the world's a stage wherein we are all actors.

Every child is a different kind of flower, and all together, make this world a beautiful garden -  Well whoever said this couldn't be more right. As a parent and an ex-teacher, I've always felt inspired by the magical world of kids. Every child, I've observed is a treasure trove of talents waiting to be discovered, to unfold, given the opportunity and right direction. With their innate ability to see magic in all of life, and the endless potential possibilities that they spring upon you so often, they leave me zapped and intrigued.

To me, children continue to be that important species of individuals who lead us adults, into a journey of self-discovery. They don't very often listen to you, but they are observing you all the while - in the little and large nuances you display, unwittingly, so often. They are great 'apes' who so easily imitate you. You realize you have to get your act right for them to mimic you, emulate you. You need to be watchful of what you say, for they often repeat verbatim, what you shouldn't have said! Well, it all then boils down to one single factor if you are to make the right impression on any child - your own, your students, or just about any kid with whom you interact: You have to transform yourself into a role model, worthy of being followed. 

And being bundles of abounding energy, the young ones can so often push you to that brink where there is every possibility of the dam bursting. Well, it's a huge lesson in patience they teach you - so often like waiting for the amber to turn green when you are at the wheels, running late and just need to vroom to an important meeting!

I guess one of my biggest learning experiences in all these decades, has come from children: they are keen learners who go looking for magic and make this world a marvel for us to revel in; they are individuals whose potentials need to be recognized and tapped, to be unfolded and not moulded in the direction we feel is right. 

My second innings with children is a joyous journey of self discovery in which I find immense satisfaction as I have embarked on a adventurous path, picking up from where I left off in my childhood days. All the world's a stage wherein we are all actors. Yes, with my bunch of a few dozen kids and adults, I have re-entered the magical world of Drama. I have been scripting little plays from mythology in which my bouncing energy bundles, aged 6 to 11 years have been performing annually now, for 3 years.

Here are some of the plays that I've scripted and have been enacted by these little ones. 


Play 1

Manu & Matsya Avatar

Cast: 7

Narrator 1                     Sparsh

Narrator 2                     Shraddha

Brahma                          Abhay

Vishnu                           Anish

Hayagriva                      Yuktansh

Manu                             Swayam

Fish 1                                       Purnima

Fish 2 (Vishnu)              Anish

Script

Narrator 1: Each of the 4 Yugas in Hindu mythology - Satya, Treta, Dwapara and Kali yuga - is supposed to be one day for Lord Brahma. One day of Lord Brahma is 4,320 million human years. After the end of every yuga Lord Brahma goes to sleep.

Lord Brahma: Do you know that I get my creative powers from the Vedas? But sometimes, sleep overwhelms me also. And when I sleep, there is no creation, and the universe comes to an end.

Lord Vishnu: You know that I am the God of Preservation. I descend on Earth as an incarnation whenever evil overpowers good, and destroys the Earth. Would you believe that I have come down to Earth 10 times for this very reason? In my first Avatar, I came down to Earth as Matsya or Fish. 

Narrator 2: In the Satya Yuga there was a king by name Manu. He was a great devotee of Lord Vishnu. 

Manu: I am feeling very restless. I long, I crave, to have a darshan of my dear Lord, Narayana, my Lord Vishnu. I no longer wish to enjoy the comforts and luxury of a kingdom. I only yearn to see my Narayana with my own eyes. I will perform severe penance to gratify Him so that he appears before me in all his glory and Divinity. 

Narrator 1: Manu retired to the forest to perform severe penances. He meditated for thousands of years.

Lord Brahma:  I am tired and very, very sleepy after a hard day's work. My eyes refuse to remain open any longer. 

Narrator 1: Even as Brahma was thinking thus, he fell into a deep state of slumber. He was soon snoring loudly. Hayagriva, the Asura who wished to have knowledge of the Vedas, saw this as a great chance. He emerged from Brahma's nose.

