Heart on Fire – Rukmini Paatti’s Obituary

The first feeling that I had yesterday, as I went to the ice-box and saw paatti lying still in it, was of a sinking and heavy heart. One more life from that precious generation gone; paatti is, was, around 93 years - this generation I mean. I hold it precious because elders I know from this age seem to live with a sense of fullness of life… complete, whole, seasoned lives. The following sloka comes to mind as I think of this phenomenon:

ॐ पूर्णमदः पूर्णमिदं पूर्णात्पूर्णमुदच्यते ।
पूर्णस्य पूर्णमादाय पूर्णमेवावशिष्यते ॥
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः ॥

Om Puurnnam-Adah Puurnnam-Idam Puurnnaat-Puurnnam-Udacyate |
Puurnnasya Puurnnam-Aadaaya Puurnnam-Eva-Avashissyate ||
Om Shaantih Shaantih Shaantih ||

Roughly translated, “That is complete. This is complete. From completeness, arises completeness. Removing completeness from completeness, only completeness remains. Peace. Peace. Peace.”

Granted that I didn’t see that much of Rukmini paatti in recent times. It had been in the 90s that I met her a lot, going to school with her granddaughter Sathya, one of my best friends from school.  And then for about a year or so between 1995 and 1997 I saw her for a few hours every day. Particular life circumstances made it such that I spent almost all my time besides school and sleeping hours, at their house for that time period. Then as we grew up, and supposed adulthood, its daily life and responsibilities took over, my visits got lesser and lesser.  

However, I never could forget her altogether. She made it so. I went over to visit them (paatti and thatha) in their lovely Mandaiveli house from time to time, selfishly just to get her sweet blessings. And she, peace be with her soul, never forgot to call and wish me every year for my wedding anniversary, a month earlier on the same date! Every year.  We would laugh about it, she’d say, ok I have it marked right this time, and then like clockwork call me a month earlier for my anniversary the next year.

This I will remember of her the foremost – her sweetness of speech.  In all the years that I have known her, I have never heard her utter one word that was harsh, or with ill-will.  The two instances that I do remember her starting to say something that was approaching negative, she stopped herself to say “but we don’t know what it is for them” and “we don’t know their circumstances”. 

A heart, so pure and innocent, was sending out the sweetest blessings for me and for others. Wholesome blessings with utter absence of any agenda, guile or self.  It was all between Perumaal (Lord Vishnu) and the receiver of the blessings. That she was simply the almost-invisible instrument, was the implicit feeling in the way she gave her blessings. I realise that my fervent prayer as I write this is for me to imbibe this quality of hers, while also laughing wryly at the irony that the prayer itself has so much self. Whenever I gave my obeisance in the traditional way, by doing namaskaaram and touching her feet (which was every visit, to hear her blessings of course!), she would just direct me to the altar as well every time. And say, “it all comes from there”.  

I will always remember her as so active, taking care of her household and everyone in such a lively manner. Not a stray moment around her, until the last couple of years when age took over Will I think.  She knew that I loved coffee, and the first thing she would do is to give me a cup whenever I visited. I always saw her taking care that all of us, Satya’s friends, or anyone else in her vicinity had eaten properly, and insist on this. Like many elders from that generation, she would remember the significant to the smallest life details that we tell her, and ask about them. The job offer. Daughter’s school. Shift to new city, are you settled. Cold and cough a month back, how are you now.  Didn’t you say painting was happening, is it over ... Such keen interest in the sense of well-being of people around that she would glean from all this apparently “just information”.   

It is this aspect of being able to serve the well-being of others that she seems to have held above all. Way back in 1992 I think, when I first started going over to their place, there'd been a time of water shortage in Chennai.  The water lorry came when I'd been there chatting with Satya. I helped with the activity of filling up many drums and pots and stocking up water and saw it through until the lorry left, and the work was over.  She never failed to mention this as her first introduction of me to anyone, for more than a decade.  I am pretty sure that it was this one instance that warmed her to me so much. 

It has been a couple of months now since I visited. When I mentioned regret that I hadn’t been able to see her one last time and get her aashirvaadam (blessings), Sathya sent me this message: “She really wasn’t talking the last 10 days. I would hold the memory of her as the active, loving person you know, with the natural simplicity of being that many of us aspire towards.” 

