Anaahat

Recently, I was miffed when someone accused me of sending out wrong signals, and thereby for being responsible for my public perceptions. The information was uncalled for. I never asked for any opinion, and hence should be hearing one. However, I was informed. And I was miffed. So much so that it sort of spoiled the beginning of my day. Then, I got thinking. He was right. I did send wrong signals. Not consciously, but sub-consciously. I like the ambiguity. I like the anonymous. It irks me if someone reads me. And that’s the reason I was miffed at that someone. Because he indeed read something from something so very small. Then I thought some more. That the reason I like the ambiguity, is because that gives me room. Room to change, room to alter my boundaries, room to redefine myself. That is the ultimate goal of survival I guess. To change. To expand, to sustain things which one has never imagined. Perhaps this is a glorified version of my thoughts. And the non-glorified is that ...

It’s just like this. The feeling. Like this blank page in front of me. With nothing on it. White and clean. This is the feeling you have. The feeling that no bad-boss can shake, no emotional-entanglements can endanger. The feeling which those constantly nagging fears, hopes and loves cannot touch at all. Imagine. That’s what the 10 days at Vipassana revealed to me. That nothing is permanent. That impermanence is constant and that’s the absolute truth. During my childhood, I grew up with a seeming order around me and an equal amount of chaos within me. As years went by, I created a world around me which I felt was right. With ideologies and rights. I shed all the shackles one by one. I pulled out the millions of strings pulling at my heart, each one taking a piece of my heart with it. By the end of it, I was de-shackled. But the shackles left an empty space, a void. A void of meaninglessness in my existence. In my actions. And in the world around me. Every day, I would contemplate o...

Two years ago on this day, ban on smoking indoors was imposed by the Maharashtra government. Then, there was a huge uproar about this, views were expressed in favour and against. Smokers were angry and non-smokers were triumphant. Today, life has returned to normal. It seems normal to expect clear air in a nightclub, to expect smokers standing in the office corridors bonding over a smoke and coffee, to expect separate smokers rooms, etc. Here is an fictionalised story of an opinionated gentleman writing on what transpired on 2nd October 2008. *** To Smoke or Not to Smoke   Ramanikbhai logs on to his blog. He bangs the keys, patriotism oozing from every pore of his body. The keys taking life of their own and speaking Ramnikbhai’s mind. He writes about how this country for which the great Mahatma fought for has gone to the dogs, he writes about the hindu-muslim divide, he writes about the westernization of the India culture, about short skirts and cigarettes, he writes about alco...

This is my third day for a course in the Mumbai University. PG Diploma in Philosophy of Communal Harmony and Social Peace. And I have a story to tell. It’s unpleasant and disappointing. I came across this course on the University website. The modules were very interesting. My aim was to gather knowledge, to broaden my horizons, to do something productive with my time and along with it all get the  Post-Graduate Diploma. I spoke to the course coordinator much in advance before the deadline, checked with her the requirements and planned my date for admission. Day 0:  I reached the department of Philosophy. I got lost since the course coordinator couldn’t explain the directions to the building. I somehow managed to reach by a round-about route (when a gentleman agreed to show me the way) by traversing small streams of gutter water, dingy unkempt corridors. Finally reached a small room (cannot call it the office) of the Course Coordinator....

Some months ago, in one of the Atlas Sunday Meets, we started discussing Atheism and the necessity of it to be an objectivist. There were a few present who didn't belong to that fold, so we all debated. We discussed for long. As usual, there was no conclusion to the discussion regarding ‘existence of God’. We left, with more thoughts to be sorted and more ideas to sort these thoughts. To, take this discussion to the next level and to concretise the arguments, we invited Father Anthony to come and speak on the topic “Can there be a system of morality without God”. We thought, who better than a God’s man to come and present His case. From the objectivist perspective, we had our own Jerry Johnson to put his thoughts. Deepak was moderating the discussion. All others who were present, were either atheists, agnostics or with a different belief system than the conservative religion. The date was set as Sunday, the 20th of June 2010. With the rains pouring down on Mumbai with a veng...

I finished reading Arundhati Roy’s essay on the Naxalites published in the last issue of the Outlook last night. And my day began with one sentence echoing in my mind from the piece she wrote: The Hindu state. The Hindu state acting against all the rest. I couldn’t digest this. And I am trying since, to do so. Finding Freedom in India Perhaps the reason that I cannot digest is the fact that I am a Hindu. That I was born in the upper Hindu caste and I have also lived most of my life sheltered in a fairly well-to-do state: Maharashtra. The sheltered life is not even counting the days spent sheltered under the darkness of the abaya in Saudi Arabia. With my childhood spent in the Muslim-dominated country, my father has an exceptional view of an Hindu extremist. And I grew up with these "Hindus are soft-targets" woes. I still have fights with him though - on the extremism. My reason is that, you cannot generalize one bunch of peoples wrongdoing as the whole religion's fa...

