Indian Stories For All

2011-09-14T03:20:00.000-07:00

Friendliness

Yesterday morning as I walked to the park

I felt a wet nudge on my hand

I turned to look, it was Ratiram

My street-dog friend

Rati must have known my route

So to catch up he had strayed

From his territory

Not caring for rules

I complained ‘long time no see’

Rati just smiled and kept walking

He was glad

No more conversation was needed

A suspicion crossed my mind

Did he want his favorite biscuits?

No, for he walked off quickly

At the park gate, letting me go in alone.

It was just pure desire to see a friend

Food he could find, also place to sleep

But once in a long enough while

Without bothering,

One has to meet a FRIEND.

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Partap Aggarwal

September 10, 2011

2011-09-14T03:15:00.001-07:00

Affluence

I was saying

O Great Spirit

I thank you for the daily bread

On my plate and other bounties

The Great Spirit spoke

Son, do not thank me

I gave only the daily bread

The rest is your work

You steal from your ‘brothers’

Your affluence is due to wages

You did not pay

And hid for greed

Son, think

You will feel joyful

And sleep better

If you feel content with daily bread

You will also reap

Many, many other bounties

Peace, justice, deep health,

Much more.

--------------------------------------------

Partap

August 30, 2011

Meaning or Worth of Human Life

2011-07-19T03:02:00.000-07:00

Meaning or Worth of Human Life

Glancing through Bertrand Russell’s autobiography I noticed Will Durant’s letter to him written in 1931. In it he asked why after so many efforts by dozens of scholars over the centuries no one has been able convincingly to say what is the meaning of human life and what is its worth. He felt that too much thought and growth of knowledge at lightening speed have destroyed the value and significance of life.

Yet, I am sure everyone would agree that these questions are fundamental and, also, that a good answer to them can be our pole star at this troubled time. In my view a clear simple answer is possible. Let me try.

All of us are born into a garden full of trees, bushes, grass, and micro plants. All are beautiful in their own way. Some bear fragrant flowers and others delicious fruits full of nutrition to satisfy the hunger of all animals. Clean air and sweet water are provided all over the land. Millions of animal species inhabit this garden and they all play their roles. All are needed for together they form a community of life. The dung beetle is needed, and so are earthworms, mice, cats, elephants and of course us humans. Extinction of any one of them leaves a dent in the life of the community.

So we humans are needed in the community of life, and that to my mind is meaning enough in our being here. Of course we need to play our role diligently and in the right spirit.

We humans are a proud race and we unabashedly call ourselves sapiens-sapiens even when we can easily imagine that other animals and plants think differently.

Let us for now take ourselves on our own word and believe that we are in truth wise. Then it becomes imperative that we act wisely. And that means we care lovingly for all that the creator has provided. Also as members of the community of life we must be good, kind and just. Being wiser requires that we behave in an exemplary manner and be a good role model. If we remember and act wisely our worth in the eyes of the whole community will rise.

So our being has meaning enough for we are needed in the community of life to make it complete. And by living wisely we give ourselves a worth that can soar depending on the quality of our actions. This of course requires that our actions, and not just our thoughts be right.

In fact too much thought, far too many words, and lack of hands down participation in the actual day-to-day activity of the community makes us worthless. It also leads us to wrong living and destructive actions to both life and the garden in which it thrives.

Partap Aggarwal

July 16, 2011

Toxins of the Mind

2011-07-19T03:00:00.000-07:00

Toxins of the Mind

Last week (June 30^th to July 2nd 2011) I fasted for three days. There was no illness, pain, or injury to heal. It was just a routine fast to clean out toxins and tone up the body. First night, I slept lightly but woke up the following morning reasonably rested and cheerful. I drank my usual morning ration of water and lay down. The day passed quite peacefully and without discomfort. I felt only lightly hungry, not enough to want actually to eat anything.

Whole body was so calm I could not feel any itch, rub, pain, or irritation anywhere in the body. There was no headache or fever. Only thing I could feel was a sense of slow weight loss.

Second night, the sleep was very light and patchy but I did not feel anything clearly enough to notice. I assumed that nothing was happening because the body is well. Some cleaning was perhaps happening but not much else.

Second day of fast too was like the first. I felt very light hunger but no discomfort. Usually in a long fast one experiences negative, often disturbing thoughts, on the second day. But none came. I kept wanting to go out walking and actually did a few times. During the second excursion my friend Nagrajan caught and mildly chastised me! He is in fact one of my fasting mentors and his word made me fall in the line of discipline.

I slept lightly till midnight the third night. Then I began to dream. Thoughts of what I had been neglecting, what I needed to do, and right path came in a torrent. The flow was so strong there was no time to react. After some feeble attempt to hear clearly I just gave up and let the current flow.

This process of removing toxins of the mind continued till the next morning. I woke up, shook my head and tried to grasp what was going on. My memory was failed and nothing came clearly to mind of the content of the dream.

With great difficulty I could faintly recall hearing ‘slow down’, ‘nothing to do’, ‘you cannot do’, ‘it happens by itself’. A week later I am still in the grip of that experience.

Is it all my imagination? I do not know. But certainly, I am reminded that there are more toxins in my mind than in the rest of the body. I sincerely hope that during this fast some of my mind’s toxins dissolved and drained out. Walking on the dead-end street of worldly concerns has gone on long enough. Time has come to turn earnestly to the path of eternal joy.

I am reminded of the story I have heard many times since boyhood. A simple illiterate man ran into a sanyasi (recluse). On his advice he turned to repeating the name of Lord Rama. After a few years he became enlightened. When asked what name he repeated he said ‘mara, mara, mara’ which means I am dead. Poor man had reverted the syllables in the name of the Lord. Correctly pronouncing the name is not required. The idea is let go of our excessive involvement in the mundane. One needs to awaken the animator in us. Only then we can finally shatter the curtain of ignorance and enter the bright sunshine of Truth.

Partap Aggarwal

9 July 2011

Sensible Use of Water

2011-07-19T02:54:00.000-07:00

Sensible Use of Water

The Great Book says that all living beings are needed, therefore important. If it were not so they would have become extinct. It follows that their basic needs have to be met. One of them is water and that means all animals and other living beings have the same right to it.

Obviously, if we humans take the lion’s share, others may have to suffer and even die of thirst. If life on earth is to continue this cannot be allowed. We as culprits then may also have to be sacrificed to restore balance. Clearly as bell The Great Book tells me that we humans need to use water sensibly for the sake of our own survival and continuation of life on Earth.

Speaking for myself, since I do not know how to change the minds of my brothers and sisters, I try to do what little I can. I cannot say my action will save the world but it makes me feel more at peace with myself.

Here are a few things I do to live within my share of water and to help preserve its purity.

One, I never use flush latrine where possible. At Navadarshanam I either use our dry latrine or leave my gifts of liquid and solid excretions on the open ground. Of course I cover the solid matter with mud or dry cow dung. When visiting a village I make my offerings to some farmer’s field.

Two, I clean my body daily by hot or cold sponge bath using 2 or 3 liters of water. About once a month I take a big bath with half a bucket. On these full bath days I also use soap.

Three, I remember to try to drink my quota of 4 or 5 liters of water daily.

Four, I wear my clothes for at least 2 days. I often stretch this to 3 when I am not staying in a palace as guest of a king! I wear my nightclothes longer.

Five, to save water, I do not use soap for every washing of my clothes. I just soak and rinse them most of the time.

Six, I do not mix anything into the water that would make it unfit for birds or animals to drink.

Seven, wherever possible I wash myself near a plant that needs water.

I do many other small things to save and preserve water so that I stay within my fair share if it. All this is not to boast or preach to others. It is only to be at peace with myself.

Partap Aggarwal

June 18, 2011

WATER

2011-06-09T04:15:00.000-07:00

WATER

Water attracts my attention this morning as I turn to read the Great Book. It literally pulls me to itself with an enormous magnet. What grips me is not just plain H-2-O, we use several times from morning till evening without thinking, but the mysterious phenomenon that reflects divine attributes. It is the substance that infuses life into all living beings and moves essential substances up, down, right and left in the bodies of plants and animals.

On casual touch it is soft. It’s so very soft that my hand goes right through it in a pot full of water. With little effort I can scoop it out, splash it, sprinkle it, drink it or spill it. It is very smooth and adaptable. If you put it in a pot it instantly takes the shape of the pot and fills it to the maximum. I do not get hurt if someone hits me hard with it. It splits, divides, flows, and easily goes between rocks or any other obstacles.

Water racing down hill in torrent can instantly level anthills, beaver dams and the mightiest structures built by man. Even natural hills do not stand much chance against a mighty flood. Whole cities can be washed away in a short time without leaving any debris as trace. Floodwater can bring or take away millions of tons of soil in a short time. Glacier fed rivers start from the top of the Himalayas and works their way to the oceans through hills, huge rocks, swamps, sand, forests and human infested areas.

When heated, water turns to steam. At very high temperatures steam can move million ton ships, turn huge turbines, and put giant machines to work. Steam can also soothe with warmth, cook, burn or cause destruction.

Water has completely different qualities when it is frozen at low temperatures. Ice can be hard as granite and cause serious damage on collision. Billions of cubic meters of water can be frozen and put in reserve in the tundra and the same can then melt and remerge into the ocean.

There are many other subtle, small or mighty things water can do. Their number is so large that it would take a library of books to list them. Humans find some of these acts destructive and others beneficial. But they are not known for a wide view.

Since this morning I have been reading about water in the Great Book. It has so inundated me with joy and wonder that I feel satiated.

Partap Aggarwal

June 4, 2011

The Surya (Sun)

2011-06-09T04:12:00.000-07:00

The Surya (Sun)

Okay, Great Book, here I come and stand before you with folded hands. Tell me how to begin. I know you are not a ‘book’ and are not organized into numbered chapters. One does not begin reading you from chapter one. For you are an undivided whole. One can start anywhere and connect with all of you. Also there are no words, no one language. I am confused. Please, kindly guide me.

I wait a long moment and then feel a presence. Something comes and seems slowly to speak to me in English. “Buddhu Ram ji, it is I, that you call the Great Book. I can guide you if you give me your full attention. I know you wish to start with the Sun. I understand. It is the first thing you see every day. Just start and put down what you see written on me. Have no fear. I am with you every day, every week.

So I feel reassured and move. Oh sun I saw you early morning as you rose in the east. You were wrapped in red cool glow as a newborn baby. You rose slowly and the whole scene before me lit up. As you went up your red wrappings began to peel off and you became thin, smaller and warm. And then your light became brighter and hotter. I try to read the Book.

This Sun came first. Earth spun off it as a blob of red-hot molten lava. As it had come off the sun it began to orbit around its source. Then it cooled and became hard surfaced. Water appeared and filled most of it. But few dry spots remained. Then life began in water and marine animals and plants evolved. They took many shapes and filled the oceans. Slowly some sea animals were attracted to dry land and became amphibians. With time some of them adapted to living on the land.

The Sun continues to give light and warmth to all animals to those that live on dry earth and others in the oceans. All of them need light and warmth. If it stopped coming all beings would die. Imagine the sun’s responsibility and for how many billions of years this great saint has carried it!

Sun is the living model of what the Hindus call Dharma (appropriate action). It cannot be defined or canonized as dogma, for it is never the same for every individual.

All beings of the world began to wake up and start doing their assigned work. In my tradition we say we perform our dharma, that is, to do what we are able to do for the community of life according to the abilities given to us. We don’t think only of ourselves, for we are not alone. We exist only as long as life around us exists.

