Growing up, I had heard that it was important to tell the truth at all times - I thought yeah right, how can I tell the teacher that I wasn't really sick, but had gone to attend a wedding? I would be punished.
Then, my mom said that it was very difficult to tell the truth always - I thought why mama? it is so simple - at the age of ten, when asked why I was late from school -I had stood up and told my parents that I had gone to my friend's place after school, because she had a new puppy and I wanted to see it. It was simple. But yes, I had gotten a beating from them on that one. Then, I realized - I should have lied. It was indeed difficult to tell the truth.
Mama said - at least try and tell the truth always. Especially, when it has to do with someone you care about. I thought - doesn't it make it all the more difficult?
Well, during the course of life, I realized that truth was more powerful than what I thought it to be. It had the power to destroy and the power to heal at the same time. I realized that the biggest gift you could give to anyone you really cared for, is to tell them the truth - at all times.
The subject is too vast and too deep - but I couldn't resist attempting to hover around the tip of this iceberg. One can write volumes on this subject - but, I have kept it to very plain, simple thoughts - because truth is simple!
The following is a very nice poem I laid my hands on..read on..
SPEAKING TRUTH
By Jesa MacBeth
It is possible to speak truth in anger.
When so done, people tend to hear the anger and not the truth.
It is possible to speak truth in arrogance.
When so done, people tend to hear the arrogance
and not the truth.
It is possible to speak truth in deceitful ways.
When so done, people tend to sense the deceit
and take the truth for more deceit.
It is possible to speak truth in loving kindness.
When so done, people tend to hear the love and the truth.
Or so it seems in my experience
Friday, March 28, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
The Second Death
The monk hurriedly reached the monastery - there was about half an hour before the prayers began. He gently lifted the piece of cloth around his mouth to fit in place -today, was the day when he couldn't speak. Silence was said to help him focus his thoughts inwards, and on the greater force in this universe - devoid of all worldly distractions.
With nothing else to do, he walked over to the water area, to get a drink and refresh himself. The sun beat down mercilessly, and everything in sight had turned brown from green. There was silence all around except for the sounds of twigs crackling and the occasional chirping of a bird.
As he took a sip of the cool water from the palm of his hand, he thought "the necessities of a man are so primal - food, water and shelter. The minute these are met with, he starts to find ways to complicate his life". A small chirp from a bird almost sounding like a cry interrupted his thoughts, and he looked in the direction where it came from.
On the branch of a Birch wood tree, sat a little bird with a twig in it's beak. The branch was bent in an arch, and a part of it was over the water. A closer look at the bird revealed that it was a little sparrow, it's head almost the size of it's puny body. In it's tiny little beak, it precariously held a twig, and was trying very hard to inch towards the upper part of the branch.
The monk stood there, and watched the sparrow struggle with the weight of the twig. He then realized that the little sparrow had a broken limb and had deep wounds around it's neck, as if it had been held in a very firm grip of a bigger animal or a bird. A quick look at the top of the tree revealed an eagle sitting, smacking it's claws. It seemed like the little sparrow had slipped from it's claws, and had fallen to the lower branch - there it had found a twig, and even in it's wounded state was trying to help fortify it's nest. The eagle waited for the right time to pounce on it's prey...
A shiver went up the monk's spine, when he took in the whole scene. The little bird was trying to do something for it's nest, and it's kin even when it's own existence was questionable - and at risk?. "Is this even natural?", thought the monk. What or who would do this - what kind of force within drove this little sparrow to these limits?
While the whole scene seemed to hang by a thread, where the slightest movement in any of the characters would create an imbalance and the result could be anything, the monk didn't know anything better than to hold his breath himself - afraid to hurt anything or afraid to be a spectator to the end result.
"Ram, catch me...common you are so slow..." The voices were that of four children, chasing each other. The lead boy seemed to have the coveted ball in his hand - the rest were chasing him. Innocence at it's best - unaware, and oblivious of the situation. Innocence - thought the monk.
