Naadi Jyotsam

It has been a long time since I wrote something

That is possibly because I am getting caught up in worldly work of earning my sustenance. However today, I took a break..............a break apart from the ritual weekend one…..it also helped that I was not in the pink of my health…..

So the day was spent alone in my new abode.

And my new abode......... this time …………seems to be a good place. It is in a secluded area but in the midst of a marketplace. It has a kitchen, a fridge a TV and a sofa set too.

Some hot chocolate in front of a TV on a sofa, I almost felt at home ………

It is funny what you intend to look forward to when you have nothing ....when the datum is low any improvement shows.

Solitude is charming, and also inspiring. And, today’s “ Good morning “, call, to Amma fired this thought , so here I go after quite a long time.

This is true, very true.

Just now I was reminded about my visit to some village in middle of Thanjavur .The reason I am reminded of this another such visit by Amma, which again lends credulity to the earlier visit.(Ok Amma I am not writing  about it, nary you worry !)

Now this Thanjavur “naadi jythosa” is commercial, but he has a good track record. Amma insisted that I go there. It was before my B-School tenure when I was in the business of hustling for direct personal gain, and was not really adhering to a socially accepted role for an educated madrasis family offspring.

Anyways I had to be in Chennai for sorting out some house and non house issues, and I saw no harm in going for a visit.

The place was doing justice to a mystical Indian sages abode. It was quite cut off from the city, and had thatched roofs. Men with gleaming coconut oil laced hair and in spotless white clothes were in some cubicles collecting the thumb impression samples. The thatched house had the top floor with some partitions for one on one session with the astrologers.

I am neither a cynic nor a skeptic; it takes time for me to get used to an idea that it.

I gave my thumb impression along with brothers and sisters. We waited before being summoned to one of the thatched rooms. It was Spartan, two plastic chairs and one table. “Neelkamal” stickers showed clean and slightly contemporary as opposed to the surrounding we were in.

There were some rectangular blocks, about an inch thick. They had some strips of parchment, which were tied up with some sort of sting, and smelled faintly of wood.

I was intrigued, did that parchment block really tell me about my life?

The astrologer started reciting in a singsong voice. I could fathom bits and pieces of what he was saying. It seemed like a Tamil song, but more classical in recitation. However, it was unlike any I had heard till now. Chittapa could understand perfectly, and he kept shaking his head negative to all what he was saying.

The astrologer closed the block, and picked up another. The same sequence was repeated, the singsong recitation………. And the negative head shakes from Chittapa.

Another and another, till it was five blocks down and no success. I was funnily reminded of Harry Potter selecting his wand. 

The astrologer was also it seemed inspired from Ollivanders, he wasn’t going to give up. He excused and went down.

I took advantage of his absence and asked Chittapa, “What is the language he is speaking, it does sound like Tamil”.

“It is Tamil, you wouldn’t understand “, was the condescending remark.

I deserve it, as I shrugged the barb away, I cannot read or write my mother tongue, simply because I had never bothered to learn.

It was half an hour before the pundit returned with 2 scrolls.

The first he opened was akin to the previous 5, it was making no sense at all, however after a couple of minute I heard the following and I remember it vividly and quote it here verbatim

Your name is Srikant…………father’s name…….. Rajanarayanan……..mother’s name……..Radha……….you have 2 siblings…….. Deepa and Navneeth……….your education deals with, with oil or metal……..you are living with parents……. family, born on October 8^th, 1984.

And with that my Chittapa gave a satisfied nod. The astrologer then proceeded to draw the ritual lagna chart. He finished in a couple of seconds and handed it over to my Chittapa and it was an exact match to what had been created by our family pundit.

I was astounded………..with only my thumb he could give my entire background, right to my family history!!Now that is amazing.

The same fate of information and history revelation was repeated with my sister and brother and it all cross tallied. I was then told about my past life and some of the sins I had committed which it seems to be impacting my life in some way. He added some more tit bits of very sensitive information which I dare not disclose on a blog

I paid him; a bit extra than I was instructed by Amma, for I was truly amazed by his work. As a parting shot, when we were leaving, he told

“The scroll on you, was hidden, I had not used it till now”………….slightly lowering his tenor, he said, “not in the past thirty years ………that is………..I hope you do good”.

