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Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Blast from the past

Drifting away into never never land right after lunch while Geography ma’am would drone about crops grown in various continents. Snatching a bite from your classmates lunch box, especially when seated at the famed back benches. Passing chits around the classroom. Memories of many more such school time mischiefs bring a smile on our faces. However, what really made me smile today was the memory of a poem we learnt at school. Little did I think that remembering something I studied at school would give me such pleasure… Here is what brought the smile…

“Nav Kiran ka Raath saja hai
Kali kusum se path saja hai
Badalon se aanucharon ne,swarn ki poosak dhari
Aa rahi Ravi ki sawari

Vihag bandi aur charan
Ga rahe kirti gayan
Chood kar maidan bhagi, Tarkoon ki fauj saari
Aa rahi Ravi ki sawari

Chahata uchloon vijay kah
Par thithakta dekh kar yeh
Raat ka raja khada hai, rah par ban kar bhikhari
Aa rahi Ravi ki sawari”

What a wonderful poem by Sri Harivansh Rai Bachchan ji. I’ve always been inspired by his writing- extremely empowering, profoundly deep thoughts, fantastic language, brilliant meter and rhythm. 🙂

While I relive in the memories of this poem and many more… you feast your literary senses 🙂

Posted in Aa rahi ravi ki sawari, Harivansh Rai Bachchan, hindi poetry, school memories | Leave a comment

Tera Main…

Bangalore in the month of May, over a decade ago. A cobbled winding pathway guarded by lush green trees in full bloom. The silver of the moonlight meandering and finding it’s way through the thick canopy. A cool breeze bringing with it the smell of damp soil. About 50 people dressed in crisp whites standing on either side of the pathway holding candles. A sense of anticipation, peace, excitement and joy in the air. A smile on every face and a song on each lip. Even as my eyes feasted on this sight (something that even personalized private paid holidays cant always create) I saw a petite figure in flowing white robes glide along the path, we were standing. There was a smile for everyone, a pat, some flowers and love that was freely oozing for all to soak into. The whole event lasted no more than 2 minutes, but left a lasting and deep impression in my heart.

The silence of the night was quickly broken as the group jolted to follow the man in white flowing robes, with a twinkle in his eyes and smile on his lips… I was in all senses an outsider (it was my first time at that place and with these people in white) but something inside me propelled me to join the group into the hall. It was the first time that I had stumbled across the phenomenon known as Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and little did I know that I was soon to be swept off my feet straight into a whirlwind of knowledge, love and life.

Read the rest of my post on The South Reports. Await your comments and views 🙂 

Posted in Art of Living, Guru, love, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji | Leave a comment

Played out Live

(This is my first attempt at short story writing… wrote this a while ago but posted it only now. Would love to hear from you about this attempt)
She was wailing outside; she and the rest of the women in the neighborhood. He heard the cameras flash- the 3rd time in 3 months. He was sick of it. He had participated in the drama playing out on Television sets twice before- hoping that someone would hear. He had enough of this. He would not go out. He wasn’t the only one, those news hounds would find many like him in the neighborhood. Yet they kept coming back to him- he was the only English speaking person in the village. They needed him.
The wounds were still fresh. Tears would well up naturally. But his grief was his own. He wouldn’t let this become entertainment for others. It was about 5 years ago, yet he remembered it like it was yesterday. He was 15 yr old – his father had taken another wife- his step mother, young and beautiful- less than half his father’s age. Not that the old man was a lecher, but he needed the money- dowry was the only way he could make up for all that he had drowned in illicit liquor desi daru. Habit could be a life taker he realized, when his father couldn’t stay away from alcohol in spite of the young and beautiful wife. Only last month, his father had gone out to have his evening drink- the draught notwithstanding, their little savings were lavishly given away at the local wine shop. He never came back. The next morning, the health officials found out that the liquor was contaminated. 40 men (over half the earning population of the village) had succumbed. Ever since, the media onslaught had only increased.
It had been a month. He had moved on. It wasn’t only about his father’s death. This year, mother earth had been cruel. No rains, no water, only dry barren and parched land; tilled land that couldn’t be sowed. He knocked on every door possible to get some help- some water. If this crop failed, he was doomed. The family was doomed. If they couldn’t repay the landlord, life as they knew it would crumble. He only wished that they women in the neighborhood used their endless tears to water the fields instead of entertain the camera. But he knew better.
He beat his hands against the faded blue wall of the only bedroom in their home. Then, almost as a revelation, he knew what he needed to do to stop the impending disaster. He knew this plan wouldn’t fail. The media would get their meat. His family would get the money. His sister could get married and not be ravaged. All would be right. With a smile, almost of relief, he opened the door and walked past the media and the chest beating women. He walked into the empty granary. 2 hours later when he didn’t walk out, the women went to check on him and found him lying on the floor, convulsed in pain. He knew he didn’t have time. Consuming the pesticide was fatal. He knew that the consequence of this last action would bring relief and solace to his family- he smiled and whispered in a raspy voice “farmer suicide…. Draught…. government… Compen…ssaaaaa….tion.” Then, with a gasp that betrayed the trauma and distress he had been through he lay peacefully in deaths powerful grasp.
Posted in death, depression, draught, famer suicide, media glare, paparazzi, suicide | Leave a comment

Love n Life

Even if love knew bounds
I’d live unconstrained
Even if the wind knew direction
I’d live unconditional
Even if the sun knew limitation
I’d live to the fullest
And even if God exercised distrection
I’d love you beyond imgination…

Posted in love, poem | Leave a comment

Let there be light!!!

