Mirror of My Self

My Lord's Story - A Grand Retelling of Ramayana in English Poetry

2011-12-21T23:34:00.000+05:30

When my Brother once said, "Of the two great Indian epics, Ramayanam is the best," I was not much in favour of His opinion. The sheer grandness and magnitude of Mahabharatham, and the intricacies of its stories(add to that the Krishna factor :-)) were more appealing to me than the seemingly simple story of Ramayanam.

Citing a few incidents from both, my brother expounded that Ramayanam is for the heart; whereas Mahabharatham is for the intellect. Though, His explanations silenced me, I was, then, not able to fully grasp how Ramayanam is way better than Mahabharatham.

Prince of Ayodhya, the fictitious series written by Ashok. K. Banker, was the first book on Ramayanam we both read. But unlike my brother, I never completed the series. While I used to read novels and fictions of various authors, my Brother was always into Ramayanam. He started to collect and read as many Ramayanams as possible. For more than three years, He never read anything other than Ramayanam. He used to say, "Ramayanam is all you have to read, nothing else!" When I complained that I couldn't develop interest in reading Ramayanam, He would simply smile and say, "One day, you will!"

Slowly, by the Grace of my Brother, and Shree Rama, I too started reading Ramayanam. Apart from a pictorial book, I completed reading the abridged version of Ramayanam written by Arshia Sattar. Then, I read Ramesh Menon's Ramayanam.

Arshia Sattar's Ramayanam was an authentic translation of Valmiki's Ramayanam, whereas Ramesh Menon's was more imaginative and dramatic rendering of the same. Both the books have their own beauty, but I loved the latter, most.

Though these books helped me develop considerable love for Ramayanam, it was actually my Brother, who helped me understand the greatness of the simple yet heart-rendering story of the flawless Rama. His blog post, "My Anger With Lord Rama!" was a revelation of Rama's impeccable character.

While watching Ramanad Sagar's acclaimed Ramayana TV Series, my brother used to logically explain how certain incidents(eg. Mother Sita's Banishment) are misinterpreted, how certain characters are not so well elaborated(eg. Sugriva), and how a venerable man like Shri Rama would behave in certain situations in Ramayanam.

They were original, inventive, and above all, melted both—my heart, and intellect.

So, my expectations are really high as my Brother has taken up the sanctifying task of retelling Ramayanam. Yes! My Lord's Story is a grand retelling of Ramayanam in english poetry written by my Brother—my very own Gurudeva!

My Brother has completed twenty-six adorable chapters so far. And I am extremely happy about the way His Ramayanam is taking shape. I can proudly tell the world that, 'My Lord's Story' will not just be another feather but a priceless crown to the most revered, and the most exalted One—Shree Rama Himself!

For a devotee of Ram, 'My Lord's Story' will be a glorious celebration. For an erudite scholar, 'My Lord's Story' will be an ultimate revelation. Don't take my word, my dear reader; but check out for your self. You can read 'My Lord's Story' by clicking here.

And, if you read, do share your thoughts, and opinions. We would be more than pleased to hear from you.

Shree Rama Jayam!

The day after Ekadasi

2011-07-27T20:49:00.006+05:30

Yesterday was Ekadasi. The benefits it bestows on the 'faster' cannot be expounded in words. With each fasting, this slave feels immense difference in him-self. The positive vibes it creates in this slave is tremendous. And he feels immense gratitude towards his Gurudeva for initiating him to fast on Ekadasi days, too.

Today, a day after the Ekadasi fast, was a gratifying day that this slave would like to remember always. So, have just chronicled the happenings happened in this slave's life.

Woke around 2.15 am to my bro's call.

Broke the Ekadasi fast.

Read the awe-inspiring life story of Shree Bhaktha Kabir Das.

Ate rice-porridge.

Did a writing chore.

Ate lunch.

Watched a movie.

Walked nearly 4 km.

Chatted with my friend.

Called my beloved Sister.

Wrote a blog-post.

Had dinner.

Did Patha Seva to my Mother.

Paused, many-a-time, in between, to speak with my very own Gurudeva.

At last, going to rest in peace, consciously! :-)

Shree Rama Jayam.

Fruit Show in the Blue Mountains

2011-06-13T13:20:00.020+05:30

Many things in our life, we witness, goes unquestioned. One such thing, I guess, is the Fruit Show. In my home town, Coonoor that is, Fruit Show is a major happening that attracts a lot of crowd. Both the tourists and the local people gather and celebrate this event, which takes place every year in the Summer.

As I enjoyed a sunday, three weeks back, with my beloved sister, Theinmozhi, and relatives, a question was popping inside my head. And, now am venting it here! In the country, where half the population is malnourished and a other half starve for a single meal a day, is it necessary to make a show out of fruits? Before you attempt to answer my question, just imagine how a person who is starving to death in hunger if happens to witness this show would feel?

As always, am sharing it late. But what's there? The fruits are fresh as ever! While you savour the show, do ponder my question, and share your thoughts.

Need to mention about a police officer who kept pestering us to move faster, and spoiled the mood of arresting the moments for posterity. The photographs were taken by my sister before that officer, who hardly knows the meaning of exhibition, barged in.

....had a bubbly time, though....

A Bouquet to all my beloved blogger friends.

(Courtesy: My Chittappa)

A Night Owl

2011-04-15T03:00:00.008+05:30

Sheltering inside a shawl,

as the cold embraces,

this slave is awake!

like an Owl in the night.

Memories of college days,

lightens his heart.

Mysteries in words,

puzzles his heart.

Even, smiles have become an enigma.

Like an Owl, who sees through the dark,

he is seeing the hearts, behind the words.

Awake and alone,

like an Owl in the Night,

this slave awaits.

For the Dawn to break!

A flute awaits....

2011-04-06T18:46:00.012+05:30

Away from Home,

in the lap of his Gurudeva,

this slave was.

Falling, failing, and fraying.

His Mere Grace,

steered this unworthy ship

to the shore—A beatifying Home!

There, the slave is.

Without his Gurudeva....

Yet, always, with his Gurudeva!

Experimenting the Lessons,

his Gurudeva's presence,

seeped in him.

Melting in the Grace,

his Gurudeva's lamp,

lit in him.

Words become wordless.

Thoughts become thoughtless.

Moments become momentless.

When this slave thinks of His Grace.

When this slave inks in His Grace.

How fortunate!

This slave was.

To eat with Him.

To sleep with Him.

To fight with Him.

To walk with Him.

To laugh with Him.

Day after day.

Week after week.

Year after year.

Always, together!

Now.

This slave is,

in a dreamy Home.

Where his mother embraces, affectionately.

Where his father smiles, gracefully.

And his life flows, peacefully.

Now.

This slave is,

in a greeny Home.

Where the Moon, the Sun, the Stars, and the butterflies,

play hide and seek by the window.

But.

This sculpture longs for its Sculptor.

This flute longs for its Music.

Leaving this sculpture ashore,

the Sculptor has gone, alone, to the sea.

Leaving the flute, alone,

the music has gone to a land by the sea.

The sculpture is awaiting,

for its Sculptor to breathe life.

For, only He can breathe life!

The flute is awaiting,

for its Musician to play.

For, only He can play!

My heart cries....

My soul longs....

My eyes yearn...

Come back, my Son.

Come back, Home.

Come back, Soon.

7 Ultimate Reasons Why His iLaiYa RaAjA Became as a Brand Ambassador

2011-03-31T17:13:00.013+05:30

To be honest, even before seeing, this slave was unhappy about his iLaiYa RaAjA acting in an Ad.

But, His gUruDeVa saw and told that the Ad is good. And that, by itself is more than enough....yet!

After seeing, analyzing, and experiencing certain experiences, this slave is TOTALLY CONVINCED about iLaiYa RaAjA becoming a brand ambassador! And not just that, my adorable reader, this slave also asserts that this is, and will be, THE GREATEST AD OF ALL TIME.

Why?

1. iLaiYa RaAjA as a brand ambassador doesn't even utter the brand name in the Ad. This slave doesn't know whether any so-called 'brand ambassadors' has done that or not. Even if they have, they would not have given such strong reasons for acting in an Ad like my iLaiYa RaAJa did.

2. Yes! Please, do check out this 'Brand Ambassador Press Meet' video. iLaiYa RaAjA is almost into tears when He tells the reason for acting. iLaiYa RaAjA just tells the Truth, and doesn't go gaga over the brand, just because they are paying Him.

3. Listen to Him carefully. iLaiYa RaAjA points out the reasons for Natural calamities(and, it has come True! think of Japan, what had happened?). Not just that, He also poses some perennial questions before the audience. Btw, do anyone have answers to them?

4. iLaiYa RaAjA, like an innocent child, simply believes and has trust in the Brand. This is very clear in His speech.

5. Not just once, my beloved reader, not just once, He utters the name of the Brand, anywhere! And that amazes this slave! Yes, he just tells the Brand has, "andha Neeruvanam". Meaning: 'That Company'. May be, the Brand owner may not be happy about that, but this slave is immensely proud about his very own iLaiYa RaAjA.

6. Moreover, iLaiYa RaAjA has never acted in the Ad. He just walks inside a temple, bows before the fortunate God! accepts Aarthi, and joins along with a beautiful, princess- like, girl, who is about to forget her Self while singing.....

7. Above all, O beloved reader, iLaiYa RaAja, like always, praises my very own Krsna!

What more! reasons do you want, my relaxed reader?

And, as far as the greatest ads of all Time goes, Time will reckon....yet, this 'anxious' slave is all geared up for any arguments. Those who dare! may start it.

Jai Shri Ram

A Sunday

2011-03-27T19:23:00.004+05:30

Anna is away from Home.

Amma is gone for shopping.

Appa, work!

On a leafless tree, is a lonely bird.

Hearing noise,

a squirrel runs away.

Getting cold is the tea, without milk.

The water in the mud pot is half empty.

There is just one cigarette left.

And, it is drizzling! outside.

Fotopgraphy: mY gUrUdEvA hImSeLf!

A Drop Ocean

2011-03-26T18:09:00.017+05:30

Morning, today, after this slave woke up, as he was chanting, he asked his 'amma' to brew a tea. Meanwhile, he sat along with his Perazhagi, all eager to see what reactions, his so-called friends, face-bookers, and tweeters had shown.

Like a monkey jumping from one branch to another, this slave, too, was jumping between windows. Only, while he was on the 'blogger-dashboard', this slave was drawn into one of his good blogger-friends' blog—Slow Processor. And her post, made this slave to remember one the greatest poets of our Time— iLLaiYa RaaJa!

To many, this may come has a surprise, but iLaiYa RaaJa is such a Great Devotee that His poems, too, like His Music, blossoms from His heart. Yup! Only persons with a heart can enjoy them.

Thereby, this slave tells the world that he, too, has a heart! Lolz.

