Of Living and Dying and Continuing to Live in Others' Memory

Recently, a college mate shared the news of the demise of one of the lab assistants of the college where we studied. In passing, he mentioned about how this person was the one who never provided us with distilled water that we needed for our experiments; as a result, we always had to ‘steal’ it from the lab when he wasn’t around. Someone else remembered how he would always shout at us.

A third person then stepped in to say, “We ALL remember him….despite what my teenage thoughts may have made me say or feel, in retrospect, I’m thankful for the role he played, in giving me the life I live today.” This, I feel, is an amazing response, and quite the benchmark for how we ought to feel about all the unpleasant people we encounter through our life journey. Easy to say, but quite very difficult to practice.

But this discussion also set me thinking about something I read recently. Stephen Covey in “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People” asks readers to visualize the event of their own death. He then asks you to imagine “What you would want people from your family, friend circle, workplace, and any community organization to say about you and your life? What character would you like them to have seen in you? What achievements would you want them to remember? What difference would you like to have made in their lives?”

Over the past couple of days, social media has been full of eulogies for the great singer S. P. Balasubrahmanyam and what is astounding is that so many of them are from ordinary folk you and I know. SPB touched people through his music but unknown to many of us, he was also deeply involved with helping others – whether it was sponsoring chess champion Vishwanathan Anand’s team in the national team championship in 1983, or raising funds for charitable causes through his stage shows. Did you know, for example, that he set up the SPS Charitable Foundation in memory of his father? Through this platform, he was involved with providing financial help for a plethora of organizations involved with education, palliative care, serving the disabled, flood relief, cine musicians, orphanages, and on and on the list goes. 

Image courtesy: The New Indian Express

I watched a video clip on Twitter in which SPB is seen surprising a blind fan hailing from Sri Lanka. Another video showed me the legend’s humility as he touched the feet of the ‘doli’ bearers who were to carry him to the Sri Ayyappan shrine at Sabarimala. I read online about how, in August, when SPB’s health condition was steadily declining, the same temple did something it had never before done – it performed a musical puja to Sri Ayappan for SPB’s recovery, and after this, one of the temple musicians rendered the Naadaswaram to his award-winning “Shankaraaa….naadashareeraa…”

Well, if we had to correlate SPB’s life with Stephen Covey’s questions……you can fill in the blanks for yourself.

I haven’t told many of you this. On the night of 5th September this year, my nephew Shreeharsha passed away from issues that traced their origin to long-standing health problems. He used to write, too, and had even penned a piece of our visit to Haridwar and Rishikesh in 2015. (You can read that post here)

In his short journey of 31 years, he touched all our lives with his unique wit and humor and inspired us by his refusal to let his physical handicap limit his abilities to enjoy life and true to his name, spread joy. Harsha was a great fan of the Bengaluru Football Club, and a vociferous supporter, often traveling to different parts of the country to support his beloved team. Closer home, he was the inspiration for my son to get actively involved with football. 

After Harsha’s demise, we, his family, grieved his passing, reminiscing about the things he did and said and the way he lived. Quite surprising to us was the outpouring of grief from his larger circle of friends and even mere acquaintances. Twitter and Facebook were filled with posts from his friends, colleagues at all the places he worked and of course, hundreds of BFC fans. A common thread that ran through all their remembrances was his positive spirit and ability to make people feel comfortable after just a few minutes of interaction.

As I told my niece, Harsha’s sister Rajashree, about this phenomenon, she exclaimed, “I wonder where he found the time to do things to create such an impression on so many people!” As we pondered over this question, it struck me that impressions get formed by what one IS as a person – when that is impactful enough, there is never the need to DO something separately to create an impression.

Whether it was the lab assistant or SPB or Harsha or me or you whenever our time comes, it is the way we live our lives, the things we do and say as we pass through this life’s journey that will sustain in our wake.

On Being a Teacher in the Pandemic

I enter my ‘Classroom’, but I’m not going to stay there for too long. I’m only there to “Share something with my class” – the “Joining info” to let them enter the “Meeting” I’ve started on Meet. I toggle buttons to move back to the “Meeting” and wait for the students to arrive so that I can “Admit” them in.

I miss the luxury of having students waiting for me to arrive.

They arrive in one’s and two’s, but I can’t see or hear them – their cameras and microphones are turned off in the new classroom etiquette, and I won’t hear them talk until I invite them to do so by wishing them “Good morning, students!”.

I miss hearing their loud chorus of “Good Morning, Ma’am” that is capable of pushing everything beyond that moment from my mind.

I miss being able to smile at them and having them smile back, creating an infectious high energy vibe. 

I miss the unconscious scan my eyes and 6^th or 7^th sense would run over the class to measure their energy and interest level so that I knew how to amp up or down my pace of teaching

Some students take time to arrive. It’s no longer the “I missed the bus” or “I got stuck in a traffic jam” excuses. The ‘rate-limiting-step’ has morphed – it’s the speed of their mobile network service provider that’s the culprit for their delay.

Three minutes into the “Meeting”, about 80% of the class is in, so I decide it’s time to “Present Now” and choose “Present a Window” as I unmute my microphone and wish the class “Good Morning”. A few return wishes reach my ears. I don’t “Turn on my camera” because of various reasons that range from ‘no dress code for teaching from home’ to ‘family member dashing into and out of the bathroom nearby’. But the most important reason for not enabling video is that connectivity is always more stable with the video off.

I miss having my class look at me while I’m teaching. I wonder if they miss it too, and wonder if the energy in my voice is enough to sustain them through the hour. I pray it will suffice.

I continue to explain what is there in my presentation. I’ve sat up till midnight of the previous day to make sure that along with the text, my presentation contains diagrams and tables and graphs to help the students understand the topic better. I ask questions in between to make sure that they have understood what I’m explaining.

I miss being able to judge my students’ understanding – or lack of it – from a mere glance at their facial expressions.

I toggle between parts of the presentation as I go back and forth to emphasize an earlier point to explain the present one. I try to keep each slide in place for at least half a minute to make sure that all students – even the ones with a slow network – are able to see what I’m talking about.

