Spilling the beans

Life in Infosys - from an umbrella's perspective

2008-09-10T00:03:00.012+05:30

This is my story. Me who ? I am the Infosys Umbrella. Actually we don't have individual names like you humans do because we were not named by our creators: the humans. But we do consider them our parents who gave us form, character, colour, structure and a goal to live for. Our aim in life - "To protect as many humans as possible from natural elements like rain and sun. And thank God, it does not snow in Infy. Brrrr.. I have heard sad stories of some of my brothers in colder countries where they have to bear the freezing winters.

Coming to our origin, we were mostly handmade by humans in the early days but now we are mass produced in factories using materials like steel, wood, nylon and plastic. Our features depend on the machines that manufacture us and sometimes on the humans who give us their final touches. We all look alike after we come out from a factory assembly line except for our colours may be. Some of us are blue, some yellow, some red and some with bright patterns made of dots, flowers or cartoons. The unlucky ones and mind you they are large in number are black in colour. Somehow most humans prefer us to be black. An antithesis perhaps to the Apartheid fought in Africa and the Pre-Martin Luther King,Jr. era in America. Physiologically or rather structurally we are not that different from you humans. We have a strong but flexible skeletal structure, an outer skin covering made of cloth or nylon, a central spinal column like shaft and a handle substituting for hands and legs. What we apparently lack is a brain of our own unless humans decide to make us umbrellas more smart in the future by implanting silicon chips which take care of the opening and closing functions automatically by judging the climatic conditions outside. And beyond that, may be convert us into some kind of a whacky gizmo like a highly energy laser gun when folded or into a small aperture satellite antenna dish when unfolded. My imagination is running riot here. Coming back, we umbrellas do have a face which is visible when we are put to use by humans. Our dull monochromatic faces or bright coloured cheerful faces always look up towards the skies.

Physical challenges confront us in our day to day life. Be it facing the torrential downpour of rain or the scorching heat from the mid afternoon sun. But we did rather face these challenges than to lay idle in one of the many umbrella stands located in strategic locations within the Infosys campus. Life is fun when we keep shifting bases from one umbrella stand to the other. It is then that we get to meet different umbrellas. We share our experiences and enjoy our company as long as we are together. But the sad part is that we never get to travel much. Just within the confines of this campus. The maximum may be till the place where these gigantic rectangular boxes with four big wheels stand. These boxes take in as many people as they can and then God knows what it does with them. May be it takes them to some God forbidden location and later devours them. Despite this, day in and day out, I see these foolish people climb into these mysterious large boxes they call a "Bus". I sometimes also see these boxes spitting out people. Probably it does so when its stomach is full and is not able to take in anymore. This cycle repeats several times during the day. I have heard humans call this bizarre happenings as "Shifts".

Someday I would like to go beyond this place and explore the world. I keenly observe my other friends who belong to the humans go along with them peacefully resting in their bags. I envy them because they have seen the world outside. Places like the bazaars, the streets, the parks, the temples, and the theaters which I have only heard of. Sometimes if they are lucky, they even get to see places outside this city. I have heard stories from an old umbrella friend of mine who has been half way around this world with his human owner. His owner, an old man was sentimentally attached to our friend and would take him wherever he went unmindful of the weather outside. And he was kind enough not to be replacing him with another fancier looking umbrella; especially with the new breed of "foldable" types which become really compact after folding and hence easier to carry and much lighter.

Sometimes, I beg people to carry me along with them but these heartless humans drop me right before they get swallowed by these "buses". May be its their way of showing gratitude by protecting me from these "bus" monsters. Never know, but I have a weird feeling that this name "Infosys" imprinted on our faces has got something to do with us not being able to cross the boundaries.

Our working hours are random. As random as the rain or sunshine outside but the rest of the time we are free to enjoy our siestas. There are two days in every week when there are very few souls around and that gives us more time to sleep or to catch up with old friends, listen to their stories or gossip about what others are upto. During these two days, I also get a chance to see some aged humans and some really young ones, the toddlers. These kids really like to play with us rather than putting us to lame use which the grown-ups thoughtlessly do. I thoroughly enjoy their company and take pleasure in letting them have fun with me around. During the other days, its rather monotonous work and gets pretty boring at times. I sometimes listen to their(human) banter, the language of which is very queer to me. They talk things like Jawa, Daetabase, Codin, Deadlynes, Proposalles, Apprysalles or the most repeated word - Meet-ins. I wonder if these are the names of places they will be visiting after office hours or more likely they must be the names of their kids, siblings or close friends. However, I prefer to ignore their strange talk at most times and carry on with my work.

