Waltzing with the Self...

 Sofia's hand jerked, creating a storm big enough for the coffee to spill over on the table and make a puddle... She let it be, not bothering to wipe. 

As the last sip trickled down the oesophagus,  she sat the empty cup on the brown puddle, picked up a paper napkin from the holder, and began stamping coffee rings on it...randomly. The process relaxed her, and the neatness of the individual rings against the erraticness of the emerging pattern  was liberating in itself...Taking a quick snap of the stamped napkin, she posted it on her Instagram as the artwork of the day for the 15-day art challenge she had accepted to give an impetus to her creative self during this lockdown period. 'Coffee Stampede', she wrote under the caption, feeling pleased with herself. A task was out of the way, and the coffee was delicious. "Maybe, next time, I should try it with the black coffee: spill some right on the napkin, make a stain!" Her mind was already jogging, adrenaline rushing...on the way she picked up some fallen leaves, their rich coffee imprints beginning to invigorate her imagination.

So it was Sofia, a ceramic artist by profession, who by her own experience, made me thrill to the idea of non-judgmental art. "Everything one creates is art," she philosophized. "For, it is an expression of oneself in a fleeting moment...a circumambulating  memory wanting to leave an impression".

As for me, after years of being a proud miniature artist with love for packing in minute details into a tiny space, espousing Sofia's philosophy literally felt like shaking myself off of my back. From creating intricate paintings on pistachio shells, sea shells, tree bark and pebbles with 1 and 0 size brushes, to embracing the freedom which comes from using thick paint-smeared brushes was a matter of 'letting go'.  The next step entailed running  the paper under the tap and squeezing tubes of watercolors over its soaked surface, smudging it all up and letting the streamlets of colors determine their own course...invent and re-invent themselves infinitely. With the sole objective to loosen up, I indulged in several mindless quick paintings, letting myself being carried away by the leftover colors on the palette, and by the mood of the moment. Sometimes it was the criss-crossing courting calls of the crow pheasants which dictated the strokes, and sometimes a sudden rush of wind toppling over the cashew boughs...and sometimes it was just the lazy afternoon silence stretched across the porch which quietly stole into the artwork, à mon insu.

In the wake of the two-week complete lockdown, which has now been extended further,  'loosening up' takes up a greater significance. One just needs to let go of all the self-imposed prejudices, mental limitations and breathe deep and slow...discover,  re-discover,   and un-cover oneself, and revel in those thousand and one facets of one's being which are purposefully kept shut...take this opportunity afforded to us by these innumerable lockdowns, to unmask the Truth within...unlock our hidden Self,  and  waltz with It.

And Another Day Ends...in Dance

With the two-week lockdown imposed by the state government to curb the rising cases of Covid-19, once again we find ourselves face to face with ourselves and the wall...the wall could very well be a screen of one's smartphone or of the laptop, or it could simply be that chiaroscuroed space scaled by the vagrant shadows in varied degrees...

I try to stay within the confines of the house, cook a lot, plan much, execute little, and let the ruthless titanic might of Chronos snatch away my hours mercilessly. But, come six o' clock in the evening, and my feet haul me up to the terrace to indulge in an hour of leisurely walk, while feasting upon the changing vistas of a sprawling sky. Almost invariably, a colony of crows and a couple of Brahminy kites land up staging a short play. The plot is always the same, the manoeuvres different. The Brahminy kites, by the virtue of being the birds of prey, are perceived as the usual suspect of homicide, or should we say 'corvicide' by a  skeptical  group of crows, who chase them around, pecking them furiously, in an effort to steer them away from the fledglings in the nest. Now, call it the paranoia of parenthood or sheer collective hooliganism, we will never know. But guys, I have to give it to the kites for maintaining their calm all through this exercise and letting the crows  have the last word.  But, I wonder who has the last laugh...I'd like to believe it's me, the sole witness of this daily drama. 

Two days ago however I was treated to a very unexpected finale. The chasing game had reached its usual dénouement with the victorious  crows emptying  the sky in a hurry to return to their loved ones. The Bahaminy kites too had conducted a rigorous inspection of their territory, patrolling the area a few times. But instead of diving homeward, the pair soared higher and higher, catching the thermals... above the gold of the setting sun to the blue quivering heights they glided , and what followed was a visual poetry flung across the sky. 

