Jogwa-The Awakening (2009)

Rating: *****

Winner of five national film awards, “Jogwa-The awakening” has to be by far one of the best contemporary Marathi movies, in terms of theme, structure, music and acting. At once enlightening and disturbing, Jogwa addresses the issues of latent hypocrisy in Indian society and the human price it demands.

Theme: The movie, directed by Rajiv Patil, produced by Sanjay Krishnaji Patil and based on three novels by Dr Rajan Gavas, is set in a small Karnataka village, steeped in the religious traditions of the goddess ‘Yellama.’ Historically speaking, ‘Yellama’ is another name for ‘Renuka’ – consort of the great sage Jamadagni and mother of Parshuram (an avatar of Vishnu). She is widely revered in Maharashtra and southern Indian states of Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Tamil Nadu. There are many temples devoted to her worship and following in a tradition originating aeons ago, there are still many devadasis forced into devoted service to these temples. It is a life of frustration, bondage and sadness and that is in essence what this movie is about. It is also sprinkled with a controversial notion of what defines moral, religious and spiritual boundaries within societies, the hypocrisies which take root in blind, illogical faith and the evil that is inevitably born of it.

Story: Central to the story are two characters – rebellious young man Tayappa is played by Upendra Limaye, while Mukta Barve plays a strong-willed girl called Suli. Both Tayappa and Suli are forced by their families into becoming a Jogta and Jogtin (male and female devotees respectively) to the goddess. Although both initially accept their fates (Tayappa grudgingly and Suli in silent resignation), their inherent free natures soon begin to revolt against the custom and they become increasingly aware of their frustrating lives and need for freedom. In the process, an unwitting, unexpected and seemingly incredulous romance blossoms between the two and this very romance becomes central to the underlying themes of misuse of power, individual rights, religious fanaticism and the real meaning of spirituality.

Limaye has already made his mark as an actor, not only in the Marathi movie genre, but across stage, screen and television spanning Hindi cinema, television serials as well as various south Indian movies. Having worked with notable stage and film directors such as Madhur Bhandarkar, Anant Mahadevan, Vinay Apte, Ram Gopal Verma and Amol Palekar, he has imbibed, experienced and learnt from the very best in the industry and the cumulative effects show in his portrayal of the angry, brooding, sari-clad, bindi-wearing eunuch Tayappa. Barve on the other hand, is a newer entrant into the industry, but has fast-emerged as a promising actress. Although she debuted with the Marathi film Chakwa in 2004, it was Jogwa that put her on the map of the Indian movie world. She apparently spent a lot of time preparing for this role, by studying actual jogtins in rural India and understanding the day-to-day lives of Indian villagers. Her efforts culminate into a delightfully chilling personification of the result of humanity lost in darkness. Priya Berde, Vinay Apte and Kishor Kadam in supporting roles give the movie that extra touch of reality and grimness, so often warranted by a dark creation of this sort.

Music: The music score is average, except for two songs which stand out from the rest. “Jeev Rangala” – a melancholy tune emboldened with poignant words is a combination of pathos and lucid hope which lingers on long after the movie is over. Regionalism does not seem to deter singers in today’s music/film industry. Hariharan and Shreya Ghoshal (both non-Maharashtrians) picked up the Best Male and Female Playback Singer awards at the National Film Festival in 2008, for this very song.  The other song worth mentioning is “Lallati Bhandaar” – a traditional Gondhal song. Picturized in rich colours, the song mainly narrates the history of Yellama in a vibrant and endearingly rustic manner.

Overall, Jogwa is a visceral story about the contradictions within society as well as the turbulent turmoils of human nature. It is about the struggle of one man and woman to break the chains of discrimination, sexual slavery and forced servitude, in a bid to find the happiness that has evaded them for so long. The movie sends a message and if you appreciate the candour of a dark movie detailing a grim reality of life, then Jogwa is definitely worth a watch.

-----Shreyasi Majumdar

Viva La Tomatina?

I recently watched Zindagi Na Mile Dobara. Nice theme. Open air. Freedom. Sense of achievement. The film seemed to have it all and I did like watching it. Its just that when ‘Ik Junoon’ started playing and the entire screen became one large blood red tomato, with a shirtless Hrithik cozying up to Katrina in the midst of it all, I kind of lost my appetite. Seriously.

The movie was attempting to portray a ‘break-the-shackles’ theme via the La Tomatina festival in Spain and all I could do was stare at the screen and think to myself, “How many friggin tomatoes did they waste on this one song?”

I just found out. Over SIXTEEN TONNES of tomatoes were imported for the song. I mean, I had felt queasy earlier on during the movie, but today I feel downright nauseous. Of course, when the Indian version of the ‘La Tomatina’ was announced, my nausea was magnified, alongwith an aching feverishness and a dull headache to go with it. If I knew my country well and if I was well versed with the boisterous/free spirited nature of my countrymen (which I think I am), I was certain that if it was permitted, a ghastly amount of tomatoes would end in SPLAT, just for the heck of it.

Inwardly however, I was also well versed with the logical/practical and humane rationale of the common Indian masses and I was thrilled to note the immensely negative responses that this particular ‘festival’ incurred. People from all over the country blogged, wrote, twittered and emailed about the idiocy of our country following in another’s wasteful footsteps, when we ourselves had so many millions of mouths to feed…Most Indians just could not ‘stomach’ the fact that in a country where 5.6 million children die of malnutrition every year, there were some excitable souls actually enthusiastic about whacking each other with tonnes and tonnes of tomatoes, just because someone else does it.

I read one particular blog where this guy was urging people to attend the festival and buy the tickets from him. He was exceptionally excited about it because he believed that the ‘festival’ would rake in big money by way of tourism and related activities. Huh? The project was still in the pipeline, still to happen, and this guy had already christened it a ‘festival.’ How on earth does something become a national festival before it has even happened? Just because it’s a festival in Spain? Defies logic, if you ask me. Secondly, I did not understand (forgive my ignorance) exactly how boosting tourism a bit justifies wasting lakhs and lakhs of tomatoes in a couple of hours or days?

As it happens in India, the common Indian’s voice is what holds the country together and gives it direction. After hundreds of petitioners urged Bengaluru CM Deve Gowda, online and in person to stop this insaneness (in short), he actually took a stand and directed police officials to intimate the sponsors and organizers  that the ‘festival’ will not be allowed this weekend as planned in Mysore and Bengaluru.  I also heard that the Delhi police banned the ‘festival’ last month after a series of fervent protests. Apparently the basis for all these protests was that the tomato is a nutritious food item and it is an unjustifiable act to waste it on vulgar entertainment and revelry that would last only a few hours. Given the fact that India has 25% of the world’s hungry poor (World Food Programme), I would say this basis itself stands on solid ground. No point of contention. Apparently, the other basis for the protest was that wasting food in such a way is against Indian ethos. Hats off to that sentiment as well. I can go so far as to say that such mind boggling wastage and the mere attitude behind it, is against the basic moral fibre of HUMANITY. So there. 

