finally stopped by a tea stall and sat down on the bench - unable to carry on. There was a tinge of grey to her skin and she was breathing heavily.

'I don't think I will be able to climb any more. You carry on. I will wait here for you people to come back.' she told me. 

Looking at the tea stall I saw that she could sustain herself with the available provisions. 

Leaving her there I went on.

                    *                         *                         *

It was a total distance of thirteen kilometers that we had to trek. All of it uphill - and at places very steep.

At around three in the afternoon I reached the half-way point called 'Adhkuarri'. Though it was quite cool and  getting colder my throat was dry and I was perspiring. Fortifying myself with a hot cup of tea and some snacks I carried on.

The climb thereon was even steeper. At about five in the evening I overtook my mother-in-law. 

It was half an hour later that I came to a turn on the hillside. The moon was rising on one side of the hill while the sun was setting on the other - a memorable sight that has stayed with me since.

When I reached the dwellings which were part of the Sanctum, the evening was giving way to the night. Lights were twinkling all around. 

The entry to the shrine had been closed as the evening prayers were going on within. There were more than a hundred devotees waiting to enter once it resumed. Our turn would come after a wait of three to four hours after that.

The others who had reached earlier, had eaten and taken blankets available free with a nominal security deposit. I took my son, the only one who had not eaten, to a meal of Rajma Chawal at an eatery close by. 

As we were returning after the meal I heard my name being called from behind. Surprised, I  looked back. Two known faces stood smiling at me from a short distance. 

They had seen the car in the parking below and had been searching for me. Being vendors at the factory where I worked, they were quite familiar with the car.

'Sir how many people are there in your group?' 

They handed me a spare VIP pass available with them for entry to main shrine. 

This meant we would not have to wait and would be the first few entrants to the shrine once the evening prayers were over!

              *                         *                            *

We were one in excess of the figure mentioned in the pass but that was manageable. As I sat down to wait, draping the blanket over my shoulders to ward off the cold, I saw the bags piled together after they had been removed from the pony. 

And in that split second my heart seemed to turn to ice. 

My elder sister's purse with all her money inside lay there on one side of the pile. 

She did not have any money to buy even a cup of hot tea!

She must be very cold and hungry and tired sitting there waiting for us to return since I left her in the late morning - and she was a heart patient.  

In my anxiety I was totally devastated. And there was no way I could check or communicate with her.

Extremely disturbed and upset, I gave the VIP pass to my wife and told her that I was going down to ensure everything was all right with my sister and would wait there for their return after visiting the shrine.

It was just then that information came that the entry to the shrine would resume in the next ten to fifteen minutes.

                     *                        *                            *

It was my mother-in-law and that bean-pole thin driver from Kangra - Ramesh who persuaded me.

'After coming so far you must visit the shrine and then go down.' she said

' Sir, nothing will happen to bahenji. You complete your darshan and I assure you I will run down the path and provide bahenji with whatever refreshments she needs.' he assured me.

                      *                         *                           *

We were the first in the VIP queue. As I was handing over the pass a well dressed lady darted ahead of us, telling the guard she was with us! 

Her need must have been very great.

As we waited in the hall prior to the entry to the main Sanctum, announcements could be heard over the public address system of the shrine. I had just asked my wife to listen when the announcement came:

' Mr Lall must go to Adhkuarri as his sister is waiting for him there. For any clarification he should check with the Police Post here.'

I was left wondering how she had managed to reach Adhkuarri. Our turn for the entry to the shrine came immediately after.

                      *                         *                           *            

The shrine was within a cave. 

There was a foot high opening and I was gently asked by an attendant to go in head first. Though attendants were there to help and support, I was quite nervous as the opening seemed very narrow. 

Going in head first and then swiveling my legs around and over the rocks, I stood bent over in shin deep icy water in a cavern. 

As I moved forward, ahead of me I saw the tall rock and crowning it - the three Pinds  - which represented Mata Maha Kali, Mata Maha-Lakshmi and Mata Maha Saraswati 

I folded my hands in reverence and prayed.

                      *                        *                             *

After coming out I immediately located the police post and walked in. It was late in the night and very cold. Everyone in the post was huddled inside a blanket. 

The constable on duty was unable to explain: 

' Sir our telephone has been down since the morning. We have not received any calls at all and have no information about your sister.'

I did not know what to do. I shared about the announcement on their public address system. He seemed perplexed. 

It was while this discussion was going on that a policeman lying on a cot in the corner, removed the blanket from his face and looked up.

'Are you Mr Lall?' he asked.

'Yes.' 

