ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ ಯಾವನು?

ಯಾರು? ನಾನ್ಯಾರು? ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ಯಾರು?
ಹಲವರಿಗೆ ಹಲವು ಬಗೆ ಕಾಣುವ ನಾನ್ಯಾರು?
ಅವರವರ ದೃಷ್ಟಿ, ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಗೆ ಸಿಕ್ಕವನು.
ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ ಯಾವನು?

ಹೆತ್ತ ಅಮ್ಮನಿಗೆ ಮುದ್ದು ಕಂದನು.
ಬಿತ್ತಿ ಭೂತಾಯಿಯ ಉಳುವ ರೈತನು.
ಸತ್ತ ಮರುಕ್ಷಣದಿ ಕಸ ಸಮಾನನು!
ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ ಯಾವನು?

ಇವಳ ಇನಿಯನು, ಅವನ ಗೆಳೆಯನು.

ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಮಾಲಿಕನು, ಅಲ್ಲಿ ಕಾರ್ಮಿಕನು.

ಇಂದು ಶಿಷ್ಯನು, ಅಂದು  ಶಿಕ್ಷಕನು.

ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ ಯಾವನು?

ಹಿರಿಯರಿಗೆ ಪ್ರಾಯದ ಹುಡುಗನು.
ಕಿರಿಯರಿಗೆ ಪ್ರಚಂಡ ಪ್ರತಾಪನು.
ಸಮವಯಸ್ಕರಿಗೆ ಪ್ರತಿಸ್ಪರ್ಧಿಯಾದೆನು.
ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ ಯಾವನು?

ಪಂಚೇಂದ್ರಿಯ ಪ್ರಲೋಭ ಪ್ರಕ್ಶುಬ್ಧನೋ?
ಅನಂತ ಅಪರಿಮಿತ ಅಪ್ರಾಪ್ತನೋ?
ದ್ವಂದ್ವಾತೀತ ಧ್ಯಾನ ಧರ್ಮಜನೋ?
ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ ಯಾವನು?

ಭೂ ಬ್ರಹ್ಮನೋ? ವ್ಯಾಕುಲ ವ್ಯಸನಿಯೋ?
ಬೆತ್ತಲ ಬೆಳಕೋ? ಕತ್ತಲ ಕರಿಛಾಯೆಯೋ?
ಸಾಧಕನೋ? ಭಾದಕನೋ? ಸಮಗ್ರನೋ?
ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ ಯಾವನು?

ನಿರಾಕಾರ ನಿರಾಧಾರ ನಿಶಾಚರನೋ?
ನಿರ್ವಿವಾದ ಯಮ ಕಿಂಕರನೋ?
ಸ್ವಾರ್ಥ, ಧೂರ್ತ ಪರಮ ದುಷ್ಟನೋ?
ಸರ್ವ ಶಾಂತ ಮೌನ ಸಂತನೋ?
ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ ಯಾವನು?
ನನಗೆ ನಾನ್ ಯಾವನು? 

Nothing left to give?

"If we don't change direction soon, we'll end up where we're going."

- Prof. Irwin Corey

      During my college days, I had a chat concerning 'the ethics of innovations' with a Professor. He opined, it is not a good thing to keep track of sustainability or consequential effects of an innovation while in the process of its incubation. The appropriate way to proceed with innovations and ideas is to look at the positive side of things rather than at the limitations they could possibly impose later. So an Engineer need not burden himself with the other consequences once his objective is achieved, it is an option left to his discretion. We had a healthy debate on his stand but I ended up failing to convince myself of what I actually thought about it. It still haunts me if its totally fine not to be burdened by the additional responsibility of its effects on nature? All innovations are not separate entities, but part of the gigantic system of nature. Then does the requirement of ensuring its compatibility with nature lie with the innovator? I fail to arrive at an answer to these questions.

      The reason I was reminded of this is a recent discussion I had with a friend of mine. He put forth the two arguments usually encountered in topics of man and his encroachments into nature. One school of thought is that man is damaging nature to irreparable extents. The other, nature has its unique ability to reinvent itself despite the pressure it is put through. Discussing on the topic, we both concurred it is most likely that nature reinvents itself but at the cost of humanity. When nature does reinvent itself to sustain its existence, what might be left of us are 'Humanoids' - "those who cease to live and start to exist."

       Before I could come out from the mood of the chat, I came across this dialogue from the film Apocalypto:

And a Man sat alone, drenched deep in sadness.
And all the animals drew near to him and said: "We do not like to see you so sad…Ask us for whatever you wish and you shall have it."

The Man said, "I want to have good sight."
         The vulture replied, "You shall have mine."

The Man said, "I want to be strong."
        The jaguar said, "You shall be strong like me."

The Man said, "I long to know the secrets of the earth."
        The serpent replied, "I will show them to you."

And so it went with all the animals.
And when the Man had all the gifts they could give, he left..

       Then the owl said to the other animals, "Now the Man knows much and is able to do many things. Suddenly I am afraid."
       The deer said, "The Man has all that he needs. Now his sadness will stop."

       But the owl replied, "No. I saw a hole in the Man deep like a hunger he will never fill. It is what makes him sad and what makes him want. He will go on taking and taking. Until one day the world will say: ‘I am no more and I have nothing left to give.’"

        I still don't have any concrete answer to those questions of mine. But I pray I shall not have to wait for my answers till nature has nothing left to give.

Do I stare into it?

Picture credit: William Eugene Smith 
Man in picture: Charlie Chaplin

In everyone, there is a bit of everyone.
I wonder if we are all images
Of the same entity to whom,
We owe our existence.
Am I the actual object existing,
You and he merely images?
Why then do I adore him
And envy you?
It could also be the other way round.
I maybe the image, the reflection
Of whom I criticize, appreciate
Or mock at?
This world, the one within the mirror?
Or do I stare into it?

ಮರಳಿ ಬರುವೆಯಾ ಗೆಳತಿ?

" मेहरबान हो के बुला लो मुझे, चाहो जिस वक़्त

मैं गया वक़्त नहीं हूँ कि फिर आ भी ना सकूँ "
- ग़ालिब 

(ದಯೆ ತೋರಿ ಕರೆದುಕೊ ನನ್ನನ್ನು, ನೀ ಬಯಸಿದ ವೇಳೆ

ನಾನು ಉರುಳಿ ಹೋದ ಸಮಯವಲ್ಲ ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿ ಬಾರದಿರಲು.)

ಯಾರವಳು? ಯಾರವಳು?

ಎಂದು ಆಡಿಕೊಳ್ವರು ತುಂಟ ಗೆಳಯರು.

ಯಾರವಳು? ಯಾರವಳು?

ಎಂದು ಬೈದು ತೀಡ್ವರು ತಿಳಿದ ಹಿರಿಯರು.

ಹೇಗೆ ಹೇಳಲಿ ಇವರೆಲ್ಲರಿಗೂ ನಾನಿಂದು -

ಅವಳೇ ಇವಳು, ಇವಳೇ ಅವಳು ಎಂದು.

ಚೆಲುವೆಯಾಕೆ ಎಂದರೆ, ಹೆಸರ ಕೇಳ್ವರೇನೆಂದು?

ತಿಳಿಯರು ಚಿನ್ನ, ರನ್ನ ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆ ನಾ ನಿನ್ನ ಎಂದು.

ನಮ್ಮ ಮೈತ್ರಿಯ ಸೊಬಗು ಹೆಸರೊಳಿರುವುದೇನು?

ಸೀತಾ, ಗೀತಾ, ಸುಮಿತ್ರೆ, ಶಾರದೆ ಎನ್ನಲಿ ,

ಮೇರಿ, ಜುಲಿಯೇಟ್, ಸೋಫಿಯ, ಸಲ್ಮಾ ಎನ್ನಲಿ,

ನೀನು ನಾಮ ವಿಶೇಷಣಾತೀತವಲ್ಲವೇನು?