I miss the way I used to walk from one side to another to connect the concepts I’ve explained by writing on the blackboard. 

Which reminds me – I miss my chalk piece and duster, too. 

I miss the dust of the ‘dustless’ chalk getting into my eyes when I rub the board. 

I miss the polka dot spray the white dust created on my shoulders. 

I miss having to wash my hands free of the calcium carbonate (instead of the SARS-CoV-2 I’m now trying to keep away).

After about 48 minutes of class, I decide to stop. When I myself cannot sustain talking for an hour, how can I expect my students to listen for so long? I check if they have any doubts. I ask if they have received the notes I sent. I tell them about some PDFs and links I’ll be sharing after the class. And finally, I say, “Let’s close today’s class” and give them permission to “Leave”. There’s a smattering of “Thank you, Ma’am”s that I hear as I click the red telephone icon to myself “Leave” the “Meeting”.

I miss the days when I’d overstay my time in class because we were discussing something important about a problem the students faced.

I miss the impromptu activities and games I’d sometimes have them play to learn an important life skill because either of us was too bored to study heavy-duty pharmacy syllabus.

We’re only teaching theory now in our online classes. Practical experiments will be done whenever regular college starts.

I’ve been missing the smell of chemicals that would cling to me after a lab session. 

I’ve even begun to miss the headache that would result after hours of non-stop peering about three times per microscope multiplied by 20 microscopes, repeated thrice a week. 

The only headaches I have now come from staring at a screen that connects and yet separates me from my students.

I’ve just begun teaching a new subject - Pharmaceutical Microbiology. And thanks to what I’m learning anew, as I write this blog, I realize that as a teacher, I’m not the strict autotroph I thought I was. I can’t make all of my own energy – I need to draw quite a bit of it from the emotional connection that grows as I interact day in and out, face-to-face, with my students.

On this Teacher’s Day, I’d like to thank all the students I’ve taught in all these 20 years before the pandemic. You’re the ones who made it a most memorable journey for me, and those memories will always stay special.

To the students I’m now teaching through a virtual medium, thank you for your cooperation, and hopefully, we’ll be able to connect better by the time we’re through this semester.

  

Learning from Nandi

A few days ago, I went to Malleshwaram to buy yellow Srichurnam for my father-in-law. In case you don't know what it is  - Srichurnam is the yellow or red tilak sported by Srivaishnavas on their forehead.

On the 8th Cross off Sampige Road, there are shops that sell all pooja/Hindu-ritual related items, and you can recognize them by the typical "cones" they have of turmeric and vermilion - arashina/haldi and kumkum. 

It's been ages since I had an occasion to visit these shops, but I knew the Srichurnam and some other items I wanted would definitely be available there. Now there are 3 shops of this type right next to each other and on a whim, I chose to go to the first one I saw as I approached the trio. 

A young boy was sitting there, and very pleasantly, he gave me the items I wanted and told me the amount I was to pay. Just as I was drawing money out of my purse, he extended a Haldi-Kumkum set towards me and said, "Madam, Arshina-Kumkuma togoli." He was asking me to take or apply the turmeric and vermilion in the gesture that is so very common in South Indian homes when married women visit. 

I was a little surprised, and my mind ran through the possibilities of it being some festival day. But I couldn't find anything significant about that day, so I simply asked the boy whether there was something special in their shop that day and the reason why he was offering the arashina-kumkuma to me. 

He replied that it was a practice he had cultivated, and he offered it to any "Sumangali" or married woman who came to purchase things from his shop. 

Such a simple gesture, but it made me feel so good and "at home". 

As I talked a little more with him and asked permission to take the picture of him in his shop with the Arshina-Kumkuma set, I learned a little more about him. His name is Nandi, and he has studied till 1st PUC, but couldn't continue studying (although he desperately wanted to) because of his family's financial difficulties. Now, he mans the shop but has fond hopes of answering the 2nd PUC exam privately. He also said he is looking out for a good job.  

Chatting with young Nandi, I was struck by how our culture survives because of such people who continue their traditional practices. Despite having his own set of problems, he was smiling and pleasant and had a positive spirit which I'm sure will take him far ahead in life. 

I said as much to him and told him to keep up his efforts to study. I wished him saying "Devaru volledu maadali" - which translates into "May God bless you with good things." 

I left the shop with not just my Srichurnam but also with a fond memory of one simple gesture that warmed my heart and a lesson about staying positive even in the face of difficult situations.

Edit: One of my friends Dr. Nirmala, wrote to me after reading this post. 
"Really touching.
Had the same experience when I had visited.
When I offered him some extra money , he refused
Was really taken aback by his self esteem." 

A Sunday's Learning from Mrs. P

"Madam, Madam!" a voice floated in through the window. 
Something about it told me this was one of those salespersons who go home to home with their products. It was a slow Sunday morning, so I opened the door to see what the matter was. 

Outside my door stood an elderly woman, whom I guessed to be in her fifties. In her hands were 2 small plastic bottles that held a green-colored liquid. She thrust them towards me and began her marketing spiel about the newly launched herbal disinfectant and even opened one of the bottles for me to smell the liquid inside. 

I had enough stock of floor disinfectant for another month at least; but something about the way this woman talked got my attention. Mrs. P was delivering her sales pitch in a manner unlike any salesperson I'd come across till then. 

There was a quiet dignity about her, a genuineness in her selling that made it sound like she wasn't actually selling, but just informing you of something for your good. Perhaps that is the reason why I couldn't refuse her, and ended up buying 4 of those bottles.

As the money exchanged hands, I couldn't resist asking Mrs. P the question that had been uppermost in my mind. But I tried to couch it in polite terms to avoid hurting her. She was just as dignified in her reply. Her eyes clouded over, but still, with a calm smile, she explained how she had begun working in her late forties due to family problems. And that she had continued working even after the children started to earn, because she didn't want to be a dependent.

With a twinkle in her eyes, she asked me to guess what her age may be. 

"Hmmm...55?" I suggested.

Her smile grew wider. "No, 68," she corrected.

