Idyllic Thoughts

Remember once I had talked about an aged sanyasi whom I see everyday at one of the bus stops, with fruits, talcum powder for face and other things and that I was surprised as I had thought till then that sanyas meant leaving worldly desires behind? Well, he disappeared after some months and that place was occupied by another sanyasi. The surprising thing is, this one too wears good saffron clothes, combs his hair after oiling, is a bit younger than the other but still old, applies talcum powder everyday to his face, beard..., eats apples, oranges and what not... He looks wealthy enough to buy costly fruits. And though I guess all human beings have a right to good food, clothing... I was just surprised. And I have been wanting to speak to him, just haven't got the courage to do so yet. What if he tells me to go to 'hell'? But I have many questions. Where did the old sanyasi go? From where did the present one come? Why is he like this? Where does he spend his days and cold n

Somebody once told me that small businessmen in villages or towns who thought they were influential, who were once rich by their own right and arrogant because of their wealth, are fading away because now nobody cares for their wealth. I find this applies to zamindars too. I have seen once-rich-and-feared zamindars losing their teeth like old, frail tigers because nobody cares for their wealth or fears them anymore in their own villages. I have seen the poor who once worked as slaves under the zamindars, now openly defy them. This is the natural course of globalisation and commercialisation, you don't need naxalism for this. The landlords are being slowly replaced by these two factors. I wish to know your opinions on this.

When I read the lines in the below two posts, I felt that I just have to share it with the world. Hence, I have quoted them. I have written enough about love, but it seems its never enough. Emotions may bog us down, but they also teach us an unforgettable lesson each time, and for that lesson, for that experience, we need those emotions. But my question is, what is the use of a lesson if we are ultimately left only with that lesson, that feeling, that experience? What is the use if we do not have any more love left within us, just a bitter lesson learnt? 

It is only after leaving that you discover the city within you has changed, and its roads wind now to different destinations. After the end of love there is the unloving, when you can engage in the ceaseless hunt for all those things to be taken out, and somehow discarded; when you can fight against the new roads and try, futilely, to return to what you were before. There is though, another choice. Half the story of love is the discovery of it as you put it behind you. And with that discovery comes the knowledge that your own journey is still incomplete. The maps have changed, the continents have shifted, and the horizons are not the ones you remember. However, the road is still open and there is much to see, but only if you have the courage to see that the first step is always a departure.  -- A storyteller's tale by Omair Ahmad

Fools who see mirages in the desert and convince themselves they are real, who fall in love with ideas and illusions, give their whole hearts up to them, and blame reality when it intrudes, who strive for that which can never be theirs.   -- A Storyteller's Tale by Omair Ahmad

I have disowned God. Yes, I do not need God. I don't say I believe or disbelieve in the existence of God, because I don't care. It may seem the height of arrogance and ego to be telling this. But I do not think most of us who pray to God do so because of a respect for his powers or goodness... Most of us pray because we would want a good job, beautiful spouse, and good life. I don't think we get them by praying to God, if the saying that everything is pre-ordained is true. We can not change what is bound to happen by praying to God. Then praying to God for granting wishes is useless, because it cannot happen. I don't need God because praying to him neither gives me mental peace, nor grants my wishes. I don't need a placebo. I don't need an imaginary straw to clutch when I am drowning, I need a real one. Human beings are real straws to each other.

"When heights are long and friends are few I sit on my window and think of you A silent whisper and a silent tear With all my heart I wish you were here ...........................I miss you." I don't know who wrote it. But I love it.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more, it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. -Shakespeare in Macbeth

Ayn Rand says of Love, "That love is reverence, and worship, and glory, and the upward glance. Not a bandage for dirty sores. But they don't know it. Those who speak of love most promiscuously are the ones who've never felt it. They make some sort of feeble stew out of sympathy, compassion, contempt and general indifference, and they call it love. Once you've felt what it means to love as you and I know it-the total passion for the total height- you're incapable of anything else." I read these lines when I was going thru the comments for my editorials. It was quoted by myself. But I just wanted to remember it again.