This is one of the few times, when an Indian politician has done me proud. I can be candid in saying that D Gowda’s stand makes me extremely happy.  As for those youngsters and other individuals who believe that happiness can be found in smashing tomatoes into each other’s faces while DJ’s rock the floor with whoopee music, I sincerely hope that the next malnutritioned child or nursing mother you come across, makes you see the world for what it is and not for the bubble you wish to live in.

As for film makers, I hope this makes you realize just how important a role you play in influencing the mind of a nation. Take responsibility for it, I will say no more.

Viva la Tomatina? No way! Viva Le Aam Indian Junta!!!

------------Shreyasi Majumdar

Unfettered in Shackles

The mind rambles on,

In crystal clarity & jumbled incoherency

Assaulted by a wave of possibilities

Free within-ever expanding

Caged without

Restrained and limited, the mind whirls

A merciless juggernaut

Demolishing impossibilities

Conceiving sensations, begetting dreams,

Spawning ideas, birthing fresh hopes

Witness to its true identity

The Adam of creation, the Manu of ALL,

The mind struggles, strains to express,

Lodged in a web delusion

Encumbered by responsibility, weighed down by habit,

Handicapped by cannots and shrouded in shouldnots

Cuffed and chained in panoramic wisdom

The mind perceives, the mind exists

Unfettered in shackles, the mind persists.


-----Shreyasi Majumdar

We Walked Lonely Roads, You & I

We walked lonely roads, you and I

Trudging along, striding strong, through hopeful dawn and evensong

On lonely roads, that stretched for miles,

We treaded through tears, celebrated smiles

Painted by the GREAT COMPELLOR

Every turn, a different colour

Splashed with solitude piquant, two lone souls in a grand courante

We walked lonely roads, you and I

When mist descended in foggy haze, His brilliance set our souls ablaze

With fiery faith in trepid hearts, we stood alone so far apart

As trepidity turned to indignation

HIS love became our sole consolation

The fog lifted, we welcomed the sun

Our paths converged, we emerged as one

We had walked lonely roads, you and I

But now we walk a single path, free from sorrow, free from wrath

Flowers bloom under our feet as testament to our completeness

The outside world is irrelevant,

So we turn within to the eternal sextant

Strong winds may buffet my tender heart, joy as we know it may depart

But bliss bubbles through, in timeless dance

On this winding road in this vast expanse

We walk together, you and I

We walk hand in hand, on this road- a rampart

bridging eternity. O Flame of my heart,

It will end someday. New roads will be charted

To be trod on again, alone, once we’ve parted.

And so it goes, with these well-travelled roads

Time belongs to no one, it is merely borrowed

But whenever I walk on a lone road again,

I will watch the horizon for my ‘forever friend’

Keep a weather eye on the horizon for me

and I will emerge from the womb of eternity

Toward each other, we’ll be drawn as before

by a love that ignites us and pulls us ashore

We will walk yet another road together, alone no more, you and I.



-----------Shreyasi Majumdar

Thane S.P.C.A. Quarterly Newsletter (April-July 2011)

Editorial – From the Horse's Mouth

BLACK MAGIC – DARK TIMES FOR ANIMALS



Photo Credit: TRAFFIC INDIA



These are dark times indeed. 'Civilization' continues to progress at a breakneck speed and the human brain performs to hitherto unimaginable capacities. Unfortunately, many human hearts and minds are still enslaved by desires – born out of greed, vanity or revenge. When conventional methods fail to achieve these ends, man turns to unexplainable, yet apparently effective means. And Black Magic happens. More often than not, even in an increasingly modernized society such as India, black magic pervades the common man's life and yes, in the process, animals are hurt.

In July, Thane S.P.C.A. had an unlikely visitor – a gravely injured Olive Ridley turtle. The species is a sparkling representative of all that is awe-inspiring in India's marine wildlife. This particular animal was found lying injured on a village coast – 20 km off Daman beach. Three of its limbs were reduced to stubs – an obvious result of human action. Initially, this was attributed to propellers of fishing trawlers, but later, more sinister facts surfaced, which changed opinions. 'Oliver', as he came to be known, was brought all the way to Thane S.P.C.A's hospital, where he was provided the necessary medication, environment and nutrition. Within a few days of care and shelter, Oliver was much better, but with so many injuries sustained to his limbs and carapace, it was evident that he would never be able to live in the sea again.

Soon after, another Olive Ridley – this time a female who was named Olivia, was found stranded on Juhu Beach and was brought to Thane S.P.C.A. with similar injuries. She was released into the sea soon after, since she was in a fairly stable condition. However, she surfaced a few days later with much more serious injuries – a partial break in the plastron and her left flipper severed (undoubtedly by human action) at the humerus. That is when suspicions were aroused and it came to light that Olive Ridley turtles, among other species of these amphibians, are reportedly, widely used in black magic rituals, not only in Mumbai and surrounding areas, but country-wide.

The flipper doesn't stop there. Other species, such as snakes, chickens and owls, often fall prey to blind superstitions and the dark arts.

It is common belief that being in possession of a sand boa is good for business. Some people also go to the extent of saying that if a sand boa is kept next to a mirror, it is bound to crack and be the harbringer of good news. Obviously not for the snake. In January 2011, TOI reported that the Ulhasnagar crime branch had arrested three people for smuggling a sand boa in an attempt to sell it to three tantriks for Rs 10 lakhs. In October 2009, the TOI reported that the Pune rural police had rescued a sand boa and a turtle from two people who were allegedly attempting to sell them to black magic practitioners. Seven other middlemen and six prospective customers were also arrested. Then Superintendent of police, was quoted to have said that the suspects were planning to sell the sand boa for Rs 50 lakhs and the turtle for Rs 20 lakhs! Evidently, the trade is a lucrative one and also, one that obviously needs immediate looking into by the authorities.

Owls also have always been a source of much fascination in magical folklore and one would think that Harry Potter's owl Hedwig, would have boosted right thinking among movie buffs and HP fans alike. However, in common Indian society, owls continue to be exploited for their apparent importance in black magic.

Tantriks regularly use owls and their body parts in 'sacred' ceremonies. Important owl body parts attributed to effective black magic, include skull, bones, claws, blood, eyes, beak, liver, kidney, meat and eggshells. Some owl species with extra tufts of feathers near their ears are supposed to be more magical than others and therefore in greater demand.

The worst time in the life of an Indian owl, is mid-October to mid-November. This auspicious period of Diwali and Lakshmi puja, spells doom for these nocturnal creatures, who are known to be associated with Lakshmi-the goddess of wealth and prosperity. As such, they are sacrificed during this time in the false belief that sacrificing an owl brings wealth, good luck and prosperity.