There are happier days when there is not much work and then there are the sad days when I feel all alone in my make shift home - the umbrella stand. At times, tragedies do strike some of my friends who get injured by accidentally coming under the big monster's wheels. Otherwise its due to the mishandling or misuse by humans or in general its the age and fatigue that wears them down. In such cases, they are either sent to the IURC (Infosys Umbrella Rehabilitation Centre) for repair and rejuvenation or in the worst case when they become irreparable, they are abandoned or cast into the cemetery called the "Scrap yard" along with other unusable umbrellas and metal scrap. This is a place we umbrellas most dread but finally end up. God knows what happens to these helpless friends after that. They say they get "Recycled" into new ones giving them a fresh lease of life.

So much for my story. Someday, when the incessant exposure to sun and rain will erase the "Infosys" name from my face, that day I would get my freedom to venture all alone into this mysterious world outside of Infosys and have my share of adventures. With that hope I continue to live.

On the other side of light

2007-11-10T22:14:00.001+05:30

driven by the dark side,
swaying back and forth,
is there a reprieve from this reverie?
here and back again into the deep.

hope to carry with promises to keep,
lest feel to give up in haste,
a body and mind diseased by cohesion,
to the discreteness of nature.

Myriad destinies; feels illusion like,
each one a force to reckon with,
where's the time for the higher,
when dwelling in the swamp is all there is.

cometh light from the blows that fall,
hard as they are, seek the strength to forebear,
shed the gown to uncover the truth,
fleeting; leaving a trail to follow.

may be enduring is a part of the game,
lead the march with fortitude and will,
dark shadows will reveal the object of love,
thy will be done when every other hath ended...

A journey to remember...epilogue

2007-10-20T13:25:00.000+05:30

Our flight back to Bangalore the next day morning was rather unincidental thus making a rather tame ending to the otherwise mystical and eventful journey. The photographs taken for posterity, even to this day bring back cherished memories of an enchanting Indian holiday in the Himalayan country.

A journey to remember...day 8

2007-10-20T13:17:00.000+05:30

Oct 7, 2006

We wanted to extend our stay in Mussorie for a couple more days but unfortunately our travel itinerary gave no room. One of the disadvantages of pre-planned and packaged vacations.

On returning to Delhi, we visited some of the tourist hotspots in the capital like the India Gate, Janpath, the majestic Parliament house and the Raj Bhavan. I was disappointed to give a miss to the famous Jantar-Mantar, a dream child of the first Prime Minister of Independent India, Jawaharlal Nehru to popularize science among the youth and children.

A journey to remember...day 7

2007-10-20T13:06:00.000+05:30

Oct 6, 2006

Mussorie is about 30 KMs from the capital Dehradun. The road takes us uphill and the highest point is about 6000 feet above the sea level. Mussorie is called the "Queen of the Hills" and its beauty is worthy of the name it’s christened with. On the way we saw numerous residential schools and management institutes with its smartly dressed receptors of knowledge: the students. The cool climate, green and pollution free environment makes it an ideal place for setting up institutes to pursue academic and research interests.

Our first stopover at Mussorie was at a waterfall called Bhatta falls where I was pleasantly surprised to find scarce human presence and enjoyed the quiet solitude with nature. It is not a very high or spectacular waterfall. May be about 50 to 60 feet high from where the water was falling with a great gusto! Our hotel was at the top of the hill. Taxis and tourist vehicles are not allowed after a certain point on the road in order to make it pedestrian friendly and to encourage people to get around by foot taking in the sights and sounds of beautiful Mussorie. There are hand drawn carriages available at your service to carry the baggage and for elderly people who cannot walk. One astonishing sight to observe was that the whole place was mist covered even though it was mid afternoon. We visited another famous waterfall called Kempti falls and a beautiful flower garden built during the colonial times. The British made frequent escapes to such cool hill-stations to seek refuge from the scorching Indian summer heat.

A journey to remember...day 6

2007-10-20T12:58:00.000+05:30

Oct 5, 2006

I dared to take a cold water bath on a misty and chilly Kumaon morning, again, an act of courage never attempted back home even in the much warmer Bangalore climate. We headed back on the same road towards Rishikesh from where our itinerary would take us to Dehradun and Mussorie.

