Cauliflower manchurian and Red Cherry Blossoms

We were out on the bike at 9:45 p.m. for a family chore. K, my husband, usually tries one strategy or another to keep my mind occupied elsewhere away from the road so that I don't ride the bike by proxy sitting pillion. As a result of one of these strategies, in this particular instance I was narrating the Zen story, Red Blossom Cherry. In the story, a man is being chased by a vicious snake and running from it he reaches the edge of a cliff. He jumps from the fear of the snake, and clings to a tree. There's a landing ground below, but before he can land, he hears a lion's roar from below. The branch he's clinging to starts dangling. In the midst of all this, he spots a Cherry. He plucks it and eats it. The snake is the past, the lion future and the present, the red blossom cherry! I was narrating this story because we were discussing the movie, Right Here Right Now (by the way, a must-watch, which tells a brilliant story of possibilities of living this moment and not living this moment, all in half hour and with no unnecessary dialogues).

After finishing the chore, we spotted a favourite restaurant on our way back home and impulsively stopped for a post-dinner snack (dinner had been an era back at 7:30 p.m.)! Both of us ordered the unhealthiest possible junk on the menu, deep fried, heavy stuff. I asked for the dry cauliflower manchurian. After inhaling almost all of it and ensuring deep satisfaction of the palate, I commented on the nature of my snack. That "yogically" speaking (I am a serious student of yoga), I have violated all rules given by my guru. And also that "ayurvedically" speaking (we follow the ayurveda system of medicine for health and wellbeing), I am probably going to suffer from an increase of vata the next day.

Pat came the answer: Your learning of yoga is the snake of the past; and the effect of the food on you is the lion of the future. The cauliflower manchurian is your red blossom cherry! (with a wicked smile, no less!)

An "uncivilised" bath, almost.

I got the opportunity to have an almost-"uncivilised" bath after nearly 8 years, i.e., a bath out in the open, under the blue sky, birds flying overhead and the vibrant smell of nature - the fresh, tangy and minty fragrance of air where there are trees around, and of course the most pleasurable significant of all, this God's own breeze vying with sunshine to hit my skin in hitherto completely unexposed regions. In other words, a bath in the lap of Mother Nature. I call it 'almost' because it was not wholly in the wild. I was on the terrace of a house with the facility for such a bath. The house is located in a green surrounding and having a garden as well, away from pollution. Hence, I was not in the sterilised environment of a modern bathroom, closeted away from the healing touch of nature. Imagine the pores of all my skin soaking in sun and air as Nature wanted us to soak them in. I felt as complete and uncivilised as an animal would. Of course, I have never been able to find out from an animal how it feels as a creature of Nature. But I wish we could understand from them what it is to give to Nature and take from her multifold, and live as one of Her family; and so stop becoming more and more civilised and move farther and farther away from Nature, her nature, and her gifts - like taking an uncivilised bath, but oh so gloriously healthy.

I think it is these havens of uncivilisation that are keeping mankind still happy and going, in all the flurry refinement and ostentation of civilisation. Wherever we are uncivilised, we dont need to be developed, civil, polite, urban, pragmatic, rational and sane; We are free to be pagan, wild, content, insane and undiscovered. Discovery and development seem to be the yardsticks of a civilisation. And we discover different civilisations to have them clash with each other as well.

We humans need to continue giving ourselves enough uncivilised baths to wash away the dirt of civilisation.

Stay this moment

Stay! Stay a moment,
Stay here with me.
Don't go so fast,
Or you will miss this moment
And miss me.

I will no longer be able
To speak to you clearly -
and tell you of wondrous things
show you the joy of love
or its bitter-sweet pain.
or the learning of achievement
or even the pleasure of failure...
Hurry along in this way -
Your lover I cannot be.
I cannot feel your breath
nor your hand, nor heart.
How can I guide you
to the gentle warmth of sunshine,
Or to the biting cold
of another jealous poet?
You are so far ahead,
and my voice gets weaker.
How can I make love?
My whispers you cannot hear.
You talk to me no longer,
and you are in a race.
You may perhaps win accolades,
But not me.
Don't go so fast
Or you will miss me.


Come Along!
Come along with me.
or I will leave you behind.
I cannot describe the preciseness
and the blurriness of now,
and their strange play
if you lag behind.
I cannot become your violin,
and sing the song of melancholy
neither can I dance,
taking you with me in ecstacy.
the smell of flowers blooming on the roadside
mixed with smells of dust and urine,
You will not know,
You are not here with me.
I am desolate
I am losing you,
but you dont know it,
as you search for me
hanging back.
You need to come along
to be here with me,
this moment.

If you stay a moment,
If you still a moment,
You will know,
I cannot be in the past,
it is an illusion.
I cannot live in the future,
I have not created it yet.
I breathe only this moment,
I dance only this moment
I love only this moment,
I can give you only this moment.
And fool that you are,
you do not recognise
that being your Muse,
I can only be in the here
I can only be in the now
I am goddess only of this moment.
Live this moment, live me.

Where is the power?

I got up this morning to an alien stillness in the air. I wondered idly what it was while brushing my teeth, then going to my customary chair with some reading and writing material (I am on recuperating holiday and cannot and don't have to rush with work). But what is this silence? It stupefied me since I can hear birds chirping, a dog barking somewhere, the noise of the pressure cooker from the neighbour's house... It is not that my husband has already left for work; he is a rather silent and softspoken man anyway and so it could not have been the absence of his voice.

I sat on my chair and tried to apply all my powers of heuristics to the problem. I slowly realised that I could hear a sound that I had never heard before, it must have been a bird calling but I had never heard it before. I went to the window and started looking out for the birds. I could hear crows cawing of course. But gradually to my utter delight I distinguished at least six different bird calls and NOT squirrels, which were also squeaking by the way. (Some mistake the squirrel's repeated squeaking for a bird call). I also spotted a couple of them - the sun bird, the woodpecker, and seven sisters.