Aha…that was not in any way going to reduce the obnoxious attitude I was believed to be carrying with me, anyways I smiled and thanked him.

ऊंचाई - श्री अटल बिहारी वाजपेयी

This one is a poem, a recommended read by a friend.It is composed by Shri Atal Bihari Vajpyee ,if you like this....you can read more......... Here

ऊँचे पहाड़ पर, ............पेड़ नहीं लगते, ...........पौधे नहीं उगते, .........न घास ही जमती है। 

जमती है सिर्फ बर्फ, ......जो, कफ़न की तरह सफ़ेद और, 

मौत की तरह ठंडी होती है। 

खेलती, खिलखिलाती नदी, .......जिसका रूप धारण कर, 

अपने भाग्य पर बूंद-बूंद रोती है।

ऐसी ऊँचाई, ......जिसका परस .......पानी को पत्थर कर दे,
ऐसी ऊँचाई .........जिसका दरस हीन भाव भर दे, .........अभिनंदन की अधिकारी है,
आरोहियों के लिये आमंत्रण है, ........उस पर झंडे गाड़े जा सकते हैं

किन्तु कोई गौरैया, .........वहाँ नीड़ नहीं बना सकती, 

ना कोई थका-मांदा बटोही, .........उसकी छाँव में पलभर पलक ही झपका सकता है। 

सच्चाई यह है कि .......केवल ऊँचाई ही काफ़ी नहीं होती,
सबसे अलग-थलग, .......परिवेश से पृथक,
अपनों से कटा-बँटा, .........शून्य में अकेला खड़ा होना,
पहाड़ की महानता नहीं,..........मजबूरी है।
ऊँचाई और गहराई में...............आकाश-पाताल की दूरी है।

जो जितना ऊँचा, ............उतना एकाकी होता है, 

हर भार को स्वयं ढोता है..........चेहरे पर मुस्कानें चिपका, 

मन ही मन रोता है।  

ज़रूरी यह है कि .............ऊँचाई के साथ विस्तार भी हो, 

जिससे मनुष्य...........ठूँठ सा खड़ा न रहे, 

औरों से घुले-मिले,........किसी को साथ ले........किसी के संग चले। 

भीड़ में खो जाना,.......यादों में डूब जाना, 

स्वयं को भूल जाना, ..........अस्तित्व को अर्थ, ..........जीवन को सुगंध देता है। 

धरती को बौनों की नहीं,.......ऊँचे कद के इंसानों की जरूरत है
इतने ऊँचे कि आसमान छू लें, ............नये नक्षत्रों में प्रतिभा की बीज बो लें, 
किन्तु इतने ऊँचे भी नहीं, .........कि पाँव तले दूब ही न जमे, 
कोई काँटा न चुभे....... कोई कली न खिले। 

न वसंत हो, न पतझड़, हो सिर्फ ऊँचाई का अंधड़........मात्र अकेलेपन का सन्नाटा।  

मेरे प्रभु! 
मुझे इतनी ऊँचाई कभी मत देना.........ग़ैरों को गले न लगा सकूँ.......इतनी रुखाई कभी मत देना। 

Fruit !!

Alas!!

Lunch time and corridor conversations are often a sense of good time pass. I was returning from lunch, and I bumped into someone I know by sight. His name eludes and it still does but it does not stop me from having a chat.

“So had your lunch? “, he asked.

“Yep, this time it wasn’t the same old hotel, a new one and the food was ok not great. Beggars can’t be choosers …………….can they”?

Aha, then why beg pal? You can choose …

Aww not again man. Don’t go into the get married settle down route. I had heard it once already in the morning and it seems that that is the topic which people think of discussing with me these days.

Fine let’s play it out your way. I have developed an immense propensity for patience these days.

It is a great art, for I think of me drinking hot chocolate fudge and some Celtic fiddle in the background and just catch the buzz words in between their dialogue, repack and put it across. It is wonders as to what a little bit of third party assurance can do!!