My dear reader, the post is not for that, but a poem. And, all the credit goes to this slave's friend Hasna Fathima, for inspiring him to translate a Haiku like poem from iLaiYa RaaJa's 'Thuli Kadal' (an awesome book!), which literally means 'A Drop Ocean'.

So, here it's, folks!

Written words,

laughed, at the writer.

In the written words,

there could be mistakes.

But, what mistakes could be there?

In the words, that are unwritten!

Lonely, Darkness.

2011-03-24T19:22:00.007+05:30

The clouds are darkening.

Peacocks are not around,

to spread their wings, to dance.

Songs of the birds, inaudible,

to the mind-full beings.

Blossomed flowers!

Noise of the buzzing bees, unheard.

Dark sky.

Sprinkles of light drops,

electri-pity, darkens!

All alone.

They are!

And, so, is this slave.

A Wednesday

2011-03-23T08:16:00.029+05:30

It was only on A Wednesday, years ago, my beloved brother experienced something Beyond the Ordinary. Something, Beyond the Mundane. And that! transformed His course of life, forever.

Recently, we shifted our house to a new place. Rumours has it that this is our 13th or 14th house. Well, (inside story, apart)in our new Home, we are surrounded by a lot of space—unspoilt, green, wet, place!

And, know what, this slave, is all eager to grow a herbal garden around this present Home.

While he was all dreams about His Brindavan, one fine day, his Amma, as usual, went out for walking...and, unusually, returned with a few saplings from a bungalow(the one that appears in Superstar Rajinikanth's film-Thudikkum Karrangal). Since, the school, this slave studied, never taught him to plant saplings (may be, taught! but had miserably failed to make him learn — so, all the blame goes to Coonoor, Stanes), he was waiting for someone to plant the saplings to where it belongs!

And, there comes Paanchaali akka(you're right, Shree Krsna's devotee in Mahabharatham), as our home-maid.

Amma gave her the saplings and asked her to plant them. Before that, I need to tell you something, my patient reader, about our Paanchaali akka. She does things only out of love! If someone commands or speaks impudently to her, whoever it may be, even if it's Barrack Obama, she would just walk away.

So, one fine day, this slave saw her planting the saplings into Mother Earth with her caring hands. And, as far as, he remembers, that day, too, was A Wednesday!

For folks, who are not aware of their spiritual aspect, and are only aware of the material world 'A Wednesday' may remind of that awe-inspiring Naseerudin Shah, starring movie. But, for this slave, like the disciples and meditators of Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev(He, too, attained enlightenment on A Wednesday), 'A Wednesday' would always remind his adorable brother —his very own Gurudeva!

Just witness, my faithful reader, how gracefully, like my very own Gurudeva, the saplings planted by his Paanchaali akka, too, are budding, blossoming, and spreading their fragrance. Yeah, if you're awakened, you can smell the fragrance, too!

................................................

To my very own Flower!

T
hat was born on
A Sunday.....

.....and bloomed on,
A Wednesday!

His Love,
purer than the purest buds!

His Heart,
softer than the soft petals!

His Grace,
graceful than the gracious flowers!

His Character,
pristine than the pristine leaves!

His Manliness,
manlier than the manly sky!

His Compassion,

compassionate than the compassionable trees!

O Gurudeva!

How fortunate this slave is.

For, having born with You.

For, having grown with You.

For, having blossoming with You.

Lifetimes after Lifetimes.

Yugas after Yugas.

Always.

This slave wants to be...

Your beloved slave.

Grant me.

O Gurudeva!

For, that's what.

And,

that's all, this slave seeks!

Jai Shri Ram.

A Meditative Journal

2011-03-19T12:51:00.007+05:30

Phot-O-graphy + film-O-graphy + Po'try = A Medit-A-tive Journal.

Came into existence some two years ago, Meditative Moments was actually given life to exhibit the endless leelas of the Gods through still moments. But, as this slave has now begun to experiment with moving images too, he thought of graduating Meditative Moments into a Meditative Journal, by sharing his amateur but heartfelt experiments. Though the core of Meditative Moments is the same, the experience will be a feast to your two most powerful senses—eyes and ears!

By now, you must be clear what, this slave, meant by phot-O-graphy & film-O-graphy. But, what about, Po'try?

Like a topping on your favorite dessert, Po'try, is a sprinkle of wisdom bestowed upon him by his GuruDeva. Come and experience for your Self @ manivannansphotography.blogspot.com. And, this slave is sure that you'll relish it, immensely :-).

So, my dear reader, are you ready for the meditative experience?

A New Beginning.....

2011-03-18T16:21:00.008+05:30

Life has visibly transformed for this slave, after Nandalala. Just, a day after this slave was re-born, his job as a 'copy'writer came to an immediate end. When he was planning, as he always did, to sell his writing for money, by the Grace of his Gurudeva, his Rama opened another window for him.

And, this blessed slave has embarked upon a new journey. With the help of a Perazhagi(let not your imaginations run wild, my dear reader, it's the name of our Apple), this slave is experimenting with images and music(read iLlaiya Raaja). (Btw, how is the name, Perazhagi?)

Just to tell the world, what this slave is upto, he had keyed-in a mail to his so-called friends, friendly-enemies, strange-colleagues, beloved-bloggers and his adorable-spiritual aspirants.

Now, this slave is sharing the mail he had sent. Not only 'coz he doesn't have many bloggers' mail-id, but also because he wanted to resume blogging!

As this slave's Gurukulam days are over, he is just experimenting the lessons, his Gurudeva's presence seeped in him. And, what you are going to see and get are, as always, the droplets mercilessly showered on this slave by his Gracious Gurudeva.

If you hadn't received the slave's mail, read it-it's below. If you had, just skip it, and go to the end. And if you wish, do share your thoughts with this impudent slave :-)

My dear friends,

Either through ma blog, or in person, you must have known me.

Either as a spiritual aspirant, or as a colleague, or as a 'copy'writer, you must have been acquainted with me.

Or else, this mail wouldn't reach you. :-)

I guess, from a 'copy'writer, my Rama has graduated me into a film-maker, a short-film-maker, to be precise. A short film named, amMa iLLaaTha veeDu, is soon to be published, online. Before that, for reasons,a video song(or call it whatever), was published, yesterday(16th of March).

This is my second attempt in video editing, and my first in editing a song(read iLLaiyaRaja).

Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5G9aBtU57GQ

Video Title: tHaNee yAaNal enNa

Duration: 5. 26 mins(exactly)

Music: My Beloved illaiyaRaaja

Filmed & Edited by: A blessed Slave

Casting: Go See for Your Self :-)

If you watch it, do let me hear your say...in whatever way, you wish!

Am all ears to hear your valuable comments, suggestions and remarks.

Warmly,

Manivannan Sadasivam.

(A guy you may have once known of)

.................................................

Beloved bloggers, hope you will embrace this slave with the same warmth and affection you had always bestowed him with.

Jai Shri Ram!

The Nandalala Experience

2010-12-19T12:01:00.012+05:30

Nandalala is, unarguably, the best Thamizh film so far. And, for me, the best film ever made! Life after watching Nandalala is never the same for me. God had used the film as a tool for my spiritual realisation. It's an experience I may never be able to share in words.

From the bottoms of my heart, I thank Mysskin(anna, you're just awesome!), and the entire team for being a part of my spiritual journey. And, especially, my Illaiyaraja, who has always been with me :-).

So far, I watched the film twice with my beloved brother—my very own Gurudeva! I think, Nandalala marks the beginning of an new era, and best things to come... At least, in my life!

A review to the film would be unfair, since it has given me much more than that. So this is a simple but an honest tribute to Nandalala, in my own way :-)

Nandalala transported this slave into Brindavan.
There! To his surprise, the slave has found his Rama.
And is waiting for his Krishna....O Beloved! Where are you?

Rama and Lakshmana

2010-12-11T23:47:00.005+05:30

Only Rama knows Lakshmana's faults...
But not even Lakshmana knows Rama's Greatness!

If you're my Ocean...

2010-12-11T01:08:00.007+05:30

If you're my Ocean,
this wave, always, desires to
rise, fall and dissolve...
O Gurudeva!

Gurupurnima

2010-12-09T11:08:00.001+05:30

In my heart-sky, everyday is purnima....
Guru Purnima!

Waiting for my Mother!

2010-11-29T15:17:00.005+05:30

Rama simply doesn't know!
Bharata is blissfully ignorant.
Shatrugana is away from Home.
And Mother has not yet come...

O! Who will know....
the joy of anguish and pain,
this Lakshmana is going through?

The Broken Pot

2010-11-27T12:35:00.007+05:30

The pot is broken!

Yet, its pieces rattle...

Destroy that too, O Gurudeva!

............................................................

Image Courtesy: moodyradiopaulbutler.wordpress.com

A smile of His own

2010-11-24T00:07:00.010+05:30

"As a child, this slave smiled, a smile of his own.

As he grew, the world did ruin, the smile that was his own,
and made him feign a smile, that was truly worn."
So thought the slave in forlorn.

Knowing that his smile is a fake,
laughing as if there is nothing at stake...
His Merciful Master decided to awake, the sleeping snake!
And gave a huge blow...'O this slave couldn't take!'

"Not the world but you, who ruin, the smile of your own"

Said the Master, whose sole work is to shatter!

When the words first appeared,
even the faintest smile he had disappeared,
and, on his face, tears smeared...

In utter anger, cried the slave, "O Master, that's weird!"

But, as the Master's words seeped in,
and mercilessly exploded within...
an uproarious laughter did begin!
In utter joy, cried the slave, "Dear Master, You always win!"

Now, and forever...
The remains of that havoc will just remain,

as a smile of His own, O what a gain!

Songs of a slave

2010-11-18T22:58:00.009+05:30

Falling at His Noble Master's Feet,
This ignoble slave seeks to sing His praise...
O Beloved!
Will You shower Thy Grace?
.......................................................................
Click on the picture for better viewing

The song my heart hums...

2010-11-14T23:45:00.010+05:30

"Thudiporkal Nenjil Nindradrum Kanaa..
Mathiporkal Kannil Mannaadhi Manna..."

(In the hearts of those who praise, He resides and dances
Through the eyes of those who love, He is the King of the Kings)

One day, by changing the lyrics of Illaiyaraaja's evergreen melody, "Kalyaana Maalai Kondadum Pennae.." from the film Pudhu Pudhu Arthangal, my brother sang those lines, praising our beloved Krishna. I think, that's His first song on Krishna composed to a cine tune. And, when He completed singing, I loved it to the core. Soon, the original lyrics of the song faded away, and my brother's lyrics alone echoed in my mind whenever I listened to that song. You can listen the song here.

Then, I was in Chennai for internship. My brother said how He would think of Krishna by singing many of our favourite Illaiyaraaja's songs, and sang a few. He even explained the lyrics saying how they help us connect with God. From then onwards, many of Raja's classic —love, solo, duet, pathos—songs were transformed into soulful devotionals, for us—the two spiritual aspirants.

