catch a grook on a monday

seven thirty am on a monday morning, the cool kiss of an ettimadai morning breeze, memories of the peacock calls that had filled the morning air, the yercaud coffee and shobhana's chocolate brownie smiling real happy in my stomach, and bhimsen joshi soaring away singing lalit bhatiyar ('o kartar') on my computer. its that sort of a morning and i am in that sort of a mood. i've been listening to this particular piece by bhimsen joshi for close to two decades now and every time i play it shobhana says "oh its that sort of a morning" and i say yup its that sort of a morning! what sort of a morning we both are talking about we haven't quite figured out but one thing is for sure, it is that sort of a morning!

its funny how subjective and contextual the experience of music can sometimes become. there is this sublime music by keith jarrett that i first heard in my iit days - its a solo concert now known simply as the "koln concert". it is an inspired improvised piano playing of breathtaking lyricism and i haven't been alone in loving it, millions have. just one little twist. i loved the album so much that over time it became my "healing" music for my migraine headaches. the music spoke to my migraine, soothed it, eased it back to where it came from. it worked so well that it became a simple equation - have migraine, play the koln concert! so far so good. however it has become so associated with the headaches that anytime i play the koln concert shobhana becomes immediately concerned - "you have a migraine?" and even i begin wondering, maybe i do have a migraine, after all i am listening to the koln concert! these relationships, they can get so complicated - even with music! and poor keith jarrett, i bet he never even in his wildest fancies imagined that one day he would become a substitute for zandu balm :-)

its a lovely morning here in ettimadai. the air flowing gentle and that pleasant kind of cool, and my annamalai mountain has disappeared it seems but i know better - its just having an intense morning conversation with its old friend, the mist. i often wonder what is it that they talk about every morning for they can sometimes disappear together for hours :-) maybe they are doing more than just talking!

its a lovely morning and the school bus just rolled in and the earth is sivamani once more with the exuberant sounds of all those tiny feet rushing (or dragged :-) to the their daily appointed destiny. ah that pitter patter...such excitement! and out here at home, pandit bhimsen joshi joins me in relishing the sounds of sant keshavadas singing an exquisite bhajan by sant tulasidas - a bhajan where sage vashishta wakes up the young child sri rama by describing the sights and sounds of the forest welcoming the morning. its another one of my "favorite" much replayed songs - yes the very same ones that get shobhana to think - o its that sort of a morning!

so what sort of a morning is it really? its that sort of a monday morning where the collective weight of deeds unfinished last week ("grading"!) has brought such peace to the mind that i cant really think of anything! except that its the right time to welcome piet hein and his delicious grooks to the monday morning club. as with keith jarrett i had discovered the poetry of piet hein (poet/scientist/architect/artist - a legend in denmark) during my iit days. and its been a treasure thats stayed with me ever since. god bless the grooks of piet hein, and he wrote hundreds! what is a grook anyway you say. well, you decide! i'll begin my sampling of grooks with my all time favourite - "the egocentrics". what a grook!

The Egocentrics People are self-centered to a nauseous degree. They will keep on about themselves while I'm explaining me.

Nothing Is Indispensable : Grook to Warn the Universe against Megalomania

The universe may

be as great as they say.

But it wouldn't be missed

if it didn't exist.

Consolation Grook

Losing one glove is certainly painful, but nothing compared to the pain, of losing one, throwing away the other, and finding the first one again.

The Only Solution We shall have to evolve problem-solvers galore — since each problem they solve creates ten problems more. Good Advice Shun advice at any price - that's what I call good advice. Lest Fools Should Fail True wisdom knows it must comprise some nonsense as a compromise, lest fools should fail to find it wise.

Problems

Problems worthy of attack prove their worth by hitting back. The Eternal Twins

Taking fun as simply fun and earnestness in earnest shows how thoroughly thou none of the two discernest. Those Who Know

Those who always

know what's best

are

a universal pest.