Dehradun is the capital of Uttarakhand and famous for its Military and Civil Services training academies. This is where the 'men of steel' with their strong resolve to serve their motherland get trained to lead the country on the frontiers of war and peace, of welfare and administration. There are not many historic landmarks in Dehradun. It is a busy little city resembling any other state capital with its share of government buildings and educational institutes, modern office spaces and colorful markets, plush villas and crammed residential complexes. Then there is the other part of the city which is a military cantonment and as such has aesthetically built individual houses with well kept gardens, connected by neatly paved roads and cobblestone walkways. A sight hard to miss is the smartly uniformed Sepoy, whose precise hand and leg movements upon the arrival of a higher ranked officer is inimitable. A place worth visiting if you are in Dehradun is the Sahasradhara or the thousand springs. It is an amazing nature retreat where the water literally springs from beneath the rocks from a thousand or more crevices. The water is said to be rich in sulfur content which gives it a bit of a pungent smell as it oxidizes, exposed to sunlight and air. Many people come here to take a dip in the mineral rich water which is supposed to cure skin ailments. We relaxed by the side of the flowing stream of water enjoying watching a group of young people splashing and dashing. Amazing what water could do to people! My parents were engaged in shopping which I was averse to especially during what were meant to be spiritual journeys. From there, we went to a cave temple dedicated to Lord Shiva called the Tapkeshwar mandir. It gets its name from tapak meaning trickle (also the sound of water when it falls on a hard surface like a rock) and Eashwar (Shiva). The Shivling (the main idol worshipped) was formed by the tapak-ing (forgive me for my 'Hinglish') of water on a solid piece of rock which gradually smoothed its top surface and gave it the form of the Lingam - the symbolic form of the eternal Lord Shiva. The narrow winding cave has several small cavernous spots where stone idols of various Hindu deities are kept and worshipped. A small stream runs beside the temple where men and beast alike, rest to drink the sweet tasting water meanwhile absorbing the mystic atmosphere. I met an ascetic just outside the temple who had hazel blue eyes and a snow white beard almost reaching his solar plexus. As soon as I saw him, something from within told me that this man here has seen the truth and his level of existence is on a different plane. He called us inside a small house which was more a temple in itself with the picture of Mother Kali and Vishwanath (Shiva) adorning the hall. I instinctively prostrated at his feet which was duly followed by my parents. He blessed us and enquired about my whereabouts and my work. The saintly looking man told my parents that I would be going abroad after a couple of years. He asked us to visit Ujjain, one of the holy Kumbh kshetras and gave us some sugar candy as prasad. I couldn't get his divine and God-longing face out of my mind and even today I get goose bumps by the mere thought that such cleansed and pure souls still wander on this holy land which has taught so much spirituality to the world.

A journey to remember...day 5

2007-10-20T12:50:00.000+05:30

Oct 4, 2006

Devaprayag is one of the popular stopovers for pilgrims and travelers going to Badrinath, Kedarnath or to the higher echelons of the greater Kailash range. It is a small bustling hill village where houses are built on the slopes. The life of the people living here must be hard indeed, especially for the kids who have to walk their way to school located tens of miles away from their homes through the rough and uncompromising landscape. But what I saw instead were innocent little ones merrily scuttling away toward their school with absolutely no regrets or vexations about their difficult life which is a characteristic of city bred brats. The joy on their faces was doubled when they were returning home, dancing and jumping to the sweet sounds of chirping birds returning to their nests after a hard day's labor. Our lodging here was in a travelers' bungalow which was an erstwhile government office. No modern amenities here like television or soft foam beds. But we were quietly charmed by the earthly looking and rusty ambiance with only the bare necessities for a weary traveler. A comfortable bed filled with straw stuffing covered with white linen, a pillow and a woolly blanket. A fan hanging from the wooded ceiling was an added comfort. Giant sized lizards adorned the lime washed off-white walls which reminded me of their ancestors - the dinosaurs and the komodo dragons of the Polynesian islands.

The sun was setting as we settled in our cottage. We decided to take a stroll downhill into the village leading down into the river. The narrow walkways were lined with houses on both sides, the front portion of some of them converted into shops selling everything from daily provisions to flowers to sweet meats. The air was filled with the perfume of puja items like agarbathis, camphor and sandal tablets sold in these shops and was carried by the fresh mountain air tunneling into these interstices of man made structures. The narrow walkway leads us to a bridge built over the ravaging river below. The intensity of the flow was so fierce that the sound of the water gushing against the rocks on the edges could be heard many furlongs away! The water had created beautiful patterns on the rocks which were smoothened by the ages of flowing currents. We made our way back into the rooms, had dinner which consisted of whole wheat fire baked rotis, a curry, rice pulav with sliced onions and vegetable pickle for pakkavadhyam (accompaniment to a main artist in a music concert).

A journey to remember...day 4

2007-10-20T12:33:00.000+05:30

Oct 3, 2006

Rishikesh is much higher in altitude compared to Haridwar. In fact our journey was supposed to lead us closer and closer to the birthplace of the Ganges, higher up in the Himalayas called Gomukh. Gomukh is a glacier which melts during the summer giving birth to the river Ganges. From such humble beginnings, the river takes a much turbulent form as it descends from the Himalayas joining its various tributaries on its course and finally merges into the Bay of Bengal.

