The ways of nature

As I was walking along the narrow trail, I came across a tiny alcove, a shrine of sorts. It was carefully tended and there was a marble plaque at its center. This plaque commemorated the brave efforts of the five soldiers of the Garwal Scouts who had, on a September morning in 1990, reached the summit of Hathi Parbat only to be lost to an avalanche the very next day.

I sat beside the plaque, reading the names and trying to flesh out the men behind those names. It struck me how often fate did the thing it had done to these five men. It handed them their dream and then rashly took away the very means to enjoy that dream.

I felt nature had somehow cheated on them but I know enough to know that nature may not always be fair but it never cheats. Its every act is part of a larger purpose, a higher design that may or may not be immediately visible. The five brave men lost their lives only because they were are the wrong place at the wrong time.

Essense of trusting

A zen master and his disciple were on their way to a distant monastery. They had to cross a dense forest to get there. The guard at the gate had told them that they must keep walking north else they will lose their way and be lost forever. So they headed north.

After a while the zen master suddenly turned due east. The disciple began to point out the error but when he saw his master walking purposefully ahead he simply followed. An hour later the master again turned due north and then due west and eventually due north again to exit the forest.

The disciple never knew that just before turning east the zen master had spotted the pug marks of a ferocious tiger and he knew him to be ahead somewhere. Had they kept walking straight they would have been, no doubt, caught and eaten alive.

The disciple didn't have to know this because he knew something far more important. He knew that to trust someone means one has to trust them just that little longer even when you know they are making a mistake.

A mouse tale

All farms have mice, loads of them. They usually have a gala time, there is tonnes to eat and hazzar places to bed down, when they feel like. One just has to be vary of a few things. Like the landlady's broom, or the big fat cat, or that mangy little pi-bald cur who likes to kill mice just for fun. And of course, most of all, all the mice knew, they HAD to be very vary of that big pot by the hearth. They all knew that the pot was full of fresh cream that the landlady would top each day. How the mice loved the cream and would lick every little drop that fell by the pot but to try and lick any cream from the pot itself was strictly forbidden. For many a mice had tried, slipped in and drowned.

This one little mouse didn't know any better and would keep dreaming of taking a lick right off that pot, though his mom was very clear on that issue. Don't you dare, she would say.

So one day he couldn't help himself and leaned from the brim of the pot towards the cream. 'Just a little bit more', he said.,' why? my whiskers are already touching it, a wee bit more and i bet my outstretched tongue would be there too', he thought. So he leaned a fraction more and his tongue touched the delicious cream. 'There', he squeaked in delight, 'nothing to it really' and... then.., PLONK.

Let alone his tongue, his entire self was now in the cream,,,, Uh, oh.

All the mice heard his desperate screams and rushed to the edge of the pot. The eldest mice all clicked their tongues and shook their heads. 'We told you so'. His mom was livid. More elders came and they all said just one thing. WE TOLD YOU SO.

The little mouse was frightened out of his wits. He cursed the moment he decided not to listen. And now he was going to drown.

He didn't want to die but that's what happens to mice that fall into the pot. That's what everybody says. That's what everybody was saying right now, clicking their tongues, shaking their heads and making sorry gestures with their little hands. All waiting for the little mouse to gasp and go under.

But this little mouse was different. He didn't want to give up, not just yet at least. So he began to kick and struggle. 'Oh no', they all said, 'wasting his and our time. Why cant he just go under so we all can go on with our lives'. But the little mouse kept struggling. Kicking his feet, trying with all his might to reach the brim.

One by one all the other mice got bored and went away and he was all alone, struggling. He too knew that he was eventually going to drown but not just yet, he kept telling himself. And just when his strength was about to give up he felt his feet get some purchase. All that kicking and struggling had churned the cream around him to butter. The little mouse realised he needn't drown after all. Within an hour he had churned just enough butter around him to reach the brim and haul his exhausted body over.

As he lay on the other side, his little body glistening with butter and his muscles quivering with spent energy, he pondered about what had just happened and why?

The 'what' was simple enough. He had survived.

The 'why' was a little bit deeper. Think about it.

The Boss speaks

Here is what Bruce Springsteen spoke way back in 1987. As I read it today I felt like asking myself which room am I sitting right now?

“I had certain preconceived notions of what I thought the rock and roll dream was all about. And I was very immersed it in my early twenties. I guess later on I realised that’s only a starting point … I realized that you can’t live within that rock and roll dream that I had in my head. If you do, then you’re really betraying its very promise. You’re bullshitting. If you try to, then you become some self-indulgent decadent asshole. Its not a worthwhile thing for a man to be involved in…

“The whole rock and roll thing has become such a big thing and has meant so much to so many different kinds of people and has taken up such an enormous amount of time in people’s lives that it’s real out of proportion. There’s a certain loss of perspective to the whole thing….