By the time the rituals were completed at home, and she was taken to the crematorium, her body had started shrinking rapidly, and face had started looking bird-like. As part of the ritual, coal was placed on her heart, ghee (clarified butter) was poured on it, and it was then lit. My heart was on fire. Her body was pushed into the incinerator.  The impermanence of this physical body and the permanence of some higher energy that it houses – Paatti and others of her generation seemed to be so much in touch with this, and so effortlessly.  Maybe it is this sensing that gave Rukmini paatti her pure and good heart and her simplicity of being. What more is this body for, if not this religion.

Sathya’s words are paatti’s truest essence - her religion of the heart. It is this picture of her I will carry in my heart forever, and this slokam as her life’s blessing:

ॐ पूर्णमदः पूर्णमिदं पूर्णात्पूर्णमुदच्यते ।
पूर्णस्य पूर्णमादाय पूर्णमेवावशिष्यते ॥
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः ॥

About Giving, Taking and Transactions

For about a year and half since we moved to Tiruvannamalai, I experimented with offering my service (yoga therapy sessions primarily) on a gift economy model, wherein what we offer and receive are gifts and hence without any sort of a predetermination or limitation of how much is offered and received.  This experiment had been a revelation for me in terms of my relationship with money / earning, and my expectations from whom I seek to serve.  I had also felt that this model hinges on a relationship of trust.

I came to a conclusion that every engagement in the world is a transaction, and I don’t mean that in a cynical or negative way. I believed that even a mother wants something from her child; it may not necessarily be in a cut-and-dried way of “I give you this, in return you give me that” however there is an expectation of something.  I may have glimpses of unconditional giving in myself and others now and then, but I question that it is an uninterrupted flow. The ‘I’ does interrupt.  I felt that I could keep this (unconditional giving) as a signpost of growth, act such that at the very least my transactions are not exploitative, practice in this direction.           

   

A recent conversation with a friend lighted up and brought in deeper meaning into this matter of transaction for me.  She was speaking about how difficult it is for her to ‘take’ from others, and some of the ways in which this plays out in her life. I realised that I was looking into a mirror!  While it has manifested differently in my life, I could have said those very same words and it would have been true for me.  As I listened to her and said some things in response to her questions, I felt I was saying those things to myself as well. 

Swami Vivekananda is a personal Hero, and I have known the following aspect of his personality and what he has said about this, for quite long.  However it took this conversation with my friend to truly personalise what he had said. Paraphrasing what he had said in different contexts to different people: that he doesn’t see himself as a ‘giver’, there is a problem in seeing oneself as a giver or receiver. I have no problems receiving gifts from all you people who come to me. In giving, I may receive and in taking, I may give.”  

As I said to her that somehow this is what I am reminded of, it occurred to me that I have always identified myself with ‘giver’ and ‘giving’, with the primary cultural conditioning and assumption being, ‘giving is good’ and a consequent injunction, ‘I should give’ and somehow the automatic negation of ‘taking’.  All that I have perceived as ‘taking’ from others, I have been carrying on me a like a heavy sack of rocks. And every time I ‘take’ without ‘giving’ something, I have put a stamp of ‘exploiter’ on myself.  And if I ‘give’ without taking anything, then I am some great saint or some such!! What a drama.

As I continued walking around the mountain with her and left my drama behind, I remembered the often-discussed idea that every engagement is an exchange of prAna, and in that current exchange of prAna that was happening between my friend and me (as much in silence as during the conversations), I did not (and I feel neither did she) perceive either of us as giver or taker. We were with each other for that period of time for a purpose, which held our complete attention, as much as each other, and the path and what it brought to us. From a point of examination, it could be said that in a gross way, we gave each other many things, and even looking at it more subtly we each took from the other a whole lot. And yet there were no expectations and agendas. There was no give and take.  There actually was no transaction. There are I believe, no residues. Perhaps.  It was a spontaneous, innocent connection / exchange. 

While returning, a few non-transactional processes and exchanges that I have experienced came to mind.  Examining them I find that a non-transactional exchange takes place as a consequence of some spontaneous, empathetic connection. I want to call it love. A deeper sense of losing / reaching across one’s usual boundaries of ‘I’? Maybe.  A space where and when, notions of giver and receiver lose their meaning?  