The hotel we stayed in Rishikesh was right next to the banks of the river. We strolled alongside the river and sat in a stone mantap built near the edge overlooking the river and talked about the Indian mysticism. From the shady works of black magicians to the devout saints of this blessed land. The next day as I stepped into my hotel balcony, a wonderful sight awaited me. The panoramic view was beautiful and picture perfect with the flowing river, the mountains in the backdrop, small temples lined along the bathing ghats and the famous Ram and Lakshman jhula (bridge) on the far side. I managed to wake up my parents, a rare event as they are very early risers. We walked on the banks of the river, as the early morning sun was playing hide and seek hidden behind the mountains. There was a chill in the air. A splash of the cool waters on the face was rejuvenating. I could see small scattered groups of people busy in their morning ablutions in the river. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear a vocalist doing his morning sadhana in one of the riverside villas.

Reluctantly we returned to our hotel rooms as there was no time to waste and many places to see. Morning ablutions and then we were off to walk on the Ram jhula. This iron suspension bridge was constructed during the colonial times connecting the two pieces of land on either side of the river. Walking on the bridge, I could sense the natural frequency of the bridge resonating with that of our foot steps as it began to tremble and sway, though ever so slightly! At the other end we saw a Shiv-ling temple where we offered our salutations to the real dweller of the mountains, Lord Shiva. A small girl was selling tiny little wheat balls to feed the fishes, which now and then bobbed their heads above the water to feast on the wheat dumplings. This reminded me of another holy place - Shringeri in the Western Ghats of Karnataka, where goddess Sharadhe is the presiding deity. I noticed a bookstall on the roadside and my attention was drawn to some books displayed in the showcase in front of the stall. I entered the book shop and began browsing through some of the books written by Swami Sivananda, another ascetic who settled in Rishikesh and has an ashram here well known as the Sivananda ashram. I got a couple of books - one on interpretation of dreams and the other, an autobiography of the saint. From Rishikesh our journey lead us towards Devaprayag, one of the six prayags on the way to Badrinath, Kedarnath, Yamunothri and Gangothri popularly called the Char Dham. The journey took us through small winding roads carved out of mountains with sharp precipices on one side and deep slopes on the other. We hung on to our dear lives while driving whenever another vehicle had to pass us. The road was only wide enough for a single average sized four wheeler to pass. God knows how the drivers had mastered the art of driving on those perilous roads without brimming over. We encountered a few mudslides along the way which blocked the traffic and lead to some chaos. I took this opportunity to get out the cramped car and get out into the open to take in the sights and sounds of the beautiful landscapes and the local tribal people living on the mountain slopes. I wondered how difficult their lives would be when getting from point A to point B would mean crossing several hillocks, streams and encompassing thick forests, not to forget the predatory creatures that may be lurking in the dense foliage.

A journey to remember...day 3

2007-10-20T12:22:00.000+05:30

Oct 2, 2006

As expected in any vacation, everything was not smooth sailing. We faced some hitches the next day morning when we were supposed to start our actual trip towards the mountains. Our tour operator did not send the cab in time and that really irked us. Finally after a plethora of phone calls to and fro, a driver by the name of Dhoom Singh, a funny name I thought, showed up at our room door. We were greatly relieved! The first stop in our journey was Haridwar, literally meaning entrance to Lord Shiva's abode, which are the Himalayas. Lord Shiva has made the snow capped mountains His abode where He along with His consort, goddess Parvati are endlessly involved in the play of creating and destroying gigantic worlds symbolically represented by His thandav (dance) as lord Nataraja. The journey to Haridwar took us 6 hours by road from Delhi; passing through the state of Uttar Pradesh of which Uttaranchal or Uttarakhand as it is now called was a part before breaking to form an independent state.

We reached Haridwar at around dusk. The first sight of the Ganges flowing majestically was overwhelming. It was also a holy day in the Hindu calendar, the last day of the Navrathri festivities called Vijayadashami. Huge effigies of the demon king Ravana were erected for ceremonial burning. Not so far away could be heard voices of men giving discourses about the way Lord Rama defeated Ravana to ultimately re-establish dharma in the epic Ramayana. Crackers and fireworks added to the din and bustle of thousands of people thronging Haridwar for a holy dip in the Ganges on that very auspicious day. Haridwar is one of the four Kumbh kshetras, the other three being Ujjain, Nashik and Varanasi or Benaras. We went to the ghat on the river banks overlooking some temples where the evening services were being offered to the presiding deities. As soon as I stepped on the one of the stone steps, I slipped and fell; resting my entire body weight on my hands. For a moment, I felt the ground slipping away from me and carrying me straight into the gushing river. A slight flurry and much anxiety to my parents who have a predisposition of protecting me all the time. Especially my father who has been told by an astrologer that I have a gandam (premonition of a mishap waiting to happen) through the agent of water. My mother's heart would have skipped a beat when I later jokingly told her that nobody will come to your rescue even if you accidentally fall into the river as people would believe that the Ganga mayi (mother) decided to take away your son or daughter. I saw some ascetics seated by the side of the ghat with long matted hair, Rudraksh necklaces around their necks and their bodies smeared with ash all over; a visible sign of their renunciation of the world. It also helps them to protect their skin from the scorching Indian sun and insect bites. From Haridwar we headed towards Rishikesh passing through thick foliage of shrubs and trees from which were emanating some cries of wild beasts which I pretended not to hear!

