Wicker lamps of Haridwar

It was someday in March a day after your birthday that I landed in Haridwar. I was with two single friends on trip long overdue and I could see clearly till the end of the sky when I finally reached.We took a room in Ganga Kinare UP tourism bungalow and missed the evening aarti by sleeping overtime. We were high on something that afternoon, I don’t remember too well now what it was. Maybe it was the freedom of three single girls travelling alone on taxi with enough cash to last them for quite some time!

The next morning I stole away to the shore to take a private dip, I felt I had a lot of madness to wash away. As I stepped slowly into the the cold freezing water the reality of my flesh struck me. Shivering like a nobody I saw an old sadhu far away on the other side of the shore. He was old, grey and looked very lonely.  He could have died with the shock of cold water on his flesh but he was hardy. More hardy than me. Hardier than my being a woman let me be.I covered myself from the gaze of that measly sadhu far away to not distract him.

It was good to see him bathe in the glory of his being a man.To only be a distant observer of the customs that he drew his strength from. I guess in a way I was also trying to be a man like him by taking this morning dip. There was no other way of being close to him other than becoming like him. But it made my flesh week and dissolve into the cutting water. Clearly I wasn't cut out to do this. I wondered that tingling morning if it was easier for men to cut away from those warm familiar things and strike for the larger truth.To push away the comforting blanket, to snub off the well meaning affection. To walk away from invoked vows of togetherness. To live like nobody else deserved any compassion! Olny an aggresive hunt for the the truth!

As I looked at him my thoughts turned to you. You and that old Brahmin were so much alike. Both of you so rooted in the habit of suffering. There was a hardly a trace of sloth on your bodies.

Did all my warmth look like sloth to you? Maybe it did! Is that why you had pushed me away? I didn’t know…I was only 24 then. All I wished that moment was to not have been pushed away so indifferently into the cold cutting real life.The sadhu was mumbling some mantras and pushing away the little wicker lamps into the river I wondered if he saw any light or warmth in those little lights fading away in the vastness of water. 

I prayed that you merge In the divine whenever you died. I hope you don’t come back because I saw how inconsequential those little lights are in the vast flow. It made no sense lighting up those silly sentimental things...

I came back to the room shivering to the room wrapped I my yellow Hare Rama stole. I looked like a crow as the morning pictures tell me. The two women wrapped me in some warm clothes and the sun came up. I saw some blooming flame of the forest and took pictures. It was an alive day after all the little faltering lamps had died down in the Ganges..I am glad I missed the evening aarti. I prefer the raging sun and the the crippling cold river to those lamps that never reach anywhere.

photo courtesy: Abbas Shamael Rizvi

Lost Homes

At 26 its hard to get over lost homes.I thought not counting would make me forget them better. But every lost home takes away parts of I am not young enough to loose with so much grace. I snout pout beg beseech and curse now! For every cut that is made on to me. And yet who can shout out all the pain of loosing a home?
I miss those white walls everyday. I wonder if they miss me too.Maybe I even hate them for not missing me! They were stark the first time I saw them. Stark white with rough patches. And yet they invited one with a purpose. I entered. I didn't like it for a long time. It was a rough place just not the kind where you could get comfortable easily. Hardly the kind where you would think of settling down for a long time. But as human beings are silly, they make pets out of foxes and even start talking to walls. So I did! I started talking to walls. And the walls started talking back to me. Sometimes.
Then I thought we were frequently talking. And then one day the walls went silent.
I think I started shouting at the walls then...I was told to leave. There were some new people who had entered and they had now perhaps a new language of talking to the walls. They told me to vacate..Because the walls obviously didnt talk to me anymore. I lost my home and I lost my language.
I still talk to those white walls. I am sure they hear me...I want to know why do they change their language so frequently? I thought homes were supposed to last longer than hearts. Isnt that why people build homes?

Listen Buddha!

Some questions that troubled my silence in Vipassna...