I was shocked, because she didn't at all look that age! I found myself wondering even more at her positive and happy spirit. Yes, she had difficulties, but just see how she was cheerfully going about coping with them! I said as much and expressed my happiness at having met her, because I had learned something from her. 

She smiled again and folded her hands in the typical 'Namaskar' mudra. 

"Thank you, Madam, for your kind words," she said, "It is the good wishes of people like you, and God's blessings that are my biggest strengths!"

I was so lost in the wonder of this amazing encounter that I forgot to ask if I could click a photo of her. By the time I realized, she had moved away from the gate. From my frantic efforts, I caught just a glimpse of her through the window.

And Mrs. P goes marching on....!

I've preserved this photograph as a reminder of  how one must face adversity with dignity and cheerfulness and a sense of counting our blessings.And I'm sharing it with you dear readers, to pass on the same positive spirit to you, too.

When the COVID-19 lockdown began, I couldn't help wonder about what Mrs. P was doing, and how she was coping. Given her positive attitude, however, I'm sure she would have found some way to still stay cheerful!

How to Go From Monkey to Monk: Keep Your Eyes Closed?

Covid-19 lockdown is a mixed bag for us teachers. We’ve had to adapt quickly to teaching online, and are slowly learning the art of balancing college work and home work when working from home.

During these trying times, the silver lining has been the opportunity to upgrade our own knowledge, free from the restrictions of desh and kaal (place and time), thanks to the plethora of webinars/online conferences being conducted by institutions across the country and the globe.

Yesterday, I attended Day 1 of a 5-day Faculty Development Program, hosted by GIET School of Pharmacy, Andhra Pradesh.

Dr. B. G. Nagavi, one of the most distinguished innovator-teachers of the pharmacy profession in recent times (and so much more – you can check his profile here http://hesdarcenter.com/promoters/), was doing a presentation about education research.

While talking about the very important role of a teacher, Dr. Nagavi played a video, narrating an anecdote from a teacher’s life.

Here’s the summary of the story; if you want to hear it for yourself, click this link https://youtu.be/yf-AlywtY5g


A young man walked up to an older man at a gathering and introduced himself, saying, “I’m one of your students.” The teacher greeted him and asked about what the young man was now doing.

“I’m into education. I’m also a teacher.”

“Great! So what inspired you to go into education?”

“You!”

“Me!? How?”

The young man answered, “One day a boy in our class brought a new watch to school. I liked it a lot, and because I wanted it, I stole it. He realized the watch was missing, and complained to you, the teacher. You announced the news and asked whoever had stolen it to return the watch.

I didn’t return it.

Then you closed the classroom door and asked all the kids to line up facing the wall. You ordered us all to close our eyes tight until you had finished searching through all our pockets. We did as you said. You went from one boy to the next, looking through the pockets and when you came to me, you found the watch in my pocket! Yet, you kept moving through every child’s pockets and at the end, you announced the watch had been found, and handed it over to the rightful owner.

You never said a word to anyone about it. That day, you saved my dignity. I was ashamed of myself and decided not to do such a thing again. But you never ever asked me about the incident, either. You saved my soul by your action. I learned how a real educator must be and because of you, I was inspired to go into the teaching profession.

I’m sure you remember this episode, so you must remember me, Sir?”

The teacher replied, “I remember the event you mention. But I don’t remember you. Because that day, while going through the children’s pockets, I closed my eyes, too.”

This story is meant to drive home the message of how wonderfully inspiring teachers can be. It is supposed to make us teachers more aware of how our actions can impact our students.

For me, however, it triggered an even deeper realization of how vital it is for teachers to be self-aware.

“I closed my eyes too!”

What a sensitive, thoughtful, and loving act by the teacher!

How self-aware must this teacher have been, to realize that he is likely to be affected by knowing who the offending student is!

How strongly the teacher must have been motivated to not let himself get prejudiced by one wanton act of a young child!

What an immense control of mind he must have possessed to decide he didn’t want to know who the errant child was!

Can we even imagine the degree of self-awareness, and goodness of heart and magnitude of self-control someone needs to be like the teacher in this story?

Even as these thoughts raced through my mind, I was struck by another, deeper one. 

Can I learn to be like this teacher in the other areas of my life, too? 

Can I unlearn the tendency to notice the unpleasant things people do, can I stop mentally branding them, and give them another chance to become their better selves? 

Is this the ‘key’ that I must lose, to make the transition from ‘Monkey’ to ‘Monk’?

Of Their Needs and Our Wants and Akshaya Tritiya

In school, we had a lesson on the short story by the world-famous Russian author, Leo Tolstoy. The story was called “How Much Land Does a Man Need?” Many of you may have studied this, too. If not, you can read the entire story here. (Link to story)

Here’s the gist of the story. A farmer Pahom goes to the land of the Bashkirs who have a startling offer – by paying 1000 rubles, he can begin walking at sunrise and cover as much area as he wants, and it will all be his, provided he returns to the starting point by sunset the same day.

The delighted Pahom starts off and in his greed to cover a huge area, doesn’t realize how the time is running. Exhausted and on the verge of losing his breath, he somehow manages to drag himself back to the starting point even as the sun sets. The Bashkirs cheer at his feat, but Pahom drops dead, and is buried in a grave that measures a mere six feet – that’s all the land he finally needed!

That story gives us a window into the difference between a want and a need. In the good (?) old days, people slogged all their life to meet their needs, rarely having the resources to fulfill their wants. Yet, life was relatively more peaceful. 

In today’s times, people have grown more prosperous and we find that the line between “want” and “need” is growing more and more blurred by the day. No wonder then that peace has flown out the window.

We are bombarded constantly by stimuli that drive us to consume, without any pause, to contemplate over what it is that we are consuming, and whether it is something we truly need. “I buy, therefore, I am,” has become our mantra. Consumption is good for business; and business drives the economy and of course the economy has to be on the up and up.

During this lockdown, when access to goods has been forcibly curtailed, many people have begun re-discovering that they can actually make do with very little. And this realization has led them to ask a pertinent question, which this image so eloquently asks.

The English novelist Matt Haig has an answer to this question.  Read and contemplate over the connection he points out between the economy and happiness.