The Paradox Of Life A bit beyond perception's reach I sometimes believe I see that Life is two locked boxes, each containing the other's key. Look And Thou Shalt Find Foes of what's cooking see no worth behind it. Those that are looking for nothing — will find it. The Me Above The Me Giving in is no defeat. Passing on is no retreat. Selves are made to rise above. You shall live in what you love. Memento Vivere Love while you've got love to give. Live while you've got life to live.

nine am. gentle strains of carnatic music coming from a neighbour's house, the hot fresh canteen tea beckoning me to asb, the mountain and the mist still at it and grooks on my mind. if you gave me a week filled with these, i'd grab it! may it be such a week :-)

much love,

d&s

monday asura mardhini

the winter evenings of delhi. bus rides to nowhere just to stand at the back of dtc buses and exult as the cold air slapped the face, eyes shining even as the tears streamed down. winter nights, the freezing bicycle ride back to the iit hostels from chanakya cinema, fingers numb, ears frozen, and the promise of hot paranthas at kishen lal's propelling the bicycle hostelwards. that and the song of winter pounding on the heart. rewind a few more years and i am a boy once again, scampering excitedly from ground to ground, excited as a puppy for it is dussera evening and ravana is about to receive his comeuppance in a thousand different places across the city. all those home made ravanas and the home made arrows and the desperate prayers that the twain meet! we made and dispatched our ravanas too. and to our eyes they were bigger and better than anyone else's, never mind their tenuous relationship with the wind or ours with the fire that was supposed to bring on the grand finale :-) delhi during dussera. it were not only the magnificent multi-headed ravanas but also the lilas that launched the celebrations. you have not really experienced dussera if you have not experienced the ram lila productions, big or small :-) how to explain the emotions and the acting, that dialogue delivery, and those battles,,,just to have go there and experience it i say! foggy winter evenings, much drama and theatre, the cosy companionship of chana and peanuts, and the promised warmth of good's triumph over evil - it was a good life that :-) and then fast forward a little and its durga puja time in kolkatta - my second winter at iim - and that momentous decision to stay back and experience kolkatta during the durga puja vacation. inspired call! jam packed buses that ferried you to behala from joka, extreme intimacy in the trams and the minibuses that took you to the city, and then the tide of humanity that swept you in its wake in the city of joy, unabashedly expressing its joy. what an experience! what joy! and what beauties :-) pandal upon pandal, mishti upon mishti, beauty upon beauty - you had no choice but to surrender to it all, and happily so :-) and then the return to a quiet and empty campus with nothing to do but to drink some strong tea and laze in the winter sun. that was a good life too :-) you really lean on that fast forward button and you find yourself in ettimadai. its a saturday night and your neighbours have called you to see their "golus" - at one level an exhibition of dolls and figurines in odd numbered tiers - but to those who have put them together so much more. so many stories the golus tell - of the gods and the goddesses, and of love and devotion. a seventy plus mother whose golus we see every year. each year a different arrangement, a different theme, but the same child like enthusiasm when she (and her husband) explain the golu to us. this saturday evenings visits to little gayathri and sundari maam's homes were memorable too. magnificent golu arrangements, great prasad, an impromptu music concert, and some lovely stories. "this patram is more than hundred years old. my mother used it in her golus too." "i was planning to put a little motor under the serpent's hoods so that when it moved it would appear as if krishna was dancing on top..." how much love, how much pride behind the golus :-) one festival. so many ways to celebrate! and such heartfelt celebration! that is india :-) and beneath it all one message - the triumph of light over darkness, of truth over untruth, of good over evil. for this time's poem we travel to a small village in bengal where one of its beloved saint poets from the eighteenth century, ramprasad sen, is busy doing what he loved to do best - pouring his heart out to ma kali :-) A Country Fair Drive me out of my mind, O Mother! What use is esoteric knowledge Or philosophical knowledge Transport me totally with the burning wine Of your all-embracing love. Mother of mystery, who imbues with mystery The hearts of those who love you, Immerse me irretrievably In the stormy ocean without boundary, Pure love, pure love, pure love. Wherever your lovers reside Appears like a madhouse To common perception. Some are laughing with your freedom, Others weep tears of your tenderness, Still others dance, whirling with your bliss. Even your devoted Gautama, Moses, Krishna, Jesus, Nanak and Muhammad Are lost in the rapture of pure love. This poet stammers, Overcome with longing: "When? When? When? When will I be granted companionship With her intense lovers?" Their holy company is heavenly A country fair for those mad with love Where every distinction Between master and disciple Disappears Their love of love sings: "Mother! Mother! Mother! Who can fathom your mystery, Your eternal play of love with love? You are divine madness, O goddess, Your love the brilliant crown of madness, Please make this poor poet madly wealthy With the infinite treasure of your love - Ramprasad From: Gospel Of Ramakrishna pure love, pure love, pure love. that is a life too :-) may it be ours to live even if for this week :-) happy bijoy dashami! much love, d&s