“I think at the moment in ’75 when my dream in its own funny way came true, I had to deal with the consequences. At that particular moment I realised I did not want to live inside it. There was nothing there except an empty room. There weren’t many other people there. Now my job was to find my way out of it. Because that was the only way I was going to be worth anything to anybody, including myself. That was the only way I was going to be able to maintain my own vitality and life.

“Once you’re inside that dream room, things about you that are important and relevant in the real world to your friends – the people who will hear your music – will just strangle and die. And so will you. But it’s very difficult because that room is always very comfortable and there’s an illusion of safety. It’s really a very dangerous place. There’s no real security there and there’s no life there. There’s really nothing. So then you’ve got to create something else. In my writing after ‘Born To Run’, I’ve been trying to find that alternative: where does the man with the guitar fit? Where’s my place in the world? I guess that’s all anybody’s trying to do, no matter what their job is.

“It’s not even a result of being successful, or being a famous guy who plays guitar. It’s something that people wrestle with their entire lives, no matter what their job is. Everybody has a choice whether to stay in that dream room or go out and build something that’s real. You can stay in there real easy. All you need is a six pack of beer and a television set. You can just let yourself go in there. I guess that particular moment was my moment of confrontation with it, but it’s not a unique or unusual situation for anybody …

“I guess in my music, one of the things I wanted to do was provide that set of consequences. I wanted Saturday night and Sunday morning – but I also wanted Monday through Friday. Because there’s a lot more Monday through Fridays than there are Saturday nights and Sunday mornings.

And those are the days you’ve got to live with. Those are the days everybody’s got to live with. So I wanted a music to live with – truth and consequences!”

Woodcutter's Vows

There was once a poor woodcutter who toiled day in and day out just to make ends meet. One day, as he sat under a tree, tired and hungry, a yogi passed by. The woodcutter begged the yogi to take a break too. The yogi agreed and the two sat besides each other under the tree. The woodcutter then asked permission to ask the yogi a favour. He said that, as a yogi, you no doubt met god often enough, so would you please ask God a question next time you met him?

The yogi was amused and asked the woodcutter what was his question. The woodcutter said that no matter how hard or how long he worked, he never had enough to eat. He wanted God to tell him why it was so.

The yogi promised him that in two days he would have his answer. He then told the woodcutter where to find him and went off on his journey. Two days later the woodcutter went to the yogi and sought his answer. The yogi replied that God told him that he had fixed the quantity of food that each person could have in his lifetime. So the faster one ate the food the quicker he would run out of it and die. The woodcutter thought that an empty stomach was a silly way to live longer so he wanted to know if he could choose to have all his food supply upfront and then decide for himself what to do with it. The yogi thought for a while and then said that he thought God may not have a problem with that.

So the next day when the woodcutter woke up he was surrounded by mounds of food. He was delighted and began to prepare a huge feast. And for the first time in his life he ate and ate and ate till he could eat no more. But there was still lots and lots of food leftover. He thought that there was enough time to eat the rest and so decided to step out for a stroll.

In the meantime, all the wonderful aroma of his cooking had attracted scores of mendicants and they were now all squatted around his humble hut. When the woodcutter saw this he thought it was unfair that there was so much food inside while outside these poor souls were hungry. So, even though he knew the consequences of finishing all the food inside, he generously invited all of them to eat till not a grain of food remained.

Later that night he lay down to sleep knowing that his end was near. But he was happy and felt fulfilled, so he went right off to sleep. When he opened his eyes next he realised he was still alive and whats more he was amazed to see that his house was still filled with mounds of food. He was totally perplexed and went running straight to the yogi. When the yogi heard his story he smiled and said that all the grain in the house was from the share of all those scores of mendicants the woodcutter had fed last night and that it was now his.

It is said that the woodcutter lived for several more years. Each day he finished every grain of the food he had feeding those that needed it. It is also said that he chose never to eat a full meal in his life ever again.

Windtalkers

Its interesting how good a mimic the wind is. It blows and makes all sorts of sounds. Last night it blew and my tent flapped and swayed and it seemed that someone or something was walking outside. And the other day it rustled through the pine needles and we thought that we were next to a water fall, or a fast flowing stream. Then again as you sit in the evening staring at the snow peaked mountains lit by a full moon, you think you hear someone playing the flute, or whispering a song or just lamenting a loss, but if you listen carefully, its just the wind, blowing and doing mischief. Its the softer wind that really does most of the mischief. The stronger wind is louder but it has no range. Just one steady blowing, humming sound. Rightnow it is back to blowing softly through the silver oaks and methinks its tinkling me a sweet lullaby.