The boys stopped right under the tree and were panting as they struggled to catch their breath. "Let us drink some water" said their leader - a plump boy with a very cherubic face. He drank some, and that was when he laid his eyes on the sparrow. "Hey, look everyone! A sparrow! Look, look at how slowly it is moving" He screamed with excitement. There was a big flutter above at the sudden screams, and the monk lifted his head to see the eagle fly away. What a relief, he thought.
Before he could look down and react, the leader of the boys had taken some stones, and was pelting them at the sparrow! No! No! the monk couldn't really scream, because of his vow of silence that day - but he waved his hands frantically - but there was no stopping the boys...
First, the limbs were broken. Then the stones hit it's head. One, two, three stones, enough to smash it. It reeled for just a bit, lost it's balance and fell to the ground. Fell right at the feet of it's aggressors. They knew no bounds then - their prey right at their feet!. The emotions on the faces of the boys were indescribable - their barbaric joy driven by their innocence, fueled by their ignorance, and something that seemed to spiral higher and higher, proportionate with the pain the sparrow suffered.
The last stone to hit was on it's small breast - it was so powerful that it cracked the tiny thing open! Whoosh! gushed the blood out...red all around. Coating the grass, the kid's foot and the the dirt road. The tiny heart seemed to give way - to the cruelty, to forces that were beyond it's tiny capacity - it's existence, it's love did not seem to have any place or value.
The monk stood rooted - crying and in shock. "You don't belong here little one.." he silently prayed...was all he could think.
The Sun had begun to set - the little boy ran towards his home sobbing - for what? No one knew. The monk walked slowly towards the monastery...
I always had thought everything in this Universe ends only once. But, did you know you could die again even after being dead? Yes, just when you think you have hit the bottom, and think that you could build a tiny little world of your own there, at that level, the forces that are stronger than you can shake it, rock it and break it all over again...and you slip further down. Will that be the end? Will that be the rock bottom, and you won't slip further deeper...I doubt it...
That is why I think you could die over and over again even after being dead...a million times...there is no end...
Saturday, March 22, 2008
The Mirage
During moments of self-introspection, after all thoughts belonging to all the categories - pity, sympathy, love, anger, affection, friendship, motherhood, and what else, have subsided, and have swept over me, the last one to go past me is always one of being tired - tired of chasing something.
The burden of mere existence I guess. The little games, the lies, the fake realities, the unrealistic dreams, the greed to live and not let live - nauseate me...
I always wonder what everyone one of us is running after. Don't we all believe we have a goal so well defined, and that we are so in control of things around us?
But, how painful are those moments when the realization of how small our existence really is, sets in? How many of us have even experienced such humbling moments, where we realize how atomic we are in the grander scheme of things?
There is an eternal quest in search of having it all...where is the end?
Among the various stages to this ultimate realization, Jnana Yoga is first must. It fundamentally teaches two things:
Viveka - Discrimination: The ability to differentiate between what is real/eternal (Brahman) and what is unreal/temporal (everything else in the universe.)
Vairagya - Dispassion: After practice one should be able to "detach" her/himself from everything that is "temporary."
Detachment from everything is what has been emphasized upon over and over again in all of Vedanta to be able to achieve eternal bliss.
I was very impressed by the following excerpt from Vivekananda's speech on Our Real Self (take the time to read it):
Great is the tenacity with which people cling to the senses. Yet, however substantial they may think the external world in which they live and move, there comes a time in the lives of individuals and of races when, involuntarily, they ask, "Is this real?" To those who never find a moment to question the credentials of their senses, whose every moment is occupied with some sort of sense-enjoyment--even to them death comes, and they also are compelled to ask, "Is this real?"
He further says:
We may talk about seeing nothing beyond and keeping all our hopes and aspirations confined to the present moment, and struggle hard not to think of anything beyond the world of senses; and, perhaps, everything outside helps to keep us limited within its narrow bounds. The whole world may combine to prevent us from broadening out beyond the present. Yet, so long as there is death, the question must come again and again, "Is death the end of all these things to which we are clinging, as if they were the most real of all realities, the most substantial of all substances?" The world vanishes in a moment and is gone. Standing on the brink of a precipice beyond which is the infinite yawning chasm, every mind, however hardened, is bound to recoil and ask, "Is this real?" The hopes of a lifetime, built up little by little with all the energies of a great mind, vanish in a second. Are they real? This question must be answered. Time never lessens its power; on the other hand, it adds strength to it.