This is what the sun does. He distributes light and warmth among all living things. These are the two things he has and he given them without restraint to everyone. He does not care whether it is a king or a cockroach. He gives equally to both. Recipients have different attitudes. Some meet the sun every morning and meet it with an offering of water. They bow several times to show gratefulness. Others curse the sun for giving too much heat or blinding light. But the sun gives to both for it is his dharma.

The sun rises every morning right on time no matter what. He never says let me not rise today for I am tired or sick today. People on earth may not sometime see it because of the clouds, but the sun is there above the clouds without fail. This being sun’s dharma, he does it with all his might and skill.

Our sages of the old used to call the sun the great guru of dharma. They also said that when God created Dharma it was taught first to the sun. Since then he rises every morning with his message written on his whole face. It is easy to see and read by all. An ant can read it as also a dung beetle, an elephant, and a human being. Knowingly or inadvertently, one can fail to live by one’s dharma but as long as the sun rises in the morning and goes known in the evening, they cannot say no one made me aware.

Partap

28 May 2011

The Great Book

2011-06-09T04:05:00.000-07:00

The Great Book

All living beings in this world inherit an invaluable gift from nature. It is a book filled with timeless wisdom distilled from lives lived by countless species over millions of years. Mutations of the body and behavior patters adopted to cope with the environment were lived and tested. The ones found harmful were automatically dropped and forgotten. The remaining ones of proven survival value were preserved. These nuggets of wisdom were written down in the Great Book for the guidance of coming generations.

This Great Book was written for the benefit of ALL living beings, including the minutest of organisms everywhere, worms and insects in the soil, mammoths like elephants and hippos in the forest, all plants, and, of course, for us humans. Therefore the language used in this book is such that it can be read and understood by all. Obviously, it cannot be read like the books written by us humans on paper. Its message can be understood with the help of all the different senses that living organisms have.

The Great Book is not written on paper, bound, and kept on a shelf in a library. That kind of a book would fail to serve its purpose. So, it is written on water, soil, earth, sky, moon, sun and all the places contacted and experienced by life.

The Great book is extremely complex and extraordinary. It cannot be defined in words. The best way to know it is to try to read or experience the book bit by bit. Therefore I am going to try to read a page or a paragraph every week and write it down on Saturdays. I will then share the narrations with you friends via e-mail. It will be like the stories I used to write.

Bless and encourage me in this new venture.

Thanks.

Partap

May 21, 2011, my 80^th birthday

My Personal Fasting Experience

2010-06-07T02:15:00.000-07:00

My Personal Fasting Experience

My mother observed a one-day fast about ten times a year. Later my sisters did the same. I noticed that women in most of our related families fasted similarly. Very few men ever fasted. To me the idea sounded good, so following my mother’s example I fasted occasionally. I was not conscious of its health benefits.

However, I heard that cows and buffalos stopped eating when they were ill and they started eating as soon as they got well with or without home treatment. Nine times out of ten they recovered. Only old animals with severe illness died. Later in America, where many people keep dogs, I heard that dogs also fast when they are sick. There was an obvious connection between health and fasting. But I must admit I didn’t see it at that time, nor did I suspect that this might be true for all living animals and plants.

After college I worked for about a year at Wardha and 4 years at Rasulia. At both these places I got a chance to know and work with many outstanding men and women. One thing out of many that I learned from them was to avoid taking medicines. To stay healthy I must regularly use and exercise all parts of my body, eat right food in moderate quantity, and make my immune system strong. Most of my life I have followed this advice and have not eaten pills except when it was absolutely essential.

About 20 years ago, in 1990, I visited Ateeta Ashram. My stomach was upset and it had been sick for a whole month. I consulted Swami Sahajananda. He asked me to fast for three days. I agreed. On the third day he brought some cooked ridge gourd for me to eat. But after hearing what was going on inside me he said I should not eat and stretch my fast for 2 more days. Again on the 5^th day he advised continuing fasting for 3 more days. So I broke the fast after full 8 days. Silently, he made me a friend and a convert to the idea of fasting for healing. He shared his knowledge with me and gave me a good book to read.

Two days later I noticed I was passing two kinds of excreta with a 15 minute gap: first the regular stool and then old, hard, reddish, and sticky stuff. I showed them to Sahajananda. After looking closely he stood up, smiled and shook my hand. “You are lucky,” he said. “Your stomach was healed in the first two days of fasting. But you were still fasting and available for more toning work. Your body took up the work of cleaning the intestines. It is a major cleansing job that doctors rarely undertake in hospitals on very serious patients. They often remove up to 2 kilograms of muck.”

The work in my stomach continued for one full month. I could feel it and actually locate where it had reached. After cleansing was done I felt lighter, cleaner, and better able to digest and absorb food. I noticed that I needed to eat smaller quantity than earlier. I was much healthier and felt ten years younger. Twenty years later till today the effect still continues.

As you would imagine, this was a major enlightening experience. All my life’s observations and experiences jelled to give me a clear and powerful view of the marvelous immune system that nature has built into each one of us in this community of life. I also learned that our immune system works at its peak when we fast.

All animals know it and particularly in the wild they maintain optimal health with minimum of outside assistance. When they are hurt or fall sick they fast and take complete rest in some comfortable place. In this way they send a signal to their own immune system to use its full wisdom and energy to heal and tone up the body. I have seen dogs badly hit by cars heal deep wounds and broken bones in this way all by themselves. They eat nothing for days on end and come out fully healed and only slightly limping from their hiding places.

Only city dwelling human beings have deviated from nature’s simple and effective rules. They overeat and do no physical work. When they fall ill they run to the doctors who normally prescribe antibiotics and other factory made medicines. In the process our own wondrous immune system becomes weak for it feels spurned and unwanted.

In the last twenty years I have cured myself by fasting and have not eaten any pills. Only on four occasions when I had minor operations (hernia, prostate, and cataract) when the doctors made me swallow pills mainly to adhere to required procedures.

I believe we can all benefit by learning more about our immune system and the techniques of fasting and resting. It is very simple and everyone can learn it.

Partap Aggarwal

June 7, 2010

Reconnecting with Rati Ram

2010-05-11T04:01:00.000-07:00

Rati Ram is my street dog friend. We met last year and for many months saw each other every morning. I wrote about him and our meetings for many weeks. Then, suddenly, I lost contact with Rati and wondered if he was dead or still alive.

Many months passed. To my joy, the other day, I noticed him, went close, and said hello. Rati is not exuberant like my earlier dog friend Kalu. He wagged his tail indicating that he was glad to see me again. But he did not jump at me and ask where I had disappeared. Knowing him, I too did not ask where he had been. We were together and that was good. We accepted the break in our meetings as a thing that happens in life. We traverse different routes and our paths sometimes do not cross. Now we are together and feel good about it.

Rati Ram began to appear regularly to walk a small distance alongside my friend K.T. and I. But he would stop at an invisible line. On our return from the newspaper stall he would often be gone, but occasionally still waiting. K.T. has been keeping dogs for years and is more familiar with dog behavior than I. He told me Rati Ram seems now to move within a narrower territorial boundary. This perhaps relates to his getting older and weaker. He is wisely avoiding conflict with younger, stronger, and more assertive dogs.

K.T. felt that perhaps Rati Ram would like me to give him some food. So I began every morning to buy a bun from a bakery and feed it to him slowly by hand. He liked the gesture and began accepting the offering with grace and love. I noticed that he receiving the food from my hand with perfect dignity and great care.

Now he takes each morsel from my hand taking care that his teeth would not touch my finger and accidentally hurt me. He is also careful not to wet my hand with his lips or tongue. I also notice that he relishes homemade bread or Roti more than buns.

For some time out meetings were irregular because Rati was not in his usual place. Now I find him in one specific spot outside a little meditation center waiting for my arrival with healthy whole wheat bread.

I am often amazed to notice how intelligent Rati Ram is. He makes it clear that he likes and appreciates my gift of food every morning. But he does not think of it as something extraordinary. He seems to take the whole thing naturally. We are friends and visiting each other. He is hungry and has to wait till someone comes along to feed him. I have access to food and I give him some. This is the law. Food is for the hungry and the two aught to meet when they are near. And that is what is happening.

Rati Ram knows we are friends. He wags his tail to show happiness when he sees me. He accepts food from my hand. He walks short distance with me often. But he never indicates a desire for to be taken to my home and adopted.

Partap Aggarwal
May 8, 2010

Part of the whole

2010-05-11T03:59:00.000-07:00

Here is a beautiful spiritual message from Einstein. Many people do not know him other than only a scientist.

He talks of humans living in a prison of personal desires and attachment to a narrow circle of relatives and friends.

Indeed our task must be to free ourselves from the prison. But it is difficult when we live in a man made environment.

It would be mush easier in a forest, ocean or some other natural place.

I give you Albert Eienstein.

A human being is part of the whole.
called by us as ‘universe.’
a part limited in time and space.

He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings
as something separated from the rest
-a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.

This delusion is a kind of prison for us,
restricting us to our personal desires and
to affection for a few persons nearest to us.

Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison
By widening our circle of compassion
To embrace all living creatures
and the whole of nature in its beauty.

- Albert Einstein, 1950 -

Enjoy.

Partap Aggarwal
May 1, 2010

Part of the whole

2010-05-11T03:55:00.000-07:00

God as Silversmith

2010-05-11T03:50:00.000-07:00

"He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." Malachi 3:3

This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.

One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study.

That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver.

As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.

The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: "He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver." She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined.

The man answered ‘yes,’ he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"

He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy -- when I see my image in it."

If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you.

This very moment, someone needs to know that God is watching over her.
And, whatever she’s going through, she'll be a better person in the end.

Partap Aggarwal
March 27, 2010

Shake It Off and Take a Step Up

2010-05-11T03:46:00.000-07:00

One day a farmer's donkey fell into an abandoned dry well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. He finally decided the animal was old and the well too, needed to be
filled up. So it just wasn't worth it to try to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They each brought a spade and began to pour dirt into the well. At first the donkey wailed horribly. Then, he quieted down.

The farmer peered down into the well and was astounded by what he saw. With every load of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up.
Pretty soon the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and walked off. All the men were astonished.

The moral of the story is obvious. Life is going to rain all kinds of dirt on you. The trick is not to let it bury you. Shake it off and take a step up. Treat each of your troubles as a stepping-stone.

We can get out of the deepest wells just by shaking off the dirt and taking a step up! The trick is just never to give up.

Partap Aggarwal
March 20, 2010

Healing a Chronic Boil By Fasting

2010-05-11T03:35:00.000-07:00

Mukand Lal (name fictitious), a man about 50, came to Atheeth Ashram one afternoon in 1991. He lived in Delhi and ran a training institute for young men where he taught them stenography, typing, and accounting.

Mukandlal had a boil on the right side of his chest for more than two decades. He had tried many different treatments but none had worked. The boil was dormant most of the year but it tended to flare up every summer. Then it pained terribly and oozed pus and blood. At times it burst and made real mess.

Noticing that the head of the Ashram, Swami Sahajanand, offered treatment for various ailments by right food and fasting, Mukand told Swamji about his boil.
Since he spoke English with heavy Punjabi accent I was asked to interpret.