Those days, mostly in the night, while returning to our room from Parthasarathy Temple or elsewhere, we used to sing our favourite songs, thinking of Krishna. Sweet memorable times they were!

Last week, while in Thirupathi, a beautiful song(of course, Raja's!) came to my mind out of nowhere. I hadn't heard it in a long time. But somehow my mind remembered the song, and I was deeply moved. When I concsiously recalled the lyrics, my heart, unconsciously, directed the song towards my dear Brother, my very own Gurudeva.

A tear drop popped out of my eye as the lines echoed my deepest longing...wish....and prayer. It's a soulful song from the movie Ejaman. A part of its lyrics is what my heart hums...

"Oru Naalum Unnai Maravaadha
Vilagaada Nillai Vendum...
Uravaalum Udal Uyiraalum
Vilagada Nilai Vendum...
Vilizhi Oodu Emai Polae
Vilagada Nilai Vendum...
Ennai Aallum Ejamaane...
Ennai Aallum Ejamaane...

Suttu Viral Nee Aatu...
Sonapadi Aaduven...
Un Adimei Naan Endru
Kai Elzuthu Poduven..."

For me, the song ends there! I have translated into English.

Need a sweet boon that...
Not for a day should I be separated from you!
Need a sweet boon that...
Through kin, body and soul should never be separated from you..
Like the lids of the eyes, an inseparable state I need...
O the ruler of my heart! O the ruler of my heart!

And the part, I pray the most, comes here....

Just shake your pointer-finger,
I will dance to it, accordingly...

Will sign a treaty saying that
I'm your slave...

Like an old tape-recorder, my heart keeps repeating the same lines, often.

Just shake your pointer-finger,
I will dance to it, accordingly...
Will sign a treaty saying that
I'm your slave...

My Beloved Gurudeva, do you hear them?

Alms I Seek

2010-11-09T18:17:00.010+05:30

Not to be a man of limited wealthiness,

but of unlimited richness...

Is all I desire for, Shree Rama!

Not to savour the delicacies of the world,

but Thy Holy Name...

Is all I crave for, Shree Rama!

Not to enjoy the beauties of the world,

but Thy Compassionate Feet...

Is all I pray for, Shree Rama!

Not to relish the pleasures of the world,

but Thy Legends...

Is all I ask for, Shree Rama!

Not to conquer the world,

but Thy Son's Smile...

Is all I plead for, Shree Rama!

Not to roam around the world,

but rest at Thy Son's Feet...

Is all I beseech for, Shree Rama!

Not to be written in the pages of history,

but engraved in Thy Son's Heart...

Is all I cry for, Shree Rama!

Not to be renowned as Thy Devotee,

but as Thy Son's slave...

Is all I beg for, Shree Rama!

.............................................................

photo courtesy: ucc.org

My soul cries

2010-11-03T20:09:00.021+05:30

What Shree Rama is to Lakshmana

What Shree Krishna is to Arjuna

What Shree Narashima is to Prahalada

What Shree Ramakrishna Paramahamsa is to Swami Vivekananda

What Shree Ragavendra is to Rajinikanth

What Shree Ramana Maharishi is to iLLaiYa Raaja

What Yogi Ramsuratkumar is to Balakumaran

You are to me...

O Gurudeva!

Brother. Friend. God.

And Everything.

What Raavana was to Shree Rama

What Sisubala was to Shree Krishna

What Hiranya-Kasibu was to Shree Narashima

I am to you...

O Gurudeva!

Impudent. Ungrateful. Disobedient.

And what not?

I've shamelessly failed you, many a time.

You've affectionately embraced me, each time.

I've willingly wounded you, many a time.

You've warmly caressed me, each time.

I've arrogantly ignored you, many a time.

You've compassionately accepted me, each time.

I'm your disrespect.

You're my self-respect.

I'm your pain.

You're my joy.

I'm your impediment.

You're my enlightenment.

Your selfless love melts my ego.

Your endearing smile cleanses my heart.

Your affectionate embrace sanctifies my body.

Your innocent eyes liberates my soul.

I don't deserve your love.

I don't deserve your smile.

I don't deserve your hugs.

I don't deserve your mercy.

Not in this lifetime,

but forever...

Yet,

falling at your Lotus-Feet,

this scum, unashamedly, pleads...

My Beloved Brother!

Bear this burden, forever...

My Honourable Gurudeva!

Tame this animal, whenever..

My Merciful God!

Please, don't forsake me, ever...

Without You, I am never!

A portrait to remember

2010-11-01T12:22:00.012+05:30

I felt gloomy, last friday, for reasons only I can be. I had completed the trivial writing chores for the day, and was left with much free time. And that only depressed me more. Movies...music...virtual realities...nothing interested me; nothing did uplift me. I took a walk to a nearby tea shop, and even had an itch to smoke.

But as I sipped the tea, I sought my last resort, Rama.

I asked(read: pleaded) Him to make me happy. I asked Him to uplift my mind. I asked Him to give inspiration. And, know what? The Compassionate Rama did grant this speck more than what it wished...He gave Himself to me.

Yes! He inspired me to write poems. And not just that, He graciously allowed Himself to be captured through doodles—what I proudly flaunt as art, and am bold enough to share it you :-).

Now, my dear friends, behold His Grace!

When the effervescent sun was burning away the darkness,

The lethargic me was battling to be up from sleepiness.

As my uncouth mind was gravitating around worldliness,

The ignoble me was trying to remember His Holiness.

In such morning haziness,

I glimpsed the One, who is the epitome of nobleness.

I glimpsed the One, who is the embodiment of perfectness.

I was lying on a wooden cot,

Like a gullible drunkard.

Yet, I gleefully remember…

A portrait appearing out of nowhere;

The portrait of the One who is everywhere!

Clad in yellow and green,

Armed with bow and arrows that beam,

Gloriously stood my Illustrious Hero!

Adorable in bewitching blue,

Royal as ever in His own Hue.

Was it my dream?

Or just an obscure imagination?

I rarely care!

For, I saw the One, who is the source of all the happiness.

Did it last for moments?

Or vanished within a second?

I hardly bother!

For, in my heart, it’s engraved forever.

How Yogi Ramsuratkumar shattered Ayn Rand

2010-10-19T07:46:00.020+05:30

Last Thursday, when I headed to walk on the street after having breakfast, I saw an auto passing by me, and felt thrilled as the name of one of the greatest saints of our time, Yogi Ramsuratkumar, was inscribed on its windscreen.

Yogi Ramsuratkumar(1918-2001)

Yogi Ramsuratkumar, a Self-realised Master, came into my life through the writings of my favourite spiritual writer, Balakumaran. Whenever, I see His name or picture stuck on a vehicle or elsewhere, I’ll tell my self, 'Hey, you must be good. You're fortunate enough to see Yogiyaar(that's how I like to call him) Himself." And mostly this would happen on a Thursday—Guru's day. Both Yogi Ramsuratkumar and Balakumaran have helped(are helping) me a lot in my spiritual journey. Moreover, like my brother, Yogi Ramsuratkumar too, as His name suggests, is a (favourite) son of Lord Rama.

Born in Varnasi, Yogi Ramsuratkumar served as a school headmaster before He was drawn to South India in His spiritual quest. After His enlightenment, He called Himself as a beggar, and lived a humble life in Thiruvanamalai. But like a magnet attracting iron particles, He drew spiritual seekers from around the world. Thamizh Nadu’s jewel, writer Balakumaran was one among them; one blessed by Him.

In his book, Guru Vazhli(Guru's Way), Balakumaran had shared a significant incident, which just wiped away my desire to read Ayn Rand books, and emboldened my faith in a great many saint. I've translated the incident in Balakumaran’s own words.

It was a summer time. But the wind in Thiruvanamalai was blowing cool. Leaving all the furnitures outside, we emptied a room in the Naadaar mansion to spread-out a mat, and sit before Yogi Ramsuratkumar. My family was beside me. A devotee had prepared the food and kept it at the corner of the room.

It was one of those blessed occasions where Yogi Ramsuratkumar would talk about worldly matters, and teach us without teaching.

In his child-like voice, Yogi Ramsuratkumar asked me, "How much have you studied, Balkumar."

"Till school, Bhagawan(a fond way of addressing a realised soul)."

He continued, “Why did you stop with that?”

“I had great doubt whether I can pass out of school. I had no interest in studies. I have got zero in mathematics. To successfully complete school life was itself like walking on fire. So, I had no further interest to pursue my studies."

"But how is it you speak English very well. Even those

who call themselves as graduates don't speak proper English." Yogi Ramsuratkumar was a literature graduate. His flawless English had left many in awe.

"It's because of my acquaintance with English literature. Buying and reading contemporary writers' books from a rental book store is a old habit of mine. "

"Is it? So, what books do you read?"

"Arthur Koestler, Ayn Rand, Irving Wallace, Irving Stone..." I mentioned a few names, and also their novels.

He asked, "Were you able to read them all."

"At first, it was tough Bhagawan. But as I continued to read, I was able to grasp the nuances of the language. I'd keenly observe the conversations in the novels. So soon, I learnt to speak English without making any grammar mistakes. It all happened because of reading English novels."

"Okay. Can you tell me what Ayn Rand says?" Like an interviewer Bhagawan Yogi Ramsuratkumar asked with eyes sharply fixed on me.

"I can tell, Bhagawan. I have read one of Ayn Rand's novels many times. Three of her novels are very popular — ATLAS SHRUGGED, WE THE LIVING, and FOR THE NEW INTELLECTUAL. These are also my favourites."

"Okay. Then, tell me about Ayn Rand's philosophy." He asked again.

"Ayn Rand says that SELFISHNESS IS A VIRTUE. SCARIFICATION IS A FRAUDULENT WORD. Nobody sacrifices anything for anybody. Behind every sacrifice, there is selfishness hidden. There is no necessity for anybody to sacrifice anything. Selfishness alone is the only sacred thing."

"Is it?" Yogi shrunk His eyes, and continued, "What she says is against our culture, isn't it? Do you believe in this? When every religion says we have to sacrifice, I think, she is talking on the contrary, and gaining popularity. What do you say about this?"

I mused for a while, and said "Bhagawan, I think what she says is right. Everybody, in every stage of life, is selfish. Our selfishness is what makes us to live. What husband has with wife; wife has with husband, father has with son; son has with father, is nothing but selfishness. It's only with selfishness we live."

"I didn't ask you to take your life as an example. Here (in India), there are so many noble souls who have sacrificed their lives...do you say that they all did it out of selfishness? Do you say Mahatma Gandhi was selfish? Do you say Ramalinga Vallalar was selfish? Can we call Buddha, Shree Ramakrishna Pramahamsa, Bhagawan Ramana as selfish people? You say everyone is selfish. Will you include them too? Will Ayn Rand certify their lives as selfish too? Will she say their sacrifices were fraudulent?"

Though His face was calm, the question was intense.

I was not able to say Shree Ramakrishna Pramahamsa and Bhagawan Ramana as selfish people. At the same time, I was not able to ignore Ayn Rand too. I sat with an ideological confusion. My family was watching me.

