I looked forward to seeing my wife in the ICU after her major surgery. In a hurry, I fumbled the foot covers, got my arms crossed in the hospital gown, couldn't figure out which way the green face mask went on. The only thing I really stopped for was the disinfectant hand wash - I love the smell.

"Lolita Shukla?" I asked another masked and gowned figure who was hurrying past. He waved vaguely down a  long wide hall with well spaced beds on either side. My gown, foot covers, mask and head cover flapping unfamiliarly, I moved at a disorderly speed towards the bed. From a distance, even shrouded in her mask and head cover, she looked grey and worn and pinched. Well, naturally, I thought, it was an eight hour surgery after all.

Arriving, I said "Panda?" Her eyes fluttered and I saw no recognition.in her eyes, a deeply frightening experience. The doctors had told me she had weathered the surgery well and was responsive. But here she was, unblinking, and, I thought, somewhat fearful.. Holding her masked face in my hands in bewilderment and looking for clues to her condition at the surrounding instrumentation, I bent forward to kiss her when from the corner of my eye, I caught a movement further left from her bed.

Panda was in a bed further down, it turned out. I was fondling a complete stranger. When I reached her and leaned over to give her a kiss, she hissed, "What were you doing to that poor woman!" I explained. She sighed, "You're such a dope."

Walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five, walk five steps exhaling to the count of five, walk five steps inhaling to the count of five.

I'm addicted to vetiver, and the Aurobindo Ashram, down the road, besides being a nice place to hang out has great vetiver incense sticks - and chocolate brownies and lots of other good stuff, too. It was suffocatingly hot the other day when I went to pick up some incense. This bright butterfly looked totally out of place in the arid, burned out landscape and I clicked it. It fluttered its wings and suddenly it rained.

"I know the Jungians won't like that, but there comes a time when you just dream yourself out, and no more dreams. You sleep deeply and breathe from your heels." Alan Watts

"i’m fascinated by the Dalai Lama’s concept of spirituality. it’s based on simple precepts like non-violence, absence of ego, compassion and experiential spirituality, unlike other religions, where ideologies are based on dogma. he gives you a true experience of spirituality.

i remember someone asking him once, “aren’t you angry with the Chinese?” he replied: “i’m angry at their actions.”

Indeed the Dalai Lama has reached a refined level of spirituality. neither does he wear a social mask. even though people expect him to be a vegetarian, he makes no bones about the fact that he eats almost everything.

He has no pretences. and he totally lacks in self-importance. i once tried to engage him in an intellectual conversation, but he wasn’t interested. he doesn’t care much about philosophy. most spiritual gurus are interested in the intellectual aspects of spirituality and not the experience.

He’s the most authentic, genuine and defenceless person i know. Once i watched him at London’s Royal Albert Hall, before his lecture to about 5,000 people. he took off his shoes, walked on the stage and sat on the chair. and he told the audience calmly: “i hope nobody is looking for miracles.”

He doesn’t exaggerate, nor does he dramatise situations. neither does he look for the glamour in spirituality. i admire him for what he is and what he stands for. there’s nothing artificial about him. " Deepak Chopra

This is my place.

It's in the community park just outside my little ground floor flat.

I head out to the park for a quick round at odd intervals,day or night. It's a large park - probably the size of a football field, an oddly shaped ellipse, narrower on the right. It is ringed by about 50 trees and many more low bushes. Daylight dapples the walking path, that runs along the circumference, under the trees. At night, sometimes, bats with wings a dark velvety silver, whiz past ominously. At night, also, Sheru, a truly bad tempered stray dog with a beautiful coat of red hair lies in the dead center of the park, daring anyone to dislodge him. But night is not my favorite time for a walk because I can't stand near the bougainvilleas and smoke and survey and just plain drift.

There are five Pipal trees in this park and the bougainvilleas are near one of them. Pipals ar sacred trees - The Buddha found enlightenment under one in far off Bihar. The base of almost any Pipal tree will usually be littered with little sacred objects, pictures of gods or goddesses, clay idols, offerings of food, clay lamps and such. I usually light up a cigarette when I get to the Pipal which is next to this bougainvillea and check out the day's take. And take in the action in the middle of the park which has kids playing cricket or football or practising Tae Kwon Do. There always a few people sprawled out on the benches, some on a break, some goofing off - telephone repair men, house maids, a few residents playing cards or chess or reading - or just staring peacefully out at the world beforethey head back, like me, to work. I have no idea why it is this spot that pulls me and has me stop. Maybe in this world, like bus stops, there are Castaneda stops.

In a far corner, to my left, two women huddle in a collusion, backs to the park, and share a forbidden cigarette.




Far off, to my right, a group of kids swing gleefully from the benign but supple branches of another Pipal. It's peaceful where I am, despite their shouts.

 

I loved the enraptured attention and energy with which this street kid played.

A little later, her brother, smaller than her, joined in and the battle for supremacy that ensued was glorious! Too bad I didn't capture that, but I got her message to me - It doesn't matter what you have or don't have - just a hand-me-down dress will do fine! Just play!

Season's Greetings to all!

This is the Gateway of India and behind it, the 106 year old Taj Hotel, in Mumbai, India's financial center. Not far from here are other hotels, a major train station, Chabad House - a Jewish Synagogue and outreach center, several hundred shops, restaurants, street food vendors and vegetable sellers, and a few hundred thousand Mumbai residents . On the 22nd of November, 10 trained, armed and relentless terrorists came by sea and butchered 195 people and injured over 300 people in just this area. They took no hostages and wanted nothing but the freedom to destroy. They raged rampant for 62 hours. I can't remember who it was, some loveless disciple of destruction who said "True power is one person being able to paralyze 100 people.'  These 10, probably Al Qauida trained, held a country of a bilion in a thrall of terror.




15 Of our finest policemen went down in the attack. Familiar with low level combat with Mumbai's organized crime, they were unprepared for the ferocious assault.



This is the only one of the 10 who was caught alive. In this shot, he's just strolling along after killing dozens of people, including the formidable chief of the Anti Terrorist Squad and is on his way to creating the next macabre theater of death. In another photgraph, you see him crouched, smiling confidently at the camera.



You can't see the tree in front of  the Taj Hotel where these pigeons roost. For 62 hours there were bombs, AK47s firing, fires and probably the shrieks of people being murdered or screaming for help. Each time there was a disturbance, these pigeons flew up, circled the dome of the hotel and settled back in, hoping for a quiet roost. Their silent flight was eerie.

What haiku would Basho have been inspired to write?


This policeman has probably been on duty for many hours, lost colleagues, is in the grip of his own flight or fight mechanism. In one hand, he holds the old man's hand. In the other a baton, a remnant of colonial rule. In the terrorists' hands some of the world's most sophisticated armory. In the policeman's heart - humanity. In the Terrorists heart? I cannot even begin to fathom that region of darkness.


I argued with myself about whether I wanted the following piece from Rabindra Nath Tagore here. In the end, I am uncertain. And I remember that when you are uncertain, there is no doubt.

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up

into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason

has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action---
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

 

Rabindra Nath Tagore (1861 - 1941)

Nobel  Laureate