the monday express

"pintu uncle" the voice floated across from somewhere behind me as i commenced my morning walk to my office today. "pintu uncle" and my heart skipped a beat for i knew that when i turned around there'd be rishi smiling broadly from his verandah across the road. that signature mop of hair, the big bright face, and that smile which lights up his whole body, all two plus years of it. i have no idea why he decided my name was henceforth going to be "pintu uncle" but i sure am glad he did for when those words rings out from across the road my world stops. and gently melts :-) what a smile, and what unabashed unhesitant expressiveness. and i begin daydreaming once again about that newspaper notice i've been thinking about - "from henceforth i shall be known as pintu uncle. signed, deepak gupta!" used to be the same with my neighbour gokul's kid - karthik. no he didn't call me pintu uncle but when he smiled he didn't just relax his lips he smiled from the bottom of his toes to the tip of his hair. his whole body was part of his communication, it literally shook with happiness when he was happy. (and probably broke your heart with its silence when he was upset). there was a brief period when he was very happy to see us. what a heart warming smile we'd be greeted with, it just dissolved everything - all our tensions, cribs and pre-occupations. you just wanted to bathe in the sweetness of that moment. and then i remember my nephews were growing up. two specific memories. one when a friend of mine arun (who my entire family was very fond of) was fooling around with the elder one vinay (i think) in front of a mirror and suddenly drew a mustache on vinay's upper lip. it was such a seamless transformation from a happy giggling to a loud wail - when my nephew suddenly saw his mustachioed face in the mirror. no gap, no transition, no thought process, just pure unedited expression! i also remember a nursery rhyme my younger nephew arjun used to recite with great emotion upon a little coaxing (i used to hang him upside down till he recited it :-) "baby baby dont you cly momma making apple pie papa catching buttle fly!" and then one day it was "baby baby dont you cry..." he had grown up, learnt languange. i stopped hanging him upside down after that :-) now hes six feet something, speaks multiple languages, is a jazz musician, an entrepreneur, and does weights (at least once every couple of years!). probably not a good idea trying to hang him upside down again :-) karthik next door now speaks at least three languages fluently - malyalam, tamil, and english. in fact we've heard him begin a sentence in one language, switch to the second, and finish it in the third (in a manner of speaking :-) once again, seamlessly, without any gap or hesitation, instantaneous "code switching" :-) but he smiles differently now :-) rishi's wasn't my only expressive encounter of the morning. there's a golden retriever whose house falls on my path too. its a big house with a big compound and while he can walk free within the premises, there is this compund wall and wire mesh that separate him from the external world. so this is what we do instead. he jumps on the ledge of the wall and sits on one corner and i squeeze my fingers between the mesh holes and pat him or rub his nose or generally express my happiness at seeing him. how blissful he looks, eyes closed, just lapping it all up :-) paisa absolutely vasool for those few moments of stopping by! makes me remember the welcome our dog simba in delhi used to give us when we arrived on our semi annual trips. absolute undiluted emotion! didn't need anybody else's welcome after that :-) or the welcome i saw my cousin soman's cousin's boxer dusty give him on a trip to kochi many years ago - every inch of dusty's body spoke - "i am happy to see you!" it does something to you - such pure expression of joy or sadness. it fills you up, it cleanses you, it liberates you - even if for just a bit. and not a single word need be spoken. and the difference between the dogs and us is that simba remained expressive right to his last days while arjun and vinay (and all of us) we "grow" up. and thats why the thought always comes to me - why do we lose this purity of expression when we grow up, is it necessary, is it inevitable? can we not keep both - the languages of expression, and the expression that transcends language? rishi too will magically add to his vocabulary in the coming years, learn multiple languages too. and he too, probably, will learn to smile differently, and to call me "deepak uncle". i guess all i wanted to tell rishi is, its alright, dont be in a hurry to learn my "real" name. "pintu uncle" sounds just fine to me. and will remain so, for a lifetime if you would so chose :-) for this weeks poetry we turn to one of the purest, and most expressive forms of poetry i have come across - the haikus. the haikus, when they work, are pure expression personified. this week's haikus were mailed to me by my friend bhaani - friend, as i have mentioned before, since she was two (and now on her way to college :-), and a wonderful poet. this is what bhaani had written to me some months ago: Deepak Uncle, Here is the most recent poem that I have written so far. It's actually a compilation of 10 original haikus! They are all about the experience of Japanese-American internees who were forced to remain in American camps during World War Two. Unfair Air Prejudiced treatment – Compassion destroyed amongst Trees of dark and hate Unheard voices cry, Longing to attain freedom. Echoes mixed with mud. River cries the song Of agony and anguish. Rain craves liberty. Tears of innocence Flow into the Sea of Pleas , Asking for one's rights. Wind asks for safety Breeze asks for liberation Intern still not freed Humanity seems To be lost. Love no longer Visible on Earth. United States Of America , listen to Air of salvation Snow and sleet beg for A visit to the Garden Of Empathy now Camps are unjust and Put good people in peril. Heavens want them freed. Face towards the sky. Let the drizzle of dear love Fall on our nation -Bhaani "face towards the sky. let the drizzle of dear love fall on our nation" just beautiful bhaani! may your heart never ever close to what love is telling you, and may your expressions grow stronger and purer still:-) well its lunch time on a monday and my stomach is strongly expressing a particularly familiar emotion :-) time to pay it attention and heres to a week fully lived and fully expressed! much love, d&s