Yogi gesticulated to talk. As I remained silent, He expounded, "Balkumar, once a person came to Bhagawan Ramana and said something similar to this: ‘Everyone in this ashram is working and doing jobs. You alone are sitting simply without doing any work. Why don't you do something like others?’ Bhagawan Ramana retorted: ‘THERE IS NO OTHERS!’

Do you understand what it means, Balkumar? When there is no 'I'; then, there is no 'you.' Only when you have the sense of 'I'; then, there will be the sense of 'you'. Only for those who have the ego 'I', there is a division called 'others.' Only when we separate ourselves as 'I' and 'you,' then, there can be a division that some are superior and some are inferior. Only for those who are divided, 'selfishness’ and ‘sacrifice’ appears as two opposite ends. In our Hinduism, selfishness itself means only others' welfare. SELF MEANS ONLY OTHERS. OTHERS ARE THE SELF. In truth, there is no such thing called division.

Birds, trees, animals, plants, stone, mud, sea, sky, wind, humans—nothing is separate. Everything is One. That's called God. You and I are part of Him. You are in me, and I'm in you. In an ocean, is there a difference in the waves? Are two sea waves different? We see them only as a part of ocean, isn't it? Within ocean, they may separate themselves as waves and bubbles. But still they remain only as a part of the ocean. Each wave and each bubble are part of the whole sea; rising and dissolving are an appearance. In fact, they are not different from the ocean. And so are we, like the sea waves in the ocean.

Balkumar, this is not just told for the sake of an example. This is truth. This is a reality. This is a state we all can attain. We all can live in.

If you feel hungry, I should also feel hungry. Your hunger should disturb me. If you cry, I should also cry. Your tears should shake me. This is the life of every enlightened men. Humans should always try to live such a life. Each one of us should continuously strive to live like that, even if it takes lifetimes.

What Ayn Rand says is a delusion. Something very superficial. Born out of ego.

In our lives, after marriage, the ‘I’ thought is slowly broken as it expands as my wife. Then it further expands as my children; my children’s children; my children’s relatives; my children’s friends, and also as my country men— so on and so forth. Likewise, as one grows older, this 'circle' called the ego must also grow bigger and bigger, and get expanded. That’s a life worth living. But if the opposite happens…if the circle shrinks…it becomes ugly. Such a mind will only become deluded.”

Since I didn't fully grasp and digest what Bhagawan explained, a foolish question arose in my crooked mind: “If I eat, will your hunger be satiated Bhagawan. If you have food, will my hunger be satiated.”

But Yogi Ramsuratkimar is a Divine Master. He could easily read others' thoughts.

“Once a river mingles in ocean, then it’s never called as a river. It can’t separate itself from the ocean to become a river again. Similarly, those who have dissolved themselves in God can never come back to ordinary state. God’s mercy and compassion are like the ocean that never drains. And that’s the state of those who have attained God-hood. In them too, God’s mercy and compassion will ever be there, flowing to all others.

This is how Shree Ramakrishna Pramahamsar, Bhagawan Ramanar, Shree Aurobindo lived. There was not a drop of selfishness in their lives, Balkumar. They never did their sacrifice as an act of deception.”

When He uttered the last line, there were tears in His eyes.

Seeing that, I panicked and got up. I prostrated before him, and said, “If I have spoken something wrong, please forgive me.”

He smiled and said, “What you spoke has made me happy. You should always speak like that. Only then you can clarify your thoughts, and write with ease.”

Yogi Ramsuratkumar made me realise the virtue of sacrifice, and the ugliness of selfishness. From then on, my writings got transformed. It was all because of my Guru, God’s child, Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

Later, that day, it had happened that a few youngsters had come to meet Yogi Ramsuratkumar to propound Ayn Rand’s philosophy. But Yogi silently sent them to Balakumaran to do the talking.

And that’s how, my beloved reader, India’s greatest saint of our times, shattered the self-indulgent philosophy of Ayn Rand, who is said to be one of the most-influential writers of twentieth century.

I think, I danced with Shree Krishna Himself...

2010-09-03T00:03:00.013+05:30

When I started to travel to Coimbatore to attend my college-mate's marriage little did I imagine that I would end up dancing with my Beloved Himself...

It had been almost two years since I had met my college friends, and my 'stealer of heart' in His most special form. The marriage, happening at the weekend, was a perfect time for a get-together with both—my friends, and my Idhaiyakamalavasaka...

A day in Coimbatore would give me an opportunity to visit the ISKON temple, and see my dear Krishna as Jaganath, in His happiest mood, along with His sister Subhadra, and brother Balarama. In the final year of my college life, Vasudeva in His Jaganath form was my only solace, and my only joy. Every visit to see my Krishna had uplifted me, and given me memories that I could cherish for many lifetimes.

All these thoughts made me land in an unreserved compartment :-). It was a Saturday night. The Niligiri Express was crammed with people. Amidst the jam-packed crowd, I was lucky to find a place(even if it was the pathway). A window seat would have given me the privilege to savour fresh air, and the star-lit sky. But, my luxury was limited only to faces. Tired, exhausted, yearning-to-sleep-faces.

Glimpsing all of them around, I decided, the best way to spend the journey was to dwell within my Self. I started chanting 'Om Shree Ram Jaya Ram Jaya Jaya Ram.' It was also the time, by the Grace of my Guru, I started worshiping the Glorious Rama, and enjoyed the benefits of His holy name.

Throughout the journey, I chanted, and chanted, and chanted to my heart's content. The sleeping heads resting on my shoulders, people barging in and out of the way, heated-arguments, seat-quarrels, and all the unavoidable discomforts of a second class journey left no scar in me. I felt comfortable and happy in my little space as the holy name was on my lips. When I reached Coimbatore around 4 am in the morning, I found my self very energetic and hungry, too.

My friend Santhosh, forsaking the comfort of a Sunday morning sleep, braved to pick me up. [My wait for him and his 'timely' arrival deserves a special post, though :-)]. We had a chat over two hot cups of tea, and left to the apartment, where the rest of my college-mates stayed. As it was a get-together, my friends had rented an apartment to celebrate to the 'full'est(you do know what I mean, don't you?).

As each one woke up, I was happy to greet them. Now, we were again the same college guys. We made fun of each other, laughed a lot, and tittle-tattled for hours. When everyone was up, we played indoor cricket for a while, ate breakfast, and sat before the T.V., giving a damn to the world. As the idiot box didn't grab my attention, I saw the 'unstoppable' time. And I was alarmed. It was past 10:30 am. "Oh god...my visit to your abode?!"

I was planing to visit ISKON early in the morning. So that I could conspicuously fit into the plan my friends had for the rest of the day. But with good-old-friends, you know, time disappears like smoke in the air.

What bothered me the most was—will the temple be open around this time? If I miss now, then I will not be able to make it in the rest of the day. My sole desire for journey would be in vain. I became anxious and worried.

I rushed to have a bath. While bathing, I was pleading with Krishna, "Please Krishna, help me make it today. I want to see you. O lotus eye Madhava...please, don't let me get disappointed. Don't be so near, and yet remain away from me. Please grace me with your darshan, even if I don't deserve it. Please krishna....please Krishna...pleeeassse..."

It is not that you have to visit a temple to have His darshan. But going to a temple, and being graced by His presence is an experience on its own. It undoubtedly boosts your spiritual journey.

I hurriedly got dressed up. I told some of my friends I'm going to ISKON now, and will be back before everyone is ready. I asked Stalin to drop me at ISKON. And there! I was travelling in the bike to see my beloved Krishna, hoping the temple will be open. Hoping I will have His darshan. Hoping my merciful Krishna will never disappoint me.

By now, the time was nearly 11:30 AM. As I neared the temple, I saw a few slippers left outside the entrance. A ray of hope beamed into my heart. I thanked Stalin. Still anxious and doubtful, I went inside the temple. To my utter disappointment, Krishna hid Himself behind the golden-coloured screen, which was dancing along with the wind as if teasing my arrival. Had I had the gift of Thyagaraja, I would have sung and made the screen fall. But what could an ordinary mortal like me do other than getting disappointed and dejected?

Slowly, I climbed the steps. Inside the temple, a devotee was taking Bhagawad Gita class. A few of them were listening to him. I just sat not knowing whether the darshan time was over or not. I felt heavy. Thoughts were flooding me; blaming for my carelessness, and, at the same time, teasing my desire. I also got angry at Krishna for bringing me so near to Him, and forsaking me in the end. Not a word from the lecture went inside my mind. I had to ask someone about the darshan timimgs. In a hushed voice, I whispered to the person in front of me, "Is the darshan timings over." And what he said breathed fresh air into me. I just smiled. "Hey, Makhun Chor, you are smart at playing hide and seek, aren't you?" I thought to my self, and grinned again, seeing everybody and everything thing in the temple. My Krishna has accepted me, again. Deep down, I know my Krishna never ever forsakes someone who has surrendered to Him.

Serene environment...brimming space...the Vishwaroopa Darshan painting of Shree Krishna and bowing Arjuna.... the life-like statue of Srila Praphupada...all and more, in their own magical and mystical ways, soothed my unruly mind, and lightened my heart.

Now, the devotee's voice was falling into my, then-dumb, ears...

"What is the use of those lips if they don't utter the holy name...What is the use of those ears if they don't hear the holy name...What is the use of those hands if they don't clap singing His Holy name. What is the use of those legs if they don't jump hearing the holy name..."

Saying thus, he asked us to chant, 'Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare. Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare'." And ended his lecture.

In utter joy, we roared back . The darshan was about to began. Holding my excitment, I waited to see my Kirshna. The priest pulled away the screen to the cries of devotees, "Jai Jaganath! Jai Jai Jaganath." And lo! My Kirshna, in all His glory, as beautiful as ever, was in front of my eyes. I couldn't ask for more. I was overwhelmed in joy. The sounds of mirdhangam, cymbals, and harmonium mingled along with the devotees' kirtans... I started loosing my self—singing and dancing as if no one in the world but Kirshna was seeing me.

As I was dancing(read jumping up and down, or remember our own Bhagyaraj's trademark dance), a soft, tender hands touched my hands. I opened my eyes and saw a girl running away from me, and hiding behind a person. I was just looking at her. Her eyes slowly peeped from behind the legs of the person. Her eyes were pure, and innocent like every child of her age. She must be 4 or 5 years old. I winked, and gestured at her to dance chanting the holy name. She just kept staring at me. After a few minutes, again, she ran towards me thinking I was not looking at her. But with all alertness, I grasped her hands and asked her to sing and dance. The person she hid behind looked at me, and smiled. I asked, "Is she your relative." He replied, "My cousin sister." I again smiled at both of them and was crying out the Lord's name as loudly as possible. Though, there were only a few devotees, the bhajan got its momentum. And the very atmosphere became vibrant. A dance at ISKON is always a devotional frenzy.