Silent Prayers

We have been having some issues with a leopard. He has been sighted almost daily for the past few days. In fact he was within leaping distance yesterday and that too at noon! The previous night he was much closer. His pugmarks were spotted in the morning just outside of the eastern most tent. His persistance to be in and around the camp site and his being spotted moving about at midday tells me that this unnatural behaviour must be driven by hunger. Or an injury is interfering with his natural way of life. While I am worried about having a wild animal so close, I am nonetheless praying hard that he returns to health and his natural way of life as soon as possible.

Sounds of silence

Just sat in the forest and listened to the sounds. At first the forest seemed full of sounds, many many sounds just surrounding me. But as I closed my eyes and concentrated, all the sounds basically boiled down to two groups of crickets. One group shrill, the other a notch or two deeper. Because there were so many of them, it seemed the forest was full of sounds. Then as I listened, i heard a third sound, a distant faint hooping sound. Maybe it was a bird. It tweeted, hooped and was gone. I opened my eyes and saw a tiny lizard slither among the dry leaves. I also saw a few tiny flowers gently swaying, fluttering, and just below a tiny bee darting around, but i heard no sound. Does that mean that they made no sound at all, or did it mean that the crickets just drowned their sound?

Two Wolves

One evening an old grandfather was telling his grandson about a battle that goes on inside all people. He said, "My son, inside all of us there are these two wolves that are in a perpetual battle.

One is the Evil wolf. He stands for anger, envy, jealousy, greed, arrogance, ego and so on and so forth.

The other is the Good wolf. He stands for joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, compassion, faith and all that"

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"

The old man simply replied, "The one you feed."  

The Butterfly Effect

A few weeks ago a young woman was out for a bike ride in upstate New York when she spotted an injured monarch butterfly and took it home in her emptied water bottle.

 

She then fed the butterfly rotting pears mixed with water and honey. The butterfly was thriving on the feast and gaining strength but the question remained: What about its broken wing?

 

Enter the internet.

 

Online, she discovered a nine-minute video demonstration posted by the Live Monarch Foundation, a nonprofit group from Boca Raton, Florida, on how to fix a broken butterfly wing.

 

So after a delicate but relatively simple operation the tiny house guest had its wing mended and began to flutter around. Another week and it was now merrily flitting all over the house. While it was warm inside the house, outside it was getting very cold and all its other butterfly brothers and sisters had long ago migrated down to the warmer south. So the next question: How will it make up the lost time?

 

Enter the long haul lorry drivers.

 

The young woman took the butterfly in a shoe box to the nearest trucking station. She stepped into a bar, stared at all the huge burly drivers and asked for a volunteer to take the box as far south as possible to give the butterfly a chance of finding a group to join in the migration to Mexico.

 

If you ever want to feel strange and totally out of place then all you have to do is go into a bar full of truck drivers and ask them to take care of a butterfly!!. Unlikely as it seemed, eventually, a driver from Alabama, on his way to Florida, raised his hand.

 

Three days later the young woman got a call. It was the truck driver. The butterfly with its mended wings was loose in Florida, among other Monarchs on their way to Mexico.

Essense of appreciating beauty

Let me ask you a question. Have you ever thought of what really constitutes beauty?, or more specifically, appreciation of beauty?. On its own beauty is meaningless. Its power comes from the effect it has on you. I recall once going to this wonderful garden tended by this really old man. The garden was this really huge sprawling space filled with incredible sights and smells. Orchids, carnations, roses, daisies, many tropical plants and ferns, huge trees.... it was almost too much to take in. So I walked over to the old man as he sat pruning a rose bed and asked him.

"Is there a spot from where I can really take all this in? I mean, is there some place from where I can, you know, maybe see the whole garden and , you know, maybe get the real essence of all this fantastic stuff that you have done?

He looked up, slowly, locked his rheumatic eyes with mine.

"You really want that?"

"Yeah, absolutely"

So he slowly got up on his feet, reached out for his cane and shuffled ahead.

"Follow me", he said over his shoulder.

We walked past all the beautiful flowers to an isolated corner. It had nothing but a single potted plant in the center with a chair beside it.

"Sit here on this chair and focus on this flower, admire it, see it, smell it, touch it.... and when you are done just whistle. I will take this flower away and fetch you another. The only way to get to the essence of all this beauty around you is to take it one flower at a time."

Essense of being found

There is this little Bar close to where I used to work and often in the evening I would go across with some friends and sit back and chill. It is a lovely place, relaxed, great music, great decor, but for me what made the place special was this young bartender. He was the life of the bar, always ready with a smile, always remembered what you liked to drink, knew exactly when to come over and chat and when to leave you alone. He had been there for a long long time and I often wondered what he was doing in this little place. He was clearly too good for this bar, he could choose any of those upmarket drinking holes where he would have made much much more money that he did here. But day after day, month after month he was always there. The same place, the same smile. What added to his aura was this intriguing talk that once he was just like one of the regular customers. And much like me he liked to come in the evening and unwind. It is said that he had this lovely companion most of the time, an upcoming model. Then something happened and one day he asked the manager if he could move behind the bar. Good for us, really, but still why not move on?