Suffused in the golden

mist of the late evening,

there they were

threading their way

across the deepening 

blue of a dying day.

One pursuing the other,

at the acme of

swallowing heights

away from the

hurried world of men,

gyrating, gliding, 

sidling and sliding,

sensuous in their

twilight courting, 

they danced to the

melancholy of a 

lonesome sky...

to the inner music

of a love unspoken,

to the gentle calling

of the rising vesper...

They danced until

the sudden onrush 

of the tropical night

drew them apart, 

One disappearing 

into the comfort of 

a coconut grove 

the other cruising on

to follow the sound

of the crashing waves.

Natural in their

togetherness

and accepting

in their separation

these Brahminy kites

eternised an instance

of the fallen hour,

bringing home to me  

my own yearnings

and my own 

silences

Compassion in the Time of Corona

 "In Covid times, patience, self-care and compassion should come in the first-aid kits for everyone!"  writes my friend from Norway. 

And right she is! 

It wasn't so long ago when in the capital city of our nation, on one hand people were dying of oxygen shortage, on the other there were ruthless profit-mongers hoarding the cylinders and clandestinely selling them at exuberant prices. So much so, that the mounting incidents of oxygen being sold in the black market in India, became the butt of a joke on Trevor Noah's The Tonight Show on NBC. Yet, what didn't hit the headlines was the generosity of Manoj Gupta, the owner of Rimjhim  Ispat Factory in U.P., who was filling up the empty cylinders for a rupee each to help towards the treatment of Corona positive patients.

Similarly, the private ambulances in the capital region were all out making a buck by maximising on the emergency situation and charging  desperate  people tenfold the usual amount to ferry them from point A to point B. And, if that were not enough, the rate could increase by manifold if the hospital did not have a bed readily available and the patient were coerced to wait it out in the ambulance. 

Yet,  the 34-year old Javed Khan of Bhopal, a small-time autorickshaw walla  decided to equip his vehicle with an oxygen  cylinder, sanitizers and over-the-counter medications in order to haul Covid patients to the hospital, for free.  When Javed saw the havoc being unleashed by Covid, he just stopped carrying passengers for business. Instead, determined to do something to address the worsening situation, he  converted his three-wheeler into a small ambulance using up his own savings.  And now he devotes his time and energy taking patients to the hospital for free, and in an emergency situation, even administering oxygen and paracetamol.

The Jain International Trader's Organization (JITO), in association with the Greater Chennai Corporation, has launched Oxygen on Wheels service, a free facility for patients in critical condition, queuing up for admission outside the government hospitals. Buses laden with oxygen concentrators, each able to handle six patients at a time, are deployed along with an operating 24/7 helpline.

 

The year 2020,  which could also be termed as the year of the migrant worker, witnessed the generosity of common people towards those in plight. Several names come to mind, such as the two Pasha brothers, local banana merchants from Kolan district in Karnataka, who sold their plot to feed jobless daily wage labourers, returning home to penury. 

Even though many such stories of the everyday people rising to the occasion to help their fellow-beings abound, amongst the celebrities, the one name that has flashed oft and again across the television screen is that of Sony Sood. Sood, a Bollywood actor, stole the limelight with his remarkable outreach program, carried out with the aid of a growing team of 45000 volunteers. Not only did he succeed in organizing buses to help ease the stranded migrant crisis in the wake of the sudden 2020 lockdown, but he is right at this moment actively involved  in saving thousands of lives of those circumstantially left out by an overly burdened  healthcare system. 

 

If people, rich and poor, can step out of their comfort zone to help those in need, imagine if our Central and State governments had the far-sightedness and will to do something to alleviate the suffering of the people, we wouldn't have been in this supreme quandary we are in today.

If our government were not so preoccupied with the foundation- stone-laying ceremony of the formidable Ram Temple in Ayodhya, or in getting the plans for a brand new Parliament building and PM's Residence passed by the Supreme Court, maybe we could have turned more spaces into Covid-treatment centers, manufactured more ventilators, and erected more facilities to fill oxygen cyclinders. Then our ambition, to be recognised as a force to reckon with, would truly have been fulfilled, all while saving the lives of thousands of people. 