They are often caught with bamboo poles, nets and other such traps and during this time, wealth does come to bird catchers who receive anywhere between Rs 10,000-20,000 for every bird caught.

Late last year, Shri Jairam Ramesh, Hon. Minister of Environment and Forests, India, launched TRAFFIC India's report titled 'Imperilled Custodians of the Night: A Study on Illegal Trade, Trapping and Use of Owls in India', authored by Abrar Ahmed, as per reports. According to the reports, owls are used in the live bird trade for many other purposes as well. They are used in street performances, slaughtered for their meat and taxidermy, their body parts used in folk medicines and their feathers/claws in headgear. Often live owls are used as bait/decoys, to acquire other bird species.

According to the Wildlife (Protection) Act of 1972, exploiting Indian owl populations via hunting and trading is strictly prohibited, but the trade process continues nevertheless, unabated. Of the 30 owl species recorded in India, 15 are allegedly used in the domestic live bird trade spread across the country. In fact, black magic has pushed many of these 15 species to the brink of extinction.

So the next time you witness/participate in or hear of a black magic ritual involving the use of animals, STOP IT. As an Indian citizen, you have every right to bring these barbaric ceremonies to light. And as a sentient human being, it is your duty to do so.

Stay alert and spread the word. Walk the walk and talk the talk. Do your bit to bring light and spread a message of deep spirituality, not religious blindness, so that the darkness of black magic can be dispelled and our animals can breathe freely again.

Best,

Shreyasi Majumdar

(Editor)

A Child of Two Nations – a Child of the World

Yesterday, Singapore celebrated its 46th birthday. It was as usual a big hoopla and rightfully so – the nation has come a long way. In fact, it has moved in leaps and bounds and now stands as a shining testament to a lifetime of hard work and discipline enforced by Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew and his contemporaries. The small island, invisible on the physical atlas, glaringly stands out in terms of law enforcement, wildlife conservation, human rights, economic growth and architectural grandeur, among other things.

I watched the National Day Parade and the grand celebrations and fireworks on television last night. I saw the majestic fireworks as millions of lit up Singaporean faces, proved the point: the average Singaporean is proud of his country and is proud to call himself Singaporean. And then the entire gathering stood up to sing the country’s national anthem. I was fascinated by the words and I was astonished that I never before took notice of the composition. The words go:

Mari kita rakyat Singapura

Sama-sama menuju bahagia


Cita-cita kita yang mulia


Berjaya Singapura


Marilah kita bersatu


Dengan semangat yang baru


Semua kita berseru


Majulah Singapura


Majulah Singapura


Marilah kita bersatu


Dengan semangat yang baru


Semua kita berseru


Majulah Singapura


Majulah Singapura

This is of course the anthem in Malay, the only official language in which it may be sung by law. However, translations do exist in the three other official languages – English, Mandarin and Tamil. Here is the English transliteration:

Come, fellow Singaporeans


Let us progress towards happiness together


May our noble aspiration bring


Singapore success


Come, let us unite


In a new spirit


Let our voices soar as one


Onward Singapore


Onward Singapore


Come, let us unite


In a new spirit


Let our voices soar as one

Onward Singapore

Onward Singapore

There it was – simple and sweet – Onward Singapore. To think that the leaders of this nation have taken these words so literally and lived by them, taking the country forward and forward, with each passing year, never looking back with anything but pride in its rich multicultural history and unity in diversity.

The Singapore National Pledge is an oath of allegiance to the nation and when the pledge moment arrived, it gave me goose bumps. Just the fact that one nation – a veritable melting pot of global cultures, could unite in one voice and say the words: “We, the citizens of Singapore, pledge ourselves as one united people, regardless of race, language or religion, to build a democratic society based on justice and equality so as to achieve happiness, prosperity and progress for our nation,” was enough to bring a tear to my eye.

The sheer simplicity and intensity of the pledge made me feel the power of the human race once more.

I am as emotional as the average person and as an Indian by birth, I love my country passionately. Its diversity of cultures (not seen anywhere else in the world), the unity in this diversity, its brilliant flora and fauna, rich spiritual legacies, intelligent minds and kind hearts, have always made me love India with a passion that is often witnessed in conjunction with shared histories and memories and sense of belonging. I love India. And now I have come to love Singapore. India gave me life and Singapore gave me peace. India gave me family and Singapore gave me second chances. India taught me values and Singapore taught me to stand on my own two feet. India taught me tolerance and Singapore taught me to be proud of who I am. In my initial years in Singapore, I often lashed out at it, to give vent to separation anxieties born out of leaving the country of my birth and childhood. But Singapore only smiled at me and welcomed me with no grudge whatsoever. As India has been my mother, so is Singapore now. I am now a child of two nations and proud of it. With two mothers, I could not be luckier.

As nature has it, there is divinity to be found everywhere, if one but looks for it. Corruption and law-breaking is rife in India. Singapore is materialistic. Yet, I have loved God in both places, hence, they both are special to me. And sometimes, when I close my eyes and go inward, I see a world without borders, I hear one world anthem and one global pledge arising from the hearts of millions of God’s children who are striving day and night to preserve the beauty of this planet – God’s unique gift to us. At such times, I join in the pledge of allegiance to this world, where there are no races, no creeds, no castes, no religions, no languages – nothing but LOVE. At such times I melt into that ONE ocean and become a child of the world.

--------------Shreyasi Majumdar

I’m Afraid

For a while, I have been feeling a strange, disconcerting fear within. I have not been able to put my finger on it, but I knew up until now, that it has to do with a sense of insecurity-about the future mainly. It’s like how you feel in the pit of your stomach when you have an exam coming up in a week and you have absolutely no idea how it’s going to turn out for you.  I try to look ahead into the belly of the future and I see – darkness. Oblivion. I believe now that it has mainly to do with what I hear TODAY, in the noon of NOW.

Let me be succinct – both to myself and to you. There is no need for complex intrigue, when lucidity is a perfectly viable option. I fear for myself in the future world which seems to be hovering in some kind of bizarre, deepening hopelessness, with us cutting away at its heart and stripping it of its resources.  Our ancestors have seen many wars including two on a global level. I do not worry that there will be a third. I doubt there can be another world war, when countries will be struggling to survive, thanks to the emptiness of the mother’s exhausted abundance.

I just read that a study conducted in November, 2006, came to the conclusion that we will, in all probability, be bereft of seafood by 2048. Hm. According to the average life expectancies of my generation, I should be 65 years old. Thankfully, I am a vegetarian and I do not need seafood to sustain myself. But what of the sea itself? What of the ecology of the oceans that depend on the various invertebrate and vertebrate marine species for survival. Then of course, there’s global warming and thousands of species being pushed into extinction every year. Yes, I will be 65 years old and if I live till 80, I will witness the slow murder of the planet I call home – even as I see it happening steadily today.