you see its a monday

when you meet him you are reminded of the characters so evocatively sketched by enid blyton in the books you so hungrily read in the early years when the written word first began to weave its magic on you. enid blyton whose name i could have sworn was gnid blyton, or perhaps even charles dickens about whose name i was less confused. authors who created memorable characters who throbbed with character and personality and flesh and blood and idiosyncrasy - way more attractive than the cardboard chocolate talk dark and handsome types of the mills and boons novels :-) and never boring - not a millimeter, not a second, not a bit! a sun burnt white skin, crinkly eyes, that pixie like face ever ready to break out into a smile, that ready wit and the unfathomable gigabytes of interesting facts and wisdom that he so adroitly hides away beneath his gentle exterior. till you ask him a question! it begins gently, unassumingly, usually prefaced by a "you see". "you see..." and then the ocean opens up its depths and the most amazing insights and stories flow. the perspective always fresh and unexpected, the stories personal and original, the wit buoyant and easy, and beneath it all, a message deep as the ocean that released it. no matter what the question is - it is always rewarding to seek him out and say "arunji, what do you think of...". there is this brief pause while the universe accesses its hard drives, and then the flow begins - "you see..." :-) his parents named him oscar and he says he came to ettimadai from sweden more than a decade ago "to spend a few months". just as i had gone to berkeley to finish my phd and be back in "a few months" (ok, i had predicted three years to be precise :-) how thoroughly wonderfully wrong we both were! its been such a long "few months" that oscar has long been forgotten and the world has gained instead the very lovable, and more indian than most of us, "e m arunji" christened e m for his passionate devotion to the message and possibilities of effective microorganisms ("e m"). he is the "e m ambassador" at large for the amrita institutions and shobhana and i always wait for the times when he is in the ettimadai campus. for then it is time to share meals with arunji and say "arunji, what do you think of...." and then sit back and wait for "you see..." :-) he is also visiting faculty at large for our courses in asb. invite him for any class and he brings that fresh ocean with him. students from my "innovation" class last year will know what i am talking about - arunji was just the most enthusiastic (and possibly well informed) student in class. "arunji, how do you know so much?!" "you see..." you probe a bit and you slowly begin to discover that arunji has seen more and done more in this lifetime than most do in several. he's climbed trees in cuba, practiced agriculture and the "revolution" in latin america and africa, studied in the US (cornell university, university) and worked in europe, developed many skills and practiced multiple professions, and the ocean still carries him, just that its the indian ocean now :-) i am afraid i am not really doing arunji justice. maybe its tough for anyone to do him justice :-) you see (:-) it is tough to describe the "you see", you have to experience it! tough to describe it, and even tougher to capture it! the wit and the wisdom flow a mile a minute. for the past many months shobhana and have been like "wow! must immediately write this down!" but this is ghajini's memory i bear, with more sieves than sticky spots and by the time i reach home, too much has flown through the cracks, including the wisecracks :-) perhaps that is the way it is meant to be. a font of ever fresh knowledge, only to be experienced live and fresh! still i was not known as "little bull" in my childhood for nothing! i don't give up easy and here i go again trying to share that delightful, unforgettable "arunji experience". these snippets are from half an hour we spent with him today, sharing some lovely mess food and "you see..." "arunji, would you like to have some curd?" "no, you see i am going easy on milk products these days. as you get older it gets tougher to digest milk" "but why arunji, why?!" "you see, cow milk was designed for babies, baby cows to be precise." "you mean arunji cow milk was not designed for adult human consumption?" "you see that's like saying that human milk was designed for adult animal consumption" "oh!" "you see there are many cultures which lack the enzymes necessary to break down and digest the