It is high time we realise that it is not by owning state-of-the-art fighter planes, hi-tech submarines, and a world-class competent army, along with a billion dollar space program, will we achieve Superpower-hood, but by ensuring that 1.3 billion people of this country have access to potable water, food, clean air, green  and invigorating environment, and basic health care. And yes, a functional garbage collection and recycling system. 

The acceptance that the fulfilment of the basic needs of every citizen should figure as the topmost priority in every government's agenda, demands not only

 vision, but also patience and compassion.

The SOUL Sisters

 SOUL:  Sisterhood Of Unconditional Love. That was the acronym my friend Anyas had come up with for our fledgling group of five women,  who wanted to make a difference by tapping into our inner strengths and energies,  and unleashing them in an attempt to make the world a better place. It was Anyas,  born and brought up in Lyon, France,  an avid tai chi practitioner, who first felt the urge to form such a group.

And it wasn’t long before, even in a place like Fairbanks, Alaska,  at the very edge of the last frontier,  she came across women with similar aspirations, eager to share their spiritual tools and experiences, setting aside all divisive beliefs and religious dogmas.    There was Yulia, robust and lively,  who hailed from Ukraine and was a reiki expert; Ju Yung from South Korea was a quiet woman, who taught archery at the local high school; Ida from Romania was an exponent of the Munger school of Yoga,  and Rachel,  a local Athabascan, was a firm believer in totems.

  Then, there was myself, who was hoisted and transported to this magnificently beautiful, brutally cold place from the warm laps of southern India. We met every Sunday at 11 am, the five of us,  not only on the mornings of long summer days, but also during the relentless twilight hours of winter, when the mercury would plummet to minus 40 degrees centigrade, or even lower.   It wasn’t long before the five of us grew into 12 of us, and at times, even 15. In fact,  our Sunday Soul Circle shrunk and expanded, and shrunk again, only to expand again.

It all depended on the weather, on the hunting season, on salmon runs,  and on frozen driveways;  seekers came and went, as they wished, but the doors were kept open for all who chose to step in and be part of this very unusual circle of women.   What we were capable of, we did not know.   But, we did recognise the fact that we could empower ourselves by learning, teaching, and sharing with each other whatever little knowledge we had of the spiritual, mystical, and the esoteric. So, while Yulia introduced us to the basics of distant healing, Ju Yung gave us simple instructions on Chakra meditation; Ida the most motherly figure of us all, kept us organised, and punctual as a unit.

Anyas attended a workshop in California on how to form a Merkabah. And subsequently, we built one such in her living room.   Merkabah, in ancient Jewish mysticism, refers to the divine light vehicle to connect us with celestial beings, who, in turn, can help us touch the higher realms of consciousness.    I, hailing from the country of yantra, mantra and yoga, taught them to chant Aum, and some simple shlokas. I also taught them the abc of pranayama.   Rachel, on the other hand, belonging to the ancient tribe of the proud Athabascan people, encouraged us to find our totem, so that we could be guided on this magical journey of self-discovery we had embarked upon.

   Our weekend session would routinely begin with a 15-minute meditation, followed, perhaps, by chanting and breathing exercises. Almost always, we would have a crack at automatic/spirit writing, either on a topic one of us would come up with or a self-inspired free-write. Such writing exercises involve a complete surrender of oneself,  into the hands of one’s guardian angel,  who, we believed hovers just above our crown chakra. (My friend Anyas became such a good instrument, that every morning at 7 am, she was compelled to open her journal and pen down, not so much her own thoughts and musings, but those uttered to her by her guardian angel.

   She recently published a book, which is a compilation of messages received by her (over the course of one year).   During these seances, not only did we learn to channel our chi; open our chakras; find our totem, and study correct pronunciation of Sanskrit words to help manifest the power of mantras, we also shared healthy recipes and natural cures, danced to celestial music, and had tea with dried apricots. We became friends and comrades in our quest for something new and positive.   Even though many of us left Fairbanks to go places, we carried within us the seeds of a new adventure, and the ability to cling on to our inner strength.

In the purple twilight of winter, when almost everything else is hibernating, a few of us had grafted wings,  and learnt to fly!