ಕಾಡು ಮೇಡಲ್ಲಿ ಗಡ್ಡೆ ಗೆಣಸು ಆಯುವ ಕಸಬುದಾರ ನಾನು,

ವಸಂತದಲ್ಲಿ ಅರಳಿ ನಗೆ ಬೀರುವ ವನಸುಮದಂತೆ ನೀನು.

ಮಲೆ ಮಾರುತಗಳೇರಿ ಮಾಂಸ ಬಗೆಯುವ ಬೇಡ ನಾನು,

ಸುಮದ ಸುಗಂಧ ಗ್ರಹಿಸಲಾರದೆ ಕಾಲ್ಗಸವಾಗಿಸಿದೆ ನಿನ್ನನ್ನು.

ಮುದುಡಿ ಬಾಡಿದ ನಂತರ ಪುಷ್ಪವ ಬೇಡಿ ಬಯಸಿದರೇನು?

ಮರಳಿ ಅರಳಿ ಆ ನಗೆಯ ಅದು ಬೀರ ಬಲ್ಲದೇನು?

ಕ್ಷಮೆ ಕೋರಿ, ನಿನ್ನ ಓಲೈಸಿ ಮತ್ತೆ ಆಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆ ನಾ ಪರವಶ -

ಅಷ್ಟರಲ್ಲಿ ಘೋರ ಶಿಕ್ಷೆ ಹೇರಿ ನನಗೆ, ನೀನಾದೆ ವಿಧಿವಶ.

ಕ್ಷುಬ್ಧ ಮೌನದಿ ಕ್ಷಿತಿಜದಾಚೆಗೆ ಹರಿಯುತಿರುವ ನನ್ನ ಕಣ್ಣೋಟ,

ಅಸಾಧ್ಯವೆಂದು ತಿಳಿದೂ ನಿನ್ನ ಬರುವಿಕೆ ಕಾಯಿಸುವ ವಿಧಿಯಾಟ.

ಭೂವ್ಯೋಮ, ಅನಂತ ಮಜಲುಗಳ ಮಾರ್ಜಾಲಗಳನು ದಾಟಿ,

ಮತ್ತೆ ನನ್ನೆಡೆಗೆ ಮಸುಕು ಮೌನದಿ ಮರಳಿ ಬರುವೆಯಾ ಗೆಳತಿ?

From the dreamer's dairy..

Picture credit: actsofpaint.com

"A man travels the world in search of what he needs and returns home to find it."

- George Moore

      It was a long long wait indeed. I had waited every night for the past nine years in the hope that he would come to me and complete the narration of his unfinished story. But there was no trace of him coming back and I decided to embark on exploring why he had not returned all these years. It was my first journey to the world of which I knew naught. The far off land from which he would come visiting is the one I had to sail towards. Something in me was telling this would be the journey - the journey which would take me to a destiny awaiting to be fulfilled for years. The optimist in me hoped it would be the journey of the lifetime but the pessimist cautioned not to jump to conclusions and keep expectations limited. 

      He would come to me in the deep hours of the peaceful childhood slumbers. We do not dream by our choice. This guy was no exception. He frequented into my dreams, always by his own choice and would narrate parts of his life story. A very eccentric guy, I had thought during the initial nights. But as nights passed by, I took a liking to him. He narrated various episodes of his life - childhood, love, pain, ecstasy, success, failure. Not much of it would make sense to me back then, but now his stories do appeal to me. He told me how his passion for cycling had shaped his life. In the tribe he was born, cycling was considered a taboo and his early confrontations with the orthodoxy earned him the tag of a 'rebel'. Fed up being treated an outcast, he chose to cycle his way to the new lands where cycling was a privilege.
      Rag-picking his way to being a professional cyclist, his first major heartbreak came when his lady love could not stand the obsession of his passion. Later at the peak of his career, when he felt the burden of competition deprived him of the pleasure of cycling, he had decided to call it off. He had chosen to live, instead of carving a career. The move was one of its kind and had catapulted him into celebrity stardom. He had been elevated to the status of a prophet; adored as the hero of the generation, visionary of the nation and had been hailed as the proponent of the religion of 'cycling for the sake of cycling'. Statues of his were erected in the land and he was called their biggest cultural hero. Living in stardom, as he aged, he had felt the need of an objective listener. No man could be absolutely objective unless in a deep slumber. That was when he wandered into my dreams. For a couple of years he kept coming in my dreams and narrating this story of his, in vivid detail.
      I waited eagerly for his arrival. The story of his had an aura, built by his inimitable style of narration. In the penultimate dream he appeared, I had asked him, in childish innocence if he still enjoyed cycling as he did before? He quit the dream without an answer. I was afraid if I had angered him. I was worried if he would ever come back again. He did appear for a very brief span of time, and shared his most cherished wish - "to cycle back home, unfettered". Before I could realize, he walked out of my dream. But I failed to note he was walking out for the last time.  I had been waiting for him to appear again, so that I hoped to get a complete picture of his life. But all my hopes went in vain. He had given me only the palate, I was waiting to make sense of the art on the huge canvas. The gentleman never strode into my dreams again.
        The journey to his land was a battle on my thought process. How could I meet a huge celebrity of that land? Would he still be interested to share his story with me? Was he dead? I desperately wanted to believe he had not. I don't know how, but I was convinced I could meet him. May be it was just a gut feeling but it was a very strong emotion. As I ventured into his country, it was not anything like what he had described to me.  Either I had imagined things in wrong light or the land had undergone a sea of changes. On inquiring, I was told the cyclist prophet could not stand the adulation he received and had abandoned the stardom and cycled back home.  They had brought down his statues and rebuilt the land, reinventing themselves after the craze of cycling philosophy had died down.
       Not letting the fading hope disappear, I went to his native only to discover he was denied entry there on the ground that he had very long ago dishonored their tradition. He had appealed the rulers of his tribe to reconsider his situation, begged to be pardoned and until a few months back fought for the legitimacy of his entry. When he was about to be pardoned, I was told, he declined the offer and said he had found his true home. A very feeble old man then, the cyclist proclaimed he was fulfilling his most cherished wish and had cycled into the unknown wilderness. None knew where he intended to go and no one had ever seen him again.
        All my hopes were lost, dreams shattered. I felt as if destiny had just betrayed me. No one knew where he was. A journey which I hoped would be the finest of all expeditions turned out to be a tragedy? Was I over reacting? None had assured me my goal would be fulfilled. I had not lost anything, but had got to see different lands. Yet I succumbed to the pain and grief of not getting what I had wished for. I realized it was easy to preach equanimity but very hard to live up to it. Disheartened, I returned home.
         On seeing me back home, the cyclist said "Here cometh my death to fulfill my destiny."
         I cried, "You can't die without completing the story."
         "Your arrival completes it."
         He collapsed.
         I stumbled in the attempt to hold his falling body.
    The fall woke me up.

The suicide note.

            Their power, their voice.
            My death, my only choice.

ಬೇಸಾಯ: ನೀ ಸಾಯ?

"ಯಾರೂ ಅರಿಯದ ನೇಗಿಲ ಯೋಗಿಯೆ ಲೋಕಕೆ ಅನ್ನವನೀಯುವನೋ

  ಹೆಸರನು ಬಯಸದೆ, ಅತಿ ಸುಖಕೆಳಸದೆ, ದುಡಿವನು ಗೌರವಕಾಶಿಸದೆ.

  ನೇಗಿಲ ಕುಲದೊಳಡಗಿದೆ ಕರ್ಮ, ನೇಗಿಲ ಮೇಲೆಯೇ ನಿಂತಿದೆ ಧರ್ಮ."