One day I was alone so I chose to sit at the bar nursing a drink and he came over to chat. I couldn't let the chance go so I shamelessly asked him what kept him here. He continued to polish a glass, looked around as if making up his mind, then he turned towards me and said.

"When I was a little boy my mom used to take me to the park. And she used to always tell me, listen son, if we ever lose each other don't you go around looking for me. Just stay where you are so that I can find you."

Essense of being brave

It is said that the Israelites and Philistines were head to head on opposite mountains with the valley of Elah separating them. The two great armies faced each other ready for the battle. While the Israelites had many a brave soldiers, all of them shuddered at the sight of this giant among the Philistines. The giant, Goliath, bellowed fearsomely and called upon the Israeli warriors to meet him one on one in the valley of Elah and decide the battle. Days went by but no Israelite would take up the challenge and the King was running out of options. One day a lad by the name David came to deliver the daily bread to the king and heard him despair about the giant. So David went up to the king and told him that he was willing to fight Goliath. The King was overcome by the lad's bravery and gave him his personal armour. But the armour was too big for the little lad so he left the armour behind and began climbing down to the valley. Along the way he picked up five smooth stones for his sling shot and was ready to meet the giant. Goliath saw David come down and he was enraged that they dare send him such a puny opponent. So he growled like a thousand lions and ran down to crush David. It was a fearsome sight, this huge giant trundling towards little David, eyes all bloodshot, arms spread wide itching to crush, the barrel chest heaving....

David waited, and waited, his sling ready and swinging slowly. He waited some more and just when he thought it was right he swung the sling shot and out flew the stone. The stone was aimed perfectly and hit Goliath right in the middle of the eyes. His skull split and the giant instantly fell at David's feet. Dead as a dodo.

Ofcourse all of us know this story but tell me have you ever wondered what made little David take up the challenge that all the other warriors didnt dare? The first thing he did was overcame his own fear. That must have been difficult but once he had no fear the rest was, i imagine, easy. That is how one destroys monsters in our own lives. We first overcome our own fears, we then stand our ground. And then when we meet the monster, our lack of fear allows us to think clearly, allows us to do what we have to do to overcome that monster.

Zen master and the little boy

There was a little boy in a village who lived next door to a zen master. When the little boy turned 14, his father gave him a pony. All the neighbours were delighted and said "how very wonderful". However, when the zen master heard the news all he said was "well, lets see..."

Two years later the boy was riding his pony and somehow fell from it and broke his leg. The neighbours all came together, clicked their tongues and said "how very terrible".

The zen master saw this and all he said was "well, lets see..."

A year later a war was declared and all the able bodied boys were sent off to the front. The boy was spared as he was a cripple. The neighbours were happy for him and said "how very fortunate..."

The zen master saw this too and said "well, lets see...."

So what's the point of my story????

"well, lets see....."

Being Hindu

Last few days i felt good about being a hindu... its seems a few thousand years ago some intrepid hindus travelled far east and spread the good god's word. Far east, really far east, far east like Java, Bali, Thailand and a whole lot of countries in between. The locals lapped it up and made a whole new religion for themselves.

So when a couple of millennium later I landed in Bali I saw around me all those familiar sights of beautiful hindu temples, colourful offerings, joss sticks and diyas. Even the gods were all familiar gods like Ishwara, Brahma, Vishnu & Mahesh.

We went to a traditional dance performance and they did a piece from Ramayan. A few days later we saw another performance, this time based on the Mahabharata. Our taxi driver spoke to us about Karma and how one had to be good right now so that in the next life we came back as humans and not animals. Somehow he got talking about how some religions were not tolerant of other religions but didnt they understand that all religions were mere paths leading to the same destination. Therefore why should one say that this path is better that the other, or why should one have to choose and stick with just one path?.

He spoke with difficulty, English was not his strong point but to me he neednt have spoken at all, his thought have been my thoughts for as long as I can remember, drilled and hard coded in my brain from all those spiritual lectures my devout grandma used to give us each night.

The final surprise was kept right till the end. On our way to the airport our taxi driver inserted a CD into the player. He smiled and said "you will like this" and from the speakers wafted in a melodiously sung Gayatri Mantra!!!

Feeling at home apart there was another reason why I felt good about being a hindu. Twice while haggling over the price of an artifact we were offered a special discount.... "you from India??? you Hindu??? here special special price....