The burden of mere existence I guess. The little games, the lies, the fake realities, the unrealistic dreams, the greed to live and not let live - nauseate me...
I always wonder what everyone one of us is running after. Don't we all believe we have a goal so well defined, and that we are so in control of things around us?
But, how painful are those moments when the realization of how small our existence really is, sets in? How many of us have even experienced such humbling moments, where we realize how atomic we are in the grander scheme of things?
There is an eternal quest in search of having it all...where is the end?
Among the various stages to this ultimate realization, Jnana Yoga is first must. It fundamentally teaches two things:
Viveka - Discrimination: The ability to differentiate between what is real/eternal (Brahman) and what is unreal/temporal (everything else in the universe.)
Vairagya - Dispassion: After practice one should be able to "detach" her/himself from everything that is "temporary."
Detachment from everything is what has been emphasized upon over and over again in all of Vedanta to be able to achieve eternal bliss.
I was very impressed by the following excerpt from Vivekananda's speech on Our Real Self (take the time to read it):
Great is the tenacity with which people cling to the senses. Yet, however substantial they may think the external world in which they live and move, there comes a time in the lives of individuals and of races when, involuntarily, they ask, "Is this real?" To those who never find a moment to question the credentials of their senses, whose every moment is occupied with some sort of sense-enjoyment--even to them death comes, and they also are compelled to ask, "Is this real?"
He further says:
We may talk about seeing nothing beyond and keeping all our hopes and aspirations confined to the present moment, and struggle hard not to think of anything beyond the world of senses; and, perhaps, everything outside helps to keep us limited within its narrow bounds. The whole world may combine to prevent us from broadening out beyond the present. Yet, so long as there is death, the question must come again and again, "Is death the end of all these things to which we are clinging, as if they were the most real of all realities, the most substantial of all substances?" The world vanishes in a moment and is gone. Standing on the brink of a precipice beyond which is the infinite yawning chasm, every mind, however hardened, is bound to recoil and ask, "Is this real?" The hopes of a lifetime, built up little by little with all the energies of a great mind, vanish in a second. Are they real? This question must be answered. Time never lessens its power; on the other hand, it adds strength to it.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
[Concluding Part III] - A Fist Full of Memories
I stood there in the darkness for what seemed like an eternity. The rain had turned to a slight drizzle. The moonless night, with the rain and the clouds still dark and ready to burst into a downpour seemed significant - so akin to where I stood in my life. I had no idea what time it was...
Looking at the terrace wall, a distant memory tugged at my heart - long forgotten, yet so fresh. I remembered that late evening when Varun was visiting on his vacation, so many years ago - me and Varun stood on the terrace. The sun had just set, and the sky seemed reluctant to let go of the million hues it was painted with, and turn dark. It seemed to hold within it all the beauty, the serenity - resplendent in all the colors of life! Who, or what in this nature would like to turn ugly from being beautiful?
Varun stood very close to me, and together we were looking over the terrace wall into the neighbor's courtyard, as they celebrated the homecoming of their newly wed son. As we watched, I could feel Varun's breath next to my ear as he moved closer to take a better peek. There was a slight breeze that had picked up, and my hair danced with it. Before I knew, Varun gently pushed the wisps of hair from my forehead, and tucked them behind my ears and gently touched my cheeks, and whispered "This is all I need Chinni Ma. Nothing else matters". He then said "Chinni Ma, I wish I could marry a girl just like you in every way" it was a mere whisper - the softest voice I had ever heard. My heart was racing. I could hardly breathe. He knelt down, moved my sari just an inch higher from my ankle, and put my foot in his lap. He looked up at me and our eyes met - as if to ask for permission - I did not realize that I simply nodded. He ever so gently kissed my toes. Time stood still - for just a few seconds. I found my voice, and could barely utter "Prince, I can't let you do anything that's not right. Please leave". He started to say something...but, stopped. He stood up and quietly left, leaving me alone to stand there. That was all that happened, on that fatal night.