                                                           - ಕುವೆಂಪು 

         ವ್ಯವಸಾಯದ ಕುರಿತಾಗಿ ಹತ್ತು ಹಲವು ಆಲೋಚನೆಗಳು ತಲೆ ಹೊಕ್ಕಿ ಕುಳಿತಿದ್ದವು. ಪಿ.ಸಾಯಿನಾಥರವರ 'Everybody loves a good drought' ಪುಸ್ತಕ ಹಾಗು "Nero's Guests" ಸಾಕ್ಷ್ಯಚಿತ್ರ ಇಂದಿನ ಜಾಗತಿಕ ಮಾರುಕಟ್ಟೆ ಮತ್ತು ರಾಜಕೀಯ ವ್ಯವಸ್ಥೆ ಕೃಷಿಯನ್ನು ಎಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ತಂದು ನಿಲ್ಲಿಸಿವೆ ಎಂಬ ಹಸಿ ಸತ್ಯಗಳನ್ನು ಸೂಕ್ಷ್ಮವಾಗಿ ಕಟ್ಟಿ ಕೊಡುತ್ತವೆ ಎಂಬ ನನ್ನ ಅಬಿಪ್ರಾಯವನ್ನು ಗೆಳೆಯನೋರ್ವ ಅಲ್ಲಗಳೆದು ಇವು ತೀರ ಏಕಪಕ್ಷೀಯ ವಾದಗಳೆಂದು ತನ್ನ ಅಬಿಪ್ರಾಯ ಹಂಚಿಕೊಂಡ.  ಹೀಗೆ ಹೊರಟ ನಮ್ಮ ವಿತ್ತಂಡವಾದವನ್ನು  ಕೊನೆಗೊಳಿಸಿದ್ದು 'ಕೆ ವಿ ಅಕ್ಷರ'ರವರ "ವ್ಯವಸಾಯದ ಅವಸಾನ" ಎಂಬ ಲೇಖನ. ಅದರ ಕೊನೆಯ ಕೆಲವು ಸಾಲುಗಳನ್ನು ಓದಿ ನಾವಿಬ್ಬರು ನಿರುತ್ತರರಾದೆವು. ಆ ಸಾಲುಗಳನ್ನು ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಉಲ್ಲೇಖಿಸಿದ್ದೇನೆ - 

  

        ವ್ಯವಸಾಯದ ಅವಸಾನ ಕುರಿತು ನನ್ನ ಚಿಂತಾಲಹರಿಯನ್ನು ಕೆಲವು ದಿನಗಳ ಹಿಂದೆ ನಮ್ಮೂರಿನ ಕೃಷಿಕರೊಬ್ಬರ ಮುಂದೆ ಬಿಚ್ಚಿದೆ. ತುಂಬಾ ಅನುರಕ್ತಿಯಿಂದ ಕೃಷಿ ಕೆಲಸಗಳನ್ನು ಮಾಡುವ ಅವರು ಒಂದೇ ಮಾತಿನಲ್ಲಿ ನನ್ನ ತೀರ್ಮಾನಗಳನೆಲ್ಲಾ ಬುಡಮೇಲು ಮಾಡಿದರು - 'ನಿನ್ನ ವಾದದಲ್ಲೇ ಒಂದು ತೊಂದರೆಯಿದೆ. ಎಲ್ಲ ಸಮಸ್ಯೆಗಳಿಗೂ ಸರ್ಕಾರವೋ ಅಥವಾ ವ್ಯವಸ್ಥೆಯೂ ಕಾರಣವೆಂದು ನೀನು ತಿಳಿದಿದ್ದಿಯ. ಆದರೆ ಸಮಸ್ಯೆ ಇರುವುದು  ಪ್ರತಿಯೊಬ್ಬ ಕೃಷಿಕನ ಮನಸ್ಸಿನಲ್ಲೇ ಹೊರತು ಕೃಷಿಯಲಲ್ಲ . ಕೇವಲ ಲಾಭಕ್ಕಾಗಿ ನಾನು ಕೃಷಿ ಮಾಡುವುದಿಲ್ಲ, ಅದು ನನ್ನ ಬದುಕು ಎಂದು ಯಾರಾದರೊಬ್ಬ ಕೃಷಿಕ ನಿಜವಾಗಿಯೂ ತಿಳಿದಿದ್ದರೆ, ಅಂಥವನು ತನ್ನ ಕೃಷಿ ವಿಧಾನವನ್ನಾದರೂ ಬದಲಾಯಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಈ ಸಮಸ್ಯೆಗಳನ್ನು ಪರಿಹರಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾನೆ. ಆದರೆ, ಇವತ್ತಿನ ಕಾಲದ ವ್ಯಾಪಾರ ವಹಿವಾಟಿನಂತೆಯೀ  ಕೃಷಿಯು  ರಾಶಿ ರಾಶಿ ಹಣ ತರಬೇಕು ಎಂದು ಭಾವಿಸುವ 'ಮಾನಸಿಕ ಅನಿವಾಸಿ'ಗಳಿಗೆ ಮಾತ್ರ ಇದು ಪರಿಹರಿಸಲಾಗದ ಸಮಸ್ಯೆ!'

      'ಹಾಗಿದ್ದರೆ ಇವತ್ತಿನ ಕೃಷಿ ಬಿಕ್ಕಟ್ಟಿಗೆ ಉತ್ತರ ಕೃಷಿಕರಿಂದಲೇ ಬಂದೀತು ಎಂಬುದು ನಿಮ್ಮ ಊಹೆಯೇ?' - ನಾನು ಕೇಳಿದೆ.

      'ಅದು ಬರಿಯ ಊಹೆಯಲ್ಲ. ನನ್ನ ದೃಡವಾದ ನಂಬಿಕೆ.' - ಎಂದು ಅವರು ಮುಗುಳ್ನಕ್ಕರು.

                                                                                                                - ಕೆ ವಿ ಅಕ್ಷರ

        ಇದು ಮಧ್ಯಮ ಅಥವಾ ಮೇಲು ಧರ್ಜೆಯ ಕೃಷಿಕನಿಗೆ ಅನ್ವಯಿಸುತ್ತದೆ ಆದರೆ ಕೆಳಮಟ್ಟದ, ಸಣ್ಣ-ಪುಟ್ಟ ಕೃಷಿಕನಿಗೆ  (ಆರ್ಥಿಕ ಹಾಗು ವ್ಯವಹಾರಿಕ ಮಾನದಂಡಗಳಲ್ಲಿ) ರಾಶಿ ರಾಶಿ ಹಣ ತರಬೇಕು ಎಂಬ ಮಾನಸಿಕ ಅನಿವಾಸಿತನಕ್ಕಿಂತಲೂ ಮೊದಲು, ದಿನ ನಿತ್ಯದ ಜೀವನ ಸಾಗಬೇಕು ಎಂಬುದೇ ಮುಖ್ಯವಾಗುತ್ತದೆ. ಈ ದೃಷ್ಟಿಯಿಂದ "Nero's Guests" ಸಾಕ್ಷ್ಯಚಿತ್ರದಲ್ಲಿನ ಅಳಲು ಹಾಗು ಸಾತ್ವಿಕ ಆಕ್ರೋಶ ಏಕಪಕ್ಷೀಯವಾಗಿರದೆ ಸಮಂಜಸವೂ, ಪ್ರಜ್ಞಾಪೂರ್ವಕವಾಗಿಯೂ ಇದೆ ಎಂಬುದು ನನ್ನ ಅನಿಸಿಕೆ. ಆದರೂ ಅಕ್ಷರರವರ ಕೃಷಿಕ ಮಿತ್ರರ ನಂಬಿಕೆ ನಿಜವಾಗಲಿ ಎಂಬುದೇ ಕೋರಿಕೆ. ಕೃಷಿಯ ಎಲ್ಲಾ ಸ್ತರಗಳಿಗೂ ಅನ್ವಯವಾಗುವ ಉತ್ತರವೊಂದು ರೈತ ಬಂಧುವಿನಿಂದಲೇ ಮೂಡಲಿ. ಪ್ರಜಾತಂತ್ರದಲ್ಲೋ, ಮತ್ತೊಂದು ಹಸಿರು ಕ್ರಾಂತಿಯಲ್ಲೋ - ಇಲ್ಲೇ ಎಲ್ಲೋ ಅರಳಲಿ. ಮಹಾಪ್ರಳಯದವರೆಗೂ ಕಾದು ಕುಳಿಯುವ ನಮ್ಮ ವ್ಯವಧಾನ ಅಳಿಯಲಿ.