Q1-Will you listen to my troubled questions?
Say yes and mean yes! Dont run away from my questions...
Q2-Do you have the time to listen to me?
You should! What else’s so important anyways…
Q3- How will I live when you are not around?
Lets talk about it at least!
Q4- Do you know how much it hurts living in this world?
Listen to me too! you listen to all the other crap of this world..
Q5- What about my dreams?
Ill bite everybody on this earth to get to them..OK!?!
Q6- Will you tell me what’s important to you?
there are no ears more eager than mine anyways!

The answers come...

Kindred reply a friend wrote...

'Heck who can answer for the Buddha. He was really wise and he would have answered all the questions that have been asked. In fact the Tripitaka has 84,000 sutras by him and my guess is that he has answered all of them and several more questions there.

Now I put this forward humbly, as a person who has tried to understand his teachings and has tried to follow the way of life he recommended, I am just putting a few thoughts here.

It must be damn cool to be enlightened and all that no?

Oh yeah from what I have heard it's damn cool and more. Forget about the fantastic abilities of being able to fly and walk on water and many such freebies which the enlightened one cautioned were of little consequence. The fact that one can live freed from the long term or even short term effects of one's past actions, in the present moment in peace seems so attractive.

Tell me how does it feel to wear red all the time? Does the red of your robe not add to the restlessness of being alive?
Well the Buddha wore saffron robes.They signified the holy life, the life of renunciation. Not what they have come to represent in our unhappy times. And as for the restlessness of being alive, the Buddha simply discovered the restfulness of being alive.

AND if you are at rest all the time? Does it not make you feel dead?
Being at rest as far as I know it, is being intensely alive. Sitting still, have you ever closed your eyes and taken your attention to your breath passing through your nostrils, to your sensations throughout your body, to your thoughts - you feel anything but dead. Of course, enlightenment, Arahantship and Buddhahood is aid to be a stage beyond this sensory realm that we know. Of course I know nothing about it. But according to Buddha's teaching, death is not the opposite of life. Death is life continuing in a state beyond the perception of normal humans. A person dying moves to another form of being. This is described in startling detail in the TIBETAN BOOK OF THE DEAD - this is more psychology than anything else. Of course psychology of an advanced order described by people - we may call them sages - who have done extraordinary inner research. Actually the Buddha was a scientist if you really consider it.

Do alive women not strum at your heartstrings with their energy? Are you menopausal?
Oh yes, alive women did strum at the Buddha's heartstrings but in a manner of great compassion. Kissa Gotami, Mahaprajapati his foster mother, his outstanding female disciples like Samadevi, Vishaka all entered states of full enlightenment. He opened the doors of religious life for women by initiating the community of Bhikkhunis - at a time in ancient India when women lived lives of subservience. He declared women capable of full enlightenment and did not consider them in any way inferior to men.

As far as having erotic inclinations, would such desires be possible for anyone who has seen the emptiness of the sensory world? One who has clearly seen the impermanence of all forms. And even we, if we are to observe the human form closely and penetratingly are we not confronted by the less than desirable contents of the body?

Do you never rue the fact that your dad was a small King and died one day?
King Suddhodhana was not a small king. Much of ancient history of that region remains unknown. Yes Buddha did know of Suddhodhana's passing. And Suddhodhana having fathered the Buddha had sown unmatched karmic seeds and his passing was as I have mentioned earlier, the continuation of his life in another form. For Buddha whose perception was developed enough to penetrate states of existence beyond our limited human realm, Suddhodhana was always alive to him. Ok ok I know I'm sounding fantastic now. But let me just say this, the Buddha clearly saw planes of existence beyond the plane in which we humans dwell. Like colours of the spectrum invisible to the human eye, but visible to dogs and animals let's say and those visible to instruments that we have created like x rays and so on. Similarly, the Buddha had trained his mind to penetrate different planes of existence. This sounds plausible to me and best of all, the Buddha actually gave clear instructions on how anyone could do the same. If we walk the path, we can have the answers. Not speculation, not arguments, not hearsay but direct experiental knowledge.

Did you father a son? Would you have been a happy man without that?
And yes he did father Rahula. And Suddhodhana told Rahula to ask his father for his inheritance and of course, Rahula's father the Buddha had renounced everything and could only give him the teaching - the path away from all suffering and sorrow. What could be a greater gift?