We learned that Mukand was a heavy eater from childhood partly because of his love for food and also because he was taught that it was desirable to eat a full stomach. The food he ate was cooked in ghee. Milk, buttermilk, and butter were part of his daily diet. In the mid-60’s he learned to eat meat. It soon became regular habit. Once, or sometimes twice a week, he ate mutton, chicken or fish with friends. Although he liked meat, his body was not easily digesting it and converting part of it into toxins. The boil in his chest was to expel the poisons. None of his physicians had seen the connection between the food he ate and the boil but to Swami Sahajanand it was obvious. He was asked if he would fast for three days. He agreed. The effect was immediate. His boil loosened up and drained in the evening of the second day. Third day his pain almost disappeared. He stayed in the Ashram for a week and ate very light South Indian style food.

Mukand agreed with Swamiji’s diagnosis and promised faithfully to observed his instructions; i.e. eat only light vegetarian food and fast when the boil reappeared. A year later he wrote to inform Swamiji that the boil did not come.

Partap Aggarwal
March 13, 2010

John Gwaltney

2010-03-10T16:13:00.000-08:00

My friend Wendell Mott sent me the following account of an unusual man both of us had met at different times. He writes:

The rule is: "three strikes and you're out," but not for John Gwaltney. He had three strikes against him and he was still swinging. One strike was his poverty. Another was his blindness. A third, he was black and bore scars of discrimination from childhood.

I don't know how he afforded classes at Columbia University. Perhaps he had a scholarship. If so, it didn't help with his transportation problem.

The rest of us lived on campus, a few steps from class. Not John. He lived in New Jersey. His itinerary every day included a bus ride from his home to the terminal on the Jersey side of the Hudson. Transfer to the train under the Hudson River to the Port Authority Terminal on the Manhattan side. Find his way through the labyrinth of this massive terminal to the subway station. Take the express train on the IRT line to 96th Street. Cross the platform to the local train to 116th Street. This put him just outside the gate to the Columbia campus. Cross the campus and up the steps near Low Library, across another plaza to Schermerhorn Hall. Then down several floors to our classroom in the basement.

John did this in utter darkness, without the benefit of eyesight. Going home, he reversed the sequence.

We sat next to each other in Professor Bowles class on the anthropology of India. Occasionally, John would be late.

"I fell off the subway platform at 96th Street," he explained one morning.

Once he had scratch marks on his arms and face. He laughed. "You know how the campus is almost completely paved over. Well, I found one of the few places where it wasn't, a bed of roses!" In climbing the stairs near Low he went too far and fell six feet over the side of the stairs into a flowerbed.

Once, we were talking about Franklin Roosevelt and the New Deal.

"You know, Wendell, I've got to tell you a story about his wife, Eleanor. I was a small kid. It was the 1930s and the middle of the Depression. My mom wanted something or other from Social Services and she got the run-around."

"You know what my mom did? She whipped off a letter to Eleanor Roosevelt. And do you know what happened? She got a letter back! And what's more, Social Services called up and said to come in and pick up the thing my mom wanted!"

Maybe that's where John got his moxie. Not once did he ever imply that he was a victim. Not even with three strikes against him. He was a doer and a mover.

Our paths went separate directions after Columbia. However, I heard that Margaret Mead, the famous anthropologist at Columbia, took him under her wing. She may have given him a boost. But he did the rest.

Like his mother, whatever John did, he did under his own power.

The last I heard, John was a full professor at an Ivy League school, Cornell.
--------------------

I did not meet him during my six years (1960-66) at Cornell. He would have come there after my time. But what a coincidence, we had met in 1961 in New York City. Both of us were attending the American Anthropological Association annual meetings held at a city hotel.

I vividly remember our meeting. With a couple of friends I entered a big hall where the inaugural lecture of the conference was to be delivered by the president of the Association. We found a good area and sat down. A friend came over and said, “Come I will introduce you to a remarkable man you will remember for the rest of your life.” It was John Gwaltney. We chatted for half a minute. The meeting was to begin. John invited us to a get-together at his apartment soon after the meeting. Both my friend and I accepted the invitation.

It was a tiny dwelling on the fifth floor of an old brick building. John had bought some food. He served it most gracefully with help from one of his guests. Everything was done elegant and snacks were simple yet delicious. We talked trivia as in most such parties.

I remember two things to this day. One person asked John if he remembered where each person sat in the room. He said, “Yes, of course. If you call a name I can put my hand on the person’s head straight out without fumbling. Every single one of you in the room I can shoot if I had a gun and wanted to kill.”

Another person asked, “This is an old building prone to fire. Do you know what to do if it happens?”

“Yes,” said John “There is a fire escape at one end. It is a bit rickety, but still usable if everyone didn’t get on it at the same time. I have checked it out by going down on it once. This is more than what most residents have done. I know my way very well and would be the first to use it in an emergency. This is a poor area don’t forget. Here only a few buildings have fire escapes. We have it, but I must admit, repair and maintenance is not as it should be.”

Fifty years have passed but I still remember John Gwaltney and our little party. ‘What a man!’ I said then and I say the same now.

Partap Aggarwal
March 6, 2010

Thanks Wendell for the wonderful rich reply. I vividly remember visiting with John Gwaltney. We were both at an Anthropological meeting in NYC. He said many memorable things. One of them was: you know I can place you so well that if I had a gun and wanted to shoot, I could get every one of you. This was when someone asked if he could find his way down the fire escape from fifth floor. I am glad Cornell hired him. For it I give my alma mater a high grade.

Dattatreya and the Ocean

2010-03-10T16:10:00.000-08:00

In the past different sages took different spiritual paths to find the Truth. Of course, even though they followed different paths outwardly, the same human values, the same inner wisdom, dawned in all of them. Take the example sage Dattatreya. He was unique in that he did not have a human being as a spiritual master or guide. For him the whole universe was his master: the five elements and all the forces in nature. They guided him and taught him the crucial lessons of life. Here is one of these lessons.

One evening, deep in meditation, Dattatreya was walking along the sands near the ocean. His mind was so calm and quiet; he could perceive everything around him with clarity and insight. He watched the waves and saw how they reached the shore and spread out on the sand before silently going back into the ocean. He also noticed that the waves brought some small pieces of wood to the shore and left them back on the sand.

“How selfish is this ocean”, Dattatreya thought to himself. “It won’t keep even a few pieces of wood in its fold. Out they go onto the shore”

Just then, Dattatreya heard a voice! It was the ocean, speaking to him!

“Why do you think I am selfish, Dattatreya?” asked the ocean. “Just because I am not letting even a few pieces of wood to defile me? O wise man, can’t you see that if I let even the smallest speck of dirt to stay in me I will no longer be pure and clean? If I allow even the smallest pieces of dirt to stay in me more will surely follow them. It will soon become impossible for me to get rid of them. So I am always vigilant, and I make sure that in every moment of my life, I don’t keep anything impure inside me.”

In a flash Dattatreya realized his wrong thinking and understood the importance of ocean’s action.

“But of course!” he thought. “If I let even a single negative thought stay in my mind, I have lost my purity/. I will become weak, and then more and more negative thoughts will come and stay in my mind. So I must follow the example of the ocean. Always be vigilant and never let negative thoughts stay in me. Only then can I be pure. When my thoughts are pure my words and actions too will be pure. And only when all three are pure, will I always be content, happy, stable and unchanging like the ocean.”

Dattatreya was so thankful for this lesson that he fell on his knees and bowed down before the ocean, in gratitude for such a valuable lesson.

Babak
Date

Mullah in Search of a Wife

2010-03-10T16:09:00.001-08:00

(My friend Babak Kardan sent this story to me. He is an excellent teacher. Probably he wrote it for a class. I am sure you will like it.)
You may think this is just an amusing story, but there is more to it… think about it!
Mullah was a man who lived a long time ago in Arabia. He had many experiences in his life, which we can learn from, even today! Listen to this one…

One evening, when the Mullah was old, he was sitting around with his friends, talking. All of a sudden, one of his friends asked,

“Dear Mullah, you have been so kind to all of us for so many years. We have often wondered why you never got married and had a family. Please tell us the reason why.”

“Well,” said the Mullah, “it’s a long story, but I will tell you.”

“When I was young, of course, I wanted to get married. Once I had finished my studies, I started to think about marriage. What type of person would I like? What should she be like? Where should she be from? You know….. All sorts of ideas.

“So I thought about this. Hmmm, well, she should definitely be slim, and tall too. And with dark, beautiful eyes that shine like stars. She must be very fair-skinned, of course, with long black hair. And educated too, and be able to play musical instruments, so that she can play music for me in the evenings. She should also be a good cook, of a noble family background, not too serious, and have excellent behaviour in front of elders. But her nose shouldn’t be very big, and she should have a mind of her own too, not be so docile after all….

“So I set off on my horse to travel to different cities across the country and find my true love, my perfect wife. After all, she must be out there somewhere, waiting for me too.”

“The first city I stopped at, I met this wonderful lady, with dark, shining eyes, tall and fair too. Ah, she was very attractive, and from a noble family background.”

“Well?” asked the Mullah’s friends, “so, what did you do?”

“Oh, that,” replied the Mullah, “Oh no! She was not for me….. she didn’t know how to play any musical instruments, and actually, her nose was a little big……”

“So then I traveled to another city, where my friends introduced me to a very good family with a lovely daughter. She was so proper, so decent and well-behaved, she was a gifted musician, and above all, she was an excellent cook, her parents assured me!”

“That’s wonderful!” Exclaimed the Mullah’s friends. “So what happened?”

“Well, actually, she was a little plump” said the Mullah, “and kind of short.”

“Oh my!” said the Mullah’s friends. “Then what?”

“Ah then!” said the Mullah, “I went to my native town, and there, my relatives introduced me to a most precious young lady. I cannot even describe her personality, so bright, just the right balance of mind, tall and fair, a keen music layer, educated and everything I had wanted in a wife. Finally, I had met the perfect wife!”

The Mullah then fell silent. Everyone looked at him, but he didn’t say anything.

Finally his friends asked him, “please tell us, what happened then?”

“Oh that,” said the Mullah, in a quiet tone, “you see, she, too, was looking for the perfect man…”

Babak
Feb 13, 2010

Quakers

2010-03-10T16:07:00.000-08:00

If you were to join a group of peace or social justice activists in England or America you would find that many of its members are either Quaker or have strong Quaker influence.

‘Quaker’ is just a nickname. Real name of Quakers is Friends: collectively, members of the Society of Friends. George Fox founded this movement in1650 in England. He experienced enlightenment after persistent quiet contemplation and taught his followers that they did not need organized church or priests between them and God for He was within all of us. Quakers meet on Sundays for silent worship in what they call the Meeting House, or in homes of members.

After Fox’s example a huge number, nearly a third of the population of Britain experienced spiritual awakening in some degree and became Friends. As this was a powerful direct experience they felt gripped by its fervor and often trembled in courts or other places where they were tried and forced to prove themselves. Hence they began derisively to be called ‘Quakers.”

‘That of God in every man’ is one of the central pillars of Quaker beliefs. So they treat all people with respect and refuse to kill or knowingly hurt anyone. Similarly, they take all their beliefs seriously and try to live by them. I must add that all Quakers are not saints but they do still have a strong ethical-moral streak inherited from their past.

I first came to know them in 1949 in Punjab. My association grew over the years and continues to this day. For long and short spells I worked in Quaker projects in India and America. In 1966 I formally joined the Society of Friends in Hamilton NY and became a Hindu Quaker. I find great similarity in the two traditions and feel comfortable in both.

I think a good brief way to tell about Quakers would be to tell a story. For a true story as an example of Quaker behavior will tell more about them than a lecture on their belief system.