"Only the tillers of the soil live by the right. The rest form their train and eat only the bread of dependence."

                                                        - Thiruvalluvar

No man's company

"Tum mere paas hote ho goya

Jab koi doosra nahi hota"

( "As if you are with me, just when, 

There is no one else around me.") 

- Momin Khan

It doesn't matter what I am called,
Voices fade amidst, ever barred.
Anonymous around is the world -
We fool ourselves in the crowd!

Joy is it when I am actually I,
With the freedom to discover why!
Neither pressurized, nor prejudiced -
But by conscious choice, realized!

Refusing to stay masked or unmasked -
Adieu to the glory in which we basked.
Gods are worshiped or condemned,
I rather choose to keep them abandoned.

Unburdened of all vows and oaths,
I walk all alone on these paths...
Not because I am in no man's company,
But because I love being lonely...

Happiness: Time, Wealth, Success??

Picture credit: http://pixdaus.com/single.php?id=194871

          

 "But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads?"

                                                     -  Albert Camus

         As a young boy, my definition of happiness was very simple - either I be allowed to read stories from 'Champak' or be allowed to watch 'Duck Tales' or 'Talespin'!!(the pre-cable network era in rural India. The now extinct 'DD Metro' was a savior back then.) I still enjoy them thoroughly and they do make me a lot happier. Then as I grew up, I was smitten by my first love - 'Poetry', to which I have stayed loyal all these years. And the affair has been getting intense as the days pass. Every time I encounter the lyrical beauty, we fly on a fulfilling journey of poetic ecstasy. From that retreat, I derive immense happiness. So, does this conclude that Happiness is a total personal perspective? Are not there any prerequisites and general prescriptions for Happiness?

        These questions did arise as I read through another of Camus' less appreciated work - 'A happy death'. It was his first novel, but the last to be published. It is said he was twenty when he wrote this. But it was published after a decade of his death, about forty years after being written. The work has been criticized by the learned as being inferior and a mere preparation for his magnum opus - 'The Stranger'. (In a lighter vein, maybe the critics were expecting to find the great 'Noble' philosopher Camus in the 20 year old 'rebel' lad;-)) Though rated inferior literally, to me, it appears philosophically as fascinating as 'The Stranger'.

         Well, leaving the critics, I shall come back to the question of happiness. To get perspectives on track, 'A happy death' tells the story of Patrice Mersault, a working man who fails to be happy while struggling to make ends meet with meaningless work occupying his time. He meets Roland Zagreus, a million dollar cripple who tells Mersault that "....there's a kind of spiritual snobbery in certain "superior beings" who think that money isn't necessary for happiness. Which is stupid, which is false, and to a certain degree cowardly... It takes time to be happy. A lot of time. Happiness, too, is a long patience. And in almost every case, we use up our lives making money, when we should be using our money to gain time...." Mersault later murders Zagreus, and takes all his wealth(a whooping 2 million!!), apparently with Zagreus' consent since his crippled state blocks his own happiness, and the rich Mersault begins his quest of happiness. He tries travel, that fails; he lives with three young women in "the House above the World," but that fails. Everybody is in the pursuit of happiness. Yet Mersault retreats to a solitary life. He marries a pleasant woman he does not love, buys a house in a village by the sea, and moves in. Mersault achieves a degree of happiness but this is short lived since he becomes ill and dies his "happy death."

            Fine, now is the question time. Money and time are prerequisites to achieve happiness? Was this Camus' conclusion? Or does he indicate a different conclusion at the climax? Money is indeed a necessity as long as we are part of the society. Its money that satisfies hunger, sustains life, and gets us a place of dignity. But how much of it will do? We are the wealthiest generation on earth, I suppose, considering our GDPs and the Financial Capital we generate. (Though the socio-economic inequlities are at their Zenith, I am talking in gross terms of the present global generation as a whole.) But are we living through the happiest phase on earth? I find it pertinent to quote Richard Layard, the British Economist, from his book 'Happiness: Lessons from a new Science' - "There is a paradox at the heart of our lives. Most people want income and strive for it. Yet as Western societies have got richer, their people have become no happier."

       The next ingredient - 'Time', but who on earth has time these days, except for the lazy loafing souls? Going by Zagreus' assertion, maybe in the fast paced world of ours, if anyone feels deprived of happiness its because they have robbed themselves of time. Again, there are counter arguments to this, as are for everything that exists. But how valid are these remarks? 

          The achievement of things that we value and our noteworthy accomplishments render us a sense of happiness. So another significant dimension of happiness is our perceived notion of success. Stories of success are pouring in every day. The opportunities offered in our globalized society have no parallel. More are our chances of striking gold in the pursuit of whatever we take up. Has all this contributed to achieve a better gross happiness index? Or are we burdened by the guilt of ascending to the throne on corpses of the less advantaged? 

         Looking from another angle, How original is our perception of Success? Prof.John McMurtry in his groundbreaking research work "Unequal Freedoms: The Global Market as an ethical system" sheds light on how perceptions of success are seldom our own. We are fed a value system which asserts we 'must' compete in the global marketplace and its a closed system of choice. He observes 'All people enact its prescriptions as presupposed norms of what they should do. All assume its value designations and value exclusions as given. They seek only to climb its ladder of available positions to achieve their deserved reward as their due. Lives are valued, or not valued, in terms of the system's differentials and measurements....' Is their space for happiness in this system? Forget it, does a concept called 'happiness' exist here or is it that we are being unconsciously fed notions of happiness too!? I don't know or maybe I don't understand.

         To find solace, I shall return back to Camus' Mersault as he, in the course of the novel, says - "You make the mistake of thinking you have to choose, that you have to do what you want, that there are conditions for happiness. What matters -- all that matter is -- is the will to happiness, a kind of enormous, ever-present consciousness. The rest women, art, success -- is nothing but excuses…." I put all the mess aside and think its time to heed to Buddha - "To be happy, rest like a tree". Is the tree happy? Ask not me, but the Gutama Buddha my friend. I only find it safe and convenient to assume so. My maxim for happiness is quite simple. I modify the phrase of Leo Tolstoy to describe it - "If you want to be happy, be; and never impede others freedom to be."

         "In a silence violated only by the silky sounds of the sky, the night lay like milk upon the world. Mersault walked along the cliff, sharing the night's deep concentration. Below him the sea whispered gently. It was covered with velvety moonlight, smooth and undulating, like the pelt of some animal. At this hour, Mersault's life seemed so remote to him, he felt so solitary and indifferent to everything and to himself as well, that it seemed to him he had at last attained what he was seeking, that the peace which filled him now was born of that patient self-abandonment he had pursued and achieved with the help of this warm world so willing to deny him without anger." 

                                                                 - Albert Camus('A Happy Death')

ಸಾವಿನ ಚೆಲುವೆ !!

ಸಾವಿನ ಮೋಹಕ ಚೆಲುವೆ ಎಂದೇ ಬಣ್ಣಿಸಲಾಗುತಿಹಳವಳು !

ಜೀವನದೆಲ್ಲಾ ತಳಮಳ - ತೊಳಲಾಟಗಳಿಂದ ಮುಕ್ತಿವೀಯ್ವಳಂತವಳು !

ಅವಳೇ ಇರಬಹುದೆ ಬದುಕ ಕೊರತೆ 

ನೀಗಿಸಿ ನಲಿಸುವ ದೇವತೆ ?

ಆದರೆ, ಈ ವರ್ಣನೆಗಳು -

ಅವರಿವರ ಅಭಿಪ್ರಾಯ, ಭಾವನೆಗಳು.