Yet, one category of people I see who are involved in this kind of a prAna exchange have their role boundaries very clear – my elders. And it struck me that this is something special about how some of my elders love, and seek to serve the people they love.  They are able to hold the transactional and non-transactional together seamlessly without any apparent conflict between the two.  This is what gives me the sense of wonder and joy when I watch them doing what they do. 

My domestic helper transacts with me every day and yet there is an underlying sense of non-transaction about it all.  She and I are much more than each of those transactions that we engage in, and yet it is not just this. There is something else, something more, that is feeding the human process here?  

My great grandfather at 104 does not expect much from the world around him except the vadas that he relishes, to watch his beloved tennis, and someone to bless with a good and prosperous life through a 10 or 50 rupee note, each day. He gives and takes with childlike abandon and yet there is nothing transactional about it. Oh, he was a banker.  

My mother-in-law’s purpose of living seems to be to support everyone in her immediate and extended family.  She also gently and consistently demands role appropriate values and behaviours from her family.  Her every exchange seems to be a transaction and yet absolutely non-transactional at the same time.  Just how is this happening?

I now feel that it is a secondary matter whether I am working with a gift economy model or not.  This would depend on the context and what is necessary.  I stay with my questions, what makes me (us) give and what makes me (us) take, when do I (we) not feel any difference between the two, and so, to look at those times when transactions are taking place and yet the meta process is non-transactional. 

  

x

It's all about the Essentials, Bhaaya!

Pk is a movie worth watching.  And giving some attention to.  As I sat watching it, there was initially a question: is the movie trivialising issues? Then, as I continued, I felt, "wow, brilliant!" What a plot and what characterisation.

Image from Indian Express.com

I do not know whether the movie intended this, however the character Pk is at the same time, both a caricaturisation and a questioning of that caricature. To hold both aspects in the same character, and in the same movie, and to be saying it within the usual 2 and 1/2 or 3 hours is something indeed. 

Pk's journey is that of a Hindu's, albeit a caricature. (It may or may not be that of individuals of other religions in India, I cannot comment on it. I am a Hindu and want to only speak of what I think I know of a Hindu's experience) - this journey of encountering the idea of God, trying to make sense of the drama around this idea, his passion and near fanaticism when he unquestioningly accepts the given and said, (sometimes) eventual disillusionment and swinging all the way to the other end - disbelief and questioning, and fewer times, resolution and clarity.  A journey of a lifetime, or many perhaps, has been fitted into about 3 hours.  It will obviously be intense and not a little, overwhelming.  It will obviously garner the heated reactions that it has.  And also because it has not stopped with the caricaturisation of popular status quo.  In Pk's radical shift towards the initial disbelief, and asking difficult questions, and then later arriving at understanding for himself, the movie has used the innate intelligence of the character.  This type of an intense shift, and an intelligent observation of all that is happening, as they are happening, and within the short duration shown, occurs rarely.  It is usually a much slower journey for the ordinary human being, and in such traumatic conditions (of having no way of returning to one's own familiar world and being lost in absolute alien surroundings without any way of fending for oneself), the said human would most probably freeze into the shock of the trauma.  And hence, it makes sense that the character is way, way beyond even a high intelligence quotient of an earthling, and has honed his mind to such sharpness, of being able to pierce through the cobwebs and see a clear picture, even as the picture unfolds or very soon thereafter.  

His journey has all the elements that an ordinary Hindu encounters in his / her tryst with the idea of God.  Many get to the point of questioning and examination as well.  And so cleverly, the movie has not left it at questioning.  The plot has been taken to its fruition - Pk's unique experience also resulted in resolutions of some sort, and action.  It is not necessary that each one's journey, even in the same ideas, has to have the same result.  Each one's would be different according to their questions, their actions and intentions.  Sarfaraz got his lady love, Jaggu found the damn good story that she wanted to tell, Pk got great raw material for research, discovered earthling-type romantic love and managed to reclaim his ticket to return home.

Image from indiatoday.intoday.in

And what of us, the audience? Pk offers his understanding on national (I am guessing) television, no less, while also managing to find a way to unite the lovers (come on guys, this is bollywood, we have to get the lovers together, even if the stereotypes of 'hero' and 'heroine' is getting blurred here) And their case is also intricately connected to the main plot, which we will get to a little later.  