The story below dates back 200 years but it is believed to be true. Undoubtedly with innumerable telling it must have changed. I read it in a book Friendly Story Caravan published by Pendle Hill. I have made small changes here and there.

The Silver Tankard
Daniel Gordon backed horse Jerry into the buggy shafts and rapidly buckled the harness. It was Sunday morning and he and his wife were getting late for the meeting. Their two boys had left a half-hour ago on their horse Dobbin. Their nine-year-old daughter Hetty was to stay home.

As they were about to leave, a neighbor John Perkins arrived with disturbing news. “I don’t think it’s safe for you all to go to Meeting today,” he said.

Daniel told him that the boys had already gone and he and his wife were in a hurry to leave. Hetty would stay home.

“The girl mustn’t stay home alone. Bandit Tom Smith has been seen with two men. They know of your silver Tankard and plates and Tom is reported to have sworn to relieve you of them before the summer is over. You know what it means.”

Daniel knew well of Tom and his gang of desperate men who robbed lonely farmhouses in the area. There was no effective police force in Maine those days, and escape from law was easy. Everyone knew of his silver valuables and pirates like Tom could pounce on them any time. Daniel stood in deep thought. He believed with his whole soul that God would take care of those who did their duty and put their trust absolutely in Him. He had all his life lived in this faith. Here was a severe test. Nothing might happen but the risk in leaving Hetty alone at home was real. Yet he would do it: For to take his daughter in this situation would mean to teach her fear. He would leave her in God’s hands.

As Daniel bent to kiss his daughter he said to her, “Hetty, if any strangers come while we are gone, treat them well. We can spare of our abundance to feed the poor. What is gold and silver compared to God’s words of love.” The girl was puzzled to read anxiety on her father’s face for she had never seen him so troubled.

After making the kitchen tidy Hetty sat down by the window with a book. It was quiet and she felt a little lonely. Only an hour had passed and the family would be away for a long time yet. She looked out the window and was overjoyed to see 3 men walking rapidly up the road toward the house. Her father might have been expecting them she thought. This was why he told her to treat them well. She ran down the path to meet them.

“Won’t you please come in? Father will be so sorry not to see you, but he bade me serve you in any way I could.”

“Are you alone here?” asked the youngest man, who was Tom Smith.

“Oh, yes I am quite alone. If mother were here she would do more for you, but I’ll do all I can.” The men stared at each other in silence, and entered the neat comfortable kitchen. The silver jug and plates sat visible in the cupboard.

“Please be seated and allow me to prepare a meal for you?” said Hetty, in a panic lest her guests would not feel at home and leave her alone again all too soon.

Smith propped into a chair as though his knees had suddenly given way under him and said, “Yes we will, thank you, my child, for we are all hungry.”

For several minutes Hetty flitted in and out, while the men watched in silence. She dragged forward the table that stood against the wall, and Smith sprang forward to help her. While he was doing this she asked him to kindly lift down the silver jug and three of the best silver plates. She had brought cold cider from the cellar and filled the jug with it to the brim. She had also brought home made butter from the springhouse, and a huge loaf of bread. She paused a moment, her little forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. “Would you prefer to have some cold roast meat or wait while I cook chickens?”

“We cannot wait. Give us what you have,” said one of the older men. Soon all was ready and Hetty the hostess invited them to be seated. She was amazed the way they ate; picking up the meat with their fingers, gulping it down as if they had not eaten for many days. They finished several helpings of food and drank up three jugs of cider. Hetty kept offering more until they said they were full

When the meal was over Tom got up and told his companions to leave with him. One protested, “What, leave empty handed with all this silver here?” and he tried to grab the jug. Hetty felt chill of fear. “Oh, please,” she cried, “It is my father’s.”

Smith leaned across and clutched the man roughly by the arm. “Put that down, he shouted. “I’ll shoot the man who takes a single thing from this house.” Hetty looked in terror from one to the other as they glared across the table. Then she ran to Smith’s side and pressed close against his arm. The men turned and walked sullenly out of the house muttering. Smith looked down at Hetty’s trusting upturned face and a strange softness came into his eyes. He turned abruptly after the others, and Hetty, very much puzzled, watched the three men stalk down the road and out of sight.

When Daniel and his wife drove in that afternoon an hour earlier than usual, Hetty greeted them with: “Your strangers came, Father, and I treated them well, but they forgot to thank me.”

Partap Aggarwal
February 13, 2010

Boy Advises His Infant Brother

2010-03-10T16:05:00.001-08:00

(This is a true narrative shared with me by the boy’s aunt who heard it directly as she was sitting behind the nearby wall with the boy’s mother.)

This story relates to a six-year-old boy whose name I do not know. He was admitted in a school in a Kerala town less than a year ago. One morning he is dressed up in his smart school uniform. His heavy satchel is on his back. As he is about to go out of the house he hears his 6-month old infant brother crying loudly. The boy turns around, goes to the baby’s bed and bends over him. He is curious. Why is this baby crying? On touching the baby’s clothes he finds him dry. He sees nothing wrong and begins to talk to his little brother.

‘Brother, what is wrong? Why are you crying? You are neither dirty nor wet. You might have tummy ache, but not likely. I do not see the reason for your crying so loudly.” The baby only wanted attention. So he smiles sweetly to indicate that he is happy to see his brother.

“Listen to me little brother. You can ‘poo’ in your pants and pee in your pajamas. Nobody will scold you. Mother will quickly wipe, wash and powder your bottom. She will also hug and kiss you as if you have done a grand act!”

“You just have to whimper and mother will set you to her bosom and feed you the most delicious milk made specially for you. Your bedding is soft and clean. Mother loves you like none else in the world can. You sleep snug and warm at night next to mother.”

“For all this you just lie, babble, sleep, and smile. You have no worries whatsoever for no burden of responsibility is on you. Your life is better than a king’s. Enjoy yourself. Do not cry. You know what? With your kind of luck you have no right to cry and complain. So be quiet and enjoy!”

Boy’s mother and aunt heard everything. They called him and asked, “Is your life not good like the baby’s?”

“No,” said the boy. “I have to go to school and sit in a room full of kids. We can neither chat nor play all day. Then there is this boring learning ‘A B C’ and other stuff. On top of it you do not let me play even when I come home. You make me do the homework first. Looking at you grown-ups does not make me very optimistic either. For all of you work all day, worry a lot, and complain about the worsening conditions.”

The two women were struck dumb. This was a great eye opening experience.

Partap Aggarwal
February 6, 2010

Million Frogs

2010-03-10T16:01:00.000-08:00

A farmer came into town and asked the owner of a restaurant if he could use a million frog legs. The restaurant owner was exhilarated. “But where can I get so many frog legs?” he asked. The farmer replied, “There is a pond near my house. It is full of frogs. There must be millions of them. They croak all night long. I am about to go crazy!”

So the restaurant owner and the farmer made an agreement that the latter would deliver five hundred frogs every week.

Following week, the farmer returned to the restaurant looking sheepish. He had only two scrawny frogs. The restaurant owner asked, “Well... where are all the frogs?” The farmer said, “I was mistaken. There were only these two frogs in the pond. But they were making so much noise I though there must be at least a million of them!'

Next time you hear somebody criticizing or making fun of you, remember, it's probably just a couple of noisy frogs. Problems always seem bigger in the dark. Have you ever lain in your bed at night worrying about things, which seem almost overwhelming like a million frogs croaking? Chances are when the morning comes, and you take a closer look, you'll wonder what all the fuss was about.

Rajeev Gupta

JUDGMENT DAY

2010-03-10T15:57:00.000-08:00

(This is a true story. About two years ago a dear friend narrated this personal experience. It touched my heart. I saved it. Now I share it with you. I am sure it will touch your heart as it did mine.)

I was about 14 and growing up on a farm in Iowa. Father and I were putting up hay. My job was to take the tractor out to the alfalfa field, pick up a load of hay and bring it back to the barn. There, Father would set the grapple hook, and with the aid of Dick, our horse, lift the hay into the barn.

Our tractor was a Farmall with a huge rake sticking out in front. This placed the weight of the hay on the small front wheels.

The alfalfa field to the southwest of the barn had small gullies, perhaps two feet wide and two feet deep. Father made a special point that I should go around these gullies.
Under no circumstances was I to try to cross them.

But I was young and impatient. Sometimes father had seemed overly cautious. So I tried to cross one of the gullies. However, the small front wheels did not come out of the gully as I expected. I shifted into reverse. Again, the front wheels were stuck in the gully.

Then, before my eyes, the tractor pulled apart! The front wheels were stuck, while the tractor backed up. The side-rails, part of the very frame of the tractor, sheered off their bolts and let loose. The front twisted to the side and dropped. I was sitting on a tractor that seemed to be going down a very steep hill. The fan belt squealed as the fan chewed into the radiator. The engine died, and I sat in near-silence as steam hissed from the broken radiator.

I left the wreckage and began the longest walk of my life. I can still see the puffs of dust raised by my work-shoes. Each step carried me closer to a terrible reckoning. As I came around the barn, Father said, “Where’s the tractor?”

“It’s still in the alfalfa field,” I said, not wanting to say that it was actually “piled” in the alfalfa field. I had to
Explain. Then I waited for the judgment in my case.

In fact, I had no case. I had done the very thing I had been told specifically NOT to do. So there was no doubt about my guilt. It was complete.

Moreover, this was not just a misdemeanor. It was a major felony. We could not afford even minor repairs. This was going to be terribly costly.

Therefore, it was in fear and trembling that I stood before my Father and waited for his judgment.

He was quiet for a while, thinking. Then he looked at his watch and said quietly, “I wonder if we can get into town before the implement dealer closes?”

My case was closed. Judgment had been rendered.

To the very end of his life, this is ALL Father ever said about my terrible crime. He never mentioned it again.

I recounted this story at Father’s funeral, standing before his casket.

Somehow the story wasn’t complete.

I paused, waiting for something I felt was missing. After a pause, it came to me: “And now Father faces his time of reckoning. I pray that he will be judged with the same compassion as he judged me.

Wendell Mott
January 23, 2010

Aches, Pains and Other Diseases

2010-01-15T02:04:00.000-08:00

Aches, Pains and Other Diseases

Life is a unity. It is one and indivisible yet manifest in all animals and plants. The tree in front of my house has same life as I, not similar but identical. Our bodies are animated by life. Tribal people all over the world call it the animator. They therefore recognize kinship with birds, animals and plants.

Life’s Wisdom is embedded in every being. Furthermore it comes afresh every day with the air we breathe and sunshine in which we bask. Everyone living in the wild imbibes it. But when some animals (particularly we humans) insulate themselves by living inside four walls, they lose touch with the free flowing Manna. But nature in its generosity does not give up. It punches us to puncture our shell. The pain immobilizes and makes us lie down to pay attention. If we recognize true nature and purpose of this pain, the gift of precious wisdom is delivered and the pain goes.

I illustrate this with a personal experience.

In the beginning of December 2008 I woke up one morning with a pain in my right thigh. It was not severe but vexing enough to ring an alarm. I tried to recall what all I had done the previous day. It was an ordinary day and I had followed my routine of exercise, deskwork and leisure of a couple of short naps. I definitely had not hurt myself. There was no telltale sign on my leg, no swelling, no red or blue color, not even a scratch. Yet the pain persisted and by the following morning it became severe.

I got up from bed feeling considerable pain but when I tried to walk the pain became so intense. I knew it was a major event not likely to go away as quickly as it had come. Both bedrooms in our duplex house are upstairs. So we got a bed brought down with the help of some visiting friends and I made myself as comfortable as was possible.