Yes, I am afraid and I have reason to be.

And then I wonder, what the world be like in 2100 A.D. or in 3000 A.D. Will it be as advanced as science fiction writers envision a futuristic society to be? Will mankind finally see common sense and begin to live in moderation and let the world breathe again? Will mankind finally understand the HUMONGOUS responsibility on its shoulders to protect and preserve? Will mankind finally shed the power hungry idea of a universe in which he alone resides to plunder, pillage and exploit everything else? Or will the world finally be reduced to ashes in a fiery wave - an apocalyptic climax, finally pushing man to extinction?

I don’t know. All I do know is what I see today. I’m afraid.

-----Shreyasi M

The Trumpet - Thane S.P.C.A. Quarterly Newsletter (January-March 2011)

Editorial - From the Horse's Mouth

The Other Demon

“The activist is not the man who says the river is dirty.  The activist is the man who cleans up the river.” ~Ross Perot

Maybe it’s time to really hear what Perot is trying to say. He is a businessman and usually people like that are normally concerned with the ‘other’ kind of green stuff. But Ross is spot on.

We talk about animal welfare and lobby against animal cruelty – a noble task indeed in a world ravaged by corruption, greed and political power games. We are however, so engulfed by actual acts of cruelty that we often overlook the other demon that threatens the lives of so many animals and humans directly and indirectly – pollution. It’s everywhere. You look around and there is always something polluting your field of vision. Thin plastic bags are the worst culprits, but there are others with equal polluting potency. For example, do we think about the thicker plastic bags which we bring home from malls regularly? What about tetra packs, polypet storage containers, cosmetic containers and aluminium/plastic foils – all of which have become an inseparable part of urban living?

There comes a time in all our lives, when we have to think for ourselves and not just follow the crowds blindly. Choices must be made and the kind of choices we make, determine not only who we are as individuals, but also what we are contributing to the earth of the future. Sure, we won’t be around forever, but think about it this way – someone will.

Keep your car’s PUC updated and use unleaded petrol to do your bit in the reduction of air pollution – something that affects not just humans in cities, but also urban animals. Sound pollution also is far more sinister than is publicized – especially for animals and birds. Their hearing sensitivities are far finer tuned than ours are, so the next time you want to buy loud firecrackers for Diwali or an India-Pakistan cricket match –DON’T.

In fact, the next time you want to buy anything, make the right choice. 

Choose companies which are eco-friendly and animal friendly, before you buy anything – and don’t worry there are plenty of such firms to choose from. Take The Body Shop for instance. It provides its customers with biodegradable bags which become one with soil within a year’s time. The company is also endorsed by animal protection groups worldwide, because of its humane approach to cosmetics.

That’s right! The company does not test on animals and by purchasing a product from them, you become a part of the crusade as well-it’s that simple! Amway and Star Bazaar are other examples of companies that believe in, practice and advocate sustainable living.

Make an informed decision, buy products with degradable bags and containers and ensure that an animal won’t choke to death on account of your purchase. When you’re travelling by train or car, refrain from dumping garbage and plastic bags into rivers and creeks and in your own way, become a hero for the life thriving in these water bodies. Carry your own bags to the marketplace and refuse plastic bags whenever you can. Keep your neighborhood clean and don’t wait for the garbage to pile up. Try composting at home and if you can, try community composting - it works!

Ruminate over what Perot says. Don’t just talk about the dirty river – clean it up! Be an animal welfare crusader and environmental activist in your own right. Make some differences and bring about changes – after all it begins with you!

Thank you!!!

For Thane S.P.C.A

Shreyasi Majumdar

(Editor)

From the Horse’s Mouth-December 2010 edition (The Trumpet)

“If slaughterhouses had glass walls, everyone would be a vegetarian.”


~Paul McCartney

It’s official. The world is gradually yet steadily morphing into a more vegan oriented society. What better news to take with us into the New Year? I promote veganism, because it is not only the MOST compassionate choice to make in the coming year, but also the healthiest. And in your heart of hearts you know it too.

It’s been proclaimed for years – a full-fledged vegetarian diet is the most beneficial for the human system. Dr Hean Yee, Head, Cardiovascular Medicine at Alexandria Hospital in Singapore was quoted to have said, “Humans are natural herbivores: we get heart disease when we eat meat.”

Crisp and lucid.

Dr Baxter Montgomery, a leading cardiologist in Houston, also strongly promotes the health benefits of a vegan diet. “By getting a patient on a plant-based diet and getting her completely off animal flesh, it was possible to reverse her Type 2 diabetes,” Montgomery says, speaking of one of the many patients he has treated for diabetes in a similar way. “Eventually even insulin injections were no longer needed.”

Meanwhile, reviews for Melanie Joy’s latest book “Why We Love Dogs, Eat Pigs, and Wear Cows: An Introduction to Carnism” are out. And they’re vibrant with praise.

Says one editorial review “She uses her factory farm–to–table narrative to buttress her real thesis: meat-eating or carnism, is an oppressive ideology as noxious as racism. Joy casts meat eating as genocide, comparable to the Holocaust, and factory farming on a par with the American enslavement of Africans.”

And the sad part is that factory farming is actually ‘intensive animal agriculture’ – a system of livestock production and slaughter, rife with cruelty that most of us are not only ignorant about, but also incapable of witnessing. Dairy production, the meat industry and poultry farming are all blatant examples of human exploitation at its most extreme.

Take the time out to rethink your lifestyle. Think about the origins of the milk you drink, the meat you consume and the eggs you devour. And if you still can’t grasp the gravity of the situation, put yourself in the place of a chicken about to be killed brutally after being debeaked, defeathered and skinned alive.

For the benefit of all and sundry, the Vegetarian Society of Singapore, along with fellow animal welfare organizations, have shared with us a video on ‘The Intelligence and Emotions of our Fellow Animals’ which was also shown at the recently concluded India, South and West Asia Vegetarian Congress held at Bangalore, from 30 October-1 November. The link to the video: http://www.vegetarian-society.org/node/1488 . Seeing the video may help you to understand our fellow animals better and have a glimpse of their complex emotional states too.

Spread the word. Animals are not ours to exploit. They are living beings in their own right and deserve to be appreciated and respected, not beaten, skinned, scalded, slashed, experimented on, eaten or worn. Make a statement in the coming year. Take a stand. And don’t hesitate to share this with your friends and family. Even one changed heart in ten, calls for a celebration.

I sincerely hope you have had a compassion-filled, cruelty-free 2010. If you have, then be assured that the blessings of all the animals you have supported are with you. I also pray that 2011 is equally enlightening, healthy and animal friendly for you.

Happy holidays and a very happy New Year too.

For Thane S.P.C.A.,

Shreyasi Majumdar
(Editor)

Narang Uncle

December 2010


“We must write to Narang uncle…it’s been ages since we heard from him,” Sushil said to me this morning over a cup of tea.


