Tasting Notes

was doing a little experiment

tasted whisky, three ways...

straight up

with water

with soda

the first two times there was a trend...

straight up tasted full bodied, numbed the tongue a bit, went down like a gale, strong and visible

with water it was mellow, still full bodied, maybe like when somebody turns the volume down on a song... its still the same, but u have to try harder, pay more attention...

then came the 'with soda'

oh boy...

i took a sip and it was like somebody just changed the record... it was a totally new song

it danced on my tongue, popped bubbles and took the whisky on a roller coaster...

different beat, maybe different genre, like u were listening to jazz and somebody just popped in a rock n roll tape..

btw, i did some more digging and it turns out soda isn't neutral in taste... the carbonate in the soda messes up the buds totally.

i just tasted soda, and u bet it tasted sour, kind of metallic sour...

yeah, of all things, sour!!

imagine what that sourness does to all the hard work that went into the malting and the distilling and the aging, all that dedication and patience, all that expertise...

now i am wondering.... i pay a few thousand for a whisky and a couple of tenners for a soda.... why then would i ever mix the two and let the vagabond run the show...

this is like somebody spent months planning the prom, got the girl, and when the moment came a hobo trooped in and took the dance...

Essense of understanding

When seeking meaning one often gets too involved with the words. An old story speaks about a similar problem.

 A devoted monk, after years concentrating on a particular mantra, had attained enough insight to begin teaching. His humility was far from perfect, but the teachers at the monastery were not worried.

A few years of successful teaching left the monk with no thoughts about learning from anyone; but upon hearing about a famous hermit living nearby, the opportunity was too exciting to be passed up.

The hermit lived alone on an island at the middle of a lake, so the monk hired a man with a boat to row across to the island. The monk was very respectful of the old hermit. As they shared some tea made with herbs the monk asked the hermit about his spiritual practice. The old man said he had no spiritual practice, except for a mantra which he repeated all the time to himself. The monk was pleased: the hermit was using the same mantra he had himself mastered -- but when the hermit recited the mantra aloud, the meditator was horrified!

"What's wrong?" asked the hermit.

"I don't know what to say. I'm afraid you've wasted your whole life! You are pronouncing the mantra incorrectly.

"Oh, Dear! That is terrible. How should I say it?"

The monk gave the correct pronunciation, and the old hermit was very grateful, asking to be left alone so he could get started right away. On the way back across the lake the monk, now confirmed as an accomplished teacher, was pondering the sad fate of the hermit.

"It's so fortunate that I came along. At least he will have a little time to practice correctly before he dies." Just then, the monk noticed that the boatman was looking quite shocked, and turned to see the hermit standing respectfully on the water, next to the boat.

"Excuse me, please. I hate to bother you, but I've forgotten the correct pronunciation again. Would you please repeat it for me?"

"You obviously don't need it," stammered the monk; but the old man persisted in his polite request until the monk relented and told him again the way he thought the mantra should be pronounced.

The old hermit was saying the mantra very carefully, slowly, over and over, as he walked across the surface of the water back to the island.

Sounds of silence

i have always wondered what is the sound of silence.... for never have i ever heard it. no matter how quiet it is i always manage hear something...

then it struck me, its not the hearing that takes u there,  its the feeling.... some sounds by their presence make me aware of the silence.... of the peace and the quiet.... like right now.... admist the gentle waking of the dawn, the chirping, the tweeting, all in the distance, muted. the rustling of wind blown leaves, the final thwacks of the night watchman's bamboo stick, and in the distance a cowherd and the jingling of cowbells....
among them i feel the sound of silence.... i laze some more, greedily dragging out the moments....

Parent Musings

as a child i often looked towards the skies, and when i spotted an aircraft flying i would hold up my palms and track it thinking to myself i was holding it up, and guiding it on its way. it made me feel very powerful....

as a parent i still look up at the skies, only now i often see AJ flying high up and when i do i immediately hold up my palms and start tracking her. i would love to tell myself thats its me who is holding her up, and guiding her.... but i know better now.....

how she feels me with pride only i know.