Pk's offering is very clear.  Its about the essentials.  Nowhere does his narrative indicate that we have to throw the baby out with the bathwater.  There is a culture that gets built around each religion, and which is constantly also changing, getting added to, getting reduced and whatnot. All that he is saying as I see it is that let us not allow this to become the reason for our division. A true religion (he talks of this as God, I am calling it true religion) is one that unites, harmonises, and not that which divides us.  What divides us is of our making.  Let us see this clearly.  That is the essential.  If we derive further from this essential, each of us would be true to our native religion while at the same time holding each other in respect and love.  There is no question here of talking of this religion or that.  This essential would be true of every individual, every entity.  Anything can be divisive in nature or otherwise, it is how we treat it.  So let us not give into the division.  Clearly, the matter of how vibrant and intricate culture is, and what goes into understanding this, is not within the scope of this movie. However I do not see anywhere, it deriding any culture per say.  

The other plot of the lovers finding each other is actually well connected to the main running theme. (In fact the plot is quite tightly and well put together).  Sarfaraz and Jaggu had to find each other and had to discover the case of the mistaken identity of the letter writer, for it to be proven that the god-man was a fraud pretending to talk to God.  And this part of the plot highlights so clearly that this kind of conditioning is so insidious and we don't even know that it is a part of us.  Jaggu is an educated, intelligent, rebellious journalist (student earlier), who has gone and done the unthinkable. And yet, it is the fear and conditioning that had her leaving the church in haste. She didnt even think for a moment to have faith in her love, and to question the letter and its contents as meant for her.  It is this subtle point in the plot that is important for each of us.  It is not as much the loud noises and the direct lures and conditioning that we need to question, but our own hidden fears and resulting assumptions.  It plays such a huge and significant role in the lives of the protagonists.  Just imagine, what if she had taken a breath, taken a step in, and thought of Sarfaraz for a moment.  Let us just for a moment, step into ourselves and take an honest look: how many such assumptions and fears do we carry within our selves all the time? And how they limit us and our actions. 

A collector's item, this one. 

Notes:
1. The "Bhaaya" in the title of the post, means "brother" in Bhojpuri dialect and this is the way in which the character of Sanjay Dutt addresses PK in the movie
2. I realise you need to have watched the movie to get some of the details mentioned in the post. Do watch it. :)

Of Listening and Self Discipline

This is a corollary and continuation to the Introduction of this blog.  To summarise the introduction: everybody wants to have their say, and the vast ocean of personal blogs in the world wide web seems to be expressing the same desire; however, who is truly listening, to understand and engage in a meaningful way?

Let's go further now, and ask, what if one was truly listening, just to listen?  Listening for the purpose of listening.  What does that mean?  That there is no agenda or purpose for the listening, save for that of listening.  There is no purpose (not even to understand and engage, so there truly is NO purpose except this moment's act of listening) - what happens then?  There will first probably be no inspiration to rush in to say anything to the other by way of advice or opinions or thoughts or comments or suggestions.

When can there be no other agenda except that of listening?  There actually seems to be no sphere of everyday human functioning where this listening is happening consciously.  There are of course special circumstances when this may be taking place (or at least the intention for this type of listening is present).  One obvious circumstance is that of counseling and psychotherapy besides other specific groups and spaces which may be looking at such a way of engagement, perhaps as part of a larger exploration of living meaningfully.