milk, and milk can almost be toxic for them..." then we stepped out after lunch and noticed that large ditches that had been dug up in many places. large trenches with some cables running thru them. "arunji, what is this?" "oh you see i think its the information technology department laying out the optic network. the campus brain is meeting the campus drain and soon we are going to have brain drain on campus!" a little while later, inspired by the trees on campus - "you see trees are wonderful to live on. there was even this european nobleman who set his home on the trees in his forest. in fact when napoleon was to pass through his territory on his way to hungary he made special arrangements (to climb the trees i presume) so that he could meet with this nobleman!" "oh!" as we proceeded further, remarking on the fact that many have been enlightened under trees. "you see, the trees are verily water pumps, they have this upward energy, magnetic fields that naturally aid the upward flow of prana..." these words don't really convey the ease and the beauty of the flow, but they do give a glimpse and they are the best i can recollect :-) once you start paying attention you realize that there is much wisdom that is being transmitted here, so effortlessly being delivered through that electric wit and humor. and without the slightest hint of artifice. shobhana and i have often remarked about arunji's sponteniety, how he comes closest to the definition of "nisarga" or natural that we have known. shobhana loves inviting arunji home to share food with for there is just no one who enjoys and unhesitantly appreciates her food as arunji ("uttamam!") "the best cafe in town," as he is fond of describing her kitchen. and i have never forgotten the abandon with which arunji suddenly got up and danced to "guantanamera" one night during dinner. such joy in that dance! made him lead my innovation thru a group dance to the same song :-) once again i am not suggesting that arunji does not have his doubts, or does not go thru his ups and downs, or is always on top of the world. but he does dance to a different beat ("you see, i once got a speeding ticket in sweden for going too fast on my bicycle!") and its been an utter joy and privilege to have heard some of that music too :-) thank you arunji! and the poem for this week? you see, that is where the whole story began. many moons ago, alka had emailed me this lovely lovely poem My Ancestral Home by Louis Jenkins We came to a beautiful little farm. From photos I'd seen I knew this was the place. The house and barn were painted in the traditional Falu red, trimmed with white. It was nearly mid- summer, the trees and grass, lush green, when we arrived the family was gathered at a table on the lawn for coffee and fresh strawberries. Introductions were made all around, Grandpa Sven, Lars-Olaf and Marie, Eric and Gudren, Cousin Inge and her two children… It made me think of a Carl Larsson painting. But, of course, it was all modern, the Swedes are very up-to- date, Lars-Olaf was an engineer for Volvo, and they all spoke perfect English, except for Grandpa, and there was a great deal of laughter over my attempts at Swedish. We stayed for a long time laughing and talking, It was late in the day, but the sun was still high. I felt a won- derful kinship. It seemed to me that I had known these people all my life, they even looked like family back in the States. But as it turned out, we had come to the wrong farm. Lars-Olaf said, "I think I know your people, they live about three miles from here. If you like I could give them a call." I said that no, it wasn't necessary, this was close enough. "My Ancestral Home" by Louis Jenkins, from European Shoes. © Will O' the Wisp Books, 2008. what a beautiful poem! "so, arunji, are all swedes like this? how did you like the poem" "well, you see, this poem was probably written in summer!" "in summer? why do you say so, arunji" "you see, it is true that we swedes are gentle people and in summer when the sun is shining and the flowers and fruits are in blossom, life can feel like this. but give a few months of the winter cold and those long dark days..." "oh!" well the sun is smiling bright this five pm, the breeze blows cool, the birds are still chirping, and somewhere on this campus arunji is tending to matters e m. in moments like this it does seem that things are alright with this world, all is in fact quite well. i know that "this too shall pass" but may this be a long long spell! here's to a wonderful week :-) much love, d&s