Today is Akshaya Tritiya - an auspicious day. The word ‘Akshaya’ means ‘that which does not diminish or end’. Unfortunately, the significance of this day has been hijacked by a segment that is believed to be a major ‘driver’ of the same ‘economy’ that we’ve been discussing.

In the cacophony created by these drivers, we have forgotten that Akshaya Tritiya is a day meant to be spent on performing rituals for the ancestors, and in doing ‘daan’ or donation and charity. People now pride themselves on their ability to while away this day in hoarding wealth in the form of gold. 

If you wish to celebrate Akshaya Tritiya in the real sense, especially in these times which are difficult for so many who are less-blessed than you, here are a few genuine causes to which you can donate any amount of your choice.

1. Indic Collective is providing monetary help to the needy persons who are part of the temple ecosystem – the flower sellers, the musical instrument performers, the servitors, and the temple priests - and whose livelihoods have been disrupted by the lockdown

Donate here: https://www.indiccollective.org/temple-support-covid-fundraiser/

2. Youth for Seva is serving food (Annadaana Seva) to the needy who are unable to earn their livelihood due to the lockdown.

Donate here: https://www.youthforseva.org/COVID-19-Annadana-Seva

3. As announced by the PM of our country, the PMCARES fund is dedicated to providing quality treatment and for research on ways to beat COVID-19

Donate here: https://www.pmcares.gov.in/en/

I've always heard my elders say that on the day of Akshaya Tritiya, one must do things that one wishes to have/keep doing in plenty for the rest of the year. So, now you know why I've written this blog today! 😄😄

Overcome the Hanuman complex!

We all know that in the Ramayana, it was the mighty Hanuman who jumped across the ocean, reached Lanka, and located Sita who had been captured by Ravana. What is less commonly known is the part that went before he took that great leap.

Seeing the huge, unending ocean, all the vaanaras felt dejected. Not a single one thought himself capable of the energy to cross it and come back.

Then, the eldest of the party, a bear called Jambavan, turned to Hanuman and asked, “You too feel you’re incapable of this feat, Hanuman? You have amazing powers; you’re Pavan Putra - the son of the Wind God – but you’ve forgotten these powers. Now is the time to remember and make use of them!”

Saying so, Jambavan narrated the story of Hanuman’s birth and childhood prowess.

Anjana was an apsara, who, through a curse, had become a monkey maiden. She was married to the monkey King Kesari. When Raja Dasharatha had performed the putrakameshti yagna for begetting children, as per Lord Shiva’s instruction, a portion of the payasam was carried by Vayu (the Wind God, also called Pavan) and delivered to Anjana. After consuming the sweet, in due course, Anjana gave birth to a son who was courageous, strong, intelligent, and also extremely naughty.

When still a child, Anjaneya (the son of Anjana) flew high into the sky, intending to eat up the Sun which looked like a ripe fruit. Afraid of what would happen, Indra hurled his thunderbolt at the child, breaking his jaw – giving him the name Hanuman.

Vayu was angry at how his son had been treated, and stopped the winds from blowing over the world; life came to a stop. Indra apologized. He and the other deities all came to bless the child Hanuman with many boons that made him even more powerful.

Armed with these special powers, Hanuman’s antics increased. He would play pranks on innocent persons but one day he went too far and a meditating rishi was his target. Angered by this mischievous behaviour, the rishi cursed Hanuman, saying he would lose all his special powers including the power of flying huge distances.

Aghast, Hanuman and his mother Anjana prayed for the rishi’s forgiveness. He relented, and proclaimed that Hanuman would not lose his powers, but would lose his knowledge of his own powers; at the time when they were desperately needed, he would be reminded of them by some wise person.

Now, on the ocean shore, Jambavan gave the timely reminder to Hanuman. Assuming a gigantic size, he flew to Lanka and the rest….is the remaining part of the Ramayana. 

Pic courtesy: Quora

One of India’s famous psychiatrists, Dr. N. N. Wig, dubbed this lack of knowing one’s true potential as the “Hanuman Complex.” 

He would encourage the patients who came to him, by explaining how, like Hanuman, they are inherently capable of overcoming the problems they face; only thing is that their illness has temporarily made them feel weak, so they have forgotten their own capability. In other words, the power to change their lives rests within themselves; all they need to do is re-discover this power and make the necessary efforts to change.

I first heard of Dr Wig in the year 2011 when I was writing an article about 10 famous doctors of India. This idea stayed with me ever since, and I realized that it applies to not just patients, but to most common people.

During all these years of teaching youngsters, I have made use of Dr. Wig’s “Hanuman complex” and indeed, found that it works miracles for their self-esteem and confidence.

Today, as I watched this awakening of Hanuman happen in the Ramayana serial on TV, I had the impulse to write this post. And some parts of our country are celebrating Hanuman Jayanti today, so what better occasion for this post?

I’m definitely not as wise as him, but I’m trying to be a Jambavan to all of you reading this.

“You are capable of great things! Awake and realize your true potential! Grow and do good to yourself, and to the whole world!”

To read Dr. Wig's article, click here   https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2912672/pdf/IJPsy-46-25.pdf

Lockdown TV-inspired Gyaan!

Since the past week, I’ve been doing something I do very rarely – watching TV. No points for guessing what are the programs that have caught my attention!

The last time Ramayana and Mahabharata played on TV, I was just stepping into my teens. Thanks to my mother’s narration, and my own reading of Amar Chitra Katha comics, I already knew stories from these epics. So the appeal of the serials, then, was in watching the action actually unfold on the screen.

When DD started airing these serials again during this pandemic-induced lockdown, I was moved to watch them purely by a sense of nostalgia. But as the episodes air day after day, I realize that they’re giving me insights like never before.

I first realized this during one of the Mahabharata episodes.

Satyavati’s father negotiates with Raja Shantanu and later, with his son Devavrata, asking for his word that only Satyavati’s children would ascend to the throne of Hastinapur. 

Then came an episode from the Ramayana.

The ill-advised Rani Kaikeyi misuses her 2 boons due from Raja Dasharatha to reserve the throne of Ayodhya for her son Bharat and to banish Rama to the forest for 14 years.