I once read somewhere that every relationship has an expiry date. Of course some endure, but they just have longer shelf life. Others rot from the inside. Some are kept chemically alive. But aren't relationships beautiful? At least until the expiry date nears. And the end is really horrifying. I fear the death of any relationship as much as I fear the death of knowledge. Yes, knowledge too dies, sometimes. In a similar way, every place too has a saturation point. After you reach the saturation point at that place, work, home or anywhere, you should not be there. Being there would be like chewing on stale, toughened bread- tasteless, dangerous and dragging.

Love has multiple dimensions. It has a kaleidoscopic beauty. Have you ever looked inside a kaleidoscope? Its colours and patterns are amazing. Its possibilities are immense. I believe love is the only emotion that looks beautiful from every angle, even through the wet eyelashes of separation.

Most people say that women care very much about their looks, and dress to please others. Maybe true. I don't know about other women. But I always dress for my satisfaction. Looking beautiful is quite different from feeling beautiful. I dress to feel beautiful from the inside and don't normally care what others comment on my looks. I honestly don't get satisfaction or feel happy by compliments unless I feel comfortable in my dress, make-up (which I wear very rarely) and personality. Isn't it necessary for us to feel the beauty from inside rather than outside? I feel beautiful when I walk in the evening breeze silently submerged in my thoughts even in the midst of chaos, dirt and crowd. I feel beautiful when I sit silently on a rock looking down at the humanity or up at the eternal sky. I also feel beautiful when I write, when others read it and when people give more credit to my brains rather than my face. I feel the most beautiful when I read others' thoughts which

Today I saw two kinds of people in bus: the haves-yet-don't-cares and the have-nots. First I saw a woman whose saree pallu had fallen down revealing her blouse. She didn't care enough to correct it and after I managed to stare her down for 10 minutes, she slowly put the pallu back where it belongs. A woman sitting in front of me, signalled to another woman far away to correct her saree pallu, which revealed the torn blouse. I turned and saw her vainly trying to cover her torn blouse with saree and at that moment, I felt tears in my eyes that accompanied a helplessness because in our country there are women who don't even have enough clothes to attire themselves fully. And I remembered that it was today morning that I was telling my mother that the dress I was wearing had become old. What choice do they have? None like me, I'm sure. What can I do to help them? I have been taxing my brains looking for a permanent solution to deep poverty.

If there is one thing I hate about people, that is hypocrisy. I normally say what I feel, even if people tend not to believe me, I don't bother. And I expect others to be the same, to tell what they really feel even if it is a bitter pill to swallow. It is easy for me to like people because I expect a lot of good in them, but it's difficult to hate people because I still believe there is some remnant of goodness in them. So when I find out that people are hypocrites, I find it hard to accept and digest it. And yet, I can't hate them. Is it my undoing?

A lonely bird                                                Gushing waters at Joga                                            Feel like falling?                                                                      Too near? No...

I am going to Joga again with a faint hope of forgetting this hurtful world. Wish I could live in a hut there in the midst of forest, toiling for firewood, cooking my own food and reading till my eyes close on their own. The scenery at Gerusoppa is breathtaking. Its so beautiful surrounded by mist-covered mountains and an incessant, die-hard rain which challenges us as if by saying 'let us see, who is more enduring; you humans or I?' The only drawback of the trip is the long journey, which I hate. Of course I get time to contemplate on various things, especially since I have become too busy nowadays to even think of trivial things. Let me see if my troubled mind gets peace from this short sojourn in forest.

There is something greater and purer than what the mouth utters. Silence illuminates our souls, whispers to our hearts, and brings them together. Silence separates us from ourselves, makes us sail the firmament of spirit, and brings us closer to Heaven; it makes us feel that bodies are no more than prisons and that this world is only a place of exile.  Every beauty and greatness in this world is created by a single thought or emotion inside a man. Every thing we see today, made by past generation, was, before its appearance, a thought in the mind of a man or an impulse in the heart of a woman. The revolutions that shed so much blood and turned men’s minds toward liberty were the idea of one man who lived in the midst of thousands of men. The devastating wars which destroyed empires were a thought that existed in the mind of an individual. The supreme teachings that changed the course of humanity were the ideas of a man whose genius separated him from his environment. A single though