I was swept off my feet - in one unguarded moment, I had crossed over into an unknown land, and this relationship had touched forbidden boundaries, or rather had hit an unknown, undefined note - a land dictated by a different set of rules. Rules not made before, but that were made by me, made by us, just in an attempt to define this new bond we had formed. Right here, right this moment.I stood there and cried after Varun just turned and left - I was confused, I felt loved, and at the same time I hated myself - the emotions engulfed me wave after wave.
But, for a woman who was alien to her husband's love, did not know another man's affections, this was something I completely couldn't comprehend. I simply couldn't tag this feeling - the woman in me was touched, and a rhythm that I did not even know existed in me, was played upon - that's all I knew. Nothing beyond that. It was pure in it's truest form - untouched and untainted. I didn't even know what it was.
It was May 04.
As the days passed, I nor Varun tried anything to address what had happened that night, nor did we ever try to give a name to our relationship. I loved him as my son, a brother and I don't know what else, and all he had for me was love.In the end it did not matter.
Today, after all these years standing here, I did not not even know what I was grieving. I knew I had lost something, someone - but who? I didn't know.
I left the next morning back to where I belonged to. Needless to say, Bindu made sure that Varun did not even come to see me off at the railway station. One last look at him, and I never looked back.The thought that I may never ever see him again tore at my heart - but, other than still feel all the love for my baby, I was helpless.
No one else needed me. Harsh, but a bitter pill I had to swallow - life had given me the strength to endure.
I woke up every morning at about 4:00 AM - couldn't sleep after that. Dreams, nightmares, Varun, Arvind - people running, crying, laughing...it was endless torture.
"Chinni Ma, half a cup of coffee please..."
"Chinni Ma, you are my everything....my mom, my sister, and I see every relationship in you". Varun at 21 had said that. Innocent and mature at the same time. All I had done was pat him on the head, and kiss him on the forehead, and thought - my baby.
"Chinni Ma, will you come visit me regularly when I move away on my job postings?"
"Chinni Ma, I'm sooo hungry. Can I eat two packets of oatmeal please?". That was the cutest thing I thought. Feeding him had always given me an unknown satisfaction of being full myself.
"Chinni Ma, can you make this special vegetable rice for me?". For whom would I make it now?
Every single day was a torture - every single day or date had painful memories and was an anniversary of something.
On Jan 22nd we did this, on Oct 27th something else, some other day was special because of something else...where was the end to these memories?
The roads, the foods, the coffee, the setting sun, the moonlight, the hiking trails - everything that existed in nature and touched one's heart reminded me of Varun.
What do I do with these memories? where do I store them - forever? I used to make of note that I had to say this to Varun and that to him - but, never got a chance to...what was I supposed to do with all those untold things, all those things that remained undone...? what was one supposed to do?
He would hold my hand and say "Chinni Ma, I always want you beside me. I will always be there for you - no matter what happens"
So, Varun what happened? How did everything suddenly change? I don't hold anything against you - but, how can everything vanish? It defied all logic - maybe one of those things I never understood.
It was a loss of a relationship and also the loss of the person I was so familiar with and enjoyed being with - both at the same time. Which was a greater loss, I didn't know.
I had now after all this time, found a card from Varun in a book that he had been reading when he had come home on that vacation and when the incident on the terrace had happened...in the cared, he simply said he was sorry ...maybe for what happened on the terrace, or sorry for something else, I would never know.
Sometime I wonder who had made the rule that every form of love had to be bottled and labeled? Why did we need a definition for everything? Wasn't love enough for us humans, in a world fraught with hatred, deceit, and double standards? Maybe I was wrong...
Back home, I continued to live - and put on a brave face. It was mere existence. I did as was expected, by the same society- but, there were only three things on the face of this earth that knew the absolute truth on what I was going through. And, those were- God, me and my pillow.