“Yeah I know. The last mail I received from him was months ago. I’ll drop him a line soon,” I replied.


That was our conversation in the morning.


Sometimes, life has an eerie way of handing you coincidences, which seem more pre-ordained than usual. Many people believe that there are no such things as coincidences. Whatever may be the case, some incidents seem finely orchestrated and that’s exactly what happened that evening. On our evening stroll around the block with Kishmish, we met aunty – Narang uncle’s wife.

**************************************************************************************
 April 2010


Sushil was the first to make Narang uncle’s acquaintance. Kishu and Sushil were heading out for their morning walk one sunny day in April, when Sushil saw an elderly gentleman strolling towards him. In his characteristic good humour, my husband flashed his 1,000 watt smile and greeted the gentleman with a bright namaste. The gentleman returned his greeting with an equally bright countenance and a strange yet beautiful friendship was born.


“Kindred spirits meet unsought


Like an alchemy of thought”


It turned out that uncle, along with his wife, was visiting his son, daughter-in-law and grandson, all three of whom lived in the very same condominium as Sushil and I. Weird. We had never had the chance to befriend these contemporaries of ours, who had made a home next to ours, but Narang uncle-a visitor who belonged to a generation completely alien to our own- had quickly become a friend. In fact, uncle often mentioned how it was a breath of fresh air to meet (Sushil) in a place where such spontaneous meetings are few and far between.


As it was, Sushil used to meet uncle on his morning walks with Kishu, every other day and have a lot of informal chats with him. In fact, uncle even came over a couple of times, but I unfortunately, used to have to rush to office in the early mornings, which is why, I was never there when he came home. However, Sushil urged him to come home on a weekend morning for breakfast and that’s when I first met uncle.


Kishu barked his characteristic barks when the doorbell rang at 8:30 am sharp. That was when Narang uncle had said he would be here and his punctuality was testament to the same virtue I have witnessed in so many people belonging to his generation.


Sushil opened the door and there he was! The tiny elderly man standing before me, was generally well dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of trousers, with eyes that sparkled with enthusiasm. The bright red cap on his head couldn’t overshadow his even more striking smile, which was also missing a front tooth.


As he took off his trainers and entered my house with a warm greeting, I noticed an air of sweetness and genuinity surrounding my guest. There was definitely something very different about him, although I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time.


“Towards each other they are led


Guided by an unseen thread


Of accident or passing chance


Caught in webs of circumstance”

As we enjoyed a relaxed morning with poha and tea, we spoke of many things. Uncle told us stories about the India Pakistan partition and the human trauma it entailed. He spoke of memories of Lahore, where he spent his childhood with his parents and brother. During the days of the partitiion, his brother, who wa sin the Indian military service at the time, was posted in Delhi. 

He recounted the terrible days that followed the partition – how his father was separated from them, finding himself in Amrtisar, while his wife and young son were left behind in Lahore. Hard times were what uncle remembered the most. Memories of his mother hiding her jewellery beneath the floor of their home in Lahore in the hope of a sure shot return, were embellished in his mind.  

“Most families had to do that during those days,” he said. Even though it was a long time ago and he had lived a cheerful life since then, there was a hint of sadness in his voice when he spoke to us of those days. “Hindus who came to India from Pakistan, also found similar pots of buried jewellery in the houses of the Muslims who had to leave everything and go to Pakistan. There was tremendous sorrow on both sides and religion had little to do with those sorrows.”


This was coming from a person who had witnessed these sorrows firsthand. He had lived a peaceful life in a beautiful place, seen his home uprooted, his family dispersed, his family’s money lost to a strange time and events.


But life goes on. By a stroke of luck, his mother found his father in Mumbai (then Bombay) and the family was reunited. They rebuilt their lives brick by brick and life became livable soon after.


Uncle also told us of his marriage to aunty and his first job as a trainee at Mahindra & Mahindra in Mumbai. “I earned a small amount in those days, but I worked my way up bit by bit,” the jolly man went on. “And I just retired as one of the Chief Accountants at the company.”


He went home after chai and breakfast, but we kept meeting every now and then during the course of the month. And slowly, I began to realize what it was that made him different. He was happy. And genuinely so. He brimmed with the joy that his heart felt and it was visible in his very countenance. What made him so happy, I still don’t know. But I think he made it a point to be happy no matter what.


I heard him say on more than one occasion, “My wife and I have a lovely home in Kandivili, with a small garden. I have had a lovely marriage and have three beautiful children all grown up and settled in their own lives, with children of their own. What more can a man want? I am content.”


Honesty was also a virtue clearly inbuilt into his system. He told us about his early days as an accountant and how he had never failed to tally his balance sheets in his entire career. “Except for that one time I remember, when the figures were just not matching and I was falling short by a couple of hundred Rupees,” he narrated. “I worked all day trying to figure it out and late into the night. But it still didn’t tally. So I finally paid for it myself. They later found the evasive money in a drawer. Somebody had left it there by mistake.”


Apart from the visible joy, he was also brimming with an energy that was also hard to define. Over chai, one evening, he told us of his daily routine, which was pretty amazing to us, but apparently no big deal to him. “I rise at six in the mornings and have a cup of tea, after which I take a walk. I then teach Hindi at a neighboring coaching class, come back have lunch, rest for a bit, have another cup of tea and then leave in the early evening for another bout of teaching before returning home in the late evening for another walk, dinner, prayers and sleep,” he narrated. “I have been doing this for years now.”


Even in Singapore, he was not the kind to sit around at home in his kurta watching tv. He would set out on his own, visiting different places in the city and enhancing his knowledge of the place in itself. He was especially interested in the places of worship that dot the garden city – various Hindu temples, churches and Sikh Gurudwaras. That was what first gave us a hint of his inherent spiritual nature. And that was when I realized that spirituality was what had drawn us close to each other in the first place. We were kindred spirits, children of the same God.


“Kindred spirits souls in tune


Come together late or soon


Like notes that harmonize when played


And thus affinities are made”


Sushil had realized this further back, when uncle had first come home, talked to him about God and prayed at the altar that graces our house. The same spirituality struck a chord somewhere deep inside both of them.


He often spoke to us about God, his relationship with God and how he loved to visit temples and pray there. This was different from his wife’s form of worship, but he was content in knowing that she had her own ways with God and he his. What struck us most, was his willingness to learn and his humility to ask for learning. We told him about the path that we follow, our guru and paramgurus, our relationship with God and the Raja Yoga path to God realization. He showed keen interest in what we had to say and we passed him some of the books that helped guide us on our spiritual journey. Narang uncle accepted them respectfully. He prayed at our altar again.

And then he left.