I wake up every day battling with the idea of God and what he made us to be. With all the philosophy of “Objectivisim” and “Randian” (am sorry if anyone finds this offensive); I am battling my idea of God. This God doesn’t come and go within me. He just doesn’t raise his head in the Temples or in the small ‘puja ghar’ in my house. He is there within me. He is an inseparable part of me. The one constantly observing and disseminating things in front of me. He is that someone who always gives me company. He doesn’t dessert me, as he is there at my request, at my need. And he answers all my calls. So, I conclude, God is someone who lifts the darkness of loneliness in Man. The quest is always to evade this loneliness felt deep within. The loneliness which raises its head in the dark of the night, when the world seems to sleep, the owls awaken and the sound magnifies. Doesn’t matter if you are bound by the social institutions to keep you caged. Doesn’t matter if you choose the path of your...

Mumbai: It was not long ago that I drove down the much awaited sea-link in Mumbai. It was Saturday and one of the first 5 toll free days. I drove with my friends with Michael Jackson rocking the stereo and a munching a hot makka under the rained Mumbai. The link was packed and the traffic was jammed for kilometres before the link began. The rich and the poor had come to get the first glimpse of the much talked about link. Some for the first-time feel, some for the free ride. We drove silently, watching the sea, our beloved city, people in the adjacent cars, with Michael Jackson creating a mood. I saw the beautiful design the cables made as we drove below them, I saw the waves crashing on the pillars – standing tall defying the current of the sea, and the sense of celebration on the whole. I was filled with awe and admiration. Above the cables I saw the heavens pouring. Mumbai had a new skyline and for the first time I saw how it looked with the buildings tall and short rising at the...

Terror has struck again. Again the lives of millions are affected; hatred spread and images that will continue to haunt our memories. Melodramatic news channels report fictionalised news to attract more viewers, without considering the impact their melodrama will have on the person with no connection to the outside world except the television. They are doing what they do best: minding the business of people's lives. Inappropriate, insensitive. This is the ‘n’th time that I see these images. That I sit holed up in my house when others decide my fate. I am not one of the hostages stuck in the hotels. But I am the hostage of terror. I locked my door twice yesterday, got up to check the locks on the middle of the night, and prayed to my God that everything will be fine in the end. Then, as a citizen I witness the power game and the politics of people running my country: I hear undue remarks on religion. And even if I don’t believe in making religion the reaso (because I believe tha...

Obama looks calm and composed as he sits to be sworn in. The quotes of coloured skin, the fight of millions for equality has finally opened the eyes of the nation to the character underneath the dark skin. He sits like a common man, he speaks in an honest and genuine voice. He even faltered a little while taking the oath: like a common man. And corrected himself. It was a reaffirmation of the journey where the common man reached. And his voice reaches millions. It was a moment similar to the one when our parents' parents must have watched 'when the clock struck midnight' speech by Nehru, a moment when a leader reaffirms his and his land's place in the world. A moment when history takes a turn. I don't care as much for how he performs. For we all know that he has taken charge of the country which already has one and a half foot in the grave. How much of it he can save and how much 'change' he can bring is not difficult for anyone to imagine. Yet, it was a tri...

It is day 3. Two days since the city and the country has been seized by terror from a bunch of kids - heartless, trained to kill and murder anything and everything in front of them - to achieve an in-comprehendible goal. Like all terror attacks hundreds have lost their lives, hundreds are wounded and many many lives have changed forever. The sound of real bullets and ammunition echoe in every corner of the city - live or reported live. And rightly, the three affected areas are no lesser than a battleground. The security forces and the media are doing a commendable job, and our politicians hurl accusations at each other, offer money for the dead ‘heroes’ while we, the citizens simply watch and wait. As the night falls, the media reports that the ‘war is almost over’. A special program is aired called – this-is-what-we-think-and-so-should-you. It reports jubilation of survivors, accounts of smaller battles fought by common people, remorse of the victims, tears for the 150-odd d...

While I struggled to keep up with the pace of Mumbai, running for the trains and fighting with autowallas, the famed spirit-of-Mumbai was slowly growing on an ‘outsider’ like me. Reaching my workplace at Mahalakshmi took me on streets lined with shaky two-storey huts where people would cook, bathe, play with children, fight, live (and die) on the extended footpath. The words ‘local’, ‘fast’, ‘slow’, ‘east’ and ‘west’ brought new meanings in my life. And without my knowing, I began a self-discovery of becoming a Mumbaikar like thousands become every day. The discovery happened on that fateful day, when the bombs ripped through Mumbai’s overcrowded local trains. I was stuck at work in Mahalakshmi when the news of the seven blasts came in. I walked down the deserted E Moses Road looking for a cab. With the networks jammed and not a single taxi willing to take me, my frustration knew no bounds. Thankfully, some guys bullied a cabbie and I got in with a couple of other panic-stricken women...