Carefree Dancer

ramjo ye ramiye befikre, je bajuma baki na ramiye

dance you carefree dancer, how does it matter that the others are still...

i was thinking how in most ancient languages there is no difference between the being and the doing, both are described by the same word...so 'ramiye' here stands both for the dancer as well the act of dancing....at one level it makes things so simple....u are something so just be it...no layers, no masks, no complications...

Meeting God

It was a little before crack of dawn and I was walking the empty semi-dark lanes of Gangotri beside the rapidly flowing Bhagirathi. The mystics have often raved about the Brahma Kaal, the time before dawn, between 4:00 am and 5:00am. The time when, they said, the celestial descend among the terrestrial.
I was standing on the bridge across the Bhagirathi, looking down when I sensed a fellow traveler behind me. I turned and faced the shadowy figure. 'Hello', I said and she replied 'What are you doing up so early?'
'Its Brahma Kaal and I am looking for God', I said.
'Have you found him yet?'
'No, but I have met many kind peaceful souls. I have asked all of them so I will ask you too, are you God?'
Her laughter enveloped us like wings.
'No, I am just a nobody', she said as she turned and walked away.
'Strange', I said, 'they all say the same thing, that they are nobodies'
She turned one final time her laughter still enveloping us. And then she was gone.
It was still dark but as she receded away I was certain she wasn't walking; she was gliding, a few inches over the ground.   

Looking closer home

an old man was walking about in the marketplace with a pot in his arms. a merchant called out to him 'what is in that pot of yours?'
'its full of gold' said the old man.
the merchant was horrified, 'have u lost ur mind? arent u afraid people will find out and take it away?
the old man whispered back 'you see thats the point... people always think if its gold it can only be found some place difficult... bagal mein kya hai koi dekhta hi nahin'

Nunnha pilot

for a writer travel is everything, one travels and stories happen.... yesterday i was waiting for my train at dhanbad station. as usual i was playing on my ipad, trying to land this aircraft. it was a tricky level as i had to land it while a storm was blowing....needed a bit of focus but these shoeshine boys were really pestering me... jolly fellows, kids really, full of beans, smiling and all that, but relentless, breathing all over my shoulders....damn.... knowing i won't be able to land this plane with all this distractions i just flicked the iPad in the direction on this nearest kid and said 'khelna hai?'... he was like, what??, but then he guessed i was seriously offering so his eyes said, yeah, why not... i think i gave a few pointers, like, yeh plane hai, udd raha hai, isko uttarna hai, but he was already holding the ipad the way i was and damn, the plane was behaving.... i kept  nudging a bit, working on a few controls he wouldn't know off, like the flaps and the rudder...but he was like totally focused, gently guiding the plane.... i pointed out the landing strip, cut his speed for him, adjusted his angle a tad.... at the right time i dropped the landing gear for him while he focused on the strip... and la haul billa quwat, the critter nailed the bloody landing....!!!!
sure it was hard landing, it was wobbly, it wasn't pretty to look at, but the aircraft was on the strip...
and then i heard him take a long breath.... a tiny smile.
i reclaimed the ipad, tousled his hair and shared that smile... soon i was on my way and he went his.... i don't remember exchanging any words....