Hayagriva: Ha ha. This is the best time for me to get the knowledge of the Vedas. Let me absorb and drink in all this knowledge while he still sleeps. I will now hide myself deep inside the ocean where nobody can find me.

Lord Vishnu: Oh no, this is indeed terrible, that Hayagriva has stolen the Vedas from Brahma! Now that an Asura has it, how can it be passed on to the next Yuga! I have failed in my duty as Preserver, to make sure that this knowledge survives to the next Yuga. I now have to think of a way to get the Vedas back from Hayagriva.

Narrator 2: As Lord Vishnu was wondering what to do, he spotted Manu meditating. A plan immediately took shape in his mind. He smiled as he  realized that he could do a lot more, than just save the Vedas.

Narrator 1: The next morning, as usual, Manu began to pray by the river side. As he took some water in his hands and raised it to offer it to Lord Vishnu, he heard a tiny voice. 

Fish: O great king! Please do not put me back in the river.

Manu (looking at his palms): Oh, it's a little fish, squirming in my hands. 

Fish: (pleaded with Manu): Please do not put me back in the water. The big fishes here, will eat me up. Please save me, great king.

Manu (to himself): As a king, is it not my duty to protect anybody who seeks my help? And this little creature looks pitiable and is so scared. Manu (to the fish): Alright, come on. I will place you in my kamandal. You will be safe inside it.

Narrator 2: When Manu woke up the next morning, he heard a strong voice, call out to him.

Fish: O king…Help me…Your kamandal is too small for me. I cannot breath in here; I am feeling suffocated. 

Manu: How come, the fish now looks big! Yes, he is truly getting stifled inside my kamandal. Look at the way he is thrashing all about him, desperate to get out. I must place him in a bigger vessel. Let me fetch one.

Fish: Mighty king, you are indeed very kind.

Narrator 1: Yet again the next morning, when Manu was getting ready to perform his morning rituals, he heard a very powerful voice call out to him.

Fish: Oh honourable King, this vessel in too small for me. Please get me a bigger one.

Narrator 2: Manu was startled. The fish had grown too big. It was finding it difficult to breathe. Manu brought the biggest vessel he had and placed the fish in it. When he was about to leave for the river, the fish called out to him.

Fish: I am sorry. Even this vessel is not sufficient for me, noble king.

Narrator 1: Manu stared in disbelief as he saw the huge fish stare out of the big vessel. He gently lifted it from the vessel, and dropped it into the river nearby.

Fish: Thank you…king. You have protected me. But please don't leave me here. I am afraid of being eaten up by the bigger fishes here.

Narrator 2: Manu wondered at this magic. As he kept staring at the fish, it grew to a very large size till it covered the entire river!

Narrator 1: Manu carried the fish from one river to another river, but it kept growing bigger and bigger. Finally he dropped it into the ocean. But the fish grew so large that it covered the entire ocean! When Manu looked at the gigantic form, the truth dawned on him. 

Manu (He bowed before the fish, saying): Narayana, Narayana! You are indeed my very Lord Narayana who I have been yearning to see.

Fish (smiling at Manu): You wanted to see me and here I have come.

Narrator 2: Manu had tears in his eyes when he saw a huge horn grew on the head of the fish.

Manu: My Lord, you have granted me my only desire. I want nothing more. I stand humbly before you, to follow your Divine command! 

Fish (Vishnu): Manu, the Yuga is about to end in seven days. There will be a great flood and all living things on the earth will perish. But I wish to save you from this. I want you to build a big ship. Take with you on this ship, the seeds of all plants, the male and female of every animal, and the seven rishis along with their families. 

Manu: As you say, my dear Lord. 

Fish: But remember to bring Vasuki, the snake God also, with you.

Narrator 1: Manu nodded and bowed again as he watched the fish disappear. Vishnu as Matsya, had completed half his work. He went to the other side of the ocean to complete the other reason for the incarnation. Here he  saw Hayagriva guarding the Vedas. 