As I was enjoying my own dance(of course, no one else will), once again, the little girl came towards me, and caught my hands. I started dancing with her. His brother, though a bit hesitant, just kept smiling at me not knowing how to control the child's pranks. But we danced together as if no one else in the world was seeing us.

The bhajans came to an end. Exhausted, we all surrendered to Jaganath, the lord of the Universe. Falling at the feet of Krishna after a pulsating dance is an experience like no other. To let go of all the worries in the world, just being silent, and feeling that only you possess His feet would have you completely refreshed. And so was I. Fresh and revived.

Black and beautiful, I devoured Shree Krishna with my eyes as long as I could. Then, I went around the temple-womb, and savoured the theertham, thrice. Not as a religious rite but just for its flavour. I sat before Krishna praying for a while. When I felt content, I paid my obeisance, and came out.

As expected, they were serving the Mahaprasadam which I relish always. After tasting the always-delicious-mahaprasadam(this time it was tamarind rice), I went to wash my hands. To my surprise, I saw a whole family smiling at me. I was taken back by this unexpected welcome. Then, I realised it was the cute, little child's family. Actually, for a while, I had forgotten about the little girl since she was not seen anywhere. Her family, too, had been a silent witness to our rollicking. Though, the thought of their whole family watching me dancing with their child made me feel embarrassed, their smiles comforted me.

But the angel like child, who was playing with me, grinning and winking, never even looked at me. Her mother and father were persuading her to talk, "See the anna, you were playing with...say 'bye' to him."

I, too, expected her to give a heartwarming smile. And called her. Hmmmm. There was no response. I felt she was quite a different child now. Not the one who was daring to dance with me. She kept a frowned face. All the happiness and joy, I saw in her were gone. She must have cried asking for something, I thought, and bade farewell to her, and her family members, who were really kind.

As if at an appointed time, I got a call from my friend, Jumbo, asking whether he can come to pick me up. I gladly agreed. Again, I got Mahaprasadam(winks) for both of us. By now, the temple was closed, and most devotees had left. While waiting, I was talking to the Swamiji, who had gifted me Bhagawad Gita sometime ago.

My friend reached. Half-heartedly, I left the temple, wishing I could spend more time in this atmosphere, and with my Krishna. When my friends saw me again, I was able to deduce a few surprised(suspected?) looks. They must have thought, "This guy, come what may, will never miss the ISKON prasadam." Lolz.

The rest of the day was with my friends. Evening, we attended Shalini's marriage, and after feasting upon the delicacies, I left for Chennai.

I was remembering my exuberant dance with that beautiful child. And my heart said something....and I was overwhelmed with joy. My heart was filled with gratitude, and I was wordless. For, Krishna, ever the gracious, had given me much more than I had asked for.

I reached Chennai, and was back to my room eager to share everything with my brother. From the bed, my bro asked "How was the journey?" I told him everything, and saved the best for the last. I also showed some of the photos I clicked. Then, after a while, I was silently smiling at him.

Knowing I had some surprise, he asked, "What?" With all my teeth visible, I replied, "Anna, something unexpected happened." His eyes became curious.

I paused, and said, "I think....I danced with Krishna Himself." And narrated the happenings in the temple. He didn't comment. But flowered a smile, his most adorable smile that I always love.

Even as I write this I couldn't remember the child's face or the colour of the dress she wore...but just the experience lingers in my mind. To me, a child, that too a stranger, coming, and playing hide and seek, and dancing along with me felt like a divine conspiracy. A Krishna's conspiracy, I must say. And, with my Madhanmohana, leelas are as common as pebbles on the seashore. Each time I think of this incident, I feel happy. Of all my encounters with my Krishna, this experience stands tall. Every time, I think that Krishna has embraced and played with me, my heart and body lightens. A smile appears on my face.

Am I such a good-deserving person? Am I worthy of His touch and love? No definitely not. But I know, you don't have to be deserving to receive His blessings. Because Krishna is the Saviour of the worst of worst sinners. I'm a living example for that. And this very incident is the proof that Krishna never forbades the one who had surrendered to Him. He fulfills even our silly desires in a way more than we desired.

My dear readers, to be honest, I really don't care if anyone believes this incident or not. But, if anyone says it was not Kirshna, I am not ready to agree. Because, for me, everything is Krishna!

And if you are still with me, your patience is rewarded! Here's my special greetings for you. (Pls right click on the image, for a better view.)

If you like my greeting, you're most welcome to download the image.

Hope you will ;-)

A Humble Guru Dakhshina

2010-05-27T16:26:00.004+05:30

In a fit of love
For all my untoward actions
My Gracious Guru
Wielded a Blue God's Arrow
To strike me, deep.

Vanquishing the lanka-asuras, who creep
Out of my arrogance, ignorance,
And deeds, so cheap,
The Merciful Missile
Pierces my karmic heap,
Erasing the burden, I ought to reap.

Lifting from the voluptuous-valley,
I have fallen, too steep,
The Benevolent Weapon
Ruins the vile-desires that seep.

Uprooting the bondages, I keep,
The Sacred Astra
Liberates me from life's ceaseless cycle
In joy, I weep.

Mere dust from His feet
Can turn a stone into woman
Oh! Will He not transform this animal into a human?

Sheer glance of His eyes
Can reduce mountains to ashes
Oh! Will He not wipe off many lifetime's rashes?

Rama is the Compassionate Arrow
Loosened by my Beloved Guru
To efface my sorrow

Rama is the Noble Arrow
Bestowed by my Highest Guru
To raze my ego!
..........................................................
On this auspicious day of Buddha Purnima,
I am humbled and honoured to dedicate this poem
To the Lotus Feet
Of my Highest Guru & Dearest Brother,
Shri RamaBhaktha,
Shri Ramesh Sadasivam.

And
I'm grateful, Lord Rama, the most exalted one, made this happen :-)

....................................................................
Dear friends, my heartfelt Buddha Jayanti wishes to each one of you. It's a pleasure to meet you all after a long, long hiatus. And congratulate me! For, this tortoise has made it to the 50th mile. :-)

A way to play

2009-11-20T14:34:00.008+05:30

Until then, it was an umbilical cord relationship.
But the moment I was shoved into the world;
Ferocious, bare, naked,
You came inside me.
Unable to grasp, I cried;
The world rejoiced.

From that very second,
The play of duality began!

Neither could I ask why,
Nor could I bid bye;
I had to simply play,
For there is no other way!

When the mind is calm and serene,
You're like a flowing river!
When overpowered by lust or anger,
You're like an unruly brawler!

I don't have the will or the power
To have control over my thoughts.
So, I just witness your play...
And lo!
You
Still my thoughts,
Silence my mind,
And, if blessed,
Reveal the Heavenly Kingdom within.

Awake or in slumber,
Conscious or unconscious,
You never depart me
Until that Final Day
When Yama comes to slay...
For, you're my constant companion.

But...
Isn't that strange?
The more, you come in and go
The less, my life clock ticks!
The less, you come in and go
The more, my life clock ticks!

Ungrateful and unfaithful
Many a day,
Many a year,
Many a lifetime,
I forget you...

Gracious and faithful
Even, if for a jiffy,
I remember,
You bless me!

You breathe life into me.
You take life out of me.
You, my breath!

Just by watching you,
I find a way to play!
..............................................
Image Courtesy: poetrydispatch.wordpress.com

The Budding of A Lotus Flower

2009-11-12T14:33:00.007+05:30

In the filthy pool of my mind,
The roots descend, soiled.

From the filthy pool of my mind,
The flower-stalks ascend, unsoiled.

For the bud to bloom, some day,
I wait...
Unravelling its petals, each day.

Some petals unravel...
The heights of my vanity

Some petals unravel...
The flights of my sanity

Some petals unravel...
The scars of my past-dusks

Some petals unravel...
The dreads of my future-dawns

Some petals unravel...
The inanity of my creeds

Some petals unravel...
The futility of my deeds

Yet,
with pain,
I keep unravelling...

Seasons change.

With each petal unravelled,
Peace and Joy abound!

With each petal unravelled,
Silence and Nothingness unbound!

In that utter void, some day
When unravelling is beyond my way
The Magnificent Sun will rise, gloriously!
Blossoming my Heart-Lotus, resplendently!
...........................................................
I bow, and dedicate this poem
to my beloved brother, my dear Guru, Shri Ramesh Sadasivam,
for sowing and nurturing the spiritual seed in me.

Without you, my beloved anna, this flower would never blossom!
....................................................................
Image Courtesy:deviantart.com

Flavour

2009-11-05T22:55:00.004+05:30

The cost holds back the mother
from buying the food;
her child desires...

The food, I relish, loses its flavour!

Hide and Seek

2009-11-01T20:27:00.005+05:30

In my dreams, He comes...
Yet, I can't see Him

In my heart, He resides...
Yet, I can't seek Him

In my breath, He lives...
Yet, I can't feel Him

In my eyes, He smiles...
Yet, I can't behold Him

The Stealer of My Heart
Plays hide and seek with me...

O! How do I catch Him?

One-rupee- matter(s)!

2009-10-27T10:33:00.008+05:30

Certain incidents happen in our daily life, though trivial they may seem, but speaks volumes of how and where our society is heading (or falling or has fallen, whatever!).

I'd like to share two such incidents, happened sometime back, but never faded away from my memory.

Incident 1:

I was on my way to office. My stomach said it would be grateful if I feed it. The time was ten past ten. I was already late by 40 minutes; but how could one say no to the earnest request of the stomach? So, if not for me, at least for my stomach's sake, I had to get inside a local eatery near Valluvar Kottam :-).

One of the valuable lessons life in Chennai has thought me - the hard way - is never enter a restaurant/mess for the first time, unless or until you have strong testimonials of friends, colleagues, relatives (remember they have to be your well-wishers too), or you're starving to death, and convinced whatever you eat would relish divine.

But sometimes before hunger, my dear friends, rules and lessons vanish like how the fact I was running late to office got vanished just like that.

I asked for iddillies (playing safe!) but settled for a plain dosa, and then for two pooris. Every lesson ignored has its own price. That day it was 24 rupees. I took a fifty rupee note and gave it to the eatery owner, who was busy parcelling the food items. He received the money, and gave me two ten rupee notes and a few coins.

I got the balance and came out. While pocketing the change, I found he has given only 2 two rupee coins and 1 one rupee coin. I rushed back, immediately.

I showed the change to him and said, "Anna, you have to give me six rupees...but you've given only five?"

Looking at the coins in my hand, he asked: "How much did you give? What did you eat?"

"One dosa and two puris....I gave 50 rupees."

He extended his hands expecting me to give the money. So, I gave him the coins alone.

Looking at them, he said, "Thambi, see...I've given you only the right change."

He stretched out his hand with the coins and gave the change back to me. In disbelief, I checked again. They remained the same!

I asked, "How much dosa and a set puri cost?"

"12 each"

"See you have given me only 2 ten rupee notes, 2 two rupee coins, and 1 one rupee coin...” I demonstrated, and added, “What about the remaining one rupee?"