What does a hot jalebi taste like on a hot afternoon?
I love hot jalebis and during meditation retreats I am visited by thoughts of jalebis and ice cream and so many fantastic things. Do you know how monks eat? They have a single bowl and you pour in a spoon of Khichdi then when you are about to pour in a spoon of kheer, you stand confused, there's no separate compartment for the kheer so where does that go? The monk merely stands there holding out the bowl and you reluctantly and also maybe with some dismay or disgust, you pour the sweet kheer right on top of the steaming khichdi. After that the monk takes his bowl away and mindfully eats without disgust and without relish. This is how followers of the Buddha train to see the world, without compartments, without relish, without disgust. It's something worth experiencing. I am sharing my humble baby steps hoping to shed some light. Your questions are so beautiful and childlike. And yes the practise opens our senses, makes us kind and loving. The wet mud does smell very sweet as the sorrow of our fellow beings feels very bitter.

Its so wonderful that you think so much of Buddha. Who knows what happens after parinibbana? Can the Buddha die, into which realm has he gone, these questions can only be answered after you have yourself attained enlightenment. I don't know where Buddha is but I feel his kindness and his love. Thank you for this beautiful post. I hope my sharing has been useful.'

RG

Dear Buddha,

Dear Buddha,

It must be damn cool to be enlightened and all that no?

Tell me how does it feel to wear red all the time? Does the red of your robe not add to the restlessness of being alive? AND if you are at rest all the time? Does it not make you feel dead?
Do alive women not strum at your heartstrings with their energy? Are you menopausal?
Do you never rue the fact that your dad was a small King and died one day?
Did you father a son? Would you have been a happy man without that?
What does a hot jalebi taste like on a hot afternoon?
Does the wet mud smell sweet to you?

I think a lot about you… What do you think of me?

Love
P

Invoking Brahma

The lord divine. With 100 heads...Creator!
How do you create?
Does the resistance of the earth not slow your wheel?
Does the suffering that comes in creation not bow you down?
The cold unwilling atoms of creation ...how do you thaw them?
The hundred other things crying for attention not distract you?
Does the infinite hunger of already created existence not weight down your hands?
Do you create because that's the only thing you know?
Do you create with joy?
Do you create with pressure?
Do you create the unwilling creation too? HOW?
Do you create out of a womb?
Do you complete creation?
Do you create with passion or compassion?
Do you create for happiness?
Will you come into me and create my life too?


photo courtesy - Sushmit Ghosh@http://mentalsyrup.wordpress.com/

Be very scared of me!

I have nothing to loose except my dreams!

Radhe Radhe

I'll make a film.
About Radha of Vrindavan...I dont know when..I dont know with whom..but someday!
It will be a good film..Its been brewing in my blood for sometime.It would go out in the world and speaks to everyone.It will be a film I would want to see.

Empty bed blues....

Somedays I get up and feel this lump of great sadness in my throat.
Those days its a shame to look inside. There is a wet lump of lonliness dangling around somewhere..dont know if the world sees it..I feel it hanging down my shoulders.
And then doubts creep in like sand snakes on the shore
Has my love so far has been a total waste of everybodies time?
I havnt built anything that would last me and I havnt found anything that was really mine...All I wanted to do was temporary...my art, my work..all about fads that passed away gradually
I pray for grace...and I feel a kick in my gut...its not happening..
The prayers flare up inside...I cant be patient when I see nothing to hold onto in my hand.
Somedays its difficult to ignore these loud roaring questions.
Someday I must confront this emptiness and shout and swear at the world..
How long will I run and leave it all behind?
Where have you disappeared?
Why am I alone in all of this?
Why was I here all these years? For whom?
What have I been doing?
Has it all been waisted time?

April Rain

This april heat...and all that is unresolved in the heart

Dreams which play hide and seek....just behind my back

Ghosts which just about touch you, but don't quite!

Promises made to oneself,that one hasnt been able to fulfill

All that in APRIL.

I live in the hope of rain.....

DOES IT RAIN IN APRIL?????????