Waiting for Heaven

The softness in the air, wafting heavenly bliss:

The roaring symphony of felicity draped in expectant silence,

Angels and gods astir, impatient to behold the sight most beautiful-

I will be a part of it soon, drenched in splendor most delightful.

It has been long, my soul is tired: I have been out in sun and rain;

Even the moments of pleasure without you have been but that of pain:

Like the shriveled flower at the day’s end, I have little fragrance to offer you now-

But the hour of day-break is at hand, the touch of morning pearls, once again, will make me glow.

As in my mind's eyes I behold you O Beloved:

Memories crowd; long hours of separation melts down in timeless union.

To hold you with my eyes, touch you with my prayerful whispers-

To hide my face in your arms and forget, let the moment freeze in time forever.

Going back...

As I ponder how to start my journal of this times visit to home, sitting on the chair, which if it was a dog wouldn’t let me be for at least an hour, catching the first sniff of his master after a long, untold hiatus, facing the table, which should be equally thrilled at my touch , in the room that witnessed my boyhood fantasies, adolescent impertinence, youthful dreams and aspirations, I am at a loss of words. My room has not changed, even the odor that is hanging on the walls and shelves, is just the same as I left it all those months back. The books neatly and trimly arranged, smothered with Danni’s care , is casting side glances at me, as if in half belief. With a feeling of an unfaithful lover’s guilt and hesitation of a returning expatriate I scan through my bookshelves, gently remove the curtain draping my music collection. The damp scent of my old books, the film of dust on my cassettes, the pictures of Swami neatly arranged and showering His world-charming smiles- are they all glowing in happiness like my brother, and mother, and Danni and father or is there beneath their silent welcome, the smile of sarcasm of an estranged friend?

Our voyage half way across the globe was neat and fairly uneventful, except for missing the Delhi-Kolkata flight because of an hour’s delay in our Air India flight of LAX-Delhi, a fairly commendable job with respect to Air-India’s official and unofficial track record. But we were put on the very next flight of Jet Airways, so it more than made up for an hour and a half’s anxiety. Indro was pretty much his usual self, light hearted and jovial, though at times he complained of his ankle pain. Smruti, was a bit reticent, but engaged in casual conversations a few times, was also very nice to travel with. Our other fellow travelers were mostly Indians or of Indian origin, all with expectant faces and a glitter in their eyes. The few Caucasians that were there, seemed uninterested and probably were hoping to get the flight over, as soon as possible. The service was OK, but the plastic smiles writ large on the faces of crews, produces in me the dual feeling of irritation as well as a desire to follow their faces to see how far and well they can carry this professional feeling of hospitality. Indro badly wanted to take pictures of the light bulbs for private reading, which were just short of dangling over our heads and the socket of buttons on my arm rest, for calling attendants or lighting bulbs, or listening to the TV or music channels, unapologetically lying at the edge of my seat, with no sign of performing any of its duties in the 18 hour flight.

Swami surprised me with his smiling face from the second page of Hindustan Times which I grabbed very joyfully from the strand as I moved forward to take my seat in the AI flight in Los Anageles. Spreading an Indian newspaper, getting enlightened about Modi’s chances of pulling it through again ( or rather his inability to do so) or delegation visiting the Delhi CM or the latest foray of activism by the judicials, was enough to fill my heart with a whimper of joy. But then just as I turned to the second page, there was swami, all smiles and sweet, I could not help but think, is He there to welcome me? It was an advertisement for the “Prema Jyothi” exhibition on Swami’s life and mission that they are putting up in delhi for 10 days from December 15^th. Advertisment or not, there was Swami, right infront of me, when I least expected Him. Then as if to tease any of my mind’s loitering doubt, as soon as we emerged out of the Delhi International Airport, for the prepaid Taxi stand to go to the Domestic terminus, there is He again peeping with smiles and grace from behind the man in the counter face all covered with muffler. In no other shops and counters that I glanced around to see Him again, was He to be seen. This second appearance of His, at least apparently, was more needed, as we were one and a half hour late, and the time then was 6 45 in the morning and we were yet to leave the International terminus, when our flight to Kolkata was at 6 20 from the Domestic terminus. Only He can conjure up something now in His typical way, to see to it that we are not harangued after this long and tiresome flight. And sweet and Apadabandhava that He is, He got us right up there in the very next flight itself, which I overheard at the counter, was over booked, 128 tickets sold for 120 seats, but still they had a couple of seats for Indro and myself. With these twin darshans, and being an obliging and helpful Lord, He has really put me in an expectant mode for the rest of the sojourn. Lets see, what He has in store for us!