Once again, he got the change in his hands, and without a sense of regret or alarm, he said, "Oh! I thought it was three two rupee coins," and gave me the exact change - six rupees.

With his look, I was not able to read his face; but I felt he didn't do it by mistake. At first I thought he was just careless. But when he began to persuade me after seeing the coins, even while having them in his hands, I understood he was trying to deceive me.

An act of deception for one rupee!

Do I sound silly? Please read the next incident too.

Incident 2:

Some times, after my work is over, I head to Nungambakkam Landmark, close by my workplace, for checking out the latest books, magazines or just to read something randomly. If I find an interesting book or a movie that's worth my penny, I'd also go that extra mile of standing in the lifeless queue and buying it.

On that particular day, there were heavy discount offers for books and a gamut of other things.

As I was browsing through the piled up books, I chanced upon Jeffery Archer's Cat-O-Nine Tales, a collection of short-stories, at a discounted price for 99 rupees. Damn cheap! I thought and grabbed it.

Having found a worthy treasure (at least I believed so), I lost interest to browse other books, and went straight to the bill counter. Luckily, there were few people waiting. I gave the book for billing.

After scanning it with the bar code reader, the guy in blue asked, "Ninety-nine rupees. Cash or Card, sir?"

I readily gave him the five-hundred rupee note.

Receiving it, he keyed in the amount, and hit the enter button like a golfer hitting the ball.

He kept the printed bill - its size was enough to neatly wrap and cover the book I bought - on the counter table, and four hundred rupee notes on top of it. He placed the book inside the Landmark cover and handed it to me.

I got it, and stood sincerely hoping he'd give me the balance - one rupee! Seeing me standing still, he added, "Thank you, sir!"

I was annoyed by his complete negligence of my balance. But...I gave him my best possible smile, and asked, "So, sir, what about my balance one-rupee?"

I guess many customers who shop there would shy away from asking one rupee. He gave me a startled look and opened the table drawer, saying, "Sir, do you have two rupees?"

I was puzzled. How could two rupees help him in giving the one rupee balance! Are three rupee coins doing rounds! I wondered, and without searching my pockets, I said, "No!"

Then, he slowly gave me a coin, and intoned, “No sir. We didn't have the change."

Thinking he was giving a two rupee coin, I said, "If it's two rupees, then, fine...have it." But to my surprise it was just one rupee coin. This irked me more.

"Even if there is no change, won't you guys have the decency of at least saying it - if not - taking the pain of getting it from the next counter (which is an arm's length away) and giving the right balance to the customer?"

My mind shouted; but I remained silent and walked away.

Does one-rupee-matter?

Yes. It definitely matters! That too, if people begin to deceit for one-rupee, I think, it matters more than anything else!

Why didn't those guys have the honesty to give me the exact balance?

By losing one rupee, I’m not going to lose my precious life. If I’m deceived for one rupee - by God’s grace - I’m not going to get bankrupt (at least, not in one day!). In fact, as Ramana Maharishi says, “Whatever you’re doing for others; you’re doing it for yourself!”

So, if someone cheats, he's cheating none but himself.

But, here, the dishonesty of tricking the customer for just one rupee or fifty paise is something a matter of concern. Something, I find very cheap. Very ugly. If we are willing to cheat others for just one rupee, imagine what we will do for big money?

Whenever, we talk about corruption we think only bigwigs aka politicians, bureaucrats, government servants and high-profile officers are corrupted. We think if we eliminate them, our society would be as clean as hounds tooth.

But, are they the only corrupted?

If a bill-counter-guy desires for one rupee from 100 rupees, politicians expect a crore or may be 10 crores from 100 crores. But the percentage more or less remains the same. The dishonestly remains the same. And it remains the same everywhere; from the top to the bottom of the pyramid!

And FYI, these two incidents are just the tip of the iceberg. If you commute in Chennai share autos, you'll know how the auto-wallas fleece (though, I think, this is ubiquitous). If you commute in bus, you’ll know what bus conductors do to your balance fifty paise. No! I am not saying everyone out there is like that. There are many honest people too. There are policemen who don’t take bribes. There are auto-drivers who honestly return lump sum money, left by the commuter, to the police station. There are shop-keepers who ask to keep one rupee instead of 50 paise.

But, like exceptions in politicians, they are very few.

And, what disturbs me the most is the lack of guilt even after they are caught naked. I didn't see a sense of regret or shame in both the persons (Or am I expecting too much?).

Disintegration of values in the individuals results in the disintegration of values in the society. What is society, but a group of individuals, isn't it?

So, if at all, we wish to cleanse the society, where should we begin?

My dear friends, what's your opinion? Have you come across such incidents? Or do you feel I'm a stingy pig whining nonsense since I can't let go one rupee? :-). Whatever it may be, please feel free to share your views. I'd love to hear from you!

See you there :-)

The Overflowing Cup

2009-10-10T19:14:00.009+05:30

Make me thirsty, O Lord!

For, Thy Cup is Always Overflowing!
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Image Courtesy: Krishna Himself :-)

A Guru in disguise

2009-10-07T08:50:00.014+05:30

Less than an inch in size,
Ant is a Guru in disguise.
A miniscule of everything good and nice,
In it, I see, the wisdom of the Wise.

A tiny little ant was struggling
To find its way Home
On the mean-market road,
Where humans and vehicles roar!

Escaping the humans stampede;
Escaping the machines rampage;
It was braving the man-made storm,
Where chaos and fidgetiness are the norm

Every step it took, was a lesson
Of courage, faith and patience
Every step it took, was a lesson
Of God's immense Grace!

A miniature miracle!
On its way Home,
The Ant revealed an divine oracle:
"Those who have the heart, find the path!"
...........................................................
Penned & Photographed by My Self :-)

My beloved Bapu

2009-10-02T19:42:00.015+05:30

A weak and frail Man

Showed the world what Faith can!

Immovable strength like mountain
Love sprang from Him like fountain

Truth and Nonviolence as weapons
Preferring pen for guns

He marched the masses to wage a war
And made the British pride mar!

Caste, creed and religion was no bar
For, He loved all!

Smile child-like
Wisdom God-like
My beloved Mahatma's Life
Is a spiritual hike!

Striving to go beyond likes and dislikes
He touched the wealthy, poor and intellectuals alike

Disguised in human body
Gandhi is an Immortal
Transformed from ordinary to Extraordinary
He is our Nation's Glory!

Clad half-naked
His path was Sacred

A way out of madness
A way for every beings' gladness

If seen by the world,
It can wipe out all our sadness!
.................................................................................
Happy Birthday My Dear Bapu...
No other Leader has touched my life like You!

Blessed are those who rise early!

2009-09-27T14:16:00.017+05:30

Today, when I woke up at the wee hours of (Sunday!) morning, little did my mind entertain such thoughts. Rather, it was religiously thinking of ways to get back the lost sleep. I took my mobile phone, and curled myself under the blanket. The time was quarter to five. To my surprise, the alarm set at five o'clock was on.

[Note: Though as a sadhana, I set the alarm, everyday, before I go to bed; many a day, I would wake up only to find the alarm to be turned off. Though am always eager to discover this mystery, I never dare to ask my brother about it :-).]

After many futile attempts to sleep, I had to threw caution to the wind. And, I threw it happily. Because a thought flashed in my mind, energising all the lethargic and reluctant cells in my brain.

Just a few days ago, I read that Ramana Maharishi, the great sage, never used to sleep in the early hours of morning. Even while in ill health, he was always up with the larks. When his attendants had requested him to sleep a little longer, he had replied, "What is the point in sleeping at the time of the Brahma Muhurtham (4 to 6 am) ? If you want, you may sleep!"

Inspired, I left the cozy cot, and trudged myself to give all the laziness and sleepiness a wash. As I opened the door, the dewy breeze embraced me. It must have rained in the night, I said to myself, and splashed the cold water on my face. When a few droplets ran into my earlobes, my hairs stood on the end. The chillness was indeed a thrill.

I came back to my room, and after much pondering, I sat for meditation. Noisy and restless, my mind wouldn't let me enjoy the pleasure of chanting for long.

It was dawn, when I opened my eyes. I looked out through the window. A blanket of pregnant clouds hung down. But there was no rain. The diffused sunlight glittered the wet roads, trees, flowers, and, and... my heart :-).

In high spirits, I armed myself with my camera and headed out, not knowing what Krishna had to bless me with.

Ever The Gracious, He made me behold the sight of the white little jasmine flowers, scattered right at the entrance of my mansion. And lo! There awakened my visual eye :-).

Adieu, my love!

Roads
Smeared with tar
Adorned by flowers!

A perfect family?!

Duet in rain!

Sun or rain
Flowers never blame
A day or two they live
Yet, immense joy they give!

Dear readers, hope you enjoyed the Sunday morning with me. It was only after enjoying the silence, beauty and joy of early morning hours, I thought, "Blessed are those who rise early!"
...............................................................................................
My heartfelt Navarathri, Ayudha Pooja & Vijayadasami wishes to one and all! Happy Celebrations!!!

Caught in traffic

2009-09-22T21:35:00.008+05:30

Empty Bus
Window Seat
Cool Breeze
Waning Moon

For the first time,
Traffic Jam
Gladdens my heart!

Decision

2009-09-13T18:21:00.010+05:30

As I was listening to him, it struck me. For the first time in my life, I realized.

He is my colleague. His large, dark-framed glasses, graying hair and faded shirt underlined his retiring age.

“Now-a-days, if my son wants to talk to me, whatever be the job I’m doing, however important it may be, I just keep it aside, and talk to him patiently. It would be better, if I say, I listen to him patiently.”

He paused, sipping the hot steaming tea.

“Why, sir? Is anything wrong?”

My amateurish question was brushed away in his smile.

“The time we spend with our children is very less. After they come back home from school, they are engrossed in playing video games or watching TV. When they study, my house is drenched in tears, watching daily soaps. Then, I spend my time watching news channels, and go to bed. I felt each one of us was like an island, though living in the same house.

School-life is the only time children are close to us. The only time they come back home everyday. After that, when it comes to college, career…they start moving away. From then on, they are another guest in our home.

Deep inside, I feared, if I don’t spend time with them now, then never will I be able to get closer with them. There would certainly be an invisible veil between us, forever.

He took a deep breath, “Age, you know…” and continued, “So even if my son talks about very trivial things, I listen attentively. Even, if he interrupts while I’m working seriously, I don’t lose my nerve. On the other hand, my son is also happy, and shares everything with me; about his friends, teachers, and sometimes even about his girlfriends.”

He chuckled, winking at me.

“Since my approach with him has changed, I can see a difference in him, too. He also thinks that he should make me happy, and concentrates more on his studies - than before. Though, I was never very strict about his academics.

Now, we both are like friends. Next year, he will be off to college. Far away. Though I’m happy now, I regret for not being like this from his childhood.”