Just yesterday was the episode where Ravana, hearing of Seeta’s beauty, dismisses words of wisdom from his well-wishers and hatches a plot to carry her away.

As I ponder over these three events, it strikes me that in each case, the protagonists thought they had everything figured out to achieve their selfish motives. Theirs was a perfect and fool-proof plan. But life went ahead and struck them the most unexpected of blows.

The persons who were at the receiving ends of these protagonists were caught unawares. Devavrata didn’t have any ‘plan’ to commit to brahmacharya; Rama didn’t dream of being banished by his dear ones; Seeta had no clue that she would be kidnapped and placed on a faraway, inaccessible island.

None of these persons expected such terrible situations to be thrust upon them and yet, they were able to recover. I’ve been wondering, ‘What was that special quality that helped them cope?’

· Was it their ability to truly live in the present moment, not hanging on to their idea of how things must be?

· Was it their willingness to adapt to the rapid change in their circumstances, with alacrity, never blaming others even for their obviously unfair behaviour?

· Was it their preparedness to face any personal discomfort that came their way, without EVER compromising on what was their dharma at that point in time?

Perhaps it was all of these, and some other factors I haven’t yet understood. But these are enough for me for now. I realize that trying to adopt these 3 qualities alone is going to keep me busy for quite some time to come.

In these unpredictable times we are living through, there is bound to be some sense of anxiety for what the immediate future holds. We are so used to planning for things, and having things (mostly) going as per our plans, that we feel lost in the face of uncertainty like this.

• Can we learn a lesson from what this blog post has talked about, and focus on taking life just one day at a time; maybe even one moment at a time?

• Can we look upon this period as one to cultivate a sense of surrender to the wish of the Universe/Nature/God – whatever you choose to call it?

• Can we start trying to go deeper within our own selves, and use this time to introspect and grow?

When you light a lamp tonight at 9 pm and sit for 9 minutes in quiet contemplation, please remember to feel grateful for all the things you’re blessed with. And send out a prayer for the world to be protected and healed. And for yourself, ask that come what may, you should be guided to always tread and never stray from the path of Dharma!

Going Inside!

Light from the dawning day filters in through the gap in the curtains. It caresses my eyelids, and gently wakes me up. But before the body can move into an upright position, the mind sends a 2-word quick reminder – Janata Curfew. No hurry to do anything today. Lie down for a while, it orders. I drift back to sleep, only to wake up after an hour because the stillness of the morning has been broken by the bang of a neighbouring gate.

I open the door to pick up the milk that has been delivered home and say a silent thank you, and prayer for these guys who make life easier for us. Standing at the door, something feels different. It’s the sound of the silence! Never has it seemed louder than today.

But slowly, I begin to hear. Sounds that are otherwise drowned out by the traffic. The swish of a neighbour’s broom as she cleans the space outside her home. Water gushing out of a tap somewhere. At least 5 distinct bird chirpings. The squeaking of squirrels. Humming bees. Grunting lizards. 

Two days ago, at around the same time, walking through the park, I had overheard this conversation between two old grandmas.

“It seems we have to stay inside the whole day on Sunday.”

“Why? What about our walk?”

“Haven’t you heard? It is to stop the Corona virus from spreading! The walk can wait!”

Passing them by, I heard this well-informed woman cut short her friend's questions with what has now become a familiar refrain - “Modi has told!”

Faith, indeed, is a wonderful thing.

Mulling this over, I remember something else I saw just yesterday in the newspaper. Read this. 

Example of a covidiot?

I’m afraid this person is infected by a virus that’s more virulent and dangerous than COVID-19. It’s the virus of bias. The virus of scorning the message because you hate the messenger.

It’s the middle of the day as I write this post. 

The silence still pervades. 

And it seems to be telling me that I’ve said enough for today. 

On the day of “जनता कर्फ़्यू”, it’s time to get on with “अन्तः कर्फ़्यू”! 

Leave the world to its devices! 

Go within! 

Image from https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EThpyCwU0AATRy1.jpg

Margazhi Blogotsavam: Day 30: Mangalam!

On the 17th of December, 2019, sudden inspiration struck, giving birth to this concept of a blogathon for the entire month. When I sat down to post the first blog, inspiration struck again, resulting in the series being named #MargazhiBlogotsavam. 

And an utsavam it truly has been – marked by hectic activity and a lot of joy in the celebration. Full of bliss for the one writing the blogs, and, judging from the feedback, equally joyful, for the ones reading them.

Sustaining an activity like this on a daily basis for very long is however not possible. So, like any other festival, it is time to bring the curtains down, albeit temporarily, until the next festive occasion.

Perhaps the daily reading of the stories of devotees has planted the seed of bhakti in your hearts. If yes, it is important you care for that seed, and nurture it well, so that it germinates, takes root, and grows to yield the appropriate fruit. Here are a few suggestions towards this end.

• Set aside some time everyday – even if it is as little as 10 minutes – to chant the Lord’s Name. In this kaliyuga, when other forms of spiritual practice are not so easy, Namasmaranam is the easiest way ahead. Chant the name of your family deity, or your favourite deity, or a small mantra of your choice (except the Gayatri mantra).

• Select some small stotram of your favourite/your family deity. Recite it at least once every day, even if you have to read from a book/online site. Over time, when you have learned it by heart, it will become easier to recite even without those aids.

• For some time every morning and evening, play some bhajans or stotrams in your house. It will help to create positive vibes in the environment, and foster a sense of bhakti in you. If you can, sing along.

• Devote at least 10 minutes every day to some form of spiritual reading – it could be stories of devotees of God, or the Ramayana, the Mahabharata or the Bhagavatham – whatever is easy for you, and holds your attention.

• Make it a point to consciously remember God, ask for help, and chant His/Her Name before you begin any important activity, or at random, 5 times in a day.

• At the end of every important activity, or as a set routine of 5 times in a day, make it a habit to remember God, and say a simple ‘thank you’ for all the things that are going right for you.