We didn’t hear from him in a while. He got involved with his own family obligations, as we did with work. One morning we were sitting on our verandah, when we saw Narang uncle walk by-cap, t-shirt and toothless grin intact. He waved to us and said that he would like to come by one evening before he went back to India. He wanted to return our books and meet us once before he left.


He did come by as promised on the evening before the day of his departure. We had our evening tea, as we spoke about so many things, that I cannot even recall today. But what I do recall is uncle’s face lighting up as we spoke of God and the many paths to God, including the path Sushil and I have set out on. I also remember the winds howling away and beating against our windows as a storm raged outside the house.


The heavy downpour had come suddenly in its characteristic Singaporean fashion and it was not the kind to stop in a few minutes. Narang uncle had already stayed beyond his ‘allotted’ time and told us that it was time for him to go. Sushil left accompanied him home with an umbrella and just as he was leaving, Narang uncle said, “I’m so sorry to have troubled you. You didn’t need to come so far just for me.” Sushil smiled in spite of himself, since uncle’s son’s house was only a block away. “That’s perfectly fine uncle. It was an absolute pleasure meeting you,” he said.


“I want to thank you so much for the books and everything you told me about your path and your Guru,” Narang uncle said. He was so very grateful to Sushil for having had the chance to learn about the path. The genuine humility being shown by this 70 year old experienced man towards a 37 year old, was graceful. It was sheer joy to witness. “I will definitely go back to Mumbai and check out the centre in Wadala,” he went on referring to the Mumbai chapter of the organization that we belong to.


“Please do that uncle. I have your mail address and you have Shreyasi’s. Please do keep in touch. I hope we see you in Singapore soon,” Sushil said.


“Who knows what fate decides? One never knows what’s going to happen tomorrow. If destiny wishes it, then we will definitely meet again,” uncle responded.


They said their goodbyes and Narang uncle left for Mumbai the next day.

“And lifelong friendships come about


Time alone can work it out


Two in tune in time will meet


And life will edge towards being complete”


~ Anonymous

**************************************************************************************

December 2010



“Aunty, how have you been? It’s been a long time since we saw you’ll. How is Narang uncle?” we asked aunty all at once.


The stout lady’s face clouded. “You didn’t hear? Your uncle passed away. Suddenly. In fact it was so sudden, that I still cannot believe it. Nobody in the family can.”


We stood there in stunned silence for what seemed like hours. Then I finally spoke. “When did this happen?”


“15th of October in the morning,” aunty said with a faraway look in her eyes. The pain and the grief of her lost companion were evident.


I felt like somebody had socked me in the stomach with a heavy object. I celebrated my 27th birthday on that very day. And while I was celebrating here with friends and having a jolly time overall, Narang uncle had already peacefully departed from this mortal encasing.


“How did it happen?” Sushil and I asked almost at once. “Uncle seemed to be in such good health. He was so energetic and so active….”


“It’s very strange. I still don’t understand it. Your uncle woke up as usual in the morning and prepared tea for us. He gave me my tea and was ready to go for his morning walk, when he suddenly started feeling unwell and asked me to take him to the doctor. I grabbed my purse and rushed to get an auto rickshaw. The nursing home is just a few feet away from our house. He even directed the rickshaw driver to the clinic and then just collapsed on my shoulder.”


We listened in shocked silence as she went on.


“He was gone before we could even enter the clinic gate. They wheeled him in and conducted some tests, but within minutes they told me that my husband was no more. It was unreal. I still can’t believe it.”


After speaking to her a while about all these happenings, we told her that it was a wise decision on her part to come and live with her son for a while.


“Yes, and now my daughter wants me to come to Dubai to live with her too. But you know what? I don’t feel like going anywhere. I just want to go back to the house where your uncle used to live. I want to be with his memories. I still feel like he will come walking back into the house any minute for his tea or tell me he is going to teach. You know what the funny thing is? We were both supposed to come to Singapore in November. He often spoke about you both and he would have met you if he would have made it here. But this was a dark Diwali for all of us. I still cannot believe it.”


Aunty was obviously distraught, so we left her to deal with her grief. But Narang uncle’s words kept ringing in my head. “If destiny wills it, we will definitely meet again.”


Maybe we, being the mortal humans that we are, tend to view life in a very finite, linear fashion. But every fibre of my being tells me that life is not just the bridge between birth and death. Life to me is spirit itself-an individual soul’s journey-not through time and space, but through the vastness that goes far beyond the finite limitations of time and space.


Friends do not meet ‘just like that’. Remember what I said about coincidences? Many people believe that there are no such things as coincidences. I’m one of them. I don’t believe in luck or in ‘accidents’. The journey of the spirit encompasses much much more. And two souls – kindred spirits, who meet unsought on this plane, have very possibly met before and will very possibly meet again. Who knows? We do not drive this journey. But we can certainly enjoy it and thrill in the experiences that the divine hand throws our way.


All the same I am glad we met you, Narang uncle. Your honesty, openness, humility, love of life, and inner joy touched our hearts. And there was more. THAT left a lasting impression-an indelible mark on our lives, for which we are grateful.

**************************************************************************************
May 17 2010

From: Chandramohan Narang <narangsir@yahoo.com >


To: majumdarshreyasi@yahoo.com

Hi Shreyasi & Sushil,


with the blessings of God & your wishes myself and my wife have


reached Mumbai safely. I remember u very much. May God bless both of u. bye.


Love to kismis.


Best Wishes.


From Narang.

**************************************************************************************
--------------Shreyasi Majumdar

The Many Faces of Art

For some ‘as-yet’ inscrutable reason, whenever I step into a library or a book store, I find myself inevitably heading towards the ‘how to’ sections, ladled with a weird zombie-like fascination which I have yet to explain to myself. While most people in the vicinity try out the latest sci-fi/ horror/ romance/ thriller/ travel sections, I usually hang around the ‘writing’ section and get acquainted with the latest in what literary geniuses have to say about the art of the written word.

 But more often than not, I also find myself being pulled towards the culinary arts corner as well as the various other ‘artistic’ sections dealing with sculpting, painting, drawing, sketching, playing the piano or the guitar or the drums, working the needle, clothesmaking, dollmaking, beading, jewellery making, quilting, crocheting, cartooning, doodling, origami and flower arranging – to begin with. I guess, the inherent creative streak of humankind has a certain mesmerizing power over me and I always give into the hypnotic pull.

On one such occasion, while I was surreptitiously lurking through the papercraft/metallic works section of BORDERS – one of the most popular bookstores and one of my favorite haunts in Singapore, I stumbled across a white book which appeared at a distance to be dotted by various colours. I believe on hindsight that the colourful nature of the book elicited the initial interest (colours-especially many in the same place, have always been fascinating to me) and got me to stop my general lurking. I sat myself on the floor of the store and looked down at the book in my hand. Among the various brightly coloured fantastical clay creatures adorning the book’s cover page, I managed to notice some words like ‘polymer clay’ and ‘mythical creatures’. They got my attention. I leafed through the book, and page after page fascinated me, as I realized that ‘drops’ and ‘snakes’ of clay could be worked to create such wonders as these. Of course I had to try it. The book was bought and the fascinated cemented into an obsession (often happens to me).