Low pain was constant but it flared every time I moved my right leg. I lay on bed and meditated most of the time. Neighbors got word and came to see me. They gave suggestions. I heard but didn’t feel the necessity to do anything in a hurry. It is not my habit to run to a doctor for every little ache. Four days passed. My friend and neighbor Sreedhar came in to announce that he was taking me to our good Doctor C. M. at 10am. I said okay for when this dear friend comes in such situations there is no other answer.

With great difficulty I walked the short distance from car to the elevator and we were in the doctor’s room. She sat me down and asked what had happened. I told her I did not think there was anything wrong with me. My pain was benign and had come with a gift! Dr. C. M. was not surprised, for she knew me well. “You may be right, but we have to find out our way,” she said. She made me lie down on a bunk, examined me, and said she will make appointments with some specialists and inform me when to come. In a week I was checked by three of them. All gave me a clean chit. She said she too was puzzled. She prescribed some pills twice. I bought and swallowed the first bunch, but quietly skipped the second. I knew they were painkillers and I did not need them.

There was nothing wrong with me. The pain was a wrap covering a priceless gift. I needed patiently to wait. After a long month I knew the gift was being delivered and it was with me. The pain mellowed and soon disappeared.

I had had such experiences many times since 1956. Most of them came when I needed guidance. The path to take was pointed. I was healed. I know that a silent Animator permeates my body. In fact that is who I am. It needs to draw my attention and communicate with me in silence, not words. If I am ready to receive the message it comes clear as bell.

Partap Aggarwal
January 9, 2010

Environment in a New Light III

2010-01-15T02:03:00.000-08:00

Environment in a New Light III

“Prabhate mala darshanam” -unknown
This dictum probably comes from Vedic time. It says, “every morning look at your feces.” As we try to make our lifestyle more eco-friendly by avoiding wrong eating, saving water, and recycling sewage, this advice of a Rishi (sage) of ancient times is more appropriate now than it was then.

It sounds simple; some people may even think it simplistic. But it is profoundly wise counsel. I have lived by it all my life and it has worked like a powerful talisman.

By its odor, color, texture, shape, quantity our feces clearly tells us every single day whether or not we are eating the right food in right quantity.

For instance, normally our feces should not stink. Its rancid odor means we are eating wrong food in large quantity and it is not digesting properly inside the stomach. When we change our food, the offensive smell goes. This can be seen in animals also. I lived in upstate New York for several decades. In the 60’s and 70’s the state was dotted with small farmers many of whom raised dairy cows in addition. Cows were mostly grazed in the fields and fed some additional grain meal to sustain their high milk yield. Their excreta smelled okay. But later, in the 80’s and 90’s yield of milk per cow had to be raised in order for the farmer to remain competitive. Factory made feeds of higher nutrient content became vogue. They contained grain and waste materials from food processing plants. Some clever animal nutrition experts began to recommend feed factories to use waste products of butcheries. These included blood, ground up hoofs, bones and bits of viscera. Cow dung odor turned terribly obnoxious. Dairy farms began to stink so bad that one could smell them from miles.

This trend is changing for the better in the present millennium as dairy farmers go organic. I visited some of them in 2006. Offensive odor in many dairies had vanished. We visited a highly successful farmer who keeps 80 cows. “It smells good,” he said. My family and I live in a house right next to the dairy. He served us snacks and coffee in his house to prove his word. He also told us that Cornell experts had warned him that he would not be viable for long. “I proved them wrong,” he boasted! As you can see I am doing well.

In India we have always considered cow dung shuddha, (clean and safe). We use hands to lift, carry and use it. Our houses were regularly plastered with it. The reason obviously is that we fed the cows their natural feed, i.e. grasses. No wonder we call it gobar, not cow shit!

When I am at Navadarshanam I never use indoor WC, for I do not want to waste precious water and valuable manure. I find a secluded area near our house and a spot where a plant can use manure. I cover the excreta with mud or dry cow dung if some is found nearby.

Most of the time all is well but sometimes odors turn rancid. I quickly make amends. Sometimes one may notice little worms squirming and whole peas and other grains. Timely action sets things right. Feces may occasionally be too runny or hard. It may be of unusual color or have too much white mucus. It may come out as one long piece, or in small shreds. Sometimes I have to spread it with a twig to see clearly. Whenever one or more unusual signs appear, they tell a tale. I can easily recall what and how much I ate the previous day. Because of long experience I know what amends I need to make. Often all I have to do is miss one or two meals and all turns well. But occasionally I have to fast for a day or much longer. I must also avoid foods that do not agree with my stomach. One thing to remember always is to eat less.

Human feces dry quickly in open air. Good living soil decomposes it quite fast. I cannot even find it after three or four days in many places; microbes and insects have eaten it up. All of it is finished off and gone. There is no room for pathogens to lurk. But when we give human feces a watery medium, like in a modern flush latrine, pathogens love it and thrive. No wonder every city in the world faces a huge sewage disposal problem. There is no solution in sight while the problem worsens at alarming speed.

Mala Darshanam teaches us much more. But it won’t fit in this paper.

Partap, December 29, 2009

Environment in a New Light (part II)

2010-01-15T02:01:00.000-08:00

Environment in a New Light (part II)

“The need today seems to be to reexamine our way of life in every detail. Whatever seems in anyway to harm the natural order must be shed and what promotes health and peace needs to be adopted. For this we must have reverence for the Creator and discipline to obey rules that govern the universe.” We concluded the last article with this statement. Now let us see what all we need to shed and what to adopt.

AIR
Let us first talk of air, for it is our most important intake. We breathe it all day and all night throughout our lives. On waking up we need to stretch our limbs and take deep breaths. Next we city folks must find a way to soak in our quota of oxygen for the day. The best place for it is a local park where there are trees and other plants. Morning air has moisture that soaks up impurities. The plants pull this moisture, drink it and eat what’s in it. You see it as dew on the leaves. The air is washed clean, or relatively so! We must add this qualification because the amount of pollutants we put into the air is huge.

Let us walk in this morning air for ½ or at least ¼ hour. Brisk walk is better, but do not torture your body. Remember always to remain comfortable or you can hurt yourself.

Then sit down on a bench. Do basic neck exercises. These are especially important for people over 40, or if you use a computer for work. Take long breaths inhaling maximum amount of air so that your lungs are full and belly puffed up. Then exhale. Be sure the belly contracts. In most people this process is reversed and very harmful. To learn the correct way, observe a baby sleeping in a crib. That is the way we need to breathe every day all our lives. It is not difficult to learn.

Learn 6-7 basic pranayams as Baba Ram Dev teaches them. Do each 10 or more times. But this is not enough. In addition pick one and do it continuously for 15 to 20 minutes. I do the kapal bhati 500 hundred times. This way you absorb a lot of oxygen in your blood and rest of the body. Specific pranayams are recommended for different ailments. Take advice from a yoga teacher if you need it.

Next, you stand up straight and do some basic exercises of your arms. This is essential for people with sedentary jobs.

There are many benefits of this daily routine. One is that you become conscious of the quality of air you breathe and learn to avoid polluting it. You then know that it is good to avoid known polluted areas in the city. Cut down on shopping. Reduce your needs. Do whatever you can to be in cleaner areas. I always use Volvo buses in Bangalore. This also keeps me safe from prevailing road rage.

I have often mentioned what “I” do only to stress that you too can do it. For I believe that everyone can do what even I can do.

Partap Aggarwal
December 24, 2009

Environment In a New Light

2010-01-15T01:58:00.000-08:00

Environment In a New Light
Even as far back as the1950’s there was much talking about environment. Few people heard this talk seriously. I know many friends called such people doomsayers. As time went by pollution levels rose and the media began to think environment news was fit to print. Awareness level of people went up. They began to hear with more interest. But most of them thought ‘scientists’ would fix the problems. There is nothing to worry. More recently, when the globe began to overheat enough for people actually to feel the effect their interest level rapidly shot up. Environment talk became louder and concern more urgent. Many friends have begun to see sense in such talk and merit in this concern.

I persevered in my interest in environment study. As a result I have learned little more and become slightly wiser. Today I say there is no environment problem. For rain still falls and water percolates into the earth. The Sun shines and the air flows. New species of living beings evolve. Older ones adapt to the natural environment. New ones grow and change. Individuals die and yield their bodies to the living so that life should continue. Everything needed by the living is still provided by nature. Otherwise life on this Earth would have ended.

Even in my primary school I learned through shlokas of the Vedic Rishis that the entire universe is one single whole. All things are connected. Therefore, whatever any one of us does affects all the rest. Because we are part of a unity, whatever we do must get reflected in the whole. If my community and I cut down the trees around our settlement we must face consequences. But if we cherish the old trees and plant more for fruit and other produce we would benefit. Nature gives us a lot of freedom to act but whatever choice we make appropriate consequence follow. This law governs us humans and all other living beings. No one is exempt, not even Vishnu, Shiva and other deities.

Condition of our environment is bad and it is rapidly deteriorating further. It is not just one country or a few people who are responsible but it is the worldview and lifestyle promoted by the industrial civilization. Sadly it has spread worldwide and is still expanding. A few islands of sane living that still linger are fast disappearing.

The need today seems to be to reexamine our way of life in every detail. Whatever seems in anyway to harm the natural order must be shed and what promotes health and peace needs to be adopted. For this we must have reverence for the Creator and discipline to obey rules that govern the universe.

Partap,
December 13, 2009

Baba Amte’s Childhood Lesson

2010-01-15T01:46:00.000-08:00

Baba Amte’s Childhood Lesson
I subscribe to a Hindi-language monthly magazine called Madhusanchaya. It is in fact a modest 8 page non-profit publication circulated to a small number of subscribers. But every issue has nuggets of wisdom. In one of the recent issues there was this beautiful piece that describes a touching incident in Baba Amte’s childhood.

When Baba was just about 6 years old his mother gave him a Japanese toy. It had a human figure set on a wooden base. The figure was so fitted on a spring that one could push it down flat on the base. But as soon as the figure was released it shot back up in its original upright posture. Boy Amte found it very amusing.

One day his mother sat him down next to her and asked, “Son, do you know that this toy has an important message for you?”

“No” said Amte, “ I do not get any message. Please, mother, tell me what it is.”

The mother explained, “In life, every one experiences many big and small pit falls. But one must remember not to feel overwhelmed. Knowing that they are a normal part of life one must stand up as quickly as possible and resume ones journey.
You must remember this lesson all your life.”

“Very good, mother,” said Amte. “I will always remember what you have told me. I promise.”

Baba Amte, a towering personality of modern India, lived a long life of very difficult struggles. But remembering what his mother had taught him he faced them with courage and overcame every single one of them.

Partap
December 8, 2009
1
Enjoyed your story about Baba Amte. He must have been extraordinarily courageous to have himself injected with leprosy when it was commonly felt to be contagious. When I looked him up in Wikipedia it said, surprisingly, that he was an atheist. It then offers a poignant quote from him: "I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see, I sought my god, but my god eluded me; And then I sought my sisters and my brothers, and in them I found all three." It also said he liked to think of himself as a "mechanic with an oil can" ministering to small ills, rather than the spectacular, although he played a major role in India's struggle for independence. Your story about his childhood experience is an interesting sidelight.