ಅನುಭವಿಸದೆ ಅವಳೊಡನೆ ಆಪ್ಯಾಯತೆ -

ಅರಿಯಲಿ ಹೇಗೆ ನಾ ಅ ಘನತೆಯ ನೈಜತೆ?

ತಿಳಿಯೆ ನಾ ಅವಳನ್ನು,

ಆದ್ದರಿಂದಲೇ ಅವಳ ಬಗೆಗೆ ಈ ಕುತೂಹಲ - ಜಿಜ್ಞಾಸೆಗಳು.

ಅರಿತರೊಮ್ಮೆ ಅವಳ ಅಂತರಾಳವನ್ನು -

ಬತ್ತಿ ಹೋಗವೆ ಈ ಚಿಮ್ಮುವ ಉತ್ಸಾಹದ ಸೆಲೆಗಳು?

ಇಂತೆಯೇ ಇರಲಿ ನನ್ನೊಳು ಈ ಉತ್ಸಾಹ,

ಅರಳುತಿರಲಿ ಅದರ ಬೆನ್ನತ್ತಿ ಬರುವ ಉನ್ಮಾದ!

ಕಂಡು, ತಿಳಿದು, ಅನುಭವಿಸಿ ಮರೆವ ಯಾಂತ್ರಿಕತೆಗಿದೋ ನನ್ನ ನಕಾರ,

ನಿರೀಕ್ಷೆಯ ಗಳಿಗೆಗಳು, ಕನಸ್ಸಿನ ಮಳಿಗೆಗಳು - ಇವೇ ನನಗೆ ಸಾಕ್ಷಾತ್ಕಾರ!

ಅವಳ ಮೋಹಕತೆಯ ಕಪೋಕಲ್ಪಿತ ಕಥೆಗಳು,

ಮರಣದಾಚೆಗೆ ಬದುಕುಳಿದವರ ಹೇಳತೀರದ ವ್ಯಥೆಗಳು.

ಮುಗ್ಧತೆಯ ತಬ್ಬಿ, ತನ್ನ ತಾ ಸಂತೈಸಿದೆ ಮನವು,

ಏಳು-ಬೀಳಿನ ಜೀವ ಜ್ವಾಲೆಯಲಿ ಬೇಯಲೊಪ್ಪಿದೆ ತನುವು! 

ಮತ್ತೆ ಕಾಡಿತು ಹಣತೆ..

              ಇತ್ತೀಚಿನ ವರ್ಷಗಳಲ್ಲಿ  ಪ್ರತಿ ದೀಪಾವಳಿಯಲ್ಲೂ  ಜಿ ಎಸ್ ಶಿವರುದ್ರಪ್ಪನವರ 'ನನ್ನ ಹಣತೆ' ಕವಿತೆಯ ಸಾಲುಗಳು ಹೃದಯಾಂತರಾಳದಲೆಲ್ಲೋ ಕಾಡುತ್ತಿವೆ ಎಂಬ ಭಾವನೆ. ಸರಿ ಸುಮಾರು ಒಂಬತ್ತು ವರ್ಷಗಳ ಹಿಂದೆ ದೀಪಾವಳಿಯ ಆಸು ಪಾಸಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಈ ಕವಿತೆಯನ್ನು ಮೊದಲ ಬಾರಿ ಓದಿದ್ದು. ಆ ನಂತರ ಪ್ರತಿ ಬಾರಿ ಓದಿದಾಗಲು ಹೊಸ ಹೊಸ ಅರ್ಥ ಹಾಗು ದೃಷ್ಟಿಕೋನ ತೆರೆದಿಡುತ್ತದೆ ಈ ಕವಿತೆ. ಪ್ರಾಯಶಃ ಕವಿತೆಯ ಸೊಬಗಿರುವುದೇ ಅದರ ಕಾಲತೀತತೆಯಲ್ಲೇನೋ! ಕವಿಯು ತನ್ನ ಮಿತಿ ಹಾಗು ವಾಸ್ತವತೆಯ ಅರಿವನ್ನು ಮೊದಲು ಮೂಡಿಸಿ, ನಂತರ ನೈಜತೆಯ ಹಸಿ ಸತ್ಯವನ್ನು ಸೂಕ್ಷ್ಮವಾಗಿ ಕಟ್ಟಿಕೊಡುತ್ತಾ, ಸಾಮಾಜಿಕ ನಿರಾಶಾವದಕ್ಕೆ ಬಲಿಯಾಗದೆ ತನ್ನ ಆಶಾವಾದವನ್ನು, ಜೀವನ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯವನ್ನು ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಕಟ್ಟಿಕೊಡುತ್ತಾರೆ ಎಂಬುದು ನನ್ನ ಅನಿಸಿಕೆ - 

ಹಣತೆ ಹಚ್ಚುತ್ತೇನೆ  ನಾನೂ.

ಈ ಕತ್ತಲನ್ನು ಗೆದ್ದು ನಿಲ್ಲುತ್ತೇನೆಂಬ ಜಿದ್ದಿನಿಂದಲ್ಲ;

ಲೆಕ್ಕವೇ ಇರದ ದೀಪಾವಳಿಯ ಹಡಗುಗಳೇ

ಇದರಲ್ಲಿ ಮುಳುಗಿ ಕರಗಿರುವಾಗ

ನಾನು  ಹಚ್ಚುವ ಹಣತೆ ಶಾಶ್ವತವೆಂಬ ಭ್ರಾಂತಿ ನನಗಿಲ್ಲ.

ಹಣತೆ ಹಚ್ಚುತ್ತೇನೆ ನಾನೂ;

ಈ ಕತ್ತಲಿನಿಂದ ಬೆಳಕಿನ ಕಡೆಗೆ ನಡೆದೇನೆಂಬ

ಆಸೆಯಿಂದಲ್ಲ.

ಕತ್ತಲಿನಿಂದ ಕತ್ತಲಿಗೇ ತಡಕಾಡಿಕೊಂಡು ಬಂದಿದೆ ಹೆಜ್ಜೆ

ಶತಮಾನದಿಂದಲೂ.

ನಡು ನಡುವೆ ಒಂದಷ್ಟು ಬೆಳಕು ಬೇಕೆಂದು 

ಆಗಾಗ ಕಡ್ಡಿ ಗೀಚಿದ್ದೇವೆ,

ದೀಪ ಮೂಡಿಸಿದ್ದೇವೆ,

ವೇದ, ಶಾಸ್ತ್ರ, ಪುರಾಣ, ಇತಿಹಾಸ, ಕಾವ್ಯ, ವಿಜ್ಞಾನಗಳ 

ಮತಾಪು - ಪಟಾಕಿ - ಸುರುಸುರುಬತ್ತಿ - ಹೂಬಾಣ

ಸುಟ್ಟಿದ್ದೇವೆ. 

'ತಮಸೋಮಾ ಜ್ಯೋತಿರ್ಗಮಯಾ' ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಾ ಬರೀ
ಬೂದಿಯನ್ನೇ ಕೊನೆಗೆ ಕಂಡಿದ್ದೇವೆ.

ನನಗೂ ಗೊತ್ತು, ಈ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ
ಕೊನೆಯಿರದ ಬಾಯಾರಿಕೆ.
ಎಷ್ಟೊಂದು ಬೆಳಕನ್ನು ಇದು ಉಟ್ಟರೂ , ತೊಟ್ಟರೂ
ತಿಂದರೂ, ಕುಡಿದರೂ ಇದಕ್ಕೆ ಇನ್ನೂ ಬೇಕು
ಇನ್ನೂ ಬೇಕು ಎನ್ನುವ ಬಯಕೆ.