• When you find yourself in a stressful event, PAUSE. Cut your stream of automatic thoughts. Chant your mantra 11 times. Pray for divine guidance. Then return to thinking of how to deal with the event.

• Keep track of how you talk. Are you always talking on and on? If yes, cultivate more silence in your life. Are you always criticizing others? Are you blaming/finding fault with them all the time? If yes, make a conscious effort to change to a positive way of talking that encourages people. If that is too difficult, just stop expressing your negative thoughts – that itself will lead to a big improvement.

• Constantly monitor your thoughts. Are you thinking negative thoughts? Does your mind wander thinking of unnecessary things? Are you stuffing your mind with unwanted stuff? Are you getting tense and worrying about things beyond your control? If yes, practice the pause. Examine your thoughts and discard the ones that are of no use to your growth.

• Take care of what you allow to enter your mind. The outside world is constantly bombarding us with stimuli. When you let it all go unfiltered into your mind, it weighs you down, and you end up feeling tired – both mentally and physically. If you have the ability to filter, do it. If not, cut off the stimulus itself. In other words, spend less time on WhatsApp, Facebook, Twitter, TV, and mindless gossip.

• Pay attention to the people around you. If there is someone in need, do what you can to help them, with a sense of gratitude for being given the opportunity to serve.

These few tips that I have given are tried and tested ways to develop a sense of bhakti. I use them too, and that’s why I can confidently pass them on to you. If there is any further guidance you need, do feel free to send me a message on WhatsApp on 98450 66050.

Do also message me if you would like to have the PDFs of two books about the several devotees from across the country – one is the English translation of Mahipathi’s Bhakta Vijay, and the other, called Bhaktamal, is in Hindi.

Through today’s blog post, I want to express my humble pranaams to all of you who have come along and been a part of this #MargazhiBlogotsavam. Thank you for trusting in me, appreciating my efforts, and sending me your thoughts when you felt touched by what I wrote. 

Margazhi Blogotsavam: Day 29: He Showed us the Path to the Lord: Sri Ramanujacharya

About 9 kms away from Thirupathur in Tamil Nadu, is a village called Thirukoshtiyur. This village houses the temple of Sowmya Narayana Perumal, and is one of the 108 Divya Desams – holy shrines for the Vaishnava followers.

However, the other important reason for this place gaining importance is because of its association with Sri Ramanujacharya – the Preceptor of the Srivaishnavas, who propounded the doctrine of Vishistadvaita. 

Sri Ramanujacharya
Image courtesy: Anudinam.org

To describe the glory of Ramanujacharya will require a blog series of its own. Today, my attempt is to highlight one incident from his life, which holds a valuable lesson for us all.

Ramanujar is in desperate search of the path to salvation. His well-wishers have advised him to become the disciple of Thirukoshtiyur Nambi. So, he travels to Thirukoshtiyur, knocks on the door of Nambi, and says, “I have come to meet you.” But Nambi refuses to accept him as a disciple and sends him back.

Ramanujar makes 17 desperate trips, makes the same request, and is rebuffed 17 times. The 18th time that he visits Nambi, Ramanujar says, “Adiyen Daasan, Ramanujar vanddirken” – “Your disciple Ramanuja has come.”

Now, Nambi opens the door and welcomes Ramanujar. 

Did you notice the difference in the words that encouraged this acceptance? 

Right! As Nambi explains, “Your arrogance has gone. Now let’s talk!”

As desired by Ramanujar, Nambi teaches him the path to salvation. He whispers in Ramanujar’s ears, “Repeat after me the Ashtakshara mantram! Om Namo Narayanaya!” At the same time, the guru warns the disciple, “Remember, you must not reveal this mantra to anyone. If you do so, you will go to hell!”

Trembling with happiness to have learned the secret path to Vaikuntha, Ramanujar leaves the house of Nambi. There is a strange radiance in his face and also a strong resolve. Within the next few minutes, a shout is heard from the top of the temple, asking everyone to gather there.

Hearing the summons, people rush from far and near. They are surprised to see Ramanujar standing on the temple top. The next minute, he proclaims in a loud, steady voice, “Listen to me, everyone! Do you want to know how to go to Vaikuntha? Surrender yourself to God, and repeat the mantra ‘Om Namo Narayanaya’ and you are sure to reach Vaikuntha!” 

Image courtesy: Amar Chitra Katha
Note: Thirukkottiyur Nambi was also called Goshti Purna

Hearing the chant from the mouth of Ramanujar, all the people gathered there begin repeating the chant, delirious with joy at being blessed with this secret. 

Word soon reaches Thirukoshtiyur Nambi about the doings of Ramanujar. Furious, he sends word for the disciple and scolds him for having defied the guru’s orders. Carried away in his frenzy, he thunders, “You will go to hell for this sacrilege!” 

Ramanujar has a placid smile on his face. He is least affected by the effects of his actions. Humbly, he bows to the guru and says, “If my action helps a hundred others to attain salvation, I don’t mind going to hell!”

Nambi is stunned into silence realizing the large-heartedness of his disciple. Clasping Ramanujar to his bosom, Nambi declares, “You are Emberumaanaar!” (my lord) and from then on, Ramanujacharya was also known by this name.

Can we imbibe the perseverance of Ramanujar who approached his guru 18 times despite being rebuffed?

When things don’t go the way we want them to, can we introspect, and see where we may be making a mistake instead of blaming the world and the people around us?

Are we aware of ways in which we are being egoistic, and trying to change ourselves?

Like Ramanujar, are we prepared to sacrifice our comfort if our actions can help/benefit others - even those who are not related to us in any way?

Like him, can we develop such a deep sense of surrender to the Lord, realizing He is the sole refuge?

References

https://ramanujadasan.wordpress.com/2008/06/04/thirukostiyur-nambhi-thirunakshatram/ 

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Margazhi Blogotsavam: Day 28: For Whom Vitthal Got Tied Up to a Pillar: Sant Sakhubai

Gangadhar Rao and his wife Kamalabai lived in the village of Sinchirunipuram near Pandharpur in Maharashtra. After praying for long to Lord Vitthal, they were blessed with a baby girl, whom they named Sakhubai. From a very young age, Sakhubai was devoted to Vitthal and would sing bhajans in His praise in her sweet melodious voice, enthralling everyone.