Wikipedia also said he worked with the Gonds. Remember the Gond community northeast of Hoshangabad (I think it was northeast)? At Rasulia, I was told they were an "island" of the original inhabitants that survived the southward migration of people displaced by the invasion of the Aryans. Are you familiar with any studies of them? From the N.Y. Times I get intimations that Maoist groups in Madhya Pradesh are trying to appeal to them. But it's all a muddle in my head and I'd like to read more about it.

Enjoyed your account of "Renu's first visit to America." It was funny.

Partap, your example may be spreading, in the sense of encouraging others to write up their recollections as well. My cousins and I are finding great joy in sifting through family diaries and records. But we know we're missing many stories. It's important to write them down as you have been doing. So far, I've written about 45, and still have many more to go. One, incidentally, is about John Gwaltney whom I think you knew at Cornell. I'll attach it to this e-mail and hope you get it.

Again, thanks for your stories. Winter is here. Today, I've been shoveling paths through about 5 inches of wet snow. Enjoy India's beautiful winter weather!

With best wishes,

Wendell

Thanks Wendell for the wonderful rich reply. I vividly remember visiting with John Gwaltney. We were both at an Anthropological meeting in NYC. He said many memmorable things. One of them was: you know I can place you so well that if I had a gun and wanted to shoot, I could get every one of you. This was when someone asked if he could find his way down the fire escape from fifth floor. I am glad Cornell hired him. For it I give my alma mater a high grade.

JOHN GWALTNEY

The rule is: "three strikes and you're out." But not for John Gwaltney. He had three strikes against him and he was still swinging.

One strike was his poverty. Another was his blindness. A third, he was black and bore scars of discrimination from childhood.

I don't know how he afforded classes at Columbia University. Perhaps he had a scholarship. If so, it didn't help with his transportation problem.

The rest of us lived on campus, a few steps from class. Not John. He lived in New Jersey. His itinerary every day included a bus ride from his home to the terminal on the Jersey side of the Hudson. Transfer to the train under the Hudson River to the Port Authority Terminal on the Manhattan side. Find his way through the labyrinth of this massive terminal to the subway station. Take the express train on the IRT line to 96th Street. Cross the platform to the local train to 116th Street. This put him just outside the gate to the Columbia campus. Cross the campus and up the steps near Low Library, across another plaza to Schermerhorn Hall. Then down several floors to our classroom in the basement.

John did this in utter darkness, without the benefit of eyesight. Going home, he reversed the sequence.

We sat next to each other in Professor Bowles class on the anthropology of India. Occasionally, John would be late.

"I feel off the subway platform at 96th Street," he explained one morning.

Once he had scratch marks on his arms and face. He laughed. "You know how the campus is almost completely paved over. Well, I found one of the few places where it wasn't, a bed of roses!" In climbing the stairs near Low he went too far and fell six feet over the side of the stairs into a flower bed.

Once, we were talking about Franklin Roosevelt and the New Deal.

"You know, Wendell, I've got to tell you a story about his wife, Eleanor. I was a small kid. It was the 1930s and the middle of the Depression. My mom wanted something or other from Social Services and she got the run-around."

"You know what my mom did? She whipped off a letter to Eleanor Roosevelt. And do you know what happened? She got a letter back! And what's more, Social Services called up and said to come in and pick up the thing my mom wanted!"

Maybe that's where John got his moxie. Not once did he ever imply that he was a victim. Not even with three strikes against him. He was a doer and a mover.

Our paths went separate directions after Columbia. However, I heard that Margaret Mead, the famous anthropologist at Columbia, took him under her wing. She may have given him a boost. But he did the rest.

Like his mother, whatever John did, he did under his own power.

The last I heard, John was a full professor at an Ivy League school, Cornell.
Enjoyed your story about Baba Amte. He must have been extraordinarily courageous to have himself injected with leprosy when it was commonly felt to be contagious. When I looked him up in Wikipedia it said, surprisingly, that he was an atheist. It then offers a poignant quote from him: "I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see, I sought my god, but my god eluded me; And then I sought my sisters and my brothers, and in them I found all three." It also said he liked to think of himself as a "mechanic with an oil can" ministering to small ills, rather than the spectacular, although he played a major role in India's struggle for independence. Your story about his childhood experience is an interesting sidelight.

Wikipedia also said he worked with the Gonds. Remember the Gond community northeast of Hoshangabad (I think it was northeast)? At Rasulia, I was told they were an "island" of the original inhabitants that survived the southward migration of people displaced by the invasion of the Aryans. Are you familiar with any studies of them? From the N.Y. Times I get intimations that Maoist groups in Madhya Pradesh are trying to appeal to them. But it's all a muddle in my head and I'd like to read more about it.

Enjoyed your account of "Renu's first visit to America." It was funny.

Partap, your example may be spreading, in the sense of encouraging others to write up their recollections as well. My cousins and I are finding great joy in sifting through family diaries and records. But we know we're missing many stories. It's important to write them down as you have been doing. So far, I've written about 45, and still have many more to go. One, incidentally, is about John Gwaltney whom I think you knew at Cornell. I'll attach it to this e-mail and hope you get it.

Again, thanks for your stories. Winter is here. Today, I've been shoveling paths through about 5 inches of wet snow. Enjoy India's beautiful winter weather!

With best wishes,

Wendell

2009-10-06T17:13:00.000-07:00

First Visit of Renu to America on Donkeyback

In the year 1964 Renu went to visit her Mamaji (mother’s brother) in a small, very remote village in the Alwar district of Rajasthan state in India. That Mamaji was I, and here is the story.

I was doing an ethnographic study of the Meo people, also called Mewatis, and had settled in the village named Chavandi Kalan. This was in a semi desert area and the village was about 5 miles from the nearest big town Tapikada on the roadside. Camel was our usual transport. My younger sister and her family then lived in Delhi. She wrote and asked if she could visit us. I gave her detailed instructions how to reach the village and told her to be sure to inform me in good time so I could come to receive her in Tapukada. Her letter did not reach me in time.

When my sister with four small children, one of them being Renu, got off the bus I was not there to meet them. She waited for a while and as it was getting late in the afternoon her fear of getting stranded in a totally strange village began to turn into alarm. She went and talked with a shopkeeper. He knew me well and realizing the situation of my sister and the children quickly arranged help. There was a potter in the village that offered to help bring the visitors to Chavandi. It took him little time to get his three donkeys ready. He carefully loaded the luggage on the backs of the donkeys and also made room for the youngest two children to ride. The older children and my sister had to walk alongside the animals and the potter.

The road was unpaved and passed through many rough patches. There were streams to ford and dry beds full of sand to trudge. It was a daunting experience for my sister and especially for the children who had never been outside the city. Going was painfully slow. They had covered even half the distance when the sun went down. Going became tougher. Luckily the moon appeared and lit the path. By late evening the caravan arrived in Chavandi and were safely guided a villager to our mud house covered with thatch. Wow, my sister heaved a sigh and said, “What an experience!”

They stayed with us for a week. The children had the most thrilling time of their lives. My four and a half year old daughter Indu knew the village like the back of her hand. Everyone in the village knew her. She had many good friends. In her local Mewati style dress she blended in the local setting as a Meo. Acting as a guide to her cousins she took them everywhere and showed them whatever she thought was worth showing to outsiders. My wife Sudesh took her sister-in-law to meet her friends.

We went on several excursions—by walking, on camel back, and on bullock cart. We visited the nearby hills where we had a great picnic lunch.

My sister and the children had belly full of fun and it was the most unusual experience of their life.

To Renu this was America
Renu had always heard that Mamaji lived in America. So she concluded that Chavandi Kalan had to be America. There was no room for doubt in her mind.

All her friends in Delhi knew that Renu had gone to America to visit her Mamaji.
So they came to ask what America looked like. My sister was nearby but out of the children’s sight. She sensed what was to follow and sat down quietly to hear Renu’s description of America.

“Oh, America is not as big as Delhi but very different. There are very few brick houses. Most are built with mud, a few with stone. Women wear bright colored clothes and a lot of silver jewellery. Even little girls our age wear silver ornaments. My cousin Indu dresses just like the local children. Each house has an open yard where the elders sit and chat. Most men have beards.

There are many animals because all families own some. There are donkeys, horses, camels, cows, bullocks, goats and other animals. We rode on donkeys and camels. We also rode in bullock carts.”

One child asked, how do you go to America?

Renu answered. “We first ride a train, then bus, and towards the end we ride donkeys. Adults usually walk the last 5 miles. They packed our luggage on donkey-backs and put us children on top of it. It was very scary because the road was uneven. We came many times close to falling. I even fell once but luckily did not get hurt.

Someone asked: Did you like the visit?

Renu answered that she certainly would for it is much fun playing with American children and to visit those exciting places.

I am sure Renu remembers this, her first visit to ‘America.’

Partap
September 26, 2009

Britanti

2009-08-12T02:19:00.000-07:00

Britanti

Sometimes by mere chance a forgotten event pops up in mind. It may have remained buried deep in memory for many decades, yet it surfaces in surprising clarity. This happened when in the first half of August 2009 my younger sister Santosh and I went to our elder sister in Hyderabad. We were visiting and sharing old memories. Santosh suddenly recalled meeting an interesting man when we lived briefly in Bareilly, U.P. in the year 1948. She then was 14 and I about 17.

I also quickly remembered the man, for I had noticed him in the warehouse next to our house and gone over to befriend him. His name was Britanti. This Hindi word means a narrator. Indeed, he was an excellent raconteur and to use his skill he had an inexhaustible stock of stories. But in the city nobody cared to sit down with a humble watchman and listen. Britanti naturally was happy when I went over to converse with him-- especially hear.

He was a short lean man, about 45. I found out that he was able to read but not to write. This was common in his village. People were so eager to read the epic Ramayana that they learned to do so without bothering to learn writing that was not so pressing. Working as a watchman in an isolated warehouse gave Britanti plenty of free time to read but there was none to hear his stories. Since I was a captive audience he welcomed me and told stories sometimes nonstop. Most of them were rural folklore of the area drawn mainly from the Ramayana and other classics.

As we became friends, I began to notice peculiar personality traits of Britanti. One that struck me was that he ate not twice or three times a day like most of us but only once in two or three days. I am sure he told me why, but I do not remember all the details.

Britanti cooked with great seriousness and care. It was almost like worshipping God. He first cleaned his whole house and put a coat of mud mixed with cow dung on the floors and lower three feet of the walls. This was done with special care in the kitchen where even the stove was coated all over. All the utensils were of course rubbed to shine with sand and washed with clean water. While the floors dried Britanti went for his bath. He did not use soap but rubbed his skin and hair with a mixture of gram flour, yogurt, oil, and mud. He wore only an undergarment and tied a dhoti around his waist. His torso remained bare until the whole ritual was over.

His staple was chapattis, lentils and vegetables, or khichdi of rice and lentils with cooked vegetables. To garnish his food he used salt, turmeric, green chilies, and green coriander leaves. He used no expensive spices like black pepper. After the food was cooked he put some ghee over it to add taste and nutrition. He always ate alone sitting on the floor of his kitchen. No visitors were allowed at mealtime for it was a strictly private activity. He allowed me to sit and watch only after we had become very close friends. He also began to invite me to share his food when he noticed that I wanted to taste it.

The food was delicious, indeed very tasty. His favorite lentil was Tur that I had never tasted before. I liked it very much and always relished it also in the homes of many other local friends. Another dish I tasted for the first time was khichdi made with rice and split urad (black gram). This too was delicious.

