It was my birthday

I woke up in the morning morning to the message, "Blessed be".
And I realised that never mind that I don't do 'god', never mind that I don't do 'religion', never mind that I won't go to heaven or hell, but how truly blessed I am.
Thank you my friend for bringing that home to me.

Another friend wished me a, " ... great trip around the sun."
I am on my way my friend, soon to reach you".

The Temptress

These are possibly Rabindranath Tagore's ('Thakur' is the way the Bengalis spell and pronounce it. Heaven knows why even today the anglicized 'Tagore' is used. It means nothing and sounds as artificial as it is.) last expression of his contemplations on the concept of Maya. Much of this is subjective and personal but makes a broader point.

This is not a direct translation as some of the Bengali words when translated into English are completely inappropriate and sometimes mean exactly the opposite.

Needless to say it has shaped much of my consciousness.

Sheshlekha 15

You have strewn the path of your creation with snares of illusion, you forever the Temptress!

You have spread the lure of false faith with expert hands in simple lives.

With this deceit you have marked the Seer.

For him there is no mystery to the night.

The path that he sees by the light of your star is the same path that is walked by his soul.

It is ever clear.

With simple faith he lights it ever luminous.

He may seem deceptive, but he is honest within.

In that is his pride.

People think he is contrary.

But he realizes the truth in the radiance of the light that shines within.

Nothing deludes him.

The ultimate reward is for him to have.

He, who can embrace your play with serenity, receives from you the right to eternal peace.

The Pariahs

I haven’t found a single home for Sugar and Honey.

Their fault is that they are Desi.
It doesn’t matter that they are beautiful.
It doesn’t matter that they are the canine version of human ramp models.
It doesn’t matter that they are naughty and affectionate.
It doesn’t matter that they are no fuss, low maintenance and perfectly attuned to the climate of our country.

What matters is that they are not ‘breed’ dogs from foreign countries.
What matters is that they are not perceived to be the status symbols that a dog of foreign origin apparently is.
What matters is that one doesn’t have to pay fancy prices for them and that takes away the chance for the owners to show off their economic prowess.

Well, the 'Breaking News' is that they are ‘Desi’ dogs in a land full of ‘Desi’ people and last time I checked there were more ‘Desi’s than ‘Videsi’s in our population.

It would seem that mirrors are in short supply.

It is telling on the nature of our pet owners how shallow they are. Any ‘breed’,  however much genetically compromised, are the chosen ones.

St. Bernards in the plains of a hot and often humid country, more often than not cooped up in city flats, Rotweilers, Bulldogs, Pugs, Great Danes, Labradors, Dalmatians, the list goes on and on, are drooled (pun unintended) over. I can understand the rescues, but to buy a 'breed' and encourage the breeder to breed some more dogs doomed to an miserable life is what I will never understand.

But no matter how terribly wrong, how terribly torturous it is for them to live in this country or context, who cares? They are money spinners.

They are as valued as top end cars that are just as inappropriate for our Indian roads bar a very few.


It makes for such sad commentary on our society.

Being 'insiders' they are 'outsiders'.

They are the pariahs.

No opposition

In the second largest democracy in the world, the 16th Loksabha - a parliament  whose members are chosen by the people to represent them, will have no leader of opposition. 

So in case you did not vote for the Bhartiya Janata Party or its allies, expect your voices not to be heard.
But then, you only have your 'chosen' parties to blame.

Maya

Life is about kick-ass maya.
Don't ever think you can trick her.
Don't ever dare.

The quiet hills

What I love about the hills is the quietness.
The quietness of sound and action.
Just hanging around is fine.

The ocean, to me, is the ultimate in activity.
The waves rise and fall.
There is high tide and there is low tide.
The roar of the waves that thrilled me so much twenty years ago, have lost their appeal.
Even at its lowest, doesn't matter how gentle, there is still that forward movement of the gentlest line of water, and then its retreat.
It is all too much.
Too much to hear and too much to see.
And then there is of course far more to do.
Simple swimming, water-sports, the seafood - its all there and can not, should not be ignored.
The sun reflects off the sand and the water and creates an energy of its own.
It is all glowing, exciting, eager energy.
The kind of energy I appreciate, but no longer revel in.

The hills are where I thrive.

What is wrong with the plain old me?

Which NGO (Non govarnmental organisation) are you from?'
I get asked more than I am asked my name.
When I say I don't belong to any, eyebrows are knit.
Immediately I am looked at with suspicion.
If I am not a part of any NGO, then what right have I to offer support to anything? No matter what it is - a concept, a life or a faith, where is my license?
Sometimes I need to fill out forms which ask for the name of the organisation I belong to. There I write 'my own'. Nobody has questioned that yet, so I am encouraged to continue.
Just recently I was asked for my credentials.
I replied that I didn't have any as of that minute, but within the next half hour I could perhaps drum up some. That was a bit of a conversation stopper.
Why am I not adequate?
Why do I have to belong to or be part of something to justify an instinct?