In a meditative tone, he added, “Every father would have this fear, at least when their hair begins to grey.”

He touched the silver hairs in his head, and drank the last of his now cold-tea, in a gulp.

“I think my long impromptu must have bored you, young man!” and left hurriedly without knowing what it had done to me.

I moved to my cabin. Without giving a second thought, I took my mobile and called my father.

“Tell me, kanna…What happened? Was your resignation accepted? His voice was restrained but anxious.

“No pa…I’m not going to put in my papers.”

“…..” He was silent.

“I have decided to be here….in India. I’ve changed my decision.”

“….Is’t true? Why? What happened? Whenever we said you refused, but now suddenly….What’s the reason. Met any girl?”

“No pa! I just understood…" I paused, and added, "the friend in you!”

“…………….”

My dear reader, can you hear my father and mother’s gleeful voices filling the air?

.........................................................

This fiction was originally written in Thamizh, and was translated to English by none other than my Self :-).

Beauty

2009-08-29T21:48:00.009+05:30

An angel
in a slum...
Lotus

...............................................................................
Image Courtesy: http://www.sanghatasutra.net/

A Kite’s Song

2009-08-23T19:24:00.009+05:30

Attached to the string

In your hands

I fly….

Breezy, stormy, calmer

Days pass by…

Rainy, sunny, snowy

Months roll by...

Ruffled, rumpled, roiled

Yet

I am safe…

I fear not

The heights I reach

I fear not

The depths I may fall

For, I am

In your hands...

The string is my breath

The string is my strength

The string is my life

The string is my only attachment

Cut it away

And I am dead.

....................................................................................................

Wish you all, my dear readers, a happy Vinayagar Chaturti!

[Image Courtesy:http://lingrem.deviantart.com/art/Kite-119720072]

The winner stands alone – Book Review

2009-08-19T07:36:00.020+05:30

Last year for my birthday it was Paulo Coelho's Brida and Osho's Krishna, the man and his philosophy - the books my brother gifted me. So this year, as I guessed, among his other surprise gifts, Coelho's "The Winner Stands Alone" was also present ;-).

Thanks to the viral fever, I was able to complete the book in two days (i.e., after some 10 days I received it: D), taking off from work. And thanks to Paulo Coelho, for transporting me to a world of glitz and glamour, the Cannes Film Festival.

Set in the backdrop of the world's most prestigious film festival, the story revolves around Igor, a Russian millionaire, who travels to Cannes to get back his ex-wife, Ewa, now married to a famous fashion magnate, Hamid Hussein. And to get back Ewa, he is ready to go to any extent, even if it means 'destroying worlds'. He begins his killing spree and intimates Ewa, expecting her to come back to him and stop his destruction.

With this riveting plot to keep you hooked till the end, Paulo Coelho plunges into the bleak world of celebrities, fashion, movies and their obsession with the trinity of Self-destruction: money, fame and power.

Igor is convinced that every cold-blooded murder he commits serves a higher purpose, which he believes, is to get Ewa, his love, back. And thereby he can happily work towards the betterment of the society (?!). To his surprise his first victim, a comely street vendor, becomes his Guardian Angel, and helps him follow his violent pursuit.

His angst about the shallowness of celebrity-worship, ubiquitous mobile-phones, and the maddening pursuit of money, power and fame are all evident throughout the book. And, his criticisms are worth introspecting.

There is so much I agree with Paulo Coelho. In a place he says, “Certainties have replaced passion”. Just think of the ace directors/actors/artists/creative people, who are caught in their own image and now have become just another survival; you’ll certainly agree the truth in the statement.

Also, the book once again assured me that the fear, anxiety and worry of a person, doesn’t change with success. The people, whom we think, or at least, who are celebrated and believed to be successful have the same turmoil as every other person. Truth is, theirs’ are worse.

Though the book is a page-turner, the book, at times, does lose its pace. For example, I just skipped the check list for a normal person listed by Javits Wild, a powerful film distributor. And, also, I felt the ending was a let down.

The novel, certainly, has many good things to pick up and contemplate, but if you are expecting an inspiring story, as most of his other books, you may be disappointed. This book, as Paulo Coelho foreword says, is a stark portrayal of where we are, and I think, he has done justice to it.

And, yes, it is definitely worth giving a read!

Happy Independence Day!

2009-08-15T10:11:00.000+05:30

An inmate in my mansion greeted me, 'Independence Day Wishes' and said, "Last night there was heavy rain. I always wonder how it rains every independence day!".

Surprised by his observation, I asked, "Is it so?"

He added, "Yes, many times I've observed...not just in Chennai, even in North (he is from Orissa), whenever we hoist our flag, it rains!"

I chuckled saying, " May be, at least, the rain remembers the sacrifice and the pain of our freedom fighters." He smiled.

I'm really not sure whether it rains every Independence day in India. But I'm very sure and sad that we have forgotten the sacrifices made, the blood spilled, the lives lost for us to breathe free air.

India's Independence is unique and glorious in all ways. Our freedom fight was not just about a country's independence but it was about Truth, Peace and Love. It was about awakening the Divine in everybody's heart.

We got our freedom by turning our cheek. It's our country, who practiced what Jesus Christ preached.

Let's be proud to be an Indian. Lets' be proud of our Independence, and remember the glories of our freedom fight!

Vande Matharam!

Bliss

2009-08-08T16:12:00.000+05:30

Glimpses of Silence
When thoughts lull

Divine

[Image Courtesy: Buddha :-)]

MY PACMAN SONG

2009-08-03T20:58:00.002+05:30

Recently, I stumbled upon this song in Youtube, which gave me the guts to post a song, I wrote a long time before :-).

First, enjoy the PACMAN FEVER SONG!

Now, enjoy my PACMAN SONG ;-)

Pacman is the game I play on PC

Because the controls are so easy

But the ghosts are there always chasing

Keeping the Pacman away from munching

Eating the power pills let the ghosts fall ill

Making the Pacman free on his own will

So go home and switch on your PC

And play the game until you go crazy!

An evening with Krishna

2009-07-26T09:44:00.001+05:30

I first read about Gaudiya Math in the autobiography of the renowned, and my favourite, Thamizh writer, Balakumaran. He narrated an incident where, as a boy, he asked a Brahmachari in the math to initiate him into 'Mantra Chanting.' The Brahmachari replied, "I don't know any mantra other than Krishna Nama. All I know is only Krishna!"

But Balakumaran was determined and prayed him to initiate Krishna Nama. Touched by his persistent plea, the Brahmachari told him to come the next day morning, before sunrise. As instructed, Balakumaran went to the temple before dawn. After going around the temple many times, the Brahmachari initiated him to keep on chanting, 'Krishna! Krishna'.

After reading that incident, I was interested to visit the temple in Royapet, Chennai. One day my brother took me to the temple, and I was entranced by the divine beauty of Shree Krishna. With Shree Chaitanya Mahaprabhu by his left, and Shree Radha Ma by his right, Shree Krishna (always, the centre of attraction!), holds the flute, and smiles a bewitching smile, stealing the hearts of everyone! Helpless, I am always drawn to the temple, and would simply sit in front of him, whenever he wishes!

Yesterday, was one such fortunate day. After my office hours, I went to the temple around 4 pm. This time I also had the camera with me :-). When I entered the temple, the pujari was inside the temple-womb, dressing Krishna. Silence pervaded the temple. I sat and waited eagerly to see my Krishna. A few minutes later, the screen was pulled away, revealing the glory of ever-smiling Krishna, graceful Radha ma and blissful Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. I had darshan and payed my obeisance to them.

Seeing the deities, dressed up in dark blue made me happy. Then, I started my humble attempt of arresting the Divine Beauty with my camera.

Shree Chaitanya Mahaprabhu & Shree Radha Krishna

At His Divine Feet

Tulasi Krishna

Painting the Divine!

An artistic touch!

Sri Gauranga Prasad Brahmachari offering prasadam.

Serving hands!

Left alone!

At His Service

I sat in front of Krishna for a long time. Bhajans began. Devotees flocked in. The temple was filled with divine chants, and my heart was filled with happiness.

A Prayer

2009-07-16T19:46:00.000+05:30

Show mercy
To the undeserved...
Rain!

I am a rock

2009-07-10T13:06:00.000+05:30

Dear friends,

Firstly, let me sincerely thank each one of you for the support and encouragement you gave for our fight for justice. I was touched by your care and concern, and am grateful for that. I have saved the post-police episode for my next post. All I can say now is, by Krishna's Grace, we have made the Choolaimedu police inspector, Dr. Selvakumar, sub-inspector, Mr. Radhakrishnan, and the mansion owner and his gang realize we are not like other guys, who will give up for their barking threats.

Also, I am extremely sorry for not visiting your blogs, for not replying your mails, and for failing to keep the promises I made. I know you all are too good, and will excuse me :-). And now that I'm back, I promise to catch up with your posts very soon.

Yesterday, accidentally, I landed in a lovely blog, which encourages writers to unleash their creativity, no matter what form it takes. I am really happy, I visited it, since it has made me to resume blogging :-).

Visit that beautiful blog, you may also be inspired to write!

I wrote and posted this poem in that blog, and am also sharing it with you all. Please leave your wonderful comments, as always.

Image courtesy: http://www.pbase.com/cyndycat

Flowers

Thorns
Sunshines
Rainfalls
Breezes
Storms
Days
Nights
Winters
Summers

Undisturbed
I live...

I am a rock.

Fighting For Justice

2009-06-13T22:25:00.000+05:30

[Image Courtesy: http://www.fbi.gov ]

How many movies have you seen, where a common man (read a good citizen), going to lodge a complaint in the police station, getting assaulted, harassed, and ill-treated by the police for no fault of his own? Many, ah?!

Now, I am going to tell you one such true incident, not has a witness but as a victim. Yes! This is an account of a true incident happened (happening) in my life.

I am living with my elder brother, Ramesh in Saravanam Mansion at Choolaimedu in Chennai for over a year. Some eight months back the water provided to us began to emanate foul odour. We, along with many inmates, complained to the Mansion owner many times about the water problem, but he showed lukewarm interest and never did anything about it.

So, we took the sample water to the TamilNadu Water Supply and Drainage Board (TWAD) for testing. The result only proved that the water was fecally contaminated (36 units in 100ml). We took a photo copy of the certificate and showed it to the owner, who laughed at it and said, "Okay, I'll do something for your satisfaction." But he never did anything to improve the water quality.

A few of our mansion inmates identified that the cause of the problem was a single motor pump, which sucked sewage water. Because when this particular pump was not used, we absolutely had no problem with the water. So, along with many people, we requested the owner to stop using the pump. Though he agreed to this request, he was more worried about the lifetime of the pump, and continued to use it on alternate days, mostly without our knowledge.

This became a major problem for us. Our health was affected. A few people vacated the mansion. Many became used to it. My brother and I, and a few others, stopped using the pipe water and started using the hand pump for bathing and other purposes. But we simply couldn't digest that we pay only bath in fecally contaminated water.