Hayagriva: Oh, what a humungous fish. The mere sight of him is terrifying!

Narrator 2: As Hayagriva stood staring at the fish, it attacked him. It gave him a huge push and sent the asura reeling. Hayagriva fought bravely. But the fish overpowered him. After a brief struggle, Hayagriva fell down, dead. Vishnu recovered the Vedas and gave it back to Brahma.

Narrator 1: Meanwhile, on the other side of the ocean Manu built his ship. He then carried out the commands of Vishnu as torrential rains washed away everything. Manu's ship bounced violently on the rising ocean waves. It looked as if it would capsize. But soon the fish appeared before them.

Fish: Manu, use Vasuki as a rope. Tie one of its end to my horn, and the other end to your ship. I will guide you out of this storm, to safe shores. Also, along the way, I shall teach you the Vedas. You will begin life afresh and uphold the path of dharma once I take you to the safety of Mount Himavan.

Narrator 1: Satya Yuga ended and a new Yuga began when Manu and his ship docked safely at Mount Himavan. Once again, the earth began to be populated and civilization began with the descendants of Manu.

*****

 

What is My Calling

What is my calling

My pitches to publications have been far
and few for almost a year now. What was a forced sabbatical from writing due to
my mother's ill health, became prolonged because of my own "wristy"
problem - "carpal tunnel syndrome", in medical jargon, that still
persists. However, during this period of near-hibernation (from a writing
perspective), my thought process has acquired a new dimension - well, not
entirely new, I would say. What had always been a part of me, safely stashed
away in the recesses of my subconscious perhaps, has surfaced with a vengence.

From writing to sell, to delight on
seeing my bylines, I now wish to make a shift - a temporary one, although; to write
for the self, to do some soul-searching, perhaps to discover myself. Needless
to say I am currently navigating turbulent seas! Self-created turbulence I
admit, occasioned by a restless mind that is witnessing a deluge of thoughts. 

This onslaught of thoughts is as diverse
as it is complex. The fact is, I do not want to plod through life and allow
myself to flow with the tide. I have to achieve, accomplish, do something! Do
what? Not something that will catapult me to fame, bring me name, and riches. No,
this is not what I seek - and perhaps, this is the only objective I'm sure of -
of not wanting all this. Importantly, I need to find my bearing, to calm the
mind to a state of equilibrium, by discovering my calling.  That is, if I am destined to have one! Fortunately
for me, the good part of all this rumination is that , the tumultous and
ideating mind, constantly in motion, does not verge on the depressive or
negative.  

That brings me to deeply ponder the
issue: does every one born in this vast wide world, have a calling? The flood of
doubts, questions, they are never-ending. I have always been puzzled and
intrigued by friends and acquaintances who seem happy and in harmony with
themselves, happy, simply to be, discharging mundane household chores and
taking care of their families.  Then
there are the others who appear to be in a cozy zone, filling almost every
minute of their lives attending kitty parties, club-hopping, watching mega
soaps that portray human creatures in their darkest  elements, or, even doing nothing at all! 

Diametrically opposite to this lot of
'happy' people are those like my sister and several others her ilk who live
power-packed days, achieving something all the time - in the sense of living
satisfying lives - venturing into fields they probably did, or did not dream
of. They discover themselves anew, hone talents which perhaps they did not
think they had! I am zapped by their spirit and verve, and they pack much more
in the day than I can even dream of doing at this juncture. Not because I am
short-charged on time, not because external forces thwart my efforts and eat
into my time. 

The problem is me, my absolute need to
know the path I am walking! And to know this, I need to get back to basics, to
know who I am and for what purpose I am here. Tall task, a daunting
search.  I believe that creativity of any
kind, and in fact, even the passionate and enthusiastic pursuit of one's job,
can be cathartic.  As writing is for me. Or
is it? It seems paradoxical that even as I remain a skeptic on my writing
skills, I choose to put it to the acid test - to see if it will enable me on an
introspective journey to unravel myself,  to find that important calling.