A journey to remember...day 2

2007-10-20T12:14:00.000+05:30

Oct 1, 2006

Our room in the guest house was neat and well kept with twin beds, a writing table, a sofa and a TV with a fully functional remote! We slept soundly that night exhausted from the journey. The next day we went to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. The bus went via Mathura, the site of the beautiful Vrindavan gardens where Lord Krishna mesmerized the Gopikas by His divine charm as a cowherd playing the bansuri - the traditional Indian flute made of bamboo. Infinite are the manifestations of the Lord!! On the way, we also saw the sarcophagus of the great Mughal emperor Akbar immortalized in a historic structure boasting of the Indo-Persian style of architecture. We reached Agra by noon and the sun was pelting heat down on us on that very hot mid October day. However, the sight of the Taj left us spellbound. The beautiful white marble gumbaz (dome) surrounded by the four minars (towers) set amidst plush green and well laid out gardens and water fountains which glistened in the mid afternoon sun could be compared to a beautiful rare white pearl embedded in emerald green stones and sparkling diamonds. We went around the showpiece of human love for his beloved and caught a glimpse of it from every angle possible; all the time soaking in its artistic grandeur and aesthetic splendor. After lunch, we set out to visit the Agra fort on the way back to Delhi.

A journey to remember...day 1

2007-10-20T12:06:00.000+05:30

Sept 30, 2006

I began my journey from Bangalore by flight to Delhi along with mom and dad. On reaching there, a cab was standing ready to pick us up and the driver dropped us at the Karnatak Bhavan, a government guest house for ministers and delegates from Karnataka arriving in New Delhi. Being the capital, New Delhi is the center of the entire political hubbub. We had the privilege of getting accommodation in the guest house since my dad works for the government. But working for the government has its flip side too. My dad forced me to accompany me and my mom to visit an old colleague of his. I was rather poor and strictly against maintaining these kind of diplomatic relationships. His name was Mr.Shrivastava and he worked in the Ministry of Agriculture. He was a middle-aged person slightly more aged than my father who is 52. He was a bachelor which came as a surprise to me when I later found out that he was rather very sociable. He gave us a warm welcome and served some cashews and kishmish to munch on. We headed for a restaurant to dine which served traditional Rajasthani thali meals - purely vegetarian. All through the course of the dinner, my dad's bachelor friend had many of his adventures to share and I lost count of how many times I kept nodding my head in approval of his heroic deeds. While heading back, we dropped him at his house before going to our guest house to retire for the day.

A journey to remember....prologue

2007-10-20T11:42:00.000+05:30

It had been my longstanding wish to see the splendor of nature in its Magnum opus, the Himalayas. Every time I saw the magnificent canvas created by Mother Earth in pictures or on television, I went into raptures. The dream of being there amidst the mighty mountains, in flesh and blood to experience the joy of its serene beauty was perennial in my heart. The Himalayas are not just a feast for the senses but 'soul tonic'. The fresh mountain air, the blue sky sometimes azure, sometimes cloud laden, the Ganges which is the very essence of purity and life, the breathtaking landscapes, the gorgeous valleys - all stand testimony to why it is called "The abode of the Gods". Millions of seekers of truth have attained knowledge in its hallowed soil made holy by thousands of saints, sages and sannyasins who made it their treading ground. Its captivating beauty makes you forget all mundane things of everyday life spent in bread hunt and touches the inner recesses of your being; awakening the dormant power hidden within you.

Lead candle light

2007-07-21T15:50:00.001+05:30

Candle, candle burning bright,
you are a bestower of light,
you become the only source,
when electricity is not in force.

The fire in you amazes me,
burning the self without agony,
illumining households and brightening lives,
when darkness prevails as the power dies.

You never cease to be a light of joy,
in this modern era where neons ploy,
you become a carrier of love cable,
as two hearts unite on a dinner table.

Beautiful shades of colour adorn your flame,
putting Edison's invention to a state of shame,
blue for elegance and grey for sober,
a bright sunshine yellow that doth not waver.

Standing tall even as you melt,
till the last drop of wax is felt,
leaving a trail of light to remember,
as you fade away, sacrificing for the other.

Revelation

2007-02-17T23:30:00.000+05:30

Sreenivasa Raghavendra Kannan or Seenu as he was called by his loved ones sat down to meditate as usual that evening. With his eyes closed, as he mentally left the world he had known for the past 24 years, he had not the faintest idea of what he was about to experience. As was the usual practice, he started with pranayama and then began to meditate upon the illumined face of his Gurudeva, Swami Vivekananda.