Because of our personal and work commitments, we were not able to search for a new place. Moreover, we felt that this was not our personal problem but a problem affecting more than hundred youngsters. So my brother got the signatures of the inmates and sent a registered post to the owner, but he refused to get the post.It came back to us. He was completely heedless to all our requests and pleas.

So, left with no other option, we decided to take the matter to Consumer Protection Cell(CPC) in Chennai. My brother filed the complaint. Mr. Rajaraman I.A.S of CPC sent an acknowledgment letter stating that they had forwarded the issue to the Metro Water Department, Electricity Board (we also had problems of electricity fluctuation), and Corporation of Chennai to investigate the issue. A copy was also sent to the owner through the post, which was again sent back.

After that, the owner began to threaten us and asked us to vacate the mansion. He refused to take rent from us for the past three months, and asked us to vacate.

But, last Friday, my brother found that the Internet was suddenly not connecting. When he checked out, he discovered that the telephone wire that goes out through the window was cut off from outside, when he had not been in the room. He called and informed me from the land line nearby and went back to the room. I was in my office. It made me worry since my brother was alone there.

As I worried, something happened. The mansion owner, his son, watchman and a stout guy (unknown to us) had come to the room and threatened my brother that his very life will be in danger if he goes to the consumer court. They asked my brother to vacate the mansion and tried to assault him physically. Freeing himself from their clutches, my brother escaped and ran all the way to the police station for safety. He didn't even lock the room's door and wear slippers.

After reaching the police station in Choolaimedu, he had explained everything to the police constables. In the meantime, the foursome had locked the room and followed my brother to the police station. As soon as they entered, they ordered tea for all the policemen, and began to badmouth about my brother and said that he had not payed the rent for three months and not vacating the mansion.

Immediately, the police constables had said that only if you pay the rent, we can proceed with your complaint. So my brother called me from a constable's mobile, and asked me to come to the station. Panicked, I rushed there. It was around 12.30 PM. Then, I got the key from the police and hurried to the room. Took the money, we had kept in the room, and went to the ATM nearby, and drew all the balance amount.

Then, I reached the police station with the money. I gave the amount to the police, who then handed it over to the mansion owner. After that my brother asked to take a complaint against the mansion owner for threatening him and cutting off the telephone wire. The constable asked to write the complaint. My brother wrote a detailed complaint and gave it to them. Meantime, I called and informed my office that I had an unexpected problem and will be coming back in an hour.

When my brother asked for the receipt for acknowledgment, the writer asked us to meet the Inspector, who was standing in front of the police station. So we both went to him with the complaint and started to explain our problem. But, the inspector never listened to what we said and asked us to vacate the mansion. He scolded my brother for looking at his name badge, and shouted, "What are you a big shot? Go complain where ever you like? I am afraid of nobody?" When I asked him, "Sir, what's wrong in simply looking at the badge?" he hit me on my face, and tried to beat me more. My brother who came to my rescue was also beaten by him.

Then, the police manhandled us and started to treat us roughly. Though we kept requesting him to read the complaint at least once and then proceed further, the inspector never listened. We were surrounded by many policemen. They kept on insisting that we should vacate the mansion. All our explanations were fruitless. Our mobile phone was confiscated by them. We were not allowed to make any calls after that. I was not even able to inform my office. We were asked to sit inside the station, and was told that the Inspector will be back by 4 PM. The mansion owner and their gang were allowed to go home.

Till evening 7PM, we were simply sitting inside the station. Again the Sub Inspector called and started to persuade us to vacate the mansion. Sometimes he pleaded us. Sometimes he threatened us. Sometimes he spoke friendly. Sometimes he cajoled us. But he was persistent that we should give it in writing that we will vacate the mansion, and will not go to the court. When my brother insisted to register the complaint and give us a receipt, he took him by his collar and pushed him away.

All our explanations and requests were in vain. Disheartened, we had to write and give what he told us. Only, when I was writing, he came to know that I had just come to give the money to my brother. Then, we came back to the room.

My brother and I were assaulted, harassed, and ill-treated by the police for no fault of us. My brother is a engineering graduate, a short film/documentary director, and an aspiring film director. He is working hard to realize his dreams. I am working in a reputed organization in Chennai. Moreover, many bloggers who visit both our blogs, would have known that we both are socially conscious persons.

I am saying this because when educated people, like us, are treated like third rated fellows, imagine the situation of illiterates? Firstly, do the police have the right to assault a person, that too, who has come to his aid? Are the police there to serve only the wealthy and powerful? Should we drop in names of VIPS and big shots to lodge a complaint? Can't a common man approach the police even when his very life is at threat? Don't we have the rights to approach the consumer court? Should we keep vacating mansions, if we don't get proper services? What are courts and police stations for?

Many questions kept boiling in us that night.

"To run away from danger, instead of facing it, is to deny one's faith in man and God, even one's own self. It were better for one to drown oneself than live to declare such bankruptcy of faith."

More than ever, these immortal lines of Mahatma Gandhi came has aid. So, we decided to seek justice. We decided to fight against the injustice done to us.

My brother approached the City Chief commissioner Mr.K. Rajendran, on Wednesday, and has lodged the complaint. He had instructed the Assistant Commissioner of Police to personally inquire and take appropriate action. We have also registered a complaint in the State Human Rights Commission.

Mahatma also says "You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty."

With faith, hope and trust, we are waiting for justice.
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P.S. Dear friends, more than ever, we need your support, guidance and voice. I welcome your valuable guidance and suggestions. Do leave your precious comments, as always. You can also mail me: [manikrsna@gmail.com]

The Raja who rules my heart

2009-06-02T20:44:00.001+05:30

In my loneliness
You are my solace

In my happiness
You are my celebration

When in pain and sorrow
You are my mother's lap

Tears of sadness
and
Tears of joy
Flow in my eyes
When I listen you...

Your Mesmerizing Voice
Your Divine Music
Your Magical Smile
Are
Always My Life Givers!

Deep in my heart
I have given a place for you
only for you!
My beloved Illaiyaraaja...

From
The depths of my heart
I wish you
Happy Birthday!

May the Divine express through you, always!
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02/06/09 Maestro Illaiyaraaja's birthday!

My good old school mate

2009-05-30T19:47:00.000+05:30

I happened to see my good old school mate, when my brother and I were on the way back from the movie Autograph. It is always a pleasure to meet old friends, especially school-chums, who bring back the fond memories of our innocent childhood.

As I did my schooling at two beautiful hill stations, Coonoor and Kotagiri, in Nilgiris, I altogether had a different set of friends with different ambitions, interests and background. This made the ‘surprise’ meetings more exciting. Because, chances are, I may come upon friends who might be a fledgling director, a mouth-tight geologist, a restless market vendor, an aspiring writer, sometimes a carefree gypsy, and of course, the run-of-the-mill professionals.

Though, I loved such unexpected encounters, there was one thing that had always bothered me. It may be my forgetfulness, or my inability, or my poor memory, or my absentmindedness, or, call it whatever, but there was something that didn’t allow me to recall their names. I always had a tough time in remembering their names, that too, when my friends used my name once in every ten seconds while conversing… my god! I was embarrassed.

And this ‘dear’ friend was no exception. He called my name aloud and smiled. I don’t know whether he expected the same from me, but I went one step ahead (literally!) and hugged him tightly, so that he will never get the slightest feel that I had forgotten his name.

Freeing himself from my affectionate embrace, he began to ask all the regular queries - about job, health, family, friends and so on. Though my face was calm and serene as that of Buddha (of course, I should also mention the-all-knowing-smile my face exhibited) while answering his ‘thought provoking’ questions, there was a restless battle taking place within my mind to remember his name.

It came up with all possible tricks to get his name from his own mouth. Like asking his full name, or wondering how our English teacher would pronounce his name (since our English teacher was an Anglo-Indian, she always had a peculiar way of pronouncing our asli Indian names, giving altogether a new name, which instantly became our nickname), or, to the worst, in the act of getting his phone number, asking himself to spell out his name with initial…

Though a lot more ‘innovative’ ideas were buzzing in my mind, without trying any I simply gave up. Meanwhile, I may have used all the words that a slang thesaurus could possibly suggest for an ‘intimate’ friend (who knows, I could have also contributed some new words).

But, the moment I gave up, to my surprise and to everybody’s shock it happened. An uncontrolled force, deep inside from my stomach came through my mouth, thundering out his name ‘KISSHHHOOOOREEEEE!’

That was enough for the whole street to turn at us, and especially for a stray dog to run away, barking.

My dear friend, whom I thought would be happy with me for remembering his name, who was till then smiling and talking cheerfully, was now looking at me crazily, as if I were an unwonted extraterrestrial from one of the sixty three moons of Jupiter. My brother, who was till then engrossed with his mobile phone, gave me a look, which undoubtedly questioned my sanity. And that was enough for me to turn away from him, immediately, and grin at my friend, innocently.

Though the joy of discovering his name was overwhelming, I slowly understood my ‘affectionate’ outburst had created an ‘unaffectionate’ situation. Just to make it normal, I started conversing with him. I asked how our old school-mates Saravana, Anantha, John (the few names that popped up in my mind) were doing, and started saying stories about our pranks and (I alone) laughed loudly. Even the corner of Kishore’s lips never moved a bit to any of those mischievous-stories, which usually provoked non-stop laughter when told.

He remained disturbed and his eyes were now looking at me more strangely than ever before. I felt, he was not yet relieved by the shock of my outburst, or may be he might have understood what my brother had meant with his looks, and took that seriously.

It made me to wonder how to continue the conversation or better how to end it and escape from him. But suddenly my ingenious brain reminded me that I have not yet introduced my brother to him. So, immediately, I turned to my brother and said, “He is my good old school buddy Kishore. We were best friends at school. We sat next to each other, and he always used to empty my lunch box without my knowledge. Though he was very poor at his studies, he used to get through the exams by copying all my answers. He was an expert at that. And we both fought once to sit next to Shalini, our childhood sweetheart at Green Valley (Note: ‘Our’ here means not just we both, our whole class).” As I was excitedly recollecting our fond memories of our school-hood, I saw my ‘dear’ friend’s face showing all the awkward expressions (only) his face could, possibly, show, and his eyes slowly beginning to emanate anger.

Seeing his eyes turn blood red like a furious Bollywood hero, I was confused, and was not able to comprehend the reason for his sudden fury.

I gave him that smile of knowing him for years, and asked, “What happened, don’t you remember any of them?” I winked naughtily and whispered, “How were you able to forget Shalini?” And that was enough for him to vent out his ire. Moving his head left to right and shaking his hands uncontrollably (I doubt whether he was shaking or it was the anger that made him shake his hands), he replied, with all hatred, “You jackass, I never studied at Green Valley, I studied in Stanes!” and left the place, giving me the same look my brother gave me before.

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This piece of fiction cum true incident was written a year ago after a bizarre encounter with my school mate!