I do not know when and where this rocky
sail will drop anchor. And when it does, I do not know whether it is to pause,
ponder and alter course. Or perhaps, would it be  journey's end, where I've found an answer to my
quest and I've come to rest, only to embark on the path of my true calling! 

***

Introsplection: Me & My God - I

Introsplection: Me & My God - I: Me and My God --- I I was the branded black sheep, a born rebel. Yes, I would like to state this a little differently, even at th...

Introsplection: Me & My God - I

Introsplection: Me & My God - I: Me and My God --- I I was the branded black sheep, a born rebel. Yes, I would like to state this a little differently, even at th...

Me & My God - I

Me and My God --- I

I was the branded black sheep, a born rebel. Yes, I would like to state this a little differently, even at the cost of grammar!

As early as I can remember, I would seldom carry out a ritual without questioning its purpose or logic, much to my mother’s annoyance and exasperation. Unquestioning allegiance to elders, compliance with whatever elders asked us to do, was the norm – authority not to be challenged. After all, they knew best and it was all for our good. The subject would be sealed, until a new one, or the same, cropped up later.

The eldest of three siblings, I must admit that I had this stupendous knack for inviting trouble and landing myself in soups. I guess I still do carry traces of this trait with me. Yes, traces I would say - all thanks to the sagacity of the thinning silver strands on my crown. In some strange way they seem to have shaken up the foolish grey cells in my brain, or simply increased their numbers, to knock sense into them. I’ve learnt my lesson the hard way; learnt not to put my foot in the mouth by observing my sister and brother keep out of harm’s way! Palpably, with the dawn of this newfound wisdom I am less vocal about the avalanche of posers that persistently pound and plague me. Face Book and other social media have only added to my addled state. 

I, as most of my generation, have grown up with the belief that God, Almighty or whatever we choose to call that Supreme Force, is Omnipresent, Omnipotent and Omniscience. This idea has been reinforced since childhood with a cornucopia of tales from mythology, the foremost among them being that of Bhakta Prahalad. Yes, God is in every pillar, in every post, in every iota of matter. I have not ever doubted this.

But this belief certainly opened up Pandora’s Box and created endless doubts in me. It all began with, “Oh no, you can’t lie down with your feet facing the idol or photograph of God!” It was blasphemy. Not going to the temple, not reciting slokas, the meanings of which I did not know (most of them being in Sanskrit), made me an atheist. Well not exactly an atheist, but someone certainly with skewed thinking! As if these ideas were not puzzling enough, there were other more preposterous ones that were fed to us. To ensure that Goddess Lakshmi in particular, visited your home and blessed you with wealth of every kind, you had to light the lamp – at dawn and dusk. Mind you, it was not the radiant glow that suffused with the flick of a switch, but the divine effulgence from the wick and oil lamp. The oil too was special, not just any lubricant, but special ones held sacred and cherished by the gods (Eluppu Ennai, was just one of them!).

To make your house look Lakshmikaram as my mother and others of her lot would say, you had to create a rangoli with rice powder at your entrance doorway every morning, no matter how simple or small.

Oh yes, there were umpteen other things that we had to do, or not do, just to ensure we nurtured the virtue of piety. We did not cut our nails in the evening or on a Friday, or go for a haircut on a Tuesday. For us girls, the do’s and don’ts just multiplied. No entering the puja room at home, no visiting temples or attending auspicious occasions during our monthly cycle. For one who at no time contributed to these ritualistic notions, this should have been cause for exhilaration, because it gave me freedom if only for a very brief three days – not having to accompany mother to a temple or someone’s house for a function. But the notorious rebel, if only to register my protest, revelled in flouting these norms. These practises are not a thing of the past, but are very much observed in present times by a majority of us.