Wandering away from the material plane, his mind was gripped with one overwhelming thought; to unite the individual soul with the Infinite one. Seenu was skeptical if he really wanted to know the truth, whether he truly yearned to be one with God at all times - in an unbroken chain like the flow of oil from an earthen pot to a lamp. But at times he felt these intense pangs in the heart caused by the pain of his apparent separation from God. He felt as though his heart was wrenched like a soaking wet towel which had every drop of vitality drained out of it.

Seenu was born and brought up in an orthodox family and was well versed in the Vedic hymns. He had read the commentaries by Adi Shankaracharya on the Vedas. Shankara's philosophy, the Advaitha or non-dualism greatly appealed to him. He knew in the heart of hearts that finding the One source behind everything will lead to the ultimate goal and thereby put an end to all the miseries in this life and thereafter.

He took a deep breath and at that moment he felt as if the whole of the conscious world was taking a deep breath along with him. He felt all the individual egos merge with his ego in the effort to search for that One Super Ego, the causal force. It was like the various tributaries that join a river as it surges ahead with great gusto towards the mighty ocean and finally becomes one with it! And then flash! dawns this idea upon him that all this world is nothing more than a dream. Different coloured threads weaving the illusory fabric of the Universe with God being its magical Weaver. The whole perception of the world was but a thought arising from the Cosmic mind of the Eternal one.

The Cosmic mind belongs to the ever pure, the ever perfect, the ever blissful Brahman or the One Universal Consciousness.
Brahman is without qualities. The endless cycles of creation and destruction are but part of His lila or divine play. The human birth is considered to be the highest in terms of physiological, mental and spiritual evolution. That makes man capable of realising his identity with the true Self if only a sincere attempt is made to rise above maya - this world.

As Seenu's meditation became deeper, he probed into subtler levels of consciousness where the thought itself got resolved into akasa and prana or matter and force which created these seemingly gigantic universes. Opening his eyes slowly, he felt an uncontrollable joy within. It was the elixir of divine bliss! He wanted to drink more of it but was unable to, try hard as he did to delve again into the very depths he had reached in his meditation. But then he thought, may be it was part of His lila not to give an overdose of bliss which may turn him into some sort of a lunatic if he is unable to handle it. But nonetheless the experience was a revelation to Seenu which replenished his faith in the divine and gave the impetus to march ahead in his struggle for Self discovery and to ultimately realise God.

Enroute Salvation

2007-02-12T12:41:00.000+05:30

I seek liberation,
from this world of illusion,
take me to my destination,
without further procrastination.

Foolish vanities brought elation,
until nature forced a variation,
miseries and hardships in succession,
mind, a haven for vexation.

Time was ripe for the decision,
realising everything was but delusion,
chose the path of renunciation,
to fulfill life's ultimate mission.

Parental love became an obligation,
undoubtedly beyond comparison,
but in seeking Him, was the salvation,
who still remained, a distant abstraction.

Not through the mind and body junction,
does the eternal one function,
It is through deep meditation,
cometh this knowledge of discrimination.

With love guiding every thought and action,
unbound faith and perseverance will yield fruition,
in the effort to cross life's ocean,
to enter the realm of spiritual realisation.

"Its a busy world"

2007-02-07T23:08:00.000+05:30

What a buzz this world is !
full of anxious faces and stubborn looks.
A demeanour; of the world resting on them,
they are everywhere, but I care a damn !

People are constantly on the move,
not willing to give the body its due.
A moment of inactivity is decay for them,
they are everywhere, creating mayhem !

Pleasure is the mantra of life it seems,
with dewdrop joys and fragile dreams.
Wanting to lay their hands on everything possible,
they are everywhere, but none are sensible !

Life is a rush, a tightrope walk,
be up to it or you'll be stranded back.
Each one waiting to grab the throat of the other,
they are everywhere, be it a friend or a brother !

Seeing all this makes me wonder,
whether life means this or is there something yonder?
Try getting them out of this muddy pool,
they are everywhere, calling you a fool !

An orchestral night

2007-02-06T23:49:00.000+05:30

...On one of those nocturnal days when the wings of imagination took flight....

Resting in solitude, as I seek solace,
A myriad of sounds explode in the vicinity,
interweaving one another, causing a cacophony,
Or is it? as I give it a closer hear !

Eavesdropping on a group of men chit chatting,
laughing and talking in a merry mood.
Not far away, is a record being played,
The words of which is music to the dismayed.

The neighbour is playing a diabolical cord,
to the tunes of which I see people dance around,
Accompanying the grinding sound of a kitchen tool
and the tapping sound of a hammer next door.

A chain of vehicles honking and whizzing past,
underlying this discord and in stark contrast,
Is a harmony taking birth in elements of nature,
which I try to listen to, in a state of rapture.

The silent rustling of the leaves on trees
And the clattering of a bird's flapping wings.
The creaking sound of two shearing branches
And the chirping sound of crickets in marshes.