ಆದರೂ ಹಣತೆ ಹಚ್ಚುತ್ತೇನೆ ನಾನು;
ಕತ್ತಲೆಯನ್ನು ದಾಟುತ್ತೇನೆಂಬ ಭ್ರಮೆಯಿಂದಲ್ಲ,
ಇರುವಷ್ಟು ಹೊತ್ತು ನಿನ್ನ ಮುಖ ನಾನು, ನನ್ನ ಮುಖ ನೀನು
ನೋಡಬಹುದೆಂಬ ಒಂದೇ ಒಂದು ಆಸೆಯಿಂದ;
ಹಣತೆ ಆರಿದ ಮೇಲೆ, ನೀನು ಯಾರೋ, ಮತ್ತೆ
ನಾನು ಯಾರೋ.
               - ಜಿ ಎಸ್ ಶಿವರುದ್ರಪ್ಪ  ('ನನ್ನ ಹಣತೆ')

Mr.Prat and the rat!!

Hello, my name is Priyat Priyakar Prat
No, no, by no means am I a spoiled brat!
Teachers at the school called me smart.
All that they taught, I did 'by-heart'.
Few were my wants, a ball and a bat,
As days grew by, few claps or a pat.
Small was beautiful, always joy I got.
Bygone days seem the best of the lot.

Was taught by the learned, the way right -

Dreams should be big and indeed bright.

Grew in me thirst for a 'big' university hat,

Later in life, a pay check - little bit fat;
A sweet girl - cute, almost like a cat!
And to live in the city, a comfortable flat.


These days I give my job a good shot,

Stress and strain - weekdays are hot;
Shop on weekends at the city mart.
Appreciate my friends, their talent and art
At Orkut, Facebook or a similar spot.
Garden trees on the balcony in a pot,
Cinema, Lifestyle, Culture, Fashion - hobbies apart
My clutter give as gifts in service and play my part.
Simplifying my life - bit luxury and a lot,
Adds up though unintended under my cot!
Sometimes all this routine seems full rot,
I have tried Gurus who analysed my SWOT,
And sold me another of Aladdin's mat.
Surely in more merry, lives Jerry the rat!

None is mine..

I don't love her, that's certain, but perhaps I love her.

Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.

                                                           - Pablo Neruda 

There are people who tell me of friendship.
There are people who tell me of love.
But there is none, who tells me of nothing
Like you did, yet filled my world with everything.

There are people who advise me on life.
There are people who console me in pains.
But there is none, on whose shoulders I can weep
And on whose lap I could feel consoled as on yours.

There are people all around adoring me.
There are people keenly interested in me.
But there is none, who brings peace to mind
Like you used to, and none is mine.

There are people who smile at me.
There are people who wish well for me.
But there is none, whose smile lights me up
Like yours did, And the one I ruined.

People are just people, but you were you.
You were me, you were all that I wanted.
You were my love, you were my life.
What is life, when the only thing I have lost is you?

इनकार इन राहो से..

मुझे नहीं चलना इन राहो पे

जिनके मतलब क्या जानू मै

आपके ये अनुशासन है?

जाने किस सदी के शिलाशासन है?

उन राहो पे मुझे चलने दो

जिन राहो पे चलना मेरा मकसद हो

इन ख्वाबो को सजने दो

इनकी सजने में इस दिल की खुशियाँ हो! 

जाने किनके ख्वाब तुझे बुनना हो

मुझे मेरी जिंदगी जीने की मौका दो

इस मुर्दों की बस्ती से

मुझे जिन्दा बाहर उगने दो!

लाशो की ढेरी में

एक दिन मिलेंगे हम दोंनो 

धन-सम्मान तू ले लेना

तब तक मुझे अपनी जिंदगी है जीना!

(I deny to traverse this path,

Whose pursuit and meaning appeals not to me.

This is your disciplined advice?

God knows written on which generation's edifice?

I plead to be allowed to trace that path

The pursuit of which, I believe, is part of my destiny.

Allow these dreams to get decorated

In the process of this decoration lies happiness in my heart!

Don't know whose dream you have to weave,

But let me have the opportunity to live my life.

From this street of the dead,

Let me sprout out with life left in me!

In the pile of the corpses

Surely shall we, a day, encounter ourselves.

Name and fame you achieve,

Till then I do have my life to live!)

My heart wants to write poetry!

"Simple, Sensuous, Impassioned"

                                                 - Milton's axiom on the essentials of poetry...

I know no rhythmical utterance,
My vocabulary may lack confluence,
I do not seem to voice in melody,
But still my heart wants to write poetry!

I am no master of composition,
My diction, am afraid, may fail in intonation,
I am yet to perfect lyrical delivery,
But still my heart wants to write poetry!

I am a novice at the art of punctuation,
My expression may lack articulation,
I find it tough to evoke symmetry,
But still my heart wants to write poetry!

Break the shackles, let the rules rust!
Poetry is beyond language & barriers, I trust.
Instincts and imaginations keep me rooted,
Feelings and emotions stir me inspired,
To flow with life unattached is true beauty -
My heart now lives in harmony with poetry!!

The Absurdity of Existence.

"At the very end of his long effort measured by skyless space and time without depth, the purpose is achieved. Then Sisyphus watches the stone rush down in a few moments toward that lower world whence he will have to push it up again toward the summit. He goes back down to the plain."

                                                  - Albert Camus ('The Myth of Sisyphus')

           Why are we living? Should our existence have a meaning attached to it? The purpose of life has been the question of concern in religion and philosophical studies for over millenniums. Most of the religions and their derived thoughts prescribe Mukti or Nirvana as the ultimate purpose of living. At times it gets complicated to comprehend the meaning of these terms in their entirety. Stripping ourselves of all the acquired knowledge, let us put into question what our instincts and experiences tell us. Have not we at times had the gut feeling that all that we are doing is simply meaningless when ripped bare to its essentials? In moments of insight and illumination, sometimes does strike the haunting 'Absurdity of Existence'.

        The purpose of life, we are usually taught, is to be righteous. Righteous in speech, action and all spheres of living. A great lesson indeed because righteousness leads to dispersion of peace and that shall solve a lot of issues worldwide. (The classification of righteous action itself is an issue with contradictory leanings in contemporary world!) Though righteousness is a virtue in its own right, is that all the purpose of this grand experiment of living?

    Within each of us, maybe we can recognize a Sisyphus, the Greek mythological king who was compelled to roll an immense boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, and to repeat this throughout eternity. While a few of us curse ourselves for getting into the monotonous nature of the seemingly meaningless activity, there are others who enjoy it. Maybe the latter can find in them the Malayali folklore character Naranath Branthan who rolled big stones up the hill and let them roll down back, laughing thunderously on seeing this sight!

       What interests me in these characters is the seemingly absurdity of the task they carry on and their perception towards it. While to Sisyphus, it was an act of compulsion as that was his punishment; but to Naranth it was an eccentric habit and he seemed to enjoy the task! Well the interpretations on these characters is as varied as are the number of interpreters. To me, the absurdity of their tasks seems to be a point well made on the futility of human attempts to achieve permanence in light of life's transience.  There exists a grandeur in the absurdity. In Naranath Branthan,  I find the 'Absurd man' whom Camus describes thus - "He who, without negating it, does nothing for the eternal. Not that nostalgia is foreign to him. But he prefers his courage and his reasoning. The first teaches him to live without appeal and to get along with what he has; the second informs him of his limits. Assured of his temporally limited freedom, of his revolt devoid of future, and of his mortal consciousness, he lives out his adventure within the span of his lifetime."

       I do not claim to know the purpose underlying our existence nor do I know if one actually exists. But is a purpose always required to drive life? Even if a purpose is decided upon, how long do we cling to it? I have no answers but maybe I do not need the answers! I share Gibran's view on Nirvana in life - “Yes, there is Nirvana; it is in leading your sheep to a green pasture, and in putting your child to sleep, and in writing the last line of your poem.”

      Beyond the pursuit of purpose, there is a reality to life. It shall come to an end. All accomplishments shall fade out with time. Nature shall always have the last laugh. No, I am not being pessimistic. From recognizing these facts does arise an optimism - The optimism that life is not momentary existence but life is the joy of living. Thoreau did strike a chord when he coined the phrase 'to cease to exist and start to live'. Maybe existence has its absurdities, but not living!