So when can there be no motivation to change the other through advice and comments and reactions and responses?  For if we examine with care, we will see that all our advice to others is almost always in the realm of changing and reforming the other.  We want to change them such that they can see the light, the same as we are.  The way they are seeing it and / or not seeing it, and / or seeing darkness, and / or something else entirely, are situations somehow not acceptable to us.  And it is not acceptable to us, because each of us have our frames of reference and contexts that we think from, and have already decided that our ways of thinking and doing are right and the other wrong and thus pass judgment and give labels.  I am also acutely aware that there is a huge jump in the earlier sentence and there are a lot of steps to be taken before we get to this point in the inquiry.  Also, the passing of judgment is not necessarily with vicious intent or even emphatically stated; it is part of the conditioning that we pick up and internalise consciously and unconsciously through culture, society, our parents first, then extended family, teachers, friends, and so on. For instance, "Don't cry like a girl" is an oft repeated statement, and this may be defended by saying that it is just a casual comment and / or said lightheartedly. However, we need to stay with the statement and see why it is even there. This is simply one example of how judgments are present in everything we choose to think, do, not think, not do and so on.  An important aspect to consider is that these insidious judgments are turned on ourselves also - that is, when I have a judgment about another person, it is for sure that I have that judgment on myself.  And this will work in such hidden ways and manifest as convoluted knots that would leave one stupefied and sometimes wondering, "What the hell was I thinking, doing such and such a thing?!".   To give a simplistic example, if I carried the above judgment, "dont cry like a girl", I may then be someone who would hate to cry . And hence, every time I feel like crying I would judge myself to be a wimp (just like a girl - a whammy there: crying is wrong / wimpy, girls cry, girls are wrong / wimpy), and try to suppress it. Either I succeed in suppressing it all the time, and like a pressure cooker, its going to burst some place some time, or, I may end up punishing myself covertly and unconsciously each time I cry or want to cry, or do both, suppress and punish*.  It could go further: the earlier sequence of thinking may not end with 'girls are wimpy', but take a jump and say 'boys are not wimpy'.  This may manifest in a girl being / behaving like, a "tomboy" for instance.  We will not go further with all the implications of this one judgment.

However, the above was to see how our judgments are playing all the time when we are supposedly listening to someone else^.  Much of our listening to the other, happens with this clamour going on inside our heads.  And each time we offer a piece of advice, interrupt with a solution, give a shout of appreciation and so on, we may very well be answering to the clamour inside rather than engaging with the person in front of us.

I also think that this entire self-feeding cycle of having so much to say, and listening but not listening has its beginning and roots in our childhood.  How many of us listen to children in this manner, without imposing our selves on them? Much of society and cultures see children as clay to be moulded and trained in particular ways.  If we were to listen to children without the clamour inside, that in itself would be demonstration enough for them, one would think.  Many of us are still the children that we were, wanting to be listened to fully.  So this takes us back to the question, when and how can we listen to the other without this motivation to change the other, from a space of no judgment?

For me, this practice starts with my earlier question about listening without imposing my self.  All the clamour inside is part of my self.  How can I allow the noises of my self to subside and make room for the sounds coming from the other, so that I can truly listen to them? That is the practice**.   I also see that it is not possible to force the self-noise into silence.  There is another piece that speaks of how training and controlling is a cruder form of disciplining that has its limited context and necessity.  One could follow a more meaningful form of self discipline, wherein, the disciplining is a journey of self discovery** and we discover the patterns of our judgments and understand our selves better. And that journey of discovery is also the journey of transformation.  And also the journey of truly listening, and discovering the other - because in a paradoxical way, the journey of self discovery allows the self (noise) to dissipate, giving us a chance to recognise the other, and perhaps also see that the other is not different from the self.

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* That many of us ("normal", mentally stable persons) punish ourselves for many of our perceived mistakes and judgments and so on is a known psychological phenomenon, and there are several studies on self-punishment.

^ To look at this matter as one's judgments interfering with true listening is one perspective, one view of the scene.  There would be other ways definitely; other views of the same scene.

** This is also the practice and journeying in the path of Yoga

The Point of an Oxymoron

The title of this blog is an oxymoron, "Precise Ramblings". We come across oxymorons all the time, and may not even notice them, and / or take them for granted as part of everyday language, ordinary.  Well, they are and they are not.

Original copy... pretty ugly... minor issues... clearly misunderstood.... crash landing .... found missing .... old news .... open secret... random order!

The first time I came across the idea of an oxymoron was sometime in my 7th or 8th grade, and it fascinated me no end.  I don't remember the actual oxymoron, however I remember the sense of sudden joy and the burst of feeling every time I encountered an oxymoron or came up with one myself.  I still carry that feeling.

Image from soulspartan.com

At the time, it was explained to us in our English class as a phrase that has two opposite or contradictory statements put together, which gives insightful and / or humourous and / or ironic meaning.  Yes, oxymorons lend themselves to a clever turn in language, and leave us with a laugh or a gleam.  However, why should that clever turn in language give the reader his or her keen response? What quality in those words evokes its usual responses?  The turn is not one of language alone.

The oxymoron is not simply a phrase or a word that ends when the word ends on the page.  It is an ongoing phenomenon.  The point of an oxymoron is simultaneity.  It is only by holding together two seemingly contradictory truths, at the same time, the third truth is constantly discovered.