A special Diwali message from His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji: –

Hearty Diwali greetings to all of you. Diwali is the festival of light. Light signifies wisdom. We need to globalize wisdom today. People of various cultures, religions and nationalities will have to come together and realize we are a part of one human family. Let us on this auspicious occasion of Diwali resolve to spread peace, to unite people in love and celebration and to bring prosperity in society. This is the occasion to let go of all past bickerings and misunderstandings and once again come together in a spirit of celebration.

All the best to everyone of you.
Posted in diwali, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji | Leave a comment

Nothing of Nothing

A change has come upon me
a peace and quiet descended
No troubled waters, no hurricane
a joy with enthusiasm blended.

I can’t quiet say what’s happening
what’s happened or what will
A blissful peace has found its place
in creations mundane drill

Every curve, every contour, every breath
is so perfect
The silence has found its way
to the deepest depth

Nothing seems important now
nothing needs less respect
A nothing seems to have filled me
till nothing of nothing is left…

Posted in change, meditation, peace, poem, silence | Leave a comment


The strength of a woman with the grace she deserves
The levelheadedness of a man with the ambition he aspires

The innocence of childhood with the laughter of that image
The flamboyance of youth with the respect of age

The pictures that you see beholds me in its frame
A vibrant character in life’s massive game…

Posted in poem, self image, woman | Leave a comment

How to succeed in business: Meditate

Stumbled upon this fantastic piece in the Fortune Magazine… its old, but worth a read…
With hellish hours and info overload now the norm, the C-Suite set is turning to extreme meditation to cope, says Fortune’s Oliver Ryan.
By Oliver Ryan, Fortune writer-reporter
July 20 2007: 9:05 AM EDT (Fortune Magazine) –
The crowd of Harvard Business School alums who gathered at their reunion to hear networking expert Keith Ferrazzi speak earlier this summer might have expected to pick up strategies on how to work a room, remember people’s names, or identify mentors. But tactical skills, it turns out, aren’t what turned Ferrazzi into a bestselling author or sought-after speaker.
Instead Ferrazzi let his fellow alums in on a little secret. The key to connecting, he told the group, is “not being an a**hole.” And the most effective path he’s found? Meditation. Exercise and prayer work too, he said, but meditation has been so effective that he now spends ten days every year at a silent meditation retreat. In other words, the man whose latest book is “Never Eat Alone” credits much of his success to alone time.
Meditation has been around for thousands of years, but not so long ago extended retreats or programs that banned speech were reserved for aging rock stars or college students on the ten-year plan. And while the practice isn’t exactly mainstream in corporate America, more and more executives are open to anything that might help them thrive in – or temporarily disconnect from – today’s BlackBerry-addled ADD business climate.
Meditation devotees include junk-bond-king-turned-philanthropist Mike Milken; Bill George, the former Medtronic (Charts, Fortune 500) CEO; ad industry mogul Renetta McCann; and NBA coach Phil Jackson. Silicon Valley is full of meditators, such as Marc Benioff, the CEO of Salesforce.com (Charts), and Larry Brilliant, head of Google’s philanthropic efforts. Naturally, a crew of Google (Charts, Fortune 500) employees has organized twice-weekly open meditation hours, at which it has hosted Tibetan monks and a team of mind-science researchers.
C-Suite strategies
Particularly hard-core is Bob Shapiro, the former CEO of Monsanto (Charts, Fortune 500), who has done three ten-day silent retreats and is considering a 30-day tour. He must certainly be the first person to serve simultaneously on the boards of the New York Stock Exchange and the Center for the Contemplative Mind in Society.
Shapiro says that meditation has improved his ability to listen and to think creatively – and there’s an increasing amount of scientific evidence to back that up. Dr. Richard Davidson of the University of Wisconsin at Madison has, among other experiments, used cranial electrodes and MRI scans to study Tibetan monks on loan from the Dalai Lama. His basic finding: The brain functioning of serious meditators is “profoundly different” from that of nonmeditators – in ways that suggest an elevated capacity to concentrate and to manage emotions. He calls meditation a “kind of mental training.”
The retreat, however, is only the start. Back home, students are advised to meditate twice a day. Shapiro admits he struggles to find the time, but he also notes an old saying: “If you can’t spend half an hour meditating, you need an hour.”
Posted in corporate leaders, handle stress, meditation | Leave a comment