The mystic symphony of the drifting clouds
And the soothing whisper of the southern breeze.
From the crescent moon whistling to the stars
Down to the tiptoeing ants in a rhythmic march.

They all call for a feast of song and dance,
As I silently retire into the orchestral night.

Money

2006-11-29T00:35:00.000+05:30

The want for money forces men to leave their homelands; their spiritual abodes, in search of newer territories where they find only vanity, wrath and misery. You never know when money has cast its mysterious spell on you. Before you know it, you are entangled in its mesh made of desire, welded with greed and coated with envy. True, you need money to live a life. But where do you draw the line?..

Money, money, money,
drives you crazy honey.
It makes you want more,
only to turn life sore.

Money is the wheel of life,
keep it turning tells your wife.
Your wants make an endless list,
surely! money should fill your fist.

The sight of which makes you smile,
senses turn blind for a while.
It can make a beggar sing,
"Ruler of the world, behold! the King".

Money should be earned by work,
greed makes you an unhappy jerk.
Be willing to give away in alms,
to the needy with outstretched arms.

Money is a wonderful tool,
spend it wisely, be not a fool.
It can make your dreams come true,
when money is the slave and its master you.

Pearls of wisdom

2006-11-28T22:39:00.000+05:30

Silence is the most effective weapon in a war of words.

Silence is the sword for a knight of wisdom.

Fools are they who fear an argument. Even foolish are those who engage in one.

Humility is the key to unlock the treasure of knowledge.

True wisdom has dawned upon a man who understands the purpose behind everything.

All talks of changing the world are but sure signs of fanaticism.

A broad mind finds a place for everything. A narrow mind finds everything misplaced.

The world will go on...with or without you.

A compassionate heart bleeds for every ailing soul.

Service to humanity is the highest goal of life.

God is the Doer. We are but instruments in His hand.

Science begins with imperfections in nature. Religion begins with imperfections in the mind.

Thou art the ocean, not the waves thy eyes behold.

Like every seed has the potentiality of a tree, every man has the potentiality of god within. Just that it requires the water of love, the sunlight of knowledge, the air of contemplation and the soil of renunciation to grow.

A new world

2006-11-23T00:47:00.005+05:30

Far from the clutches of this world we live in, I see a beautiful world, a paradise. A land where the rising sun greets me with a smile. A sight that truly arouses in me a divine experience.

Awakened by the light so soft that kisses my eyes,
I see a whole new world that has so much to offer.

Lush green is everyplace that makes me ponder,
whether it is the colour of envy or of nature's wonder.
The freshness in the air stirs my inner being, blowing
a wind of change in my life.

The fragrance of the flowers captivates my senses,
and bringeth unto me the knowledge of that one conscious.
The rustling leaves, the whining wind,
the gurgling water and the chirping birds,
create a symphony to entertain a cosmic dance.

Here is a world not sustained by reason, name or fame. A world where
time appears to stand still, making misery and sorrow a thing of the past.

Every element here is a messenger of love,
a messenger of peace and harmony that man has doth not found.
Here I stand amidst bliss eternal, never hoping to return.

God Personified

2006-11-22T20:37:00.001+05:30

Divine is that soul,
who gave birth to me.
Cuddling and caressing in her arms,
a goddess of love , she may be.

The day I opened my eyes to see,
thy cheerful face greeted me.
A stranger in this world so to say,
thy glowing eyes showed me the way.

From that day on, I was bonded to you,
by a relationship so strong, seen far and few.
Like a creeper that clings on tight to a tree,
I depended on you till you set me free.

This life appears to be an obscure trail,
confused and afraid of being frail,
I look up to thee to show me the light,
to confront any situation with all my might.

Indebted to you, shall I remain forever,
for all the love and care you've showered.
Thy selfless sacrifices and sufferings knew no bound,
thy benevolence to mankind O' mother is profound.

Karma

2006-11-19T18:21:00.001+05:30

How is it that sometimes in our life, we feel that we have already had an experience similar to what we are presently encountered with. Dejavu, may be. But sometimes the experience may not have been in this life. Yes! It must have happened in one of our earlier lives. Skeptics will question, what earlier life? Our life starts with birth and ends in the grave. Right ? No! Your karma (residual impressions: prarabdha, in Sanskrit) is the reason you are born again in this world. To work it out according to your dharma (chosen path) is your duty. If it was not for your karma of past lives, then how would you justify your faculty of memory revealing something to you which you have not even experienced in this life. This proves that the subtle mind lives on even after the death of the gross physical body.