There is no power above love, Nor do we know what it is about; It is like a raging fire, O Ghalib; When you want to light it, it refuses to light; When you want to end it, It refuses to be put out. - Asadullah Khan Ghalib

"May you live in interesting times." Believe me. it is not a good wish. It is said to be a Chinese curse, translated into English. But what does it mean? May be you will understand when you read another Chinese proverb "It's better to be a dog in a peaceful time than be a man in a chaotic period". Here 'interesting' does not mean its usual meaning. It means a chaotic period, a period of unrest. Nice. We can curse our enemies in the guise of wishing. Another part of the above curse is still interesting: "May you find what you are looking for." You may be puzzled as to why this good wish is being called a curse. Think a while. You may get the person for whom who were waiting and searching for a long time. In the happiness that you reached your aim, you may forget the path you walked on to reach the person. You may not remember the sweetness of the travel. And when you lose that person for whom you travelled all the way, it seems the end of roa

ನಿನ್ನೆ ಒಂದು ದೇವಸ್ಥಾನಕ್ಕೆ ಹೋಗಿದ್ದೆ. ಅಲ್ಲಿ ದೇವರ ಎದುರು ನಿಂತಾಗ ಏನನ್ನ ಕೇಳಲಿ ಅನ್ನಿಸಿತು. ಚಿಕ್ಕವಳಿದ್ದಾಗ ದೇವಸ್ಥಾನಕ್ಕೆ ಹೋದಾಗೆಲ್ಲ ಪ್ರಪಂಚದಲ್ಲಿರುವವರಿಗೆಲ್ಲಾ ಒಳ್ಳೇದು ಮಾಡು ಅಂತ ಕೇಳ್ತಾ ಇದ್ದೆ. ಈಗಲೂ ಯಾಕೆ ಹಾಗೆ ಕೇಳಬಾರದು ಅನ್ನಿಸ್ತು. ಆದರೆ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ different ಆಗಿ. ಒಳ್ಳೆಯವರಿಗೆ ಒಳ್ಳೇದು ಮಾಡು ಅಂದುಕೊಂಡೆ. ಆದರೆ ಕೆಟ್ಟವರಿಗೆ ತಾನೇ ದೇವರ help ಬೇಕಾಗಿರೋದು? ಇನ್ನು ಉಳಿಯೋದು ಒಳ್ಳೆತನ ಕೆಟ್ಟತನ ಎರಡೂ ಇಲ್ಲದವರು. ಅವರಿಬ್ಬರಿಗಿಂತ ಜಾಸ್ತಿ ಇವರಿಗೆ ದೇವರ ಕೃಪೆ ಬೇಕು ಯಾಕೆಂದರೆ they have something missing in them. A vitality that builds our character. Because if you have a strong character, you will turn either towards good, bad or both in small amounts. ಆ vitality ಇಲ್ಲದಿದ್ದರೆ ನಮ್ಮಲ್ಲಿ personality ಇರೋದಿಲ್ಲ. ಅಂತಹ ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿಗಳಿಗೆ ಬೇಕಾಗಿರೋದು ದೇವರು. ಯಾಕೆಂದರೆ strong ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿತ್ವ ಇರುವ ಮನುಷ್ಯ, ಅವನು ಕೆಟ್ಟವನೆ ಆಗಿರಲಿ ಒಳ್ಳೆಯವನೇ ಆಗಿರಲಿ, ಅವನ ಜೇವನ ಯಾರ ಸಹಾಯವೂ ಇಲ್ಲದೆ ಅವನೇ ರೂಪಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾನೆ. ಆದರೆ ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿತ್ವವೇ ಇಲ್ಲದಿರುವ ಮನುಷ್ಯ ಬೆನ್ನುಮೂಳೆ ಇಲ್ಲದ ಅಕಶೇರುಕದ ತರ. ಅಲ್ಲವೇ?