Since Britanti did not eat daily as most of us, the quantity he ate appeared excessive. Both my sister and I noticed the huge heap of food he gulped down. We shared with other members of our family these peculiar habits of our friend. They were also interested and wanted to taste it. Britanti gladly cooked extra quantity and gave some to me. Everyone liked the food. In fact they were amazed that it tasted so good without using any nuts, spices or ghee at the time of cooking.

We noticed, or perhaps imagined, that his stomach bulged out enormously after eating the big meals. But I am sure we exaggerated the size of the bulge to add spice to the story. My sister had blown up the whole thing and thought that Britanti ate once a week and his stomach stretched out by 6 inches!

Partap
9th August 2009

My Father

2009-07-18T06:21:00.000-07:00

My Father

I was born in Jaranwala on May 21, 1931. My father was in jail at that time. Earlier in the year he was participating in a peaceful, very mild, and harmless procession that was marching through that small town. People were carrying the tricolor Congress party flag and shouting slogans asking the British to go home and to leave India free. This kind of activities had begun several years earlier in other parts of India and had just begun in this area. The police arrived at some point and asked the people to disperse. Those who didn’t were arrested, later produced in court, and sentenced to jail terms of various lengths. My father at that time got one year. I have heard that this was his second and last visit to jail.

About 7-8 years later, as a small boy, I remember witnessing a similar scene. Its image is so well etched in my memory that I can quite vividly recall it to this day. There were about 100 people in the procession walking through the town’s main street. Most of them were young men belonging to shopkeeper families of different religions. There were Hindu, Sikh and Muslims and all of them looked quite serious about what they were doing. The long 3-4 abreast column of people began to spread into a circle at the end of the street where several policemen, some on horseback, were standing in the middle of the road.

They were shouting orders; ‘disperse, go home, you are breaking the law.’ The officer in charge of the police contingent was British. He had come from the District station. People ignored the orders and stayed put. Orders were shouted again and yet again. No one moved. Then the British officer rode forward and facing the crowd said in his highly accented Hindi: “Since you are not obeying I am asking one of the policemen to draw a line across the road. Those who dare to defy the law by crossing the line will be arrested.”

The police gave several minutes to the people to make up their minds. Fifteen to twenty men defiantly crossed the line. One of them was uncle Dewan Chand, my grandfather’s brother’s son. They were handcuffed and marched to the nearest police station. There they were locked up. We were not allowed to visit them. We learned that they would be produced before a judge in a court in Lyallpur in a week’s time. Later the exact date of the trial was announced. I went there with my older cousins and some of their friends. After waiting for some time we saw several handcuffed men being taken out of a court room. Among them was uncle Dewan Chand. He signed to us with two raised fingers and shouted with gleeful enthusiasm saying, ‘I got just two years in jail.’

I was very impressed thinking how brave he was. This experience added a big chunk to my knowledge and understanding of the world around me. Since then what I read and learned in school about British rule and our struggle for Freedom was real and highly meaningful.

Uncle Dewan Chand’s father Harnam Das lived in Lyallpur with his oldest son’s family. He was a congress party leader and very active in local politics. I met him many times and remember him clad in his beautiful handspun and hand woven clothes including his large turban. It was our elder Harnam Das who inspired my father and others to get involved in the Freedom struggle.

July 18, 2009

My Mother (3)

2009-07-18T06:17:00.000-07:00

My Mother (3)

Maa was married at age 15 into a joint family in Daska. My father was about 17. It was not a large family but big enough to provide most joys and glitches of a typical joint household. My father had six sisters and one brother. All were older except one sister. I am not sure, but from what I have heard, most of the older girls were married and had gone to their new families.

My father had already started the process of setting up a business at Jaranwala. It was in an area where after the First World War the British cleared the scrub and built a massive network of canals. Having remained fallow for several centuries the land was quite fertile. It was allotted as a reward to the Indian soldiers who had served in Europe. The majority was Sikh but there were also some Hindus and Muslims ex-military men.

Soon after marriage my parents moved to Jaranwala. My father’s youngest sister who was still unmarried went with them. She was exceptionally pretty and fun loving. As she came of age, boys were madly attracted to her. My mother tried to keep watch over her but the young lady was too clever. My father often heard complaints mainly through a close relative living nearby. My mother’s vigilance over her turned stricter than before but the inevitable happened. Cleaning and fixing everything up was messy. My father’s wrath found vent on my mother’s back. In fact my gentle mother suffered enormously on account of that beautiful, unruly teenager.

After several years of toil my father’s shop began to earn good profit. My grandfather and blind grandmother died in Daska. Father’s elder brother and his family locked up our ancestral home there and came over to Jaranwala. For a short period there was peace, but then my aunt died leaving 3 young children. Our weak, diabetic uncle married an attractive young sister-in-law. With her came a pack of troubles in the family. A variety of intrigues were hatched. Dubious relationships with friends in town began to surface. My aunt began to have children in quick succession. My mother too gave birth to a boy and a girl but both of them died. After that my three sisters and I came along and lived.

Clash between my mother and aunt intensified. My father often took it out on my meek innocent mother. Troubles in the family increased to an intolerable level for my father and he began to contemplate migrating to a new thriving port city called Karachi. In the late1920’s independence struggle intensified. My father got deeply involved and spent several periods in jail. When I was born in 1931 my father was in
Jail.

My father’s absence from home made my mother’s life much harder. Although my father was harsh on my mother his presence put a check on all members of the family and as a result there was less fighting. There were several reasons; my uncle was weak, my father was family’s breadwinner, and he was a strict disciplinarian.

Slowly but steadily the conflict level in the family rose to fever pitch. My father went to Karachi to explore business opportunities and within a year (1936) returned to take us there. I was about 5 years old. We lived there till 1947 when the country was divided.

My mother lived in Karachi for about 10 years and this was the best part of her life. She ran the household with love and great skill. The whole family thrived in her care. All my sisters were healthy and we did very well in school and in other activities. She watched over us with an eagle eye but remained unobtrusive as a mouse. I do not remember her stopping me from going with friends to play even when I was quite young. At as early an age as 7 I started regularly to go to an exercise and wrestling place every morning. My mother gave me money to buy a small block of butter from a dairy so I could eat it to build up my strength. I went to far off places for picnics and on expedition. Once, when I was in my 8th year, I used to go to a steep waterfront in the harbor area with other boys to learn to swim. For a time nobody in the family knew of this clandestine activity of mine but later they suspected it. By then I had learned to swim and demonstrated my skill to all my family when we went there on a Sunday evening. I was a strong swimmer and could dive from a high bridge. My mother and sisters were thrilled. My father heard and said nothing.

By her quiet but keenly watchful attitude my mother communicated her deep love and full confidence in my ability and sense of judgment. I was her only son amid three daughters. Hence in our patrilineal tradition my value as the male and carrier of the family name was unquestioned. Everyone recognized this and even I fully understood it. Yet my mother boldly gave me the freedom that most others in those circumstances would not have given. This gave me tremendous self-confidence. I excelled in studies, sports, and in many outdoor activities. Every Sunday evening with my parents’ permission I used to go with three other friends to eat at a restaurant. We went to a new place every time and paid from our own pocket money. Some years later my parents allowed me to go alone on a 1200-kilometer train journey.

When WWII started in 1939 imported hardware items became expensive and scarce. My father use to send them by post parcels to his customers in U. P. Every evening he stitched them up and made them ready for mailing. After returning from school I used to take them to the post office on my bicycle. Sometimes I made several trips because the loads were heavy. My father paid me 25 paise for each parcel. Some days I earned 2 whole Rupees that in those days was big money especially for a child. It made me about the richest kid in my class! My mother trusted me with the money and never asked my father not to spoil me with that much money.

When I was about 13 she took me as male escort to visit her brothers and parents in the city of Sialkot in Punjab. They had fallen to rock low time and the older of mother’s two brothers had TB. She took an Ayurvedic doctor with her. He was a confident young doctor and an uncle. His mother had died soon after his birth and my mother raised him. So he regarded my mother as his own. When we went to seek his help he came with us instantly without hesitation. After thoroughly examined the TB patient, he prescribed medicines according to his light. In his opinion recovery would take about a month and he sounded quite sure of it.

We returned to Karachi and bad news followed us. Mother’s younger brother, terribly depressed by the family’s miserable condition, committed suicide. A couple of weeks later the older one also died. The family was ruined; no earning member, two old parents, two infant boys and their young mother. Luckily some close relatives organized adequate help for the family to carry on.

All this crushed my mother. She did not talk much but her suffering was obvious. She was not eating properly and her movements were much slower. My older sisters were married and had gone to their new families. My father, younger sister and I were at home.

Maa complained of something clutching and pulling her heart and giving her terrible pain. Much worse than pain it was a sinking sensation that smotherd her. This syndrome was recurrent. It came and went and in between my mother dreaded its return. She suffered it for months mainly to continue to live for our sake.

A couple of times I heard her mumble (who will look after my Partap?). Childishly unaware of the meaning of her utterance, I tried to reassure her. Why do you worry Maa? You will soon be well and live long to raise me to manhood.

But the spasms were not abating. They were coming with menacing regularity. My mother kept bearing them bravely within herself. They were so complex, so wrenching, so severe that she was not able to describe them. My mother knew suffering for she suffered a great deal, but this was something else altogether. Heart attack is nothing compared to what she was feeling. Sometimes she said, ‘it feels as if someone is physically pulling my heart out of my body.’

One early morning when all of us were sleeping a massive attack of heart wrenching came upon my mother. It must have been totally unbearable. She released her body from our third floor balcony and dropped to the ground below with a thud. Life instantly slid out of the mangled corpse. We, and the whole neighborhood were stunned. They assembled, quickly wrapped up what was left, and proceeded to the crematorium in a procession.

A ton of ice hit me and traumatized my mind but I soon recovered. Mother was all over me and filled my entire body. ‘How would mother want me to act at such a testing time?’ I thought. I stopped crying and lifting myself up thinking I must be brave, strong, and able to help. Mother will be watching from the far. It would disappoint her if I cower and bend down. Suffering of my father and sister will increase.

I did not cry a single tear after that, and never again, not for my mother. For she was with me all the time for many years, even closer than when she lived in that body from where I came. I am thankful for holding on to some of what she shared with me. Her memory I shall treasure till my last breath.

Partap
11 July 2009

My Mother (2)

2009-06-29T23:27:00.000-07:00

My Mother (2)

My mother was raised in so small a village in Punjab that there was no school in it for girls. So she never learned even to read a write. But she was very learned in community skills such as making friends, maintaining good relationships with them, and home making. She could spin yarn, weave simple cloth, knit sweaters, and do a great deal more. When, later in life, she came to live in a large cosmopolitan city she learned Hindi and was able to communicate with most of her neighbors. We changed apartments 5 times in 12 years. In every new house she quickly found new friends.

She was a good person, but I do not remember her being religious in the sense of regular visitor of temples or a staunch believer in any ideology. Hence she never tried to teach us any kind of religious belief system. We would often go with her to the temple on some festival occasions and celebrate important festivals such as Diwali. But we were free to absorb religious ideas that appealed to us. Mother taught us many moral values and insisted that we learn to live by them.

My mother’s friends: the Iranian lady.

I vividly remember some of my mother’s friends. One was an Iranian lady roughly her own age. Our apartments were opposite each other on the third floor and we were neighbors for about 4 years. A wide cultural gap separated us. For instance, we were strict vegetarian but she ate meat or fish daily, we were Hindus and she of the B’hai faith, she spoke Persian and we Punjabi. But like my mother she had learned enough Hindi to communicate with the local people. The list of differences is long but the two became close like sisters. Both, however, had some strong ethnic constraints that were very hard to overcome. But they bridged the chasm so skillfully that nothing stood between them to dampen their love for each other.