Hopes and apprehensions

As this time again I almost make it to my voyage to home, thoughts, hopes and wishes assail my mind. There is also a shade of fear and apprehensions that lurk behind. As you cannot separate light from its eternal twin, the shadow, so the possibility of an unfulfilled desire, or disappointment from an audacious hope, from the courage to dream.

I will be, most likely that is, in little over a month, be sitting on the same chair, in this very room, ruminating over the days I have just spent, immersed in joy and jubilations, in celebration of life, as it happens when festival arrives at last, after much anticipation. And like all jubilations, will the excitement of the euphoria get frozen in memory, as a source of both fondness for all posterity, as well as misty nostalgia, lost forever to the wheels of times?

This time my jaunt would also halt and rest at the abode of peace, highest and ephemeral. The bird, tired of flying high and low, seeking refuge and comfort in the clouds and trees, will stop by the springs of eternal life. Every time it comes to the spring, it wets its beaks or moisten its wings with the immortal drops. But soon it gets dry, retaining only the memory of its aroma and magic and the yearning to return. In hope of getting drenched more than ever before, retaining it longer than ever before and soaked more than ever before, in the light of immortality, in its search for stillness, in its fulfillment.

Images and Reflections

The tender sweetness of the heavenly pearl,
Glittering in myriad waves, kissed by the gentle breeze-
The stars aglow, witness to the divine union:
The dark canopy, solemnizing, breathing life in silence.

The wind caresses the child, pure and innocent :
His soft hair, confused, hesitates on his forehead
The dimple on his cheek and the light in his eyes
Tells you the story is not new, another chapter has just begun…

As the dusk turns from red to purple
The chirping birds become lazy and tired,
The woman and the candle wait for his return…
It is dawn somewhere else, afternoon at another…it is not the end.

Seva : Boon or Bane?

There was this interesting exchange of emails on the efficacy of Seva or service on one hand, and its shortcomings elitist nature on the other, by two of my friends. Both had a very valid and rational reasoning behind their argument. I will quote from their emails and then will put forward my own ideas :

Service humanizes :

"For instance, in my recent visit to India, me and my mamaji decided to clean our street with our own hands. I wanted to see what it takes to do the 'dirty work' which we all educated people scoff at or expected 'somebody else' do it. We cleared the garbage and also cleaned the area where people normally urinate. While we did it for half-an-hour lots of passers by were curious to know what was going on. The town is small and lot of people know us personally and I felt happy that atleast people noticed and understood the importance. Well! that was not the end. Once we were done, our neighbour (who were watching us since begenning) came out with 4-5 guys and tools (spade and brooms) and did much better than we did. I did the same thing when I visited a very famous village temple in our area. While I was cleaning the garbage I was happy to see that somebody else from crowd joined me and did a better job. It is easy to replicate.
Moral: Everybody loves to live in clean place. If you want something to happen, GO DO IT.

Service is elitist:

"Doing something when you have options and doing the same thing when you don't have options, are totally different things.
We did this experiment of cleaning Juhu beach at Mumbai for quite some days, feeling that people would come and join hands with us and we'll change the world. That did not happen. We gained satisfaction though. Satisfaction, that I've done a worldly job. Being a software engineer, I've shown the world that I can do cleaning work also !
Today I know how foolish, arrogant and immatured that was.
Keeping our own neighborhood clean is good. That should be done by everyone, no doubts. However imposing that on the caste-structure and trying to show that when people without choice are doing it , they are gaining spiritual experience, is arrogance, inhuman and parades upper-caste mentality. The same thinking which has kept these people there.
Spirituality is a very personal thing. It is one of the extreme stages of individualism. That exists only for the privileged few, with some sort of a "status". Asking a hungry person to become spiritual is inhuman. Imposing it on the socially-humiliated is brutality.
Secondly, when you are doing that job, you are actually replacing the person who was doing that for (however meagre) an earning. Did you have any plan for them, do you have it now? Will you marry your daughters/sons to their kids so that atleast they break social structure of caste? Unless, you tackle these questions, doing this kind of work is just eliteness exemplified. Asking people to "eat cake, if they don't have bread".