After the treat, I came back to my chair a few feet away from the window still listening carefully to identify newer bird calls. I gradually started hearing occasional vehicle sounds from the road. I live in a green campus, and slightly away from the road. The sound of bikes zooming or the horn of a bus is common, but now I could hear noises that were further down on parallel roads. Since I was into investigation anyway this morning, I started listening to those sounds as well. I could make out when a car was nearing, and on which side of the road it was, ie in which direction it was going. In a while I realised that I could make out whether a bus was slow or fast even as the sound came nearer, became louder and then slowly went farther away, and faded into silence. I fancied I could hear angry horns as people rushed to work, and a stray leisurely one.

Time went by and I still hadnt figured out this silence, a silence despite all the sounds around me. I realised I could feel and hear my breath.
And felt it s-l-o-w-i-n-g.
I...n and o.....u....t.
I....n a.n.d o.....u.......t.
The air in me seemed to be still. I wondered whether I was going to stop breathing any moment now, my time had come.

I was distracted by the curtain at the window flapping and after less than a minute felt a gentle breeze on my face and shoulder. I was fascinated with this and waited for the next flap. The curtain flapped and I counted the seconds till the breeze reached me. While I waited for the next flap, the curtain blurred, and the sight of the trees out in the backyard sharpened. The branches and leaves on the tree top waved at me madly and sure enough in a short while, the curtain flapped and I counted the seconds till it hit my face. So I knew that this morning this was the direction in which the breeze came. I made a mental note to ask my husband about these directions of the breezes here (He is rather closely connected with them and knows them well). Meanwhile I went back to playing with the breeze. The tree top moved, and when I whispered "Now!" it hit me - I stopped short of jumping in glee; thankfully, because my poor injured knee would have waged permanent war against me if I had tried that kind of stunt. I now started timing whether with every instance, the time that the breeze took to reach me from the tree top was the same. Then I also realised that the speed also seemed to reduce as it reached me inside.

I felt a movement near my right ankle and acting on instinct I slapped on it. A mosquito. Me?!! I caught a mosquito?! How is that possible? I have made history - I could never get them, I didnt even manage to get the one that gave me chikun guniya. As I was ruminating on this, I felt the air next to my left cheek change and slapped - a mosquito again?!!! I was flabberghasted. What was happening to the world today? And I swear that I felt it coming even before it sat on my cheek. How did I feel this air next to my skin move? Did I really? I have never felt this before, unless I am anticipating a movement. And as tiny as a mosquito? But it was unmistakeable, and twice. It was something to do with the silence. I was certain by now.

The shaft of sunlight coming from the hall window through the curtains, a good 15 feet or so away was now at a sharp angle to the floor. More perplexity. I hadn't even realised being aware of it, but I had been. I knew that it had been at a gentle angle to the floor a while back. When had I noticed it? I was by now ready to bang my head in frustration, it was to do with this confounding silence and stillness....

when all of a sudden, clacking, whirring, buzzing, humming, jangling.... the power came back. And the stillness shattered. I am still wondering, why do we call electricity 'power'? It feels like an oxymoron to call electricity, 'power'.

Raavanan / Raavan - A Love Story

It is a brilliant and moving love story. As simple or as complex as a love story can get. A story of people who are not caricatures of the Good or the Evil, but real characters who have shades of both, who have both violence and love in them.

His story: True love always transforms and brings out the best. And this is the story of a man who discovers true love in himself and transforms, and ultimately dies for the love. Or we could also understand it to be that Veera / Beera had anyway the capacity for generous and unconditional love as is indicated by his relationship with his own people. And that his true love for a woman gives him empathy and softness. It is as much his love (later) as her purity (initially) that stops him from touching her even while she is completely at his mercy. And so we see the other characters as they relate to his love story.

Her story: The woman, who is the epitome of purity and conviction of heart. But that does not mean that she is blind to the compliment of being loved by such a man. Yet she is so free of guile or doubt in her heart that she could go back to him in all trust to find out the truth. And a character who shows that purity and fidelity does not necessarily mean a hardened heart but one that can be full of compassion and justice. The movie also reveals her husband through her eyes. She (and the audience) are shown gradually that even the good man can be blinded by authority and self-importance and become mindlessly violent for his perceived good intentions. That he could also be driven to dishonourable politics, as is seen by how he contrives to use her to kill the 'villain'. If someone says that this is not dishonourable politics but simply strategy, then they have already bought into it. A true master of martial arts would tell you so. However, her ties with him are non-negotiable as she shows straightaway and repeatedly.

And this purity of Sita of the original Ramayana is one of the few aspects that have been retained in the movie. Yes, the plot of the love story is embedded in that of the original Ramayana and so there are obvious resemblances in situations and characters. However, there it ends.

For me, the above is the central theme of the movie, keep aside all the usual critical reviews and the flaws that one sees. There are obvious flaws, however they are being given too much importance that we are unable to see the true worth of the story being told. That there are good and evil acts, but no good and evil men. All of us have seeds of both in each one of us.... and that true love has the power to burrow itself so deep and so manifest generosity, compassion, selfless anger, and forgiveness.

The inexorable storyteller leaves his audience to decide whether this Sita swallows her pride in her purity, (which she shows when questioned by her husband and says death is better than to be doubted on grounds of chastity) and goes back to her husband, or goes to her death. Now that would be a very poignant climax, the 'villain' who by now is no longer appearing to be a villain, dies in true love for the heroine, who dies in true love for her 'hero', who by now is no longer appearing to be the neatly slotted and labelled hero at all.