I went through as much information as I could online, about the various different kinds of polymer clay, the companies which manufacture the clay, the stores in singapore which carry them, the different polymer clay artists in singapore and their creations, the tools needed to sculpt the clay, the mixed media required for embellishments and a lot lot more…it has been and continues to be an enriching experience.

I managed to purchase some clay in the basic colours and began some projects. The process of creating the gnomes and fairies etc was exhilarating and before a week was up I already had nearly ten figurines up and ready. That’s when it struck me-it was not the polymer clay that had given me the rush (it was just a medium). It was in fact the act of creating something beautiful from a lump of clay-that was what I took to. And I think, if I were to dabble with other creative media, I’d feel the same way.

Why is one so fascinated with beauty? Why is one so taken with making something out of nothing? What is it about creating that leaves the brain befuddled with overflowing ideas? It has all got to do with the god-like emotions that run through any artist both during and after the creative process. After all, God did create everything. He happens to be the master artist and we, fragments of the very same God. Indubitably, the artistic sentiment, the joy of creating, lies in our very souls. A chef, a writer, a painter, a musician or a clayer – its all about creating – that is who we are.

 Of course, if one thinks about it, creating is not just limited to artists in the conventional term. A medical practitioner who comes up with a revolutionary surgical technique, a molecular biologist or biochemist who discovers a cure for lymphomas, a businessman who invents brand new strategies to take his business to new heights or a software developer who works his wonders with the virtual world – they’re all artists – everyone of them.

We live our lives every day, dream our dreams and fight our struggles. And more often than not, we work the magic each and every day of our lives without even knowing that we do. If only we were to observe our creative potentials from without, if only we could be more perceptive to our divine natures and if only we could notice the many faces of art – ah! Life would be so much more meaningful then.

--------------Shreyasi Majumdar

Slow and Steady Wins the Race? Not Always……

It has been hammered into our brains since the impressionable age of five. We have been told the story numerous times-brainwashed even. And Aesop has emerged a genius.

Well most of Aesop’s life has been a myth and even though I have always loved his moral-laced fables, I must, absolutely and categorically disagree with this one. The tortoise doesn’t always win. In fact, most often the hare does and the tortoise comes trudging along slowly, steadily and gradually to cross the finishing line in a sad second. That is one of life’s not-so-savory facts and Aesop, somewhere in his brilliant spate of storytelling, forgot to consider the one blatant possibility-what if the hare hadn’t taken a break to rest?

As a child, this very thought used to give me some rather sleepless nights. The tortoise you see was a big favorite of mine. And obviously so, since the hare was arrogant and vain and proud and overconfident-a stark contrast to the lumbering tortoise, heavily burdened and yet dignified with a sense of challenge forged with the unmistakably honorable traits of confidence and humility. Who in his right mind would vote for the hare and who in his senses wouldn’t love the tortoise?

As the story goes, the hare, with his lithe body and long, fast legs, keeps boasting about his speed and the tortoise, tired of listening to the vainglorious banter, challenges the hare to a race. Amused with the tortoise’s cheek and surprised at the audacity of the futile challenge, the hare-gloating over the prospects of an easy win, accepts it. The race begins and obviously the hare is off to a flying start, with the tortoise traipsing behind at his usual calm, slow and steady pace. The hare, with overconfidence leaking out of his long bunny ears, decides to take a break, since the ‘footslogging tortoise is too slow to catch up’. He figures he can rest a while before he resumes and he firmly believes that he can still finish first. But he sleeps longer than intended, by which time, the tortoise has already passed him and plodded over to the finish line. The hare wakes up defeated and his ego shattered into a million pieces.

Wonderful story isn’t it? And kudos to Aesop for bringing to light such a valid point in such a lucid manner-haste makes waste. Catering to a task with a steady pace and calmness of mind will always get it done effectively. True story.

But the question I asked a as child is pertinent even today. What if the hare hadn’t taken the break? What if he had just kept running? He would still be faster than the tortoise and would inevitably win the race by a long shot. Maybe the real moral of the story is not actually that the slow and steady runner always wins the race, but something more to the tune of ‘pride comes before fall’ or ‘overconfidence gets you nowhere’ or ‘vanity is the quicksand of reason’ or some such cliché. These would make more sense with respect to this particular story than the whole ‘slow and steady winning the race’ quip.

Besides a race is a race is a race. Some win and some lose, but almost everyone wants to be in on it. Ambition is a crazed driver and every race and participant in the race is spurred by ambition varying in form and degree. Everything I see around me is a competition or race of some sort and I’m surrounded by people running and competing. Be it a queue to get the Toto lottery ticket for the weekly bonanza or the rush to get into the 7:49 train to Joo Koon. Always the struggle to be one up over another, always an effort to move to the head of the line, a constant need go with the flow and in the process get out there and win win win! We are hardwired right from the tender age of 3 (when we’re enrolled into kindergarten in a bid to get some real life training before real life begins) to get into the race and brainwashed with a sense of foreboding doom if we were to ever fall out of the race or even think of moving against the flow. Rebellious, free-thinking people have done just that and many have survived gloriously, but the masses continue to do what has been done for ages. Run.

Note here, that this is in no way a judgment about people who wish to be in the race. I myself have been in many, even though I have always rebelled against it and finally let myself go free. Kind of like Manny the wooly mammoth from Ice Age, who decides to walk against the flow of numerous creatures migrating to the south. But, yes I do not judge-as a rule. In fact I deeply respect everyone in the race and their efforts to get ahead in life. They shoulder their responsibilities effectively and work hard and there is absolutely no replacement for hard work. My respect for them will always remain deep and genuine. It’s just that I chose a different path, because of the way I’m built within.

I have a very poignant memory of a conversation with a friend in my early teens, which in many ways strengthened my resolution to travel my own path despite the fact that everyone else’s paths were different.

We were in our first year in junior degree college and we were in the middle of our mid-term exams. We met up after the physics exam and started talking about how we thought we might have fared.

It would be important to note at this point that I am not a very big fan of Physics as a subject (although cosmology and space science holds me spell bound) and I said in a non-committal manner, “I think I’ll make the pass-mark. Ok who’s up for ice-cream?”

This friend of mine, who has always been an ambition-crazed, success-obsessed individual was aghast, “Oh shut up!!! I couldn’t answer the last question. It was worth FOUR ENTIRE MARKS.”


“So? I’m sure you’ll make up for it the next time,” I said trying to soothe his troubled brow and nudging him towards the ice cream stall.