To give an example,
one way in which Ahimsa is defined is "to know one's limits", however, one needs to constantly test those limits to actually know them. Therein lies the paradox of Ahimsa.  The writer-philosopher, Chaturvedi Badrinath says of this: "the paradox of limits, which consists in the fact that one becomes aware of one's limits only by transgressing them; there is no known way by which one can know one's limits in advance."  Which for me means that the oxymoron is a constant process and discovery.  Like life.  It cannot be a stinking, one-point stagnation. We can of course in our limitation think, believe and act like it is so, while life itself is a constant affirmation of its flow.  It is a flow of simultaneously holding two seemingly contradictory movements, and in seeing them together, at the same time, the third, deeper and larger truth can be held.

A simultaneous holding and being in that space of tension between the two, and finding the truth therein.  How can some words strung together be precise and ramble at the same time? What are those truths when discussed allow my words the freedom and flexibility to meander and twist and turn and yet stay constant and focused?  Why is it important for me to be precise and ramble at the same time?  When do those A-ha! moments* occur, holding both together and creating art? The space and journey of this oxymoron, Precise Ramblings.
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* Many thanks to one of my teachers, Sashi Anant, for this bang-on phrase, "A-ha moment"

Reverence, the National Anthem and Children

Reverence is a feeling of deep respect or admiration. What happens when we revere? The way we look at the object of reverence is very different from the way we look at something not revered (so much?).  We take a moment or moments longer to pause, look and experience pleasure maybe. We do not pass judgments so easily. We are quick to discover positive aspects rather than wear the critical hat right away. Acceptance and a sense of oneness are already in place. What happens is that we buy time for 'right understanding'.

The Rev. Samdhong Rinpoche once said in an interactive session that even to prove that something (he was talking of Gandhi) is not relevant, you have to understand deeply. And that even for rejection there must be a right understanding; that is one's freedom and responsibility.

How can we embark on such a path of understanding if we do not have reverence? A reverence  that is not necessarily directed at an object. The reverence which is an emotion and attitude underlying all thought and action. If one has an inherent quality of reverence, then acceptance and love lay the road for a Buddhist understanding to begin its journey.  This kind of right understanding is not an object or a solid conclusion, opaque to the changes all around. It is a fluid and changing journey, a process. Haste, personal agendas, rigid stands and personalities dissolve by the very nature of this journey. 

We are taught not to have such reverence today. Everything around us directs us either to irreverence or a lower form of reverence at the level of submission to power and authority. We were at a cinema theatre the other day and amongst the advertisements before the movie, the screen gave the audience a sudden instruction: "Please stand up for the National Anthem." A short movie clip followed with different scenes of India, not very different from Mile Sur Mera Tumhara or Vande Mataram. The background music was of course the National Anthem. If I recall right, it was a Bharat Bala production. All of us (I think) stood. I will bypass all the discussions that can ensue around the theme of national anthem and patriotism, and only look at the Anthem as a symbol of reverence. As a society we are moving away from a culture of reverence and continue to do so inexorably. I wonder how many of us would have stood if not for that piece of instruction. Standing up is a gesture of reverence and of course there are many among us who may roll our eyes, or feel "So what? Respect is in the mind, or heart or the pit of the stomach or wherever." The irony is that more and more people who are 'outsiders' to this culture, seem to think highly of this ability to be one with people and situations and phenomena, and begin from that platform of acceptance. The irony goes further - our education and conditioning today is to remove all trace of such inherent reverence, and then relearn it from some American or European Guru twisted and tweaked beyond recognition and even original meaning, and then coated with new jargon. (No offense to American and European individuals, I only state this as a process).

Children are taught to question everything to death and scientify whatever remains. We are negating all symbols of reverence on this battlefield. Such symbols taught us as children to revere first, make a habit of it and imbibe it as a culture, before we gradually learnt its value and meaning. The take off of course is that as children many aspects of culture including social behaviour and compassion, physical discipline and so on are learned this way.  Such aspects, like reverence, cannot be imbibed by talking and discussing about them.  Children in a certain phase can only learn by doing. How can we do reverence? This is of course only if we decide that reverence is a part of 'our' culture, whoever the 'us' may be. These symbols helped us in learning and teaching reverence by doing it first, and discussing it later, after the experience(s). Much later.