Take the example of Shri Adi Shankaracharya who spearheaded the revival of Hinduism in India. It is a known fact that the great Shankara had already finished writing all his commentaries (upanishads) on the Vedas (the eternal truth) before the age of 16. We, in kaliyuga (the age of KAali, the Universal Mother) find it hard to believe because forget about a 16 year old now, writing spiritual treatises, he wouldn't even be sure that God existed in the first place. It was possible for the great Advaitin (monist) either because he was an avatar (divine incarnation) born solely to aid in the salvation of his fellow beings, out of infinite compassion for them or it was a result of the vast knowledge gained in his previous lives doing tapasya (penance, deep meditation) on the Brahman (Absolute Universal Soul, of the nature of Satchidananda : Sat - existence absolute, Chit - knowledge absolute, Ananda - bliss absolute).

An humble attempt dwelling into the karmic cycle of man and the way out of it. I call it - A saffronist's song.

Man is born a slave,
led by the deeds of his past engrave.
He leads a hapless life chasing a personal goal,
blissfully ignorant of what lies ahead, a bottomless hole.

He makes his mark from the infant stage,
from whereon begins his life in a cage.
He demands everything in this material world,
unheard of the adage: Everything that glitters is not gold!

He then passes on to the juvenile stage,
where fun and frolic alone engage his mind.
The world is but a playground to him,
where everything is served, topped with cream.

Time drags him on to the adolescent plane,
suddenly the world to him, appears insane.
Here the seeds of confusion are sown,
unravelling the mysteries of the unknown.

Mature does he eventually become,
as adulthood forces him to succumb.
Unchangeable are the rules of nature,
which man deluded, tries to alter.

Old age enlightens his mind like a sage,
the history of man concludes with this page.
His own body becomes a burden to him,
as he seeks support from his kith and kin.

Death beckons, as life grinds by,
inevitable despite any prayer or cry.
Freed is the soul from the body that binds,
infinite in nature, unbound by any clamps.

The soul is but omnipotent and pure,
covered by a veil of the mind, so impure.
He, who has sunk deep in the sea of desire,
can never free the soul of this dark attire.

Give up, give up O' man of lust, greed and gold,
sacrifice the puny self identity you have mould.
Realise that you and me and him are but one,
that the soul is one and differences none.

Happiness and sorrow are like ebb and tide,
one follows the other, that one must confide.
Free yourself from the bondage of these chains,
to realise thy true nature, devoid of pains.

Work, work O' man to uplift mankind,
selfless you must be, service in your mind.
Do not be idle, enact your role,
show every man, he's made of the infinite Soul.

Mindscape

2006-11-18T15:44:00.000+05:30

Ever wondered where all our thoughts arise. Yes, you got it ! The mind. Its strange sometimes how our mind can take us for a ride into uncharted territories and leave us there all alone. The experience can be sometimes pleasant and at other times your worst nightmare taking shape! Here's an attempt to break the code....

The mind is so transient,
denying to be patient.
It wants to wander,
to the very limits of conception and yonder.

It is a ticket less time machine,
a journey into the past, present and future serene.
Everything does it try to capture,
putting the state of calm in rapture.

Thoughts that speed at the rate of knots,
enabling one to call the shots .
Numerous are the moods at display,
bringing people closer or keeping them at bay.

Deep in the trenches of the mind,
are rooted experiences of mankind.
Fatal minefields and hidden traps,
think before you leap in this maze without maps.

When the mind is steady and things are stable,
even the impossible looks very possible.
But when it sinks to its lowest ebb,
inevitably you are caught in a gripping web.

Let thoughts flow in a single channel,
to see tasks accomplished without a hassle.
Walls to face and hurdles to cross,
a rolling stone gathers no moss.

Unexplored depths make the mind; a mystery,
allow it to drift and you are history.
Controlling the mind is a great virtue,
to meet thy destiny in a dejavu.

N@w to Blogging

2006-11-18T01:08:00.005+05:30

As my first blog, I did like to post a poem written during one of those inspired moments that come and go in every person's life. Those moments have to be treasured. I feel penning them down is one of the most effective ways of recalling them at times when you are feeling a bit low or let down. Strangely, when I sit down to write, the pen refuses to travel to storyland. Instead it takes a detour to the magical land of poetry. So my first sojourn is in the realm of love. Wish me beginners' luck.

I call it, 'In the twilight of love'. Here it goes....

Everyday at night, when my eyes I close,
blooming out of wilderness is a face, as beautiful as a rose.
The harder I try to capture her image,
my mind gets perplexed by this mystic mirage.

Tender is her touch that I yearn to feel,
skin as smooth as an apple's peel.
Eyes so dark that could pierce the brightest light,
her one gaze intoxicates me all night.

Her hairs are like strands of gold,
drooping down her shoulders without a single fold.
Lips as red as the crimson sun,
the warmth of her words make my heart burn.

When the first rays of the sun awaken me,
thy picture in my mind, I search for thee.
Hoping against hope to find you in a land so large,
faith in my heart, that you will upsurge.

Destiny may deny us a chance to meet,
but my search for you will be a relentless feat.
Separated by time and distance we may be,
united is our soul, that the eternal one can see.