"I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."

                      - Albert Camus ('The Myth of Sisyphus')

Absolute reverence..

In solitude from the world, under the shade of a tree

Sat they on a sunny day, when they were free.

In one another, had they found a soothing rhyme

Thus did friendship blossom between them with time.

As she rested her head on his broad shoulder

Across her shoulder went his hand and held her.

Her fingers, in silence, ran through the hair on his head.

Disturbing her subtle calmness; to her, questions he fed -

"Why does it seem you don't express all that you feel?

No barriers in our friendship, wasn't that the deal?"

Dwelling deep in his eyes, did she look for trust

Assuming its existence, she spoke, clearing the dust -

"A girl when voices her feelings, in this society

 Is like the priest caught in the ritual of variety.

A priest offering prayers to a deity in procession

Not just that, he is fed a mouthful of poison.

If swallowed, all his life would end in vanity.

If split out, he ruins his and the deity's dignity.

Yet he is asked to sing hymns in the Lord's praise,

Voice their pains and seek pleasure for the entire race.

Thus is it when we are asked to express ourselves.

Voices crushed, we are left with only tears and sighs.

Caged freedoms, Broken promises, Abandoned dreams,

Swollen wounds, Masked pains and Fake smiles.

If truth be expressed, it reveals the transience of identity.

If kept to myself my voices, doubted is my fidelity."

He could sense her moist eyes as tears rolled on to his shoulder.

Reassuring his presence, in subtle calmness, he gently held her.

Failing to find words to express himself, he surrendered to silence.

She had poured her heart into his soul in absolute reverence...

A pick of Zen stories - 2

Like the little stream

Making its way

Through the mossy crevices

I, too, quietly

Turn clear and transparent.

-From "Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf: Zen Poems of Ryokan"

1. Moving mind

Two men were arguing about a flag flapping in the wind.

“It’s the wind that is really moving,” stated the first one.

“No, it is the flag that is moving,” contended the second.

A Zen master, who happened to be walking by, overheard the debate and interrupted them.

“Neither the flag nor the wind is moving,” he said, “It is MIND that moves.”

2. Present Moment

A Japanese warrior was captured by his enemies and thrown into prison. That night he was unable to sleep because he feared that the next day he would be interrogated, tortured, and executed. Then the words of his Zen master came to him, “Tomorrow is not real. It is an illusion. The only reality is now.” Heeding these words, the warrior became peaceful and fell asleep.

3. Mastering technique.

After having won many archery contests, the town champion went to the Zen master.

I am the best of all – he said. – I didn’t study religion, never sought help from the monks, and succeeded in becoming the finest archer in the whole region. I heard that, for a time, you were the best archer in the region, and ask you: was it necessary to become a monk in order to learn to shoot?

No – replied the Zen master.

But the champion was not satisfied: he took an arrow, placed it in the bow, fired it and hit a cherry which was very far away. Smiling, as if to say: "you might have saved your time, devoting yourself only to technique." And he said:

I doubt whether you could do that.

Without looking in the least bit worried, the master went inside, fetched his bow, and began to walk towards a nearby mountain.

On the way, there was an abyss which could only be crossed by an old bridge made of rotting rope, and which was almost collapsing.

The Zen master went to the middle of the bridge, took his bow and placed an arrow in it, then aimed at a tree on the far side of the precipice, and hit his target.

Now it is your turn – he kindly told the young man, as he returned to firm ground.

Terrified as he gazed down at the abyss below his feet, the young man went to the spot and fired, but his arrow veered wide of the mark.

4. Egotism

The Prime Minister of the Tang Dynasty was a national hero for his success as both a statesman and military leader. But despite his fame, power, and wealth, he considered himself a humble and devout Buddhist. Often he visited his favorite Zen master to study under him, and they seemed to get along very well. The fact that he was prime minister apparently had no effect on their relationship, which seemed to be simply one of a revered master and respectful student.

One day, during his usual visit, the Prime Minister asked the master, “Your Reverence, what is egotism according to Buddhism?” The master’s face turned red, and in a very condescending and insulting tone of voice, he shot back, “What kind of stupid question is that!?”

This unexpected response so shocked the Prime Minister that he became sullen and angry. The Zen master then smiled and said, “This, Your Excellency, is egotism.”

5. Books

Once there was a well known philosopher and scholar who devoted himself to the study of Zen for many years. On the day that he finally attained enlightenment, he took all of his books out into the yard, and burned them all.

6. Gift of Insults

Near Tokyo lived a great Samurai, now old, who decided to teach Zen Buddhism to young people.

One afternoon, a warrior – known for his complete lack of scruples – arrived there. The young and impatient warrior had never lost a fight. Hearing of the Samurai’s reputation, he had come to defeat him, and increase his fame.

All the students were against the idea, but the old man accepted the challenge.

All gathered on the town square, and the young man started insulting the old master. He threw a few rocks in his direction, spat in his face, shouted every insult under the sun – he even insulted his ancestors.

For hours, he did everything to provoke him, but the old man remained impassive. At the end of the afternoon, by now feeling exhausted and humiliated, the impetuous warrior left.

Disappointed by the fact that the master had received so many insults and provocations, the students asked:

How could you bear such indignity? Why didn’t you use your sword, even knowing you might lose the fight, instead of displaying your cowardice in front of us all?

If someone comes to you with a gift, and you do not accept it, who does the gift belong to? – asked the Samurai.

He who tried to deliver it – replied one of his disciples.

The same goes for envy, anger and insults – said the master.

7. I do not know.

The emperor, who was a devout Buddhist, invited a great Zen master to the Palace in order to ask him questions about Buddhism.

“What is the highest truth of the holy Buddhist doctrine?” the emperor inquired.

“Vast emptiness… and not a trace of holiness,” the master replied.

“If there is no holiness,” the emperor said, “then who or what are you?”

“I do not know,” the master replied.

8. Desperate

The son of a master thief asked his father to teach him the secrets of the trade. The old thief agreed and that night took his son to burglarize a large house. While the family was asleep, he silently led his young apprentice into a room that contained a clothes closet. The father told his son to go into the closet to pick out some clothes. When he did, his father quickly shut the door and locked him in. Then he went back outside, knocked loudly on the front door, thereby waking the family, and quickly slipped away before anyone saw him. Hours later, his son returned home, bedraggled and exhausted. “Father,” he cried angrily, “Why did you lock me in that closet? If I hadn’t been made desperate by my fear of getting caught, I never would have escaped. It took all my ingenuity to get out!” The old thief smiled. “Son, you have had your first lesson in the art of burglary.”

9. Holy man

Word spread across the countryside about the wise Holy Man who lived in a small house atop the mountain. A man from the village decided to make the long and difficult journey to visit him.

When he arrived at the house, he saw an old servant inside who greeting him at the door.

“I would like to see the wise Holy Man,” he said to the servant.

The servant smiled and led him inside. As they walked through the house, the man from the village looked eagerly around the house, anticipating his encounter with the Holy Man.

Before he knew it, he had been led to the back door and escorted outside. He stopped and turned to the servant,

“But I want to see the Holy Man!”

“You already have,” said the old man. “Everyone you may meet in life, even if they appear plain and insignificant… see each of them as a wise Holy Man. If you do this, then whatever problem you brought here today will be solved.” 

10. How grass and trees become enlightened?

During the Kamakura period, Shinkan studied Tendai six years and then studied Zen seven years; then he went to China and contemplated Zen for thirteen years more.

When he returned to Japan many desired to interview him and asked obscure questions. But when Shinkan received visitors, which was infrequently, he seldom answered their questions.

One day a fifty-year-old student of enlightenment said to Shinkan: “I have studied the Tendai school of thought since I was a little boy, but one thing in it I cannot understand. Tendai claims that even the grass and trees will become enlightened. To me this seems very strange.”