' IG (Inspector General of Police) sahib had come on his pony today. He met your sister at Adhkuarri and brought the message from there.' 

'You please go there immediately.' 

                  *                   *                    *

We helped the children onto the pony and loaded the bags. Ramesh went striding ahead - almost racing down the hill to check on my sister.

                  *                     *                    *

The return journey is a bit of a haze now. 

What I do remember is what she shared of her experience:

She realized that she had no money. She rested at the tea stall for almost two hours, watching the devotees walk by up the paved track. Some in excitement, others chanting away with their steps in tune with the chant. 

Then her eyes had fallen on two old ladies who had just passed her and were trudging up the hill slowly. 

One of the ladies had a bad leg which she was slowly dragging behind her. My sister  watched them till they turned the corner disappeared from her sight. And the thought percolated down in her mind:

'If she can do it why can't I!'

She got up and started walking. 

                         *                           *                          *


She walked slowly, resting often.

She had finally reached Adhkuarri, hungry, tired and dusty around five thirty in the evening. Wondering what to do she had asked a constable for help. He was very rude. 

Not being a person whose nature accepted such behavior, she gave him a piece of her mind.

And the Inspector General of Police had ridden onto this scene. 

When he came to know the complete story he reprimanded the policeman and called the Restuarant Manager to instruct him to provide her with tea, food, blankets and a place to rest. The Manager was also asked to provide anything else she may need.

Before leaving the IG had assured her that he would relay the information about her to me on reaching the Sanctum.

The Restuarant Manager followed all instructions to the letter and provided everything she needed.

She was resting there sated, and replete when Ramesh reached there. 

She had completed her pilgrimage and was at peace with the world 

                      *                   *                     *

When I look back now I wonder how I could have gone on this journey with ladies and little children aged six and four without any kind of planning or preparation.

The quiet linking of miracles at each step was in itself the biggest miracle of all.

Each one's pilgrimage was complete. 

We took back with us memories - a strange sense of the divine that humbled and at the same time raised one to a sublime level of awe. We left holding close to our hearts an implicit and unshakable faith in whatever was out there...   

It was as if the very air around had become and was a fountain of energy, full of love and caring. 

It gave back many-fold in return of whatever one took to it.........

                       *                      *                      *

Half asleep
I watch the dust motes
Dance lazily in the light
Of the sunbeam.

Till a sudden gust of wind
Pushes them
Into a wild twirling whirlwind 
To come back to their lazy dance 
As the wind dissipates.

In my somnolent state,
Lost between 
Being half-asleep and half-awake
Within each dust mote
I sense its nascent dream 

                As if It is a miracle waiting to happen.

 

    



      

Impregnable Castles....

The bonding that exists between the inseparable twins : pain or hurt and our reaction to it is ironical; 

Be it in relationships or the different situations that we face as we live each moment, this hurt or pain gives birth to the reaction - an unreasoning fear. 

We never want or wish to experience that pain, that hurt again.

And our innate inventiveness builds the defenses, the armor to protect us. 

And unknown to us, each such moment, each defense, takes us a step further away from each other and ourselves:

FEAR - the illusion

     
The birthing,
It was a reminder
To continue my journey
Into myself.

          *            *            *

Quote:
"Before my highest mountain stand I
And before my longest journey
Therefore
Must I first descend 
Deeper
Than ever I descended."

           *              *             *

The destination: 
Myself.
Hazy and unclear 
As if far in the distance.

And yet in an undefined way
A clarity, a sense of certainty
Within, 
Of where my destiny lies.
Myriad paths lead away 
From where I stand
And many reach where I want to go
And as with many
The way is as yet not clear.

Intuitively I realize:
The first step is not the path,
The path is not the journey
The journey is not the destination.
And yet where I want to go
All becomes One.

           *            *            *

In my journeys
I have seen it:
The deep, placid lake
Nestling within the green mountains.
A sea of twinkling emeralds 
Each priceless in its ability
To free me
From
And for myself.

A scaring ability
For me as I am.

For unshackled and unfettered,
Without protection,
I will stand
As naked and without defense
As a newborn
Without a mother.

And in my life where I stand today
It is I,
To protect myself
Who built these impregnable castles.
                          Can I then, so easily, 
                          Give them up?

                          Yet
                          To be what I want to be,
                          To do what I want to do,
                          To be one with myself
                           It has to be so.

As I slowly wade 
Into the sea of emeralds
The fears for and of myself
Melt away
Dissolving the need
For impregnable castles.

It is a moment of freedom,
Unknown, 
Never experienced or imagined.

                            And in that freedom
                            Yet unsure of the path
                            I take
                            My first step towards myself.