Summitting and the art of overcoming odds

I have long believed in the power of the mountains to teach you the basic lessons of life. What it takes to do difficult things and how to do it with humility and with a sense of wonderment. My long years of being in the mountains gave me enough and more opportunities to experience all the three things in abundance. About three years ago, my daughter, like all 15 year olds, was struggling with issues of focus, commitment, hardwork and so on. As a parent I could see her struggle and also see her make efforts to overcome them, not very successfully, though. AJ is a very intelligent, smart and self-willed woman and she wanted to do things her way and therefore all my efforts to 'help' boomeranged rather pathetically.  Thats when I brought in the big gun. She was always passionate about the outdoors and camping and trekking but she had never summitted a mountain. I sowed that thought in her mind and then let it germinate. A few months later she wanted it bad enough to commit to the rigorous physical training that was needed. We trained together for many months, we sweated, challenged each other, pushed our limits and a lovely time. Six months later we left for our attempt of the 19,200 ft Rudragaira peak. As we entered the valley that would lead us to the base of the peak AJ held my hand and smiled. And i thought the mountains had already done their job. She had showed tremendous focus, a lot of commitment and a huge amount of hard work and the fact that she felt confident and happy meant she had figured out the connection. Mission Accomplished at one level I thought.

As one gets higher up a mountain things get exponentially tough, its bitter cold, one is always tired, one's appetite goes for a toss, headaches, irritation, the works. On top of all this AJ was naturally nervous, afraid and a bit lost. So I hugged her a lot, we talked and joked, discussed movies and played word games. I distracted her as much as I could and kept her occupied in the long hours one has to spend cooped up in a small two man tent. The rest of the time we climbed higher and higher. Five days later, at 2am in the morning, in pitch darkness we began our summit attempt. Eight hours later, exhausted way beyond words, giddy and happy we stood on top of Rudragaira. She leaned close and said something. The wind blows really hard on summits and her words flew away bit I read her lips "Dad it was really worth it". Mission Accomplished.

What part did I play in all this? How did I add to this? By being there. Not just in person but in the entire sense of the word, my soul, my heart, my mind, my experience, my knowledge, my skill, every little thing I had ever learned. Every thing came along.

Fond goodbyes

leaving a campsite is like,
to my beloved saying bye.
torn am i,
between running back or walking away.
but walk away i must,
for i have promises to keep.
but a promise i do now make,
speedy return it shall be,
to your sheltering arms.

Roots of Silence

what is silence, i wonder,
certainly not an absence of sound,
for these valleys are never really quiet.
silence is not what the ear perceives,
it is what the heart sometimes feels.

Essence of company

i sat all alone among the meadows,
none near for a company,
then my eyes saw a hundred flowers blooming,
my ears heard a hundred bees buzzing,
and there were the trees, the valleys,
the clouds and the flowing mist,
yes, i sat all alone among the meadows,
or so i thought.

Infinite Shades

how many shades of green are they,

as many as sunbeams on a sunny day.

god must be awfully good at math,

for he fits in more numbers,

in this tiny square inch space,

than can ever fit into my head.

Parched Flowering

there are these plants in the desert, some type of a cactus. they remain just below the sandy surface for most part of the year, sparing themselves the searing heat above.... but at the first hint of rain as the raindrops soak the sand, they emerge and flower....most delicate and beautiful flowers.

felt a bit like these plants today.

the rains finally reached us and i flowered in sheer relief.

The Celebrity Gates

and just like that,

with no warning or much ado,

i stood before this shiny gate,

all glitter and gold.

it bade me fondly to enter,

and as i reached to push my way in,

i spied a tiny slip tucked in a crack,

on it was written, in letters black,

"for all ye who enter,

here and henceforth,

a spotlight shall relentlessly shine,

every step, every word, every gesture,

fair game, to be twisted as it pleases,

for shallow perverse entertainment.

no respite, no refuge,

this world a gilded cage and you the prized lion."

as my eyes read and widened in horror,

in my mind images formed,

of lost freedom,

of lost true friends,

of a lost life that i loved so much,

and yet, i also saw,

the gained power of reach,

of my new ability to really change,

of being heard by those that need to listen,

of listening to those that need to be heard,

of being who i always wanted to be,

to be the change i wanted to see.

my extended arm paused a bit, hesitating,

my mind tossed and weighed.

"now you know", it eventually said,

"what to beware and what to treasure,

what to dwindle and what to kindle.

so thus forewarned, my dear,

go forth and push through,

for our destiny eagerly awaits."