“Of what use is it to discuss how grass and trees become enlightened?” asked Shinkan. “The question is how you yourself can become so. Did you even consider that?”

“I never thought of it that way,” marveled the old man.

“Then go home and think it over,” finished Shinkan.

(Why always limit the number of stories to 10??;-) This time I will break the routine...)

11. Writing a poem

A well-known Japanese poet was asked how to compose a Chinese poem.

“The usual Chinese poem is four lines,” he explains. “The first line contains the initial phase; the second line, the continuation of that phase; the third line turns from this subject and begins a new one; and the fourth line brings the first three lines together. A popular Japanese song illustrates this:

Two daughters of a silk merchant live in Kyoto.

The elder is twenty, the younger, eighteen.

A soldier may kill with his sword.

But these girls slay men with their eyes.


More Stories: A pick of Zen Stories - 1

The dichotomy of Decision making.

"To be, or not to be: that is the question

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The sling and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them.

                 - Shakespeare (in Hamlet)"

         In an unconscious way, choices we make today determine our decisions tomorrow. What we fail to realize at times is before we take a decision, its long been decided at the sub conscious level when our persual of the objective is intense and all pervasive. A lot of our perceptions and attitudes get aligned towards the decision we are headed to. Life just takes us to the point when that is the only choice preferred.

        Not always are we as lucky. Most of the times we fail to negotiate what is the objective we yearn to pursue. That is when the dichotomy of decision making presents itself to us in all its grandeur of confusion!! Its not easy to discover what is the purpose of a persual in the early stages. Sometimes, only when the pursuit is near completion do we exactly realize the purpose. Maybe thats the way of life.

    Decision making is like the problem of optimization theory. Any student of mathematical optimization might appreciate the beauty of the analogy. In any method of constrained optimization, its the technical constraints and sign restrictions that determine the feasibility and optimality of the solution in connection with the objective function. All issues of decision making boil down to this. The feasible solutions are found with considerable ease. But its the test of optimality that posses the biggest challenge. In arriving at a decision, though feasible options are presented after a few sessions of introspection and brain storming, its the challenge to pick the optimal one and tailor it to suit our needs that is a test of character. The time when decision making gets gritty and gruesome.

      Priorities have to be weighed. Relationships, Career advancements, Opportunities, Scope for pursual of interests - My god! the list of constraints to be adhered itself turns to be an overhead at times. Sometimes we may wish to break away from all the constraints and just fly free. But this overhead is what adds beauty to the process of decision making. Once an optimal solution is arrived at after due considerations to individual specific constraints, there is a relaxing satisfaction. (I agree, it does not stay long in our transient world;-). But still for the moment, a soothing relaxation does exist.)

       Too much of analysis spoils the beauty of anything and everything. The devil is in the details. Once we arrive at a decision, it is better we do not go back frequently to reasses its worth. Suggestions and advices, the most freely available drugs in the market, when do not take into account our position and percetions push us to the peak of pessimism. A lot of criticism is always in stock, for the cynics have nothing better to offer! Though constructive criticism is welcome, sometimes its the freedom to explore, falter, rediscover and learn that adds life to the process. All decisions ultimately help us learn and to learn is to live.

       The world is never seen identically by any two pairs of eyes. So its not alwas necessary that our decisions are agreed and appreciated by our fellow beings. Its our conviction to stand by the decision we take that defines the consequences of it. None of us are inherently perfect. All our decisions can be dynamic. We might realize its non feasibility and modify it to suit our needs but only owing to self realization would be better rather than owing to persual or pressure.

     When a good friend said - "the arrival at a decision limits the choice of freedom", I got into introspection only to infer that decisions are not always necessary. Maybe we tend to over decide;-) Though taken, they need not be all pervasive. Its true that when we pick one end of a stick we pick up the other end too. But do we take it for granted that we should never place the stick back?? If the stick is either too lengthy or heavy or not long enogh, I would prefer to place it back and try find a better one that suits me!!

Images..

These are images. Those are images.
Here are they and there too.
Within us are filled these images
Without them we woo.
Do they mean something? Or should they?
Their description lies in our perception.
To some are they illusions.
To others a part of existence.
Unable to sense a difference.
Masking identities, seeking accomplishments -
Get blurred these images.
Truly unabated, if is the spirit of exploration
How come all over are reservations?
Time tolls in pursuit - Clearer our images.

Strolling with a friend..

Dear friend.,
      This is a leisurely letter to you. Like taking a stroll in a garden during a moist morning, just walk through this by my side. As I write to you my thoughts about friendship, the feeling of your presence soothes my soul. Friendship, to me, is not a choice though most of them claim it to be. I did not choose you as my friend. It just happens through the twist of time. Sometimes owing to our luck, we just meet the right person at the right time and a chord of intimacy strikes. You can call it coincidence or destiny. I would prefer the term 'Metaphysics', well the essence remains the same, whatever we choose to call it.

        Man is a social animal and to boost his social identity he needs companionship. Thats one of the reasons we all have a family. The extended family in our society is what becomes our friends circle. Well, even in the family, there is a lot of friendship. In the affection that Mom showers, in the naughtiness of the bro who pulls your leg, in the elegance of the elder sister who defends all your actions - isn't there a bit of friendship?

"Probably no man ever had a friend he did not dislike a little."

                                                           - Ed Howe

        As many friends we have, so many different set of attitudes and opinions. No two friends always end up agreeing on all issues they discuss. So are we. There is a beauty in disagreement. Don't you agree? With every mistake of mine, you too learn along with me. So is the case when you commit a mistake. When either of us makes a grave mistake, takes a wrong decision, breaks up in haste, I pray the other to standby, take it all in grace and let the moment just pass by. We shall need one another the very next moment. Let us put behind the rightness and wrongness of the bygone issues and stand for one another. It doesn't mean to defend each other's mistakes, but I pray we stay by each other in the process of correcting those mistakes, in the process of suffering its consequences. You need not take any responsibility of my life, neither do I of yours. But we shall lend to ourselves a shoulder to lean on in times of despair.

       You have a good day at office, read something interesting, watched a nice movie, had a spat with your loved one, want to share the joy, call me up. I too shall do the same when I have something to share. Let us not limit it to joy. I shall rely on you to be my emotional shock absorber, during times of distress and outbursts. You too are free to use me as your shock absorber. But let us not forget to never evade the limits. Everything of this shall be optional my friend, "no strings attached!!";-) Yeah, it happens at times when one of us overlooks the other's concerns, we are friends and have all the right to state it straight forward on the event of such an overlook. Let us not hesitate in conveying things, which if left without communicating may lead to irritation.

     There might be times when some sensibilities can't be told. I do believe both of us are mature enough to understand the untold sensibilities. If any of us fail to, the other is generous enough to pardon the dumbness of the other. Yet, let this not be an excuse between us.

        And the most important thing as I see it, we shall have differences. My approach to life and your approach to life can never be identical at all stages. Let us agree to disagree with due respects. We shall keep ourselves open to constructive reflections but let us refrain from being each others judge. Let there be discussions, never leading to arguments. I pray this friendship of ours shall always stand on the right and freedom to voice opinions, avoid undue criticism.

       Of course, all good things must come to an end. So shall our friendship. The end might be when either of us switches professions, moves out of town, gets into a relationship, flies abroad, ceases to exist or whatever.  Lets face it with dignity. If there arises a feeling of rekindling the relationship, and both of us are open to it, then let us bury the past and get along as long as it flows.

     Before I end the letter, here are lines that aptly describe what we have been cherishing-

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.

And he is your board and your fireside.

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, 

nor do you withhold the "ay".

And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence,

as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery 

is not love but a net cast forth:

and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.

If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.

For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?

Seek him always with hours to live.

For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

          - Khalil Gibran.

        You feel all this is too very vague, idealistic and impractical? My friend, dreams are always like that and our lives have always been the pursuit of dreams.

 With love.,

Your friend.