I believe that only people who have lost something can really fully appreciate the presence of a beautiful relationship or the absence of it. The sensitivity and the depth that comes with a loss is not achievable for someone otherwise - I always thought they lived fake, make believe relationships - shallow and hollow. I still think so.
Varun called me just once after that - maybe to see if I was alive. "Chinni Ma, I'm leaving the country and going on an overseas posting. Just wanted to let you know." I quietly said "okay Varun". He immediately said "Chinni Ma, are you okay, take care of yourself". I said "Varun, take care and be happy - always" He asked me some other questions for the next 5 minutes or so - but, I had stopped hearing what he was talking... I said nothing . I had nothing else to say to him.
The Sun was setting, and it was Dec 31st. The last day of the year. The Sun had set in my life too. Gone forever was my laughter, my little desires, and everything else with it. There was no tomorrow to look forward to...tears burned down my cheeks and my throat...
Me and my memories will continue to live on - I will keep all of them tightly held in my fist - my fistful of memories....
Looking out at the sunset, I thought - I had heard that little baby birds leave the nest once they learn to fly...the mother bird actually prepares them for the flight...and it occured to me that I had done the same too. But, had anyone noticed the tears in the mother bird's eyes after the flight of it's fledgling?...
The skies are vast and blue and open..infinite, with no boundaries, no rules, no expectations...
I silently wished - may you soar as high as your wings can carry you little one - higher and higher...
[The End.....]
Looking at the terrace wall, a distant memory tugged at my heart - long forgotten, yet so fresh. I remembered that late evening when Varun was visiting on his vacation, so many years ago - me and Varun stood on the terrace. The sun had just set, and the sky seemed reluctant to let go of the million hues it was painted with, and turn dark. It seemed to hold within it all the beauty, the serenity - resplendent in all the colors of life! Who, or what in this nature would like to turn ugly from being beautiful?
Varun stood very close to me, and together we were looking over the terrace wall into the neighbor's courtyard, as they celebrated the homecoming of their newly wed son. As we watched, I could feel Varun's breath next to my ear as he moved closer to take a better peek. There was a slight breeze that had picked up, and my hair danced with it. Before I knew, Varun gently pushed the wisps of hair from my forehead, and tucked them behind my ears and gently touched my cheeks, and whispered "This is all I need Chinni Ma. Nothing else matters". He then said "Chinni Ma, I wish I could marry a girl just like you in every way" it was a mere whisper - the softest voice I had ever heard. My heart was racing. I could hardly breathe. He knelt down, moved my sari just an inch higher from my ankle, and put my foot in his lap. He looked up at me and our eyes met - as if to ask for permission - I did not realize that I simply nodded. He ever so gently kissed my toes. Time stood still - for just a few seconds. I found my voice, and could barely utter "Prince, I can't let you do anything that's not right. Please leave". He started to say something...but, stopped. He stood up and quietly left, leaving me alone to stand there. That was all that happened, on that fatal night.
I was swept off my feet - in one unguarded moment, I had crossed over into an unknown land, and this relationship had touched forbidden boundaries, or rather had hit an unknown, undefined note - a land dictated by a different set of rules. Rules not made before, but that were made by me, made by us, just in an attempt to define this new bond we had formed. Right here, right this moment.I stood there and cried after Varun just turned and left - I was confused, I felt loved, and at the same time I hated myself - the emotions engulfed me wave after wave.
But, for a woman who was alien to her husband's love, did not know another man's affections, this was something I completely couldn't comprehend. I simply couldn't tag this feeling - the woman in me was touched, and a rhythm that I did not even know existed in me, was played upon - that's all I knew. Nothing beyond that. It was pure in it's truest form - untouched and untainted. I didn't even know what it was.
It was May 04.
As the days passed, I nor Varun tried anything to address what had happened that night, nor did we ever try to give a name to our relationship. I loved him as my son, a brother and I don't know what else, and all he had for me was love.In the end it did not matter.
Today, after all these years standing here, I did not not even know what I was grieving. I knew I had lost something, someone - but who? I didn't know.