"Serving others is required only when others are in a situation that they "need" it, while "you" don't. The question is why should that situation arise? When one person is serving another in the form of " dayaa" it invariably means that the serving person is in some superior state compared to the one being served. Then we must question why did that situation arise. Suppose someone does not have eyes/vision, and needs aid to see things, then we have a reason to understand that need. But if someone does not have food, when the whole world produces food enough for double the population, the question of why they don't get food must be asked, instead of giving food in charity. "

My Views:

According to my understanding both ...ji and ...ji has mentioned some very important issues and points regarding the subject of "Seva". In that perspective I would like to share some of my thoughts.

... ji has been very correct when he mentions that it is far more important to change the situation which gives rise to the necessity of "Service" rather than indulging in "charity". It is indeed very true and a very noble thought. But if we ponder deeply over the issue, why does such a situation arise, when some are well off while another significant section has to survive on the "altruism" shown by the well-offs?

As any social issue, it is the result of multiple social and economic causes. But what I think the most important ones are :
a. Greed and limitless desire on part of the better offs and powerful.
b. Laziness on part of some. ( in slums of India we get to know many able men who are drunkards and spends days fruitlessly, because of them their wives and children faces a lot of hardship)
c. Ineffectiveness and inherent inequality in the system.

I think to face this issue of social inequality and injustice we have to face these attitudes of mind ( the third point is result of collective thinking). As someone said, Battles are first formed in mind, so I think the root causes of these problems arise in our mind, in the way we think collectively and individually, in our attitudes to one another and to the society. Once we agree on this, we will understand the importance of Service.

Service is not doing charity, or doing "good" things in slums and villages alone. Service is an attitude of mind, when one feels a kind of oneness and kinship with the other ( rich or poor, villager or urbanite, children or elderly, men or women) and this motivates him to do something which will alleviate the situation of the other. The parable of the good Samaritan, who goes out of his way to help the injured passenger, is a beautiful example.

When we will have this understanding of Service and expand it in our consciousness, we will see it is the best way to tackle the root causes of social inequality. By doing acts of service, we will become more aware of the pain and difficulty of others, of which many times, knowingly or unknowingly, we ourselves are the cause, we will start reforming ourselves, and it will be one of the quickest and most effective way to transform our thinking process and attitude.

As ...ji have mentioned, when we share in the service of our scavenger brothers, we will though not completely, but surely, will catch a glimpse of the work they do. Myself having participated in such acts, I can tell, that though it might seem a bit elitist, it is a great humbling experience, and through that i have started greatly appreciating the work. It won't change the situation for them in a fortnight, but surely it will start the process when one day, they do not have to listen to lectures on spirituality by Narendrabhai Modi.

So, to end, I just want to say that, though on the surface, an act of service might seem to be a drop of water, which in no time gets sucked up in the quagmire of lifeless desert, but this drop of water seeps in deep in the subconscious of the one who participates in the act, and may be slowly but surely transforms him. If we can inspire more and more people, by our own example to develop this attitude of service, I think we can render a matchless service to our countrymen. This service will not only expand our thinking, but will also equip us with a first had experience of the ground realities, and better enable us to think about ways to change and improve them.

The Rain

After the storm, the rains followed. The torrential downpour gushed forth from all sides. I opened my door. My windows and all that I could open. As it rushed in from all sides, I saw all the old filth and dust, that got collected by neglect and indolence, getting washed away. I have a parrot, it talks all the time from its cage. I also indulge it by letting it free and feeding it with new stories. It protested as the waters rushed in. But I was tired of its stories. Parrot, today you also have to drown in the flood. My house has been scorching for long. The paleness of its walls, its crevices have been thirsting for the touch of coolness. I knew this. But that its longing was so intense surprised me. So as the first drops of water touched my roof, the first moisture laden breeze, laiden with the sweet smell of damp earth filled my room, as the leaves started dancing and singing with the music of the raindrops, my home, like the trees started swaying. Today it was time again to get drenched. Today, after long it was time again to forget itself. Thrilled that I was, stood beside it, surrendered to its thirst and watched its ecstasy. And wished tomorrow when the sun comes up, my home will retain today’s coolness. May it drink as much as it can.

Happy Birthday!

As the moment passes on, impatient
As the thought arises, pregnant
My Love, I wait for Thee at the edge of my door…

The senses, I play with them,
The mind, I give it a game;
My Love, only for You I go this far…

Morning breaks, it starts all over again,
Afternoon comes, with the scent of rain;
My Love, its evening, will you still be afar…?

Deep within, in the darkness
The gentle breeze my heart caress,
Is it You my Love holding the door ajar…?