Piecing the Jigsaw

The prospect of living my individuality has always excited me. Painting my life with vivid streaks of my unique personality has been my most cherished dream. As a schoolgirl, I was perennially in awe of the strong, the bold, the fabulous, the rebel and the recluse. At 18, the threshold of a new life, I essentially wanted to be, a bit of all of these. A fabulous girl, rebel at heart, strong in the mind, bold in action and a recluse to the core. After my class 12 board exam and an unsuccessful attempt at making it into the country’s premier law institute, I thought that the dream to live my life-my way, was all but shattered. To cut a long story short, I realized like everyone does, that every cloud has a silver lining. To my amazement, the unfortunate events of the past had actually opened the door to a new life for me. The depressions of the recent past forgotten, I marched forward, to begin life in a hostel, in a different city far away from home!
The train chugged in on the platform bringing me to my destination- Pune. It’s just a 22 hour journey from Bangalore, not much actually. Yet, with this journey, life as I knew it- changed- now and forever! My new life at the ILS Law College breathed of my individuality, within the framework of the Paying Guest rules. From figuring out breakfast to what to wear- each day was topped with decisions I had to make. Mind you! I came from a school, where uniforms complete with the name badges were the norm even in class 11 and 12. If that wasn’t enough, I had a lovingly overprotective family which made most decisions in my best interests.
Soon enough though, everything was under my control- including the weekly call made back home. I was running my own life, on the modest monthly allowance given by my father. But I swelled in pride when I was budgeting and shopping. The weekly toilet cleaning, the hanging and picking of washed and dried clothes was stuff that I didn’t particularly enjoy doing. The rest, I did smiling and happy with many a song on my lips. Hostel life with its myriad experiences was enthralling to say the least.
It was one such rather busy day. We had Morning College so that gave me most afternoons free to research for various college activities or just enjoy an idyllic evening. That July afternoon, I didn’t feel like anything particularly. So, I decided to give the library and reading room a skip. I headed straight to my room. Dark clouds loomed large and thunder threatened to replace itself with huge water droplets. Hopping into one of those 6 seater autorickshwas, that Pune boasts of in plenty, I scurried back. It was a short walk from the auto stand to my room. Plenty of small eateries also known as the tapries, dotted the walk and of course, many grandpa gulmohar trees provided shade. The rain gods were exceptionally pleased that day. Knowing my love for them, descended in all their might and left me drench to the bone.
I scampered into my room and quickly changed into fresh clothes. I later opened my room door to view the small veranda and tall canopy of trees beyond. I’ve always loved the rains and the earthy smell of fresh, wet mud. This time, however, as I sat at the doorstep of my PG accommodation and gazed out, memories of home came flooding into my heart.
My brother and I would return from school drenched in the rains and splashed with slush, in spite of our raincoats. Mummy would frown disapprovingly but hand us fresh towels, nonetheless. Once we’d changed, a warm cup of milk and some pakodas or fried nuts would greet us. Anyone who has lived in Bangalore knows that when it rains in Bangalore it pours. The joy of a hot cuppa in the cool monsoon breeze with a few stray droplets dashing against your skin… aahhh Heaven!!! Here I was in Pune looking at the raindrops slid down the leaves of the jasmine and seep into the earth. Mummy wasn’t around to hand me hot milk, nor was brother around for us to jump in puddles. In that instant, I don’t think there was anyone lonelier than me. My heart ached for the familiar sights and smells of home. Just the thought of making me a cup of steaming hot soup seemed demanding. I felt a warm fluid run down my face… I was glad it was raining so no one knew if the trickle was tears or rain drops.
Later that evening, I called home- it was time for that weekly call anyway. I had overcome the emotion of that afternoon and life seemed to have reverted to normal gear once again. I said ‘hello’ like I always did- the first question I heard my mother ask me was if I was ok. She said I didn’t sound alright. At that moment, the shoddy job that I had done, of putting my heart together, came apart. I didn’t say much, but I heard. I heard a lot of things that went unsaid. I heard my heart say all those little things that had been locked away.
In my first monsoon in Pune, I realized that there was more to me behind the façade of running my own life and feeling proud about it. The strength I boasted of was not even skin deep and the individuality I craved for meant absolutely nothing. I was little more than a girl who wanted the warmth of home and her people. A child who wanted to be pampered and be part of the limelight. A grownup who still sought solace in sharing the small stories of the day. An adult who was scared of letting the torrents of time pave a new destiny. I learnt my first lessons of adult life; no matter how grown up I’ll be, there’s always a little child inside who seeks love and no matter where I look for it, there is no place like home and no support like family. No matter how harsh the trial or how deep the test, all I needed to do, is dip into that pool of unconditional love and strength that existed just for me.
That afternoon rain opened to me a new window of understanding life and the relationships we build. Here I was, young and energetic, looking forward to a new life and forging new relationships. While I did just that, what I also did was leave behind many of the old ones. With every relationship I put behind me, I lost a bit of myself on the way. Every new relationship built, showed me a newer, brighter tomorrow and a part of me, I had never known. Yet, when someday, like this rainy afternoon, I needed to piece the jigsaw together; I needed not just the new pieces, but the old ones as well.
Posted in bangalore, hostel life, ils law college, life, pune, relationships | Leave a comment