“You know the fruit … “………I heard, which was not really conformal to the predictable route of such conversations.

“What fruit? “, I asked.

"You know that there is a fruit on a tree. Now there are two ways you can have this, either have it directly from the tree or wait. Wait for it to be plucked and washed. Then you wait for it to be delivered to the market in a nice box. Here you see it resplendent on the fruit stall, you take it get it home then you wash it then you cut it. These cut fruits are put on a plate and then you have it , maybe with some book or maybe in front of the TV. Which one do you think is better?"

Hahahaha, this must be a quality or process guy. Even casual conversations have a defined flow diagram in them, cut dry standards and zero tolerance for non conformance as well as kaizen incorporated to ensure any element of non rationality is squeezed out.

"I think I prefer the former one at least I have the fruit fresh and completely organic …….and I don’t have to wait", I replied with a wink.

Process centric answer was good it seems, for he started laughing and said" I was like you once too, a couple of years back, and now when I talk to you I am reminded of that time".

Alas!! That means that someday I would be like him? Accosting strangers in the passageway and recounting silly anecdotes..... If history is to be believed then the depressing answer was "yes".

And also,  I see that men , they never really grow up, they change from hot blooded to lecherous, but the inherent sentiment rarely changes. Consider an old cell phone, the speakers are out, the volume is diminished but when the right stimulus is given it ….vibrates (definite pun intended!!)

Shatter-Proof

It is said, that once just once you see the light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes you cross it .....sometimes you don’t, but the realization of the fragility of life, hits you hard............ pretty hard........... at that instant.

Yesterday night, it was pretty late. I had spend the whole day filling one detailed vendor registration form( a  9 page document), for a global OEM.Their representative had come in , and my boss and him were at it the whole day, I had filled something and he had to review it and bosses................. never have time.............. but they have deadlines :)

 

White skinned people believe in light lunches, ( a grilled sandwich, alas!) , and I am not a huge fan of these kind of lunches so hunger was predominant .On top if it the realization that if I delay by some more minutes all I would have was leftovers.

Hence the need for speed and one obliging machine at hand,(और ..........बजरंज बली का स्मरण!!) .

I reached outer ring road in about 3 minutes…(yep I timed it).This place is my favorite, cause there is one long stretch of nice tar and all............ want to race! 

Cab drivers cannot accept the fact that someone can be madder than them. So one guy was honking all the way trying to catch up with me.He managed it too, however, I always squeezed in between some gaps not good enough for 4 wheels.

 I caught his eyes and they were determined to get ahead. 

Madness is like gravity, it just needs a little push. So I flicked the throttle and revved to 100kmph easily, zip zap and zoom, and one swerve after another.

Coming close to ISRO, there is a turn. One Volvo bus (500D) roared for a quick U turn. 

It was, it seems to me a bit late to break, from my end, nevertheless I braked hard. Rear and front, the punched and holey disc brakes screeched.

Linear momentum plus coefficient of kinetic friction began a tussle and in the midst of it my machine was unsure whether to stop or move on.

I struggled to gain control. Narrowly missing the bus, I skidded on the last part of the mad dance of physics.

The burnt rubber………….the still rolling wheels…………. and the honks all around and milling of some curious on lookers.

I was dazed.

I patted myself………no scratch…not even one………

It hit me hard then.........the fragility of life........

Why the hell was I rushing about? For one meal of two rotis and some gravy…is that what this all is about?

Why are we all rushing around?

It wasn’t the first time I had an accident miss but it was certainly the first time I had thought about life. I had always lived in moments, and each moment had been transient. I had reveled in the transience and mocked my life, jeered at others who tried to capture on to these moments without any success.

Maybe, they are right.

Maybe life is about housing loans, infrastructure bonds, EMIs, fancy cars, trophy wives and status befitting club memeberships. 

For with them at least when you die you have a reason better than 2 rotis and some gravy.

A smile flickered on my face.I stood up and surveyed the bike, there wasn’t a scratch on it either, so I guess the disc brakes really work and I had just fallen due to the sudden stop.

Revving the engine I moved on.

PS – I had fried rice that night, somehow did not like the idea of rotis : )