it's your monday mother

amma's birthday, the mist cool on the mountains, and a soft rain falling. some mondays are born like this. thought that this mail would be written in yercaud where the poppies are in a glorious yellow bloom and the rainy sunny crispness of the air dispels all gloom. but as always life had its own plans and so its on the west coast express i type this email finally, on our return journey home, somewhere between tirupur and coimbatore, the breeze still cool and the "where is my monday morning email" emails beginning to trickle in :-) its ammas birthday and out there in amritapuri the air will be so very festive. somehow the heart of that little piece of land by the arabian sea will expand to accommodate lakhs of people, all of whom will have to be fed, and amma may be hugging people for hours together, sometimes almost a day nonstop. a mother's love pushing the boundaries of the human body miles beyond what it can normally endure, a heart too soft to say no to the smallest of its creatures expanding to hold an entire world in its embrace. they say that swami sivananda, after finally relenting and allowing public celebrations of his birthday, would be the one at the forefront of the celebrations, the life of the party so to say. he who had no need for any birthday party. she who has no need for our hugs. such are the ways of these saints :-) its ammas birthday and i am reminded of two beautiful darshans in the past year. its also an opportune moment to fulfill a commitment i had made in one of the early monday morning emails - to tell the story of what happened when i took the "road not taken" one day on campus. there are some out there who i am sure have not forgotten that promise :-) it was a beautiful evening like many at ettimadai, the sun gently setting on a quiet day. there was a rumor that amma may be making a stop at ettimadai on her way to coimbatore but i was not part of it. taking the temple road to asb i ran into prof sriram, a friend from the chemical engineering department. "amma's in the campus and she may be doing a special satsang for the brahmacharis by the swimming pool." "should we try our luck?" "why not?!" in general the access to amma when she is on campus is restricted (else there would be chaos) as is the access to the brahmachari satsangs. had never managed to gatecrash one before! it was a long shot but we were game to take the road not normally taken by us. and it was like a magical dream! it was as if we had turned invisible for the gatekeepers and all the gates kept opening and before we knew we were by the swimming pool, pinching ourselves and quietly waiting. the evening session that followed with amma was one of the most beautiful i had encountered. you can imagine the setting, amma and her brahmacharis sitting by the water, the sun bathing the mountains in its golden hue. there was a relaxed intimacy, many jokes, much teasing and laughter, some lovely singing, so much love :-) was reminded of descriptions of the evenings at dakshineshwar when ramakrishna parmahansa relaxed with his beloved "naren" and naren's gurubhais - once again the sublime teachings, the easy laughter, the sun setting on the hooghly in the background, the soulful singing, and an air electric with a love divine. must have been the same at the divine life society by the banks of the river ganges in rishikesh, where swami sivananda was so lovingly molding his young group of future world teachers. how beautiful are these intimate moments with the gurus. just got a brief glimpse of it that evening but it filled the heart :-) the other darshan was in circumstances far more sombre when shobhana and i had accompanied our (then) first year mba students to amritapuri. one of their seniors had just passed away in unfortunate circumstances (indhu - i have written about her earlier) and they were deeply traumatized. nothing the authorities did seemed to ease their pain. we'd arrived on a non darshan day, amma was about to depart for trivandrum and it wasn't even clear whether the students would be able to meet amma. when suddenly the word came - amma had made herself available for a special impromptu darshan by her home - just for the students. she delayed her departure by, i dont know, maybe an hour and sat with the students just listening, absorbing every bit of their sorrow. every kind of question was entertained, respectfully heard, and gently responded to. there was both gravity and deep love in what she said. "i have never seen her eyes so dark and deep" i remember thinking. just a little "quality" time and it made a world of a difference to all of us. yet another valuable lesson in how love can heal :-) the saints such as amma truly dont need anything from us. nor do they need to prove anything to us. they could probably spend their entire time blissed out in solitary contemplation. yet they care so much. rama mata, yet another saint who has graced shobhana and my lives, truly doesn't need to tell us that she loves us. yet she does. why they care so much is a mystery. and like all mysteries divine - why ask why, just soak in it and sigh :-) this mondays poem is a song that was crafted from a speech that amma gave a few years ago. a beautiful poignant glimpse into the heart of love. and an unforgettable statement on the world we have created for ourselves. Everyone in the world Everyone in the world should sleep without fear. At least for one night, sleep without fear. Everyone in the world should eat to their fill. At least for one day, eat to their fill. There should be one day when there is no violence, No one is injured, no one is harmed. All people young and old should serve the poor and needy. At least for one day, serve selflessly. This is my dream; this is my prayer. Love is the answer; Love is the way. its past midnight and i'm finishing this mail from the warm comforts of my home thinking love is truly the answer. may it always shine a light on our way. and may we share it with others as fearlessly, fully and beautifully as amma does. for that truly is the message her life is giving us. may it be such a week :-) much love, d&s