Lord Vitthal of Pandharpur
Image courtesy: Vitthal Rukmini Mandir

After she grew up, Sakhubai was married to Krishna Sharma of Gopalpur, who was an arrogant man. Sakhubai’s husband, and in-laws were very cruel to her; they would torture her by beating, give her lot of work that kept her occupied from early morning to late in the night, never allowed her to rest, and gave her very little food to eat. 

Yet, Sakhubai did not harbor any ill-will towards them, nor did she retaliate in any way. She accepted all this as the fruit of some previous birth’s sins. Whatever work she did, it was with the name of Vitthal on her lips and in her heart – and it was only chanting His Name that gave her any solace. Deep in Sakhubai’s heart, a strong desire grew to visit Pandharpur and see her Vitthal of whom people sang such praises. 

One day, when Sakhubai went to fetch water from the pond, she chanced on a group of devotees who were going to Pandharpur. She was desperate to join them, because she wanted to see her beloved Vitthal at least once in her lifetime. When she rushed home and asked permission to go with the pilgrims, Sakhu’s husband was furious. He and his parents beat her, and then, to make sure she didn’t go anywhere, they tied poor Sakhubai to a pillar with strong ropes, locked the room, and left her there to starve. 

In extreme distress, Sakhubai kept crying and calling out to her Vitthal, “All I want is to see You, but I’m tied up here and can’t reach You! Show mercy on me, dear Lord, and let me have your darshan for which I have been thirsting for all these years!” In her agony, she fainted, and yet, kept chanting the name of Vitthal in her mind.

Vitthal rescuing Sakhubai from bondage
Image courtesy: Coimbatore Bhavsar

Suddenly, the room was filled with a divine radiance. A woman looking exactly like Sakhubai appeared, and untying Sakhubai, told her to go to Pandharpur, saying, “I will stay here till you come! Go and have a darshan of your Vitthal! Don’t worry, I’ll manage things here!”

Filled with divine joy, Sakhubai rushed out of the house and made her way to Pandharpur. When she reached the temple, she rushed through the crowds and clinging to her Vitthal, she was lost in the bliss of uniting with Him, and gave up her life then and there.

In the meantime, in Sakhubai’s house, her husband had taken pity on his poor wife and worried that she may die, he untied her. This Sakhubai now carried on with her usual duties, serving her husband and in-laws. The food she cooked seemed to have a divine taste for the family. Strangely, they now felt good-natured towards her.

One day, a neighbor of Krishna Sharma came and told him that he had seen Sakhubai in Pandharpur and that she had passed away there. Krishna was shocked to hear this. “What are you babbling?,” he shouted, “Sakhu never went to Pandharpur. She has been here as usual with us! Come and see with your own eyes,” he insisted and pulled the man to their house.

But Sakhubai was nowhere to be found! Her husband and in-laws looked everywhere in the house and outside, but they couldn’t find her anywhere! Now, finally, they understood why they had been feeling so different towards Sakhu of late. The Lord of Pandharpur had come to his devotee’s rescue! It had been Lord Vitthal Himself who had taken Sakhubai’s place!

Like Sakhubai, can we learn to not react when people behave badly with us?

Can we try to stay focused on our goal, heedless of all the obstacles - physical and emotional - that come in our way?

Can we work towards developing deep faith that the Lord is our sole refuge, and surrender totally to Him?
References

http://coimbatorebhavsar.blogspot.com/2018/08/saints-of-maharashtra-devotees-of_75.html

Bhakt Charitank (Bhaktamal). Gita Press, Gorakhpur

Margazhi Blogotsavam: Day 27: The Patriot Monk who Put India on the World Map: Swami Vivekananda

On the 12th of January, 157 years ago, was born a child to Vishwanath Dutta and Bhuvaneshwari Devi of Bengal, whom they named Narendra. And as they say, the rest is history.... 

Image courtesy: Educationworld.in

Naren was bright, full of energy, restless and naughty and yet, could spend hours sitting still in deep meditation. He was also very compassionate, and no wandering sansyasi passed their house without receiving something from little Naren. 

Image courtesy: Amar Chitra Katha

At school, and later at college, Naren was an excellent pupil, and as he got more drawn towards Western logic and philosophy, yet, he was restless with a deep yearning, asking every holy man he met, “Have you seen God?”

This question finally led him to Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa of Dakshineshwar, the only one with an emphatic reply, “Yes! Of course, I see Him! Even more clearly than I see you! You can also see Him!” This last bit was nectar to Naren’s ears, and he began visiting Dakshineshwar more often.

One day, Sri Ramakrishna entered the room full of disciples and sat on his bed as usual. The next moment, he jumped up, shouting, “Ah! My entire body is burning!” When he looked under the mattress, the culprit was found – a silver coin. Guess who had placed it there? Yes, the would-be ‘disciple’ Naren was ‘testing’ the Guru who claimed he couldn’t bear the touch of money!

As he grew closer to the Guru, Naren began to grow more focused on his aim of God-realization. But unfortunately at that time, his father passed away, and the family sank into a financial crisis. Often, Naren would go hungry for days on end, lying about having eaten at a friend’s place so that the meager food could assuage the hunger of his mother and siblings.

Desperate, Naren asked his Guru to pray for his family who directed him to pray at the temple of Ma Kali. Intending to ask for money, Naren rushed there, but when he stood in front of the Divine Mother, however, his mind grew blank, and all he asked for was “Jnyana” or knowledge. The Guru sent him back, but this time, Naren could only ask for “Bhakti” or devotion. When Ramakrishna sent him back to the Goddess for the third time, Naren begged for “Vairagya” or detachment! Shortly after this, Ramakrishna gave him a glimpse of the experience of Samadhi.

Sometime later, the Guru passed away from cancer of the throat, and all his disciples, led by Naren, began living together at Baranagar, wearing the saffron robes that set them out as renunciates – sannyasis. Driven by the urge to know more about his motherland, Naren wanted to travel all over the country.