I feel it deep in my gut every time I hear the National Anthem, and it triggers in me thoughts and visuals of all that is India for me, its beauty and grandeur, and all its contradictions and conflicts, its people and mountains and children and oceans, and emotions of pleasure or anger or sadness or joy depending on the current issues that may already be running in my mind. Whatever it may be, my reverence does not allow my response to stop at the shallow surface, it has to be intense, it has to go deeper, there is no other way. And every time I respond in this manner, I learn to revere more and I learn to respond reverently to other things as well. I hope and pray that in time I learn to value everything as symbols of reverence. And I pray that today's children learn to revere,  learn that they have time to stop, and experience this fascinating journey. 

Sensing Nature Through Arts - Summer Camp

Summer Camp for children aged 8 – 12 years, 4th – 9th May 2009
A Review-Report 

Kalakshetra Foundation and The Aseema Trust jointly conducted a six day summer camp, “Sensing nature through arts” for children aged 8 to 12 years. The camp activities were spinning and weaving on a frame, printing from nature and paper making, clay work, kolams and pot decoration, and kalamkari. There were also movies to watch and talk about. The camp was hosted in the quiet and natural environment of the Kalashetra Art centre. The vasanas and energy of the space were just right and suited for a camp-full of people trying to sense nature.

More than anything else, the beauty of the organisation of activities was in the qualities required for the minute hand work – silence, reflection, observation and a sense of aesthetics. In an urban set up we have moved too far away from doing useful work with hands, and the connection of hand work to mind and heart is seldom acknowledged. A dichotomy of academic (mind) and non-academic (hand) work that is non existent has been fed into our psyche, and we fail to see how the hand can be intellectual and emotional. And we have too soon forgotten that science begins with observation. And that man can come closer to the nature that he is part of only by first observing her closely.

The camp introduced and facilitated these qualities in a vibrant manner wherein the children discovered the same in themselves even as they were producing beautiful works of art.

They were learning to walk peacefully, carefully, observe, gather and categorise pieces of nature (leaves, flowers, twigs…) without disturbing her;
they were discovering the joy of being concentrated and focused in one activity unmindful of mild physical discomforts as they were working on their paintings and clay;
they were realising the usefulness of observation and precision;
they were experiencing the intangible pleasure of struggling and completing a creation of their own;
they were imagining, thinking, visualising, and also expressing their ideas through their work;
they were learning to be patient and perseverant in getting that thread just right through the loops;
they were strengthening ties of friendship and cooperation while helping and teaching each other,
they were discovering that being gentle is also being strong while modeling clay;
they were feeling the excitement of numbers as they were counting threads, measuring without the use of external aids, working with different sizes of clay models, teaching each other complicated kolam patterns;
they were experiencing a non-hierarchical, non-pressurised learning environment where learning is for learning’s sake;
they were learning to learn from nature, to mention a few.

Besides all this of course, they were picking up skills of spinning, weaving, threading, painting, clay modeling, braiding, paper making, kolam-drawing... They were also getting an understanding of different materials and their properties through experiential work with cloth, clay, paints, sand, water, stones and so on. We also had very interesting sessions of history, film appreciation, unorganised play, contemporary social issues and listening to music thrown in. We watched a movie on Khadi cloth and its making by Kanika Myers, extracts of a movie that revolved around school children in rural Karnataka and their discussions on caste discrimination, and Satyajit Ray’s movie titled, “The adventures of Goopy and Bhaga”.

An open session was planned for the last day when the children exhibited their work to their parents. There was also a potluck snacks party for the entire camp team including the faculty, volunteers, children and others. The children’s theatre on this day deserves special mention. The play by Shri. Velu Saravanan and his team was entrancing and very interactive. Judging by the laughter and complete involvement of the entire population in the hall, all of us were children for that duration. Set in the background of a fisherman’s child finding a pot with a genie inside while at sea, the team also kept asking some fundamental questions on what is knowledge and what is development through the course of the skit. This is very relevant since the success of the summer camp is not simply in it being conducted well, although it is a part too, but in the continued internalising and practice of these qualities in each of us who were a part of the camp.

A fitting finale was a running presentation of the delightful memories and moments of the camp captured digitally.