In Kundapur, we went to see a nearby river which was too picturesque to be described. The trees kissed the water as if standing in a mangrove forest. Seeing a temple across, we crossed the river in a boat and reached the temple only to see that it belonged to a daiva, as they call it in Dakshina Kannada and Udupi. The god had come on the body of the priest and he was dancing with a sword. My young cousin, who had never seen such a scene before with a priest dressed in cloth made of gejje, stood gaping at him even when he danced dangerously close to her. I came out only to see a hen with throat cut, jumping up in air writhing in pain, to take its last long breath and fall dead. What do any amount of literacy, education, sophistication, wealth and power amount to? Nothing, when it comes to following such rituals in fear of god, if not true devotion. The hen's jumping in pain is still dancing in front of my eyes. Why are people so desperate to get what they want at the cost of other l

I have just returned from a short trip; a trip long pending. I went to Kundapur and Hallihole, a tiny village at the end of Udupi District, flanked by forest on three sides and a beautiful river on the other. Travelling to Kundapur, I revisited the place where I studied for six years; the school and college on the serene hill in the middle of nowhere and felt like once again walking down the slope with books in one hand and my close friend's hand in the other. We felt like being in the top of the world with our little secrets and lots of laughter. I wonder where those days went. It was in the middle of the night, around 1 or 2 am, when I passed my school. I remembered the ghost stories that we used to frighten each other with, about the school as it was said to be built on a graveyard. The blooming of a life above the dead. Nice. Isn't it? Coming to ghosts, there was a dilapidated house a few kilometres after the school on the roadside. It had mosses and small plants on its ste

Today I realised that people always don't mean what they say and say what they mean. It is up to us to understand the meaning behind their words and act accordingly. But what if we understand them wrongly? Then it is our turn to get surprised when we finally realise what they always meant. So how do you understand what somebody actually means? I don't know. I have failed in analysing people and admitting it is a great step towards losing my ego. But the lesson also turned out to be quite hurtful. After all, falling is quite natural for those who walk, right?

Who am I? No, don't be frightened. I am not stepping over to the philosophical realm; well not really. But I have been thinking of this since a few days. I do not like to call myself a journalist because though I go for reporting (some times), edit, manage pages, take decisions on what the Mysoreans should and should not read, I do not feel I am a true journo. I am not a writer. Of course I write and people read. I have been doing it since college days (and even before that in my diary). But I do not churn out books and articles at others' will. I write only when something inside me compels me to write, without letting me to be in peace, torturing me. I am not a scientist. I studied science and considered it my favourite, thinking of myself as a scientist even in thoughts, a true scientist. But lately I seem to have withdrawn into the world behind scientific temperament, that of beliefs. So there goes that identity. I think I am just a girl. A girl like crores of others. Jus

Everyday morning I see men, young and old, loitering near tea shops everywhere in city, drinking tea and smoking cigarette, watching girls pass by, for hours together. I thought they sat there only during mornings and evenings; but was shocked to see them there whole day, doing nothing. Why? Do they have nothing better to do? There will be at least 5 to 10, sometimes more, men at each tea shop. Why are they so unproductive? They are a burden to the society and their homes who feed them, attire them and give them extra money to buy cigarettes and drinks. No wonder I see more number of women nowadays in buses, going to work and feed their family. And then they say just because women work, they get no jobs. In truth, they get no jobs because they are either very lazy or carefree and they are unemployable too. Knowing not much except speaking of politics in mid-afternoon with great expertise. What a great waste of human resource. I also see teachers going from house to house in hot sun ta

Yesterday I went to a temple with mom. It was night and the temple was crowded. I just stood outside waiting for mom to come back and thought of reasons why I was not inside like others. Well, why should I go to a temple? The most obvious and common reason was to pray to god so that He will feel happy and grant me my wishes. Another reason is to feel an inner peace. Yet another reason is fear. Well, I think I can refute all three: I don't think just by my praying to Him and offering money and things, He will grant my wishes because He is not a grant-vending machine like a coca-cola vending one. And He hasn't done so yet though I managed to pray sometimes, with conviction and devotion. So that's out. About inner peace. I haven't found it anywhere except within me by my own effort. And I do go to temple for that reason. But not a crowded one, more preferably an empty one. Fear is something I haven't been able to muster up with regard to god till now. I don't fe

I will never forget May 2010. In a span of a week, I lost three persons close to my heart one after the other. When something becomes too much to bear, you'll just give up fighting and learn to bear it with a smile. And now, I have reached a point where I don't feel anything, neither good nor bad. But I am calm and I will remain so. It's the calm after the storm, it's more peaceful and empty.