When he went to Sarada Devi – the Guru’s wife – asking for permission, she was in the kitchen and asked him to pass her the knife to cut vegetables. When he did that, she smiled, and said, “Now I know you are ready for the world! Go, and may you be successful in your chosen mission!” 

How did she know Naren was ready? He had passed the knife to her with the handle pointing at her, and the blade at himself, unconsciously indicating his compassion and concern for others! Indeed, when he later set up the Ramakrishna Mission in 1897, the motto adopted was ‘Atmano Mokshaartham Jagad Hitaayacha’ which translates into ‘For one’s own salvation and welfare of the world’.

Traveling through the whole of India for 2 years, meditating at the confluence of the Arabian Sea, the Bay of Bengal and the Indian Ocean at Kanyakumari, Naren could now see the mission that lay ahead of him. Now known as Swami Vivekananda, he traveled to Chicago for the Parliament of World Religions and was probably the first person to impress such a strong footprint of Bharata Mata on the world map. 

Image courtesy: Vedanta.com

Against all odds, on September 11, 1893, Swamiji made his best-known speech that is celebrated till today all over the world. “Sisters and Brothers of America.....,” he began, and the rest is history. 

Image courtesy: Amar Chitra Katha

After almost 3.5 years of spreading the message of Vedanta in the West, he returned to India, and the first thing he did on landing, was to purify himself by applying the dust of this divine land on his head!

Swamiji set up the Ramakrishna Mission and Math and inspired his disciples both within the country and outside to work as a dedicated band of spiritual social workers. 

Finally, in the evening of July 4, 1902, this great son of Bharata Mata retired to his room, went deep into meditation, and attained mahasamadhi, a few months before the 40th year of his life. 

Image courtesy: Twitter

Like Swami Vivekananda, can we learn to develop a heart that feels, head that thinks, and hands that serve? 

Can we learn more about the greatness of our country and culture, and teach others, too?

Can we take up just one of Swamiji's numerous inspiring quotes, and start practicing it in our lives?
References

https://www.vedanta.com/store/vivekananda_bio.htm

https://belurmath.org/swami-vivekananda/

Margazhi Blogotsavam: Day 26: The Brother of Sita: Prayagdas

A poor widow lived in Janakpur with her only son Prayagdas. On the day of rakshabandhan, all the other lads in the village sported colorful raakhis. Prayagdas was sad. No one to tie a raakhi to him! Crying bitterly, he asked his mother why he didn’t have a sister too. Poor mother couldn’t bear to see her little one’s anguish.

“Who says you don’t have a sister? You do! Her name is Sita!” she said.

“Then why doesn’t she come and tie me a raakhi?” wailed Prayagdas.

“She lives in faraway Ayodhya with her husband Ram. She is busy taking care of her family there, how can she come here?” consoled the mother.

“If she can’t come here, I’ll go to see her then,” insisted Prayagdas.

The mother dissuaded him, saying Ayodhya was very far away, and that he could go there when he grew older. But Prayagdas now had a goal in mind and wouldn’t give in. At dawn the next day, he woke up early, got ready, and was about to leave, when he suddenly realized he must take a gift to give his sister after she tied him the raakhi.

There was nothing in that poor, dilapidated home. He remembered that his mother had 2 dhotis. He took one of them and washed it clean. It was torn in places – he tied tiny knots to hide the tears and folding it neatly, carried it away with him.

As he walked on and on, he felt tired and sat under a tree in the forest and fell fast asleep. When he woke up, he found himself in the town of Ayodhya! Now he had no address for his sister’s house. So, he began asking people there to guide him to the house of his sister Sita and brother-in-law Ram. People told him, “Here in Ayodhya, there is a temple of Ram and Sita. We don’t know of any house for them.” 

Shri Ram and Sita in Kanak Bhavan temple in Ayodhya
Image courtesy: Tripadvisor.com

Prayagdas insisted that his sister lived in a house and not a temple. Determined to find her, he searched high and low. Finally, tired beyond words, he sat under a tree on the outskirts of the town. “Perhaps they didn’t want to acknowledge me in broad daylight because I’m poor,” he thought, “Maybe now that it is dark, they will come in search of me,” he hoped.

After a while, a bright light woke Prayagdas from his slumber. He could see a decorated elephant coming his way. A man and woman got down from the elephant and rushed to him. The man said, “Prayagdas, this is your sister Sita.” Prayagdas was sceptical. “No, I don’t think so!” he declared. “Why do you say so?” the man asked.

“Is this the way sisters greet their brothers? If she was really my sister, she would hug me and cry her eyes out!”

No sooner had he said this, than the woman ran to Prayagdas and embraced him lovingly. With tears in her eyes, she asked how he was, and how their mother was in Janakpur. She tied a raakhi on the hand of Prayagdas, and stood smiling at him with a lot of love.

Seeing the opulence of the couple, Prayagdas was ashamed of his gift. But how could he not give anything? So, with tears in his eyes, he pushed the dhoti he had brought into the woman’s hands. In a soft voice, she said, “I know that mother has only 2 dhotis. You give this back to her as a gift from me.”

Just as miraculously as they had come, the divine couple disappeared, leaving Prayagdas below the tree, lost in a world of inner ecstasy.

The next morning, a saint passed that way, and recognized that this child was caught in the throes of a deep spiritual experience. He took Prayagdas with him to the nearby ashram. A little while later, two ladies came there with plates of food. “This is the prasad from the Satyanarayan pooja in our house. Please partake of it. We will come back later for the plates,” they said and went away.

Prayagdas and the saint ate the Prasad. When the plates were empty, they realized they were made of gold! Despite waiting for the whole day, no one came to claim the plates. The saint told Prayagdas, “Child, you take these plates with you. They will be of help to your family.” But the child had no desire for the gold. Neither did the saint. So, throwing the golden plates into the stream flowing nearby, the two devotees of Sita Mata made their respective ways home.

Can we aspire to the innocent bhakti of little Bhakt Prayagdas?

References

Bhakt Charitank. Bhaktamal by Nabhadasji. Gorakhpur Press

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZuKo7oqSk2U