Taking a dip in the ‘holy’ Ganga, Yamuna or just any other ‘Pushkarini’ while visiting an important place of pilgrimage, became the bane of my existing when I was faced with the prospect. In all fairness to mom, this was an issue I had to confront only post marriage. A cleanliness and hygiene freak, I’d flinch at the very thought of making myself ‘impure’ with these ‘community dips’ as I’d refer to them. Much to the chagrin of the ‘devout’ around me, I’d voice my revulsion in no uncertain terms and stubbornly refuse to yield to this bath, running the risk of incurring the wrath of the Lord.  

To the questioning, rational mind, all these rituals made no sense. I continued to rebel and with good reasons too!

Even before I knew or realized, I had embarked on a new journey, distinct from the one I had been forced to follow. I wouldn’t say a radically different one, but a decided departure from the old one. And this deviation began not because I had equipped myself with knowledge of the Vedas or of any scriptures – it was quest. Rather, it is a quest, a thirst, a hungering or craving to unravel myself, my faith, my beliefs and the path that I tread.

I do not profess to be conversant with any religious or holy text. I have simply allowed my humble mind and intellect to traverse as far as they can stretch, to come up with my own answers to some of these customs that we have so faithfully followed since eons.

I am not here to debate what is right and what is wrong. Neither do I write here to challenge what the erudite and scholarly have stated and written volumes on, down the ages. I make no claims for myself, no claim to being right in the way I think. Yes, these are my modest perspectives of God as I see Him, as I feel Him, as I seek communion with Him. And these views stem from my staunch belief that He alone is the Truth, all else is an illusion which we delude ourselves into believing. However, I must confess in all candour, that this is a belief to which I have not completely surrendered for the strings of attachment to family tug hard at this juncture. I am still a toddler tottering on this path, falling but not faltering, stumbling but steadfast, firm of faith that I will see the light at the end of this tunnel.

My search began with my total belief that God is Omnipresent, Omnipotent and Omniscience. This being true, we human beings cannot even stay suspended in space, leave alone having our feet face his photo or statue. Is there a single posture that we can maintain whereby we would not have our feet on him? And most horrifyingly, are we not relentlessly and continuously soiling him, staining him with our every bodily waste!

For one who has truly understood or realized God, where is the need to seek Him out in a temple? When everything is within ourselves, what are we trying to seek outside? True we need idols and photographs till such time that we have this understanding. With disrespect to none, and ridiculing no one, I’d say temples are often, favourite haunts of mothers looking out for prospective brides or grooms. For some hapless beings, it’s haven where hunger pangs are quelled.

As for chanting shlokas – since they are all in praise of Him and his fathomless virtues, we would certainly come to no harm reciting them even if we do not know or understand the language in which they are composed. But is not that prayer most wonderful that comes spontaneously and straight from the heart, in the language that we know best? I can visualize the raised eyebrows of some of you who might think differently. Yes, our talking to God in the language we know may in effect be constantly bombarding him with requests for one thing or the other, and even offer him bribes to have our desires fulfilled! Do these prayers not assume feverish pitch when we are in trouble or are desperately in need of something? The Visa Balaji or Shakti Ganapathy become all-too-important in the scheme of things!

Symbolically, lighting of a lamp signifies coming out from the darkness of ignorance to the light of knowledge. In the pre-electricity era, wick and oil were used for the purpose. Certain oils were used for the purpose because of their capacity to ward off certain insects and germs, not because they were most cherished by the gods. You are ‘unholy’ if you wish to safeguard your wood-based dwelling by not lighting oil lamps, morning and evening at home.

The idea behind creating rice rangoli at entranceway to houses, stemmed from ushering in a new day in the spirit of charity - for ants and other insects to feed on the rice flour. With skyscraper apartments today, this may not be possible. While rangolis in present times are highly imaginative, colourful and aesthetic to behold, the materials used are not even edible. Forget feeding the ants and insects: is prevention not better than cure? Charity begins at home and our acts take wings - we swat a fly here, squash a mosquito there in anticipation of the dengue, malaria, that may or may not affect us.

The deluge of doubts and questions continue unabated –