I left the next morning back to where I belonged to. Needless to say, Bindu made sure that Varun did not even come to see me off at the railway station. One last look at him, and I never looked back.The thought that I may never ever see him again tore at my heart - but, other than still feel all the love for my baby, I was helpless.
No one else needed me. Harsh, but a bitter pill I had to swallow - life had given me the strength to endure.
I woke up every morning at about 4:00 AM - couldn't sleep after that. Dreams, nightmares, Varun, Arvind - people running, crying, laughing...it was endless torture.
"Chinni Ma, half a cup of coffee please..."
"Chinni Ma, you are my everything....my mom, my sister, and I see every relationship in you". Varun at 21 had said that. Innocent and mature at the same time. All I had done was pat him on the head, and kiss him on the forehead, and thought - my baby.
"Chinni Ma, will you come visit me regularly when I move away on my job postings?"
"Chinni Ma, I'm sooo hungry. Can I eat two packets of oatmeal please?". That was the cutest thing I thought. Feeding him had always given me an unknown satisfaction of being full myself.
"Chinni Ma, can you make this special vegetable rice for me?". For whom would I make it now?
Every single day was a torture - every single day or date had painful memories and was an anniversary of something.
On Jan 22nd we did this, on Oct 27th something else, some other day was special because of something else...where was the end to these memories?
The roads, the foods, the coffee, the setting sun, the moonlight, the hiking trails - everything that existed in nature and touched one's heart reminded me of Varun.
What do I do with these memories? where do I store them - forever? I used to make of note that I had to say this to Varun and that to him - but, never got a chance to...what was I supposed to do with all those untold things, all those things that remained undone...? what was one supposed to do?
He would hold my hand and say "Chinni Ma, I always want you beside me. I will always be there for you - no matter what happens"
So, Varun what happened? How did everything suddenly change? I don't hold anything against you - but, how can everything vanish? It defied all logic - maybe one of those things I never understood.
It was a loss of a relationship and also the loss of the person I was so familiar with and enjoyed being with - both at the same time. Which was a greater loss, I didn't know.
I had now after all this time, found a card from Varun in a book that he had been reading when he had come home on that vacation and when the incident on the terrace had happened...in the cared, he simply said he was sorry ...maybe for what happened on the terrace, or sorry for something else, I would never know.
Sometime I wonder who had made the rule that every form of love had to be bottled and labeled? Why did we need a definition for everything? Wasn't love enough for us humans, in a world fraught with hatred, deceit, and double standards? Maybe I was wrong...
Back home, I continued to live - and put on a brave face. It was mere existence. I did as was expected, by the same society- but, there were only three things on the face of this earth that knew the absolute truth on what I was going through. And, those were- God, me and my pillow.
I believe that only people who have lost something can really fully appreciate the presence of a beautiful relationship or the absence of it. The sensitivity and the depth that comes with a loss is not achievable for someone otherwise - I always thought they lived fake, make believe relationships - shallow and hollow. I still think so.
Varun called me just once after that - maybe to see if I was alive. "Chinni Ma, I'm leaving the country and going on an overseas posting. Just wanted to let you know." I quietly said "okay Varun". He immediately said "Chinni Ma, are you okay, take care of yourself". I said "Varun, take care and be happy - always" He asked me some other questions for the next 5 minutes or so - but, I had stopped hearing what he was talking... I said nothing . I had nothing else to say to him.
The Sun was setting, and it was Dec 31st. The last day of the year. The Sun had set in my life too. Gone forever was my laughter, my little desires, and everything else with it. There was no tomorrow to look forward to...tears burned down my cheeks and my throat...
Me and my memories will continue to live on - I will keep all of them tightly held in my fist - my fistful of memories....
Looking out at the sunset, I thought - I had heard that little baby birds leave the nest once they learn to fly...the mother bird actually prepares them for the flight...and it occured to me that I had done the same too. But, had anyone noticed the tears in the mother bird's eyes after the flight of it's fledgling?...
The skies are vast and blue and open..infinite, with no boundaries, no rules, no expectations...
I silently wished - may you soar as high as your wings can carry you little one - higher and higher...
[The End.....]
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