One day last year, I had spent a whole day in silence. That was the calmest day in my life. Because I'm by nature very talkative and never stop chattering my way off. But that day I listened to others, thought about what others said and talked to myself. It helped me to listen to what I feel and talk, it helped me to listen to me, the one person who I never listened. Today I saw a Buddha statue, silent and calm. It was beautiful. I felt like going and sitting there for eons watching Buddha smile. Wonder why he looks so happy. Did he really live happily after leaving the persons he loved, the familiar surroundings of his home, the security of his country and position? May be he had too much of all those and that's why he chose to leave them all. Familiarity breeds contempt, right? We always crave for what we do not have. May be that's what he did. I wish I could meet him for chat over a hot cup of tea at a place where there would not be any interruptions to what he would say

Have you noticed that you always come to a full circle -- in life, love and everything else? I really don't know even after all these years where I am going, why or what I am going to do once I reach there. I have met so many people -- loved some, liked some and lost some to that black hole called time. My one consolation is that one day I too will be lost in the same black hole and once there, will get an opportunity to meet those lost ones again. When I wake up and go for a long bus ride early in the morning with the young sun smiling & winking at me, I fall in love with life all over again. I guess that is something no one can take away from me, not even time.

In a few months, I learnt something very interesting. I learnt that friendship is not constant, but relative; relative in the sense it changes according to the situation, emotions and the decisions taken. I believed, like all sanguine youth, that friendship, like love, is forever and unchanging. Well, it seems on the path to maturity, you tend to step on a few stones thinking they are stepping stones and inevitably fall. It doesn't matter if you are hurt, it just matters that you misjudged. Coming to maturity, I think I have failed to understand it, let alone gain it. Does maturity mean accepting something they do not feel, as true? Let me be clearer with a simple example. When you love someone deeply, can leaving that person, knowing that its very difficult, be maturity? My question is, is accepting practicality a sign of maturity? What about accepting what you truly feel, what is nearer to your heart?

Today I re-read all my blog entries. In a way, slipped down the memory lane. And smiled, frowned and felt embarrassed at some of the entries; even wondered if I had managed to write some words in them. Then realised I have changed in a year; changed so much that I am unrecognisable. In fact, in one of the entries, I had written "I know without emotions there is no life, but they should be part of life, not the whole life. If they encircle us fully, then we can not perceive anything else, good or bad." And I am encircled, more precisely, engulfed in those emotions that my once-clear eyes have turned hazy. Hope to clear it soon.

I'm just dying to go to a place where there are (I won't say 'no people' because I want people) people who can be natural in their feelings towards me, who can live around me without trying too hard to entertain me, who can laugh with me without the plasticness, who can just let me be. I want to wash off my intellectual mud and be a nothing, particularly not a thinking person. I want to stop thinking completely and fade into obscureness. That nothingness is so alluring, it attracts me like a fastidious ant to a sticky sugar syrup. I want that void to fill within me like a black hole. Have you ever lain on a high rock looking up at the sky, you would get lost in an empty new world of your own, unaware of everything that goes around you. I want that feeling again in me.

I always think, whenever I visit a beautiful natural spot, that it would have been more serene and natural if there weren't so much littering and dirtying around, the cacophony of the humans. Humans, wherever they reach always seem to successfully spoil the originality of any natural thing. My words are being strengthened by Tiziano Tarzani, veteran journalist, who writes about Tibet many years ago in my favourite book "A Fortune-Teller Told Me." Here I quote: "What an ugly invention is tourism? One of the most baleful of all industries! It has reduced the world to a vast playground, a Disneyland without borders. Soon thousands of these new invaders, soldiers of the empire of consumerism, will land, and with their insatiable cameras and camcorders will scrape away the last of that natural magic that is still everywhere in this country." It is now true. The aesthetic beauty of the nature has already been robbed by ourselves. Nothing remains sacrosanct now. Is not