“No you don’t understannnnnnddddd,” he said in despair. “I’M OUT OF THE RAT RACE MAN, I’M out of the race, how will I ever get back in?” He moaned all the way home and I lost out on a perfectly good vanilla chocolate ripple. Sigh.

I didn’t say anything at the time, but I sure was glad that I was out of the rat race. I don’t even think I wanted to be in the rat race ever. I have always abhorred the idea of going where everyone’s going and I’ve always wanted to do the exact opposite of what everyone’s doing. It’s nothing to be proud of, it’s just the radical part of me. And not surprisingly it has very rarely worked to my advantage. My friend got back into the rat race and witnessed success after success and success and is now a very rich, successful engineer in the US of A, poised for many many more successes to come.

I on the other hand am a penniless writer, but enjoying every minute of it. After all, as I figure it, if I’m not in the rat race, I may not be conventionally successful, but at least I’m happy knowing I’m my own person and not a rat.

I spoke to my friend recently and he finally disclosed to me, his unhappiness with his long struggle to win. It had taken its toll. I asked him to take it easy and do what makes him happy now instead of being forced to constantly act to stay on top of things. He agreed. But I know he won’t be able to do it. His system is not made for it. If he’s not racing against a worthy competitor or winning some accolade or the other, he’ll suffocate. To him, competition is like the air he breathes and more often than not he competes with himself, when there’s nothing else to struggle against. To add to that, the seduction of money and success is too strong a lure and very difficult to break away from. But I wish him success in whatever he chooses to do.

As for me, I continue to do my thing and live for God and Guru. I have my own challenges and so many aspects about the beauty of life excite me. The glory of languages and the power of well-connected words, trees and flowers, forests and animals, oceans and mountains, art in any form, be it culinary or poetic, musical or created with a paintbrush, all the fiery, humble, hardworking and driven people working ceaselessly to make this world a better place for all of us, simple joys and many laughs-I live for them all.

I have long stopped any and all efforts to run with society (in general) and God has been kind to me, in that He has provided me with whatever I need and lessened my desires.

I am neither the hare, nor am I the tortoise. And I am certainly not a rat. I’m just plain and simple me. Watching the race, loving all, and living life.

Love to all,

Shreyasi

Light at the End of the Tunnel

It is indeed surreal sometimes-how something stares you in the face-blatantly, clear as day and yet ignorance in all its wondrous effectiveness shields it from plain sight. The signs are always there, the voices speak constantly-the loudest one being that of the conscience, which I have grown to believe, is the ‘spirit of the soul’ so to speak. The signs light up like neon every now and then, brighter and brighter with each passing year of ignorant pleasure living.


The voices grow louder and louder till they boom away like jungle drums in the dense and convoluted jungles of the mind. They increase in intensity, but we choose to turn away from the signs, snuff out the voices and forge ahead, even as we rise in pig headedness and tomfoolery, servants to the Mayic wonder and slaves to the five senses-not even acknowledging the presence of the sixth.


And then they stop. The signs wither away and crumble to dust. The neon lights become fainter and fainter till they’re indistinguishable from the darkness they once lit up. And the voices….the voices fade away into an inner sanctum which even Maya cannot penetrate. And suddenly the sound of silence envelops you, as the all encapsulating darkness lights up the dream path to self destruction that you have chosen to tread. You rejoice as you walk along the said path undeterred and ‘uncompromised’. You service your senses and live for the moment. After all, what else is there to live for but the moment, right? Yesterday is long gone and tomorrow is too far away. What good comes of mulling over the past and wondering about the future when you have a perfectly livable NOW?


If only time was that amiable a friend. Actually, it would be wrong to judge time. It in no way judges us. It only accompanies us on our various journeys and whether it turns out to be a friend or foe, is actually very much what we make of it.


If you want to know what got me pondering over what some would call ‘abstract notions’ such as these, it actually has to do with some very personal bitter experiences I have had the good fortune to encounter recently. The experience surprisingly coincided with a conversation with a very close friend.


This friend of mine is a commodities trader by profession. He buys stuff from international markets and sells them at higher prices in India AND MAKES A TON OF MONEY IN THE PROCESS. But of course, life has not been all hunky dory for him. In fact our recent conversation was actually about the difficult situations life has been handing him lately. With a mother, father and 87 year old grandmother, all of whom have taken ill suddenly in the past few days, my malaria-stricken friend has also been incapacitated enough to not be able to handle everything. “I will recover with time, but what I see in my parents scares me,” he tells me. “If only they had taken care of their bodies and minds in their youth, they would have had such a healthier and happier old age.” If only they had listened to those voices before the silence and taken heed of the flashing neon signs before they faded away into oblivion. If only.


Of course, there are chain smokers who go through life lit up and yet die safe in their beds, healthy and happy at the ripe old age of 99. And I have also known people who have led strictly disciplined, vegetarian, exercised, meditated, moderate, smoke, alchohol and stress-free lives, only ending up developing terminal cancer at the ridiculously young age of 40. And of course, one can’t rule out freak accidents which take a shot at pretty much anyone from the ages of 2-80. Karma takes the upper hand. There are no punishments or rewards-only consequences. And so it goes on and on till liberation from the Mayic cycle is achieved.


But as a general rule, listening to the voices and taking heed of the signs helps. And that, I can safely say, is a proven fact.


So my friend and I concluded that it’s time we started acknowledging the voices and the signs, which thankfully are still quite vivid-yet. He has agreed to quit his drinking binges, make his work more stress-free, exercise and meditate. And I have made promised to myself to get my life back-my health, my emotions and my peace of mind and soul. And I intend to do that with proper eating, exercise, writing a lot, spending time with my family but more with myself and God and being mentally and physically active and above all, to be true to the spiritual path that I follow and all will be well.


Ultimately, my only solace lies in God. My Guru came to me one day many years ago with that flashing sign and his voice spoke to me through so many others devotees who have followed his teachings and found the bliss that awaits me too someday. He was the light at the end of the long dark tunnel that I was travelling through blindly and aimlessly. It was a flame burning bright actually, and when one finds such glorious light, one may attempt to douse it with ego consciousness over and over again-as I and many others (I’m sure) have done on the path. But the burning spark persists. My Guru has promised to never give up on me-even though I have strayed not one, but multiple times.


And one day, you realize that the flame is the real deal and the darkness and the ego and the tunnel are all a dream. And then you taste the fire, savor it and nurture it till one day it becomes a roaring raging fire of God-conscious bliss and when it consumes you completely, there is no turning back.


I am aware of the light at the end of the tunnel. I have passed through the tunnel and as predicted, I, veiled with ego consciousness and attachment to worldly attributes, have attempted to sometimes ignore and sometimes extinguish the flame altogether. But it seems to burn brighter than before. The time has come to acknowledge it and grow with it and I await the day, when the flame becomes a raging fire and the fire and I are one.


For my beloved Guru, whose divine love is unparalleled,


Twinky.