--
With Regards,
Inbarajan S
Mob: 98868 66636

..........my kind of mondays

it's an annual ritual - taking the first year mba students to amritapuri in kerala for amma's darshan. i haven't always tagged along, this time i did, and was so glad that i did :-) the elements of the trip are simple. you hop onto a campus bus and are driven across state borders from tamil nadu to kerala, reach amritapuri late night or early morning, shackup in some dorm or big room, wakeup, get ready, have breakfast, and then line up for darshan tokens. darshan happens - it could take time but it will happen, you eat, wander around a bit, its the night of the next day and time to hop onto the buses again for the return trip - another eight hours or so sitting thru the night in a modestly comfortable bus. the trip is a choice so every year a different proportion comes - this year around half the batch showed up. these are the facts. so far so good! the rest of course is an interpretation, a subjective experience, so i'll tell you mine :-) it was early morning on a holiday friday we left and most of the day was spent in a small bus, and yet it was one joyous ride. there was live music (some wonderful flute playing by sudershan, a first year mba from mysore), there was live singing (antakshani), there was a lot of teasing and bantering going around, and there were the dumb charades - where i discovered that no matter how obscure the movie is that you conjure up from the dark depths of your mind, there's some student who has seen it (probably late night on his laptop :-) a tough battle it was! the hours just flew by, literally. and there was almost a tinge of sadness when the bus finally slowed down :-). the amritapuri experience was another happy blur. the accommodation was luxurious by earlier standards (the boys actually got bunk beds), the boys surprisingly well behaved (to my utter shock they were all actually up bathed and ready by six am!), the place peacefully uncrowded (by normal standards :-), the food plentiful, diverse, and much imbibed, and ammas darshan especially sweet :-). and the morning bore with it a beautiful gift - live ganesh chaturthi celebrations with the ashrams resident elephants :-) in between we all wandered, shopped, explored the different nooks & corners of the ashram, and attended a fired up q&a session with nijamritaji, and ate! soon we were back in the bus, heading in the opposite direction this time - homewards bound :-) it was a long night, the seats were cramped, there were breakdowns - still the journey felt as light hearted as the earlier morning one. once again it was the cheerful energy and light hearted banter among the students (and sudershan's flute) that kept us buoyant. after the trip i was reflecting on how much care is taken by someone somewhere to ensure that the students are least inconvenienced - the buses, the snacks and water thoughtfully provided, the lunch stop at our medical campus in cochin, the accomodation at amritapuri, the mess food for those who want it, and arranging a special darshan for all the students together. someone is putting all of this together - and for free :-) and the other thought i had was about the darshans with amma - no matter who you are and how many times you've been hugged by her - she makes each time feel so special :-) there is no sinner in her heart and in her arms, all get that full hearted and deeply compassionate attention. how does she do it?! there is a common thread that runs thru the many stories i have told thru these mails. about my father, about that peanut seller on my train journeys to palghat, about the american professors i wrote about last time, and every experience with the saints such as amma - it's a particular feeling, a particular experience, a particular receiving, and for want of a better word (for words cannot really capture the feeling) i will call it - the experience of kindness. like love, i am not able to really describe what i mean when i say kindness but i sure do know when i am receiving it :-) there is gentleness there, there is a loving attention, there is the sense that your existence and concerns are as precious to them as those of their own children, and what remains in you is a light hearted song that the sun is truly shining in your world, all is well with it - someone truly cares :-) and it makes all the difference. so many reminders that how you say (and do) something matters so much more than what you say :-) i mean its not that my "issues" will be solved overnight. still, the heart feels so much lighter, and life so much more worth living. what a gift! probably no spiritual tradition has dwelt more on the joys of this "loving-kindness" than buddhism. and who better than his holiness the dalai lama to headline this weeks poem. he of that incredibly kind face and ever laughing eyes, a living inspiration to millions :-) Loving Kindness Right from the moment of our birth, we are under the care and kindness of our parents and then later on in our life when we are oppressed by sickness and become old, we are again dependent on the kindness of others. since at the beginning and end of our lives we are so dependent on other's kindness, how can it be that in the middle we neglect kindness towards others? H,H, The XIVth Dalai Lama its been a glorious weather day; very quiet too, with no classes and no meetings (:-); the afterglow of the trip still remains, and my fingers dance carefree to the beautiful melodies of the old hindi songs that play as i type this email - just my kind of a monday! heres to a week just like that - beautiful, joyful and kindful :-) much love, d&s

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With Regards,
Inbarajan S
Mob: 98868 66636

the mondays we wake up grateful

she was young, pretty, warm and my first crush in junior school. and probably for many others too. in the morning assembly at school when we were all 'thanking god for his glory', a few of us sneaked in little thanks too for our biology teacher "mrs flory" :-) there are many other teachers from those days at st xaviers that come to mind. some for their gentle beauty, others for their strict discipline - and almost all for the strong foundations they laid in our lives - both in the subjects they taught, and as future adults. that some of us have steadfastly resisted that latter tag is of course another story :-) and then there were the padres, they of much gravitas and the "pink" and "grey" cards- how much we feared an "invitation" to their offices! they did create some great institutions of learning, the jesuits. i have already talked about my mother and father before. what i may not have mentioned is what they taught me together - how strong and beautiful a relationship based on a mutual love and respect could be. how much they loved each other :-) and what a powerful positive example they set for us. the iit days are a blur of extra-curricular activities and studiously avoiding the chemical engineering department :-) but how can one forget prof amar of the chemical engg design class fame - quirky, infamously strict, and actually successful at making us learn! my fondest memories are of course of the teachers and classes outside the "department" - i especially remember prof vn arora and his class in english classics. read, discussed, and enjoyed many authors i may have never touched otherwise - thomas hardy and his "jude the obscure" being point in case. it was a "brave new world" that prof arora led us into. the good prof looked, loved, and felt like ernest hemingway - not a boring moment in that class! he later got passionate about something else - vipassana meditation - just an alien word for me those days, and whose beauty and wealth i understood only decades later :-) berkeley was a discovery in so many ways - including the joy with which some serious pedagogy can be delivered. there is an entire generation of american professors who has retired or is about to do so - and they represented the best of what the teaching profession has to offer. outstanding scholarship, terrific teaching, and a genuine caring and concern for their students. it was a privilege to be taught or mentored by some of them. I remember prof george akerlof, a nobel prize winner in economics - how simple he made the most demanding concepts look. what i remember even more is the friendliness and openness he and his wife janet yellen - another celebrated professor in economics - would greet shobhana and i some mornings at a cafe we all used to frequent. then there was prof daniel mcfadden another nobel prize winner in economics who upon winning the nobel prize announced his delight that he finally he had some money to invest on his farm! unforgettable characters, wonderful human beings, fundamentally humble, and so gentle and approachable. they taught me what true greatness was. as did my later mentors maresi and dean joe cerny teach me what it meant to care for your students. berkeley was also where i discovered the immense spiritual heritage that is the inheritance of all of us and re-discovered my indian roots. walked with kirtana into a yoga class "to deal with all that phd stress" and was never able to leave :-) i remember the first year when my teacher sent me home with book after book, till it was a veritable leaning tower of pisa and in desperation i actually picked up a book to read. bad move! its been fifteen years and i am still devouring the books :-) what a joy it was, in the arid world of academics, to discover the liberating clarity of a ramana maharishi, the joyous humour of papa ramdas, the love immersed hari kathas of sant keshavadas, the immense compassion of thich naht hahn, the earthy honesty of achan chah or the searing fire of a nisargadatta maharaj! these saints verily gave my meandering life a new meaning and joy and the debt i owe my yoga teacher - hari charan, he of jamaican origins and a great spiritual thirst - is incalculable too. and here at amrita we learn daily from the most mischievous and endearing of the teachers we have had - our students! almost anything i do well, i have met someone here who does it far better! and yet how much love and respect they have given us - far in excess of what we have deserved. some of the messages they left on teachers day yesterday were so touching, in some sense heart breaking - because they reminded me of the beauty of these simplest of gestures that i have never shown to my own teachers. there are some things i need to do this year, and their vital importance i have learnt only from these young loving teachers of ours :-) this weeks poetry is a double header again - the yin and yang of what teachers mean to students! lovely poems :-) When You Thought I Wasn't Looking When you thought I wasn't looking, you displayed my first report, and I wanted to do another. When you thought I wasn't looking, you fed a stray cat, and I thought it was good to be kind to animals. When you thought I wasn't looking, you gave me a sticker, and I knew that things were special things. When you thought I wasn't looking, you put your arm around me, and I felt loved. When you thought I wasn't looking I saw tears come from your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things hurt--but that it's all right to cry. When you thought I wasn't looking, you smiled, and it made me want to look that pretty too. When you thought I wasn't looking, you cared, and I wanted to be everything I could be. When you thought I wasn't looking--I looked...and wanted to say thanks for all those things you did when you thought I wasn't looking. - Mary Rita Schilke Korzan Where do all the teachers go? Where do all the teachers go When its four o'clock? Do they live in houses And do they wash their socks? Do they wear pajamas? And do they watch TV? And do they pick their noses The same as you and me? Do they live with other people Have they mums and dads? And were they ever children And were they ever bad? Did they ever, never spell right Did they ever make mistakes? Were they punished in the corner If they pinched the chocolate flakes? Did they ever lose their hymn books Did they ever leave their greens? Did they ever scribble on the desktop Did they wear old dirty jeans? I'll follow one back home today I'll find out what they do Then I'll put it in a poem That they can read to you. - Peter Dixon the teachers and their students! perhaps it is true that all our lives we live both roles. when i look at myself, i marvel at the distance i have yet to cover to be good at either! this road may be long but the spirit is strong and the love and blessings of so many are the winds behind our sails. you've been warned before, yet you asked for more, so welcome to yet another edition of those monday "morning" mails! much love, d&s