My mother always gave food to her Iranian friend, especially to her children. But she could not bring herself to eat what came back from her friend’s kitchen. The wise Iranian lady took care to send only vegetarian food, which then our mother gave to us children. There were several other differences. But both of them understood the cultural divide and soon set up a comfortable working relationship.

The Iranian lady automatically picked up from my mother a kind of favoritism for me. She saw that I was very thin. Thinking that eating meat will probably put some extra flesh on my lean body she started to feed me fish, mutton and eggs. She would leave a plate full of food for me in one of her two bedrooms, find me and lock me in it. If other children wanted to come in she would send them away saying that she had washed the room and wanted everybody out till the floor dried. I suspect that my

Mother came to know this, but pretending ignorance she kept quiet. I am sure both friends knew what they were doing. They enjoyed keeping this loving secret for four long years until we had to leave Karachi at the time of partition in 1947.

My mother and her friend met every day, sometimes for several hours, and shared personal secrets, ate snacks, joked and laughed. Whenever we went to Punjab my mother remembered to bring some special gift for her friend. The Iranian lady too gave us gifts of food from her husband’s hotel and a variety of gifts she received from her relatives in Iran.

The Sweeper woman.

We had a Punjabi speaking sweeper woman coming daily to our house to clean the latrine and the bathroom. I remember her pretty cheerful face to this day. My mother was very fond of her and gave her some food to eat and sometimes grain or flour to take home.

Once on Maha Shivratri festival the sweeper lady asked my mother for some special food that is eaten to break the all day Shivratri fast. My mother was glad to give but she jokingly asked, “But, Jeeto, you people have become Christians. You cannot be observing fast on Shivratri?”

Jeeto replied, “Yes, Bibiji, you are right, we have become Christians. But that does not mean we have given up our Hindu dharma. We still celebrate all our old festivals, observe fasts, and do the pujas (worships). Some older Christians keep telling us to give up all Hindu customs and celebrations, but we are so far able to resist the pressure.”

Some Punjabi woman friends.

One floor below us lived two Punjabi families from Amritsar. They were of our own caste and in hardware trade like my father. Their establishment was large and they were wealthy. One of their boys was my age and we went to the same school.

My mother was friend of the ladies in both houses. They were of same age and often exchanged food, gifts, gossip and more.

During the years following Partition I met many old relatives. Whenever I met women who knew my mother I asked them what they remembered of her. Without exception they praised my mother very highly for her friendliness, kindness, and readiness to share.

No more specific memories come to mind at this time. I will write more when I recall anything.

Partap Aggarwal

June 27, 2009

MOTHER, My Mother

2009-06-22T03:01:00.000-07:00

MOTHER, My Mother

My daughter Indu has been goading me to write about her dadi (paternal grandmother). I have been making promises. But I have not written a word till today, and as I sit down to write my emotions well up and turn into real tears. You see; my mother died in 1945 when I was only 14 years old and the gaping gash she left behind remained open for decades. Then it healed but the scar is still there. My memories of her are not long, but few and very intense. I have been keeping them in a strong box in my heart, never lifting the lid, nor letting a word slip out of my mouth.

She loved me more than I can say, and gave me more support and joy than anyone in the whole world can give. I was her only son. She often favored me over my three sisters. Did they mind? As I remember, my two elder sisters, copying our mother, loved me as mother surrogate and did so all their lives. My eldest sister is now dead, but the one next to her continues to treat me as son. Favors she has done to me all my life, I cannot possibly count. My sister’ support and true motherly love sustained me after my mother’s death. My younger sister loves me too, but we have been like equals. As children we sometimes fought bitterly. Most fault, however, is on me because being older and stronger I delivered the punches and she only the complaints. She too was not really weak and sometimes hit me back. She sometimes quibbled over favoritism shown to me. I still remember she complained every time my punches were extra hard. But mother always chided me mildly. As my younger sister grew older, she too began to treat me with deference and motherly love.

My mother was very gentle, very loving. She was a sweet and friendly person. But she also had great moral strength of the kind I have rarely seen. Thinking of all this brings back an incident to my mind. I must have been 6 or 7. I remember this vividly because we were new to Karachi and I was learning to play with children who spoke different languages and had a different culture. One day a boy threatened and abused me in a language I did not understand. Imagining the worst I angrily punched him in the chest. It must have hurt because he began to cry and howling loudly ran straight to his mother.

After some time the mother, towing her sobbing child, came to our house. She told my mother what I had done. My mother listened and pressed the crying baby to her heart. When he soothed down a little, she called me and asked if I had hit the boy. I truthfully admitted that I had. She asked what wrong the boy had done to me. I started thinking hard because the boy had not done anything awfully wrong. My mother understood quickly and did not ask for more detail. Then she said to me, “Son, I want you to look at this boy. He is younger and weaker than you. He spoke up to you in a language you did not understand. W know now that he did not say anything foul. You imagined the worst and hit him much too hard. You should not have done that. I will forgive you this time but do not repeat such a thing in future.” She said sorry to the boy’s mother and asked me to shake hands with the boy.

When my father returned from work in the evening my younger sisters blurted out to him that I was naughty and had hit a boy. He called and asked me. Being guilty I stood with my head bent low. My quiet admittance of guilt should have been enough but to dilute it I very foolishly lied that mother had already physically punished me. Later, when we came close my mother hugged me and said, “I did not hit you, did I? There is very rarely enough cause to lie. Today was not one of those times. Be brave and tell the truth. I love you.” As she talked, her hug became tighter. That incident has remained vividly etched in my memory to this day.

I am sure my mother forgave me instantly, but my guilt feeling has remained and I have prayed for her forgiveness a thousand times.

Partap
June 21, 2009

Wants and Needs

2009-06-07T22:00:00.000-07:00

Wants and Needs

Early this morning I felt the invisible Spirit whispering in my ear.
She said, you have been watching the world with curiosity. You asked why this why that. You studied in world’s most prestigious schools and you even sat in the teacher’s chair and taught others posing as knower.

You started early in life and at 78 you are still looking. Why?
Answer is simple. Like the proverbial blind man you looked under a lamp in the street when the needle was inside the room.

So you ask, what to do now?

Well, go back and look inside the room.

Do you see much furniture and a locker full of gold and diamonds, while your brothers next door have nothing? Surely you were clever at the time of division. You also humbled your brothers whenever they mumbled the word injustice.

All other issues originate from your own house.

Did you eat a plate full of rice and sambar for lunch? Well that explains why the forest was cut then and is fast disappearing now. If you have eaten yogurt and drunk majjige you know why cows are enslaved and exploit.

If you drink milk and eat mutton, you know why there is overgrazing.

If you flush away your body’s daily gift for the soil and use water out of 15 taps in house, it should be easy for you to know why there is scarcity of water.

Your hunger for electricity will never be satisfied if you use it like the Americans or your rich neighbors. Your nuclear and conventional power plants can never satisfy your want. Regardless of number your solar and wind generators will be like a kilogram of grass to a hungry elephant.

It is needless to give more examples. The answer to all your questions lies in two simple words: wants and needs.

Know that your Wants are insatiable. If you keep chasing them you will soon destroy your entire support base.

Reduce your ‘Wants’ till they come close to your ‘Needs’. Keep them there. Do not wait for the neighbors to begin. You be the first to start. Know that this is the smart thing to do for your own health and happiness. Forgive and ignore those who call you foolish, for they know not what they do.

Partap
June 6, 2009

Three Major Benefits of Fasting

2009-05-27T09:16:00.000-07:00

Three Major Benefits of Fasting

One, I get a chance to recognize and appreciate my immune system. It is the most wonderful gift I got at birth to protect my body from illnesses and injuries of all kind. Its value is immeasurable, power and wisdom supreme. It is impossible fully to comprehend it.

On May 21, 2009 as I turned 78 I felt deeply thankful for my first birthday gift. Because of it I am quite strong and healthy to this day. Without it I might have died years ago. I know for sure that medicines alone cannot cure. They can at best augment my inbuilt immune system.

Life gave me this gift for constant use. Doing that is the proper way to cherish the gift. Neglecting it by failing to use it is spurning it. It cannot make Life, the giver of the gift, happy. She can rightly think that the gift should be taken back because it is not needed. What that would do is not difficult to imagine for it happen everyday (as aids) right under our noses.

Two, the fast will exercise my immune system, cure my illnesses and tone up my body.

When I am sick I fast and rest. Body is freed from the task of digesting food and doing other work. It turns all its energies over to the immune system. I heel, cure, get cleansed of toxins in my body.

This is the natural way of healing and toning up the body. All animals practice it.

Three, I will abstain from thinking during fasting; remain silent and free to listen to the sounds of the body.

My mind does not control the inner workings of my body. It can influence what I put into my mouth. But once that is done the body takes over. Body has its own wisdom and it works in full freedom.

My mind eats memory turns it into thoughts and expresses them in words. It lives in stale past and loses touch with the fresh living present.

My body lives in the present and works with living Truth.

During fasting my mind slows down and my body speeds up its healing work using true wisdom of the universe.

Partap
May 23, 2009

True Sardarji Joke

2009-05-02T03:10:00.000-07:00

True Sardarji Joke

A friend heard this true incident from a first-hand witness. She wrote it up and sent it to me. She knows that I strongly object to Sikh jokes but would like this one.

Here it goes:

A Delhi taxi driver picked up a load of four young men from Hyderabad. They were tourists and wanted to see different sights in the historic city for the whole day. The boys were in a holiday mood. They soon began telling jokes. One of them told a Sardarji joke and everyone laughed. Others began telling similar or worse ones. This went on intermittently throughout the day.

The taxi driver was a venerable middle-aged Sikh. This, the boys could not possibly have missed, for he had a flowing beard, long neatly bunned head hair, and a beautifully tied colored turban on his head.

The Sikh was so generous and kind that he did not say a word. It was surely partly because of his good business etiquette but also unmistakably because he was a thorough gentleman.

At the end of the day when the tour was over the boys were taken to their boarding house. Calculations were done, the boys paid up, and they turned to go.

The Sikh gentleman stopped them and said: “Young men I heard all your jokes. I know that many people do what you did, but many of your jokes were poor and, if I may say so, indecent. I do not usually make an issue of such foolishness. So I am not going to chastise you but I am going to do something that will enhance your education.”

The wise Sardar dug four one-rupee coins out of his packet and gave the boys one each. He then said, “I want you to keep these coins and give them to a Sikh beggar if you see one.”

The boys were stunned. They were also repentant. They took the coins and, after many months, still have them. For indeed, there are no Sikh beggars anywhere.

Partap
May 2, 2009

Supplement to “Five Day Fast”

2009-04-16T01:13:00.000-07:00

On reading my March 28, 2009 story many friends wrote back expressing concern for my health. I appreciate it very much and wish to thank you all. Let me assure you that I am quite well. My body is as strong and energetic as before and it feels lighter and cleaner. My mind too is alert as usual. I also feel calmer and more at peace.

Let me share with you some basic facts about fasting:
1. Our body has strong inbuilt urge to live so it keeps a store of food and water for emergency. That is why we can live without eating for extended periods.
2. Fast for healing is voluntary. We are free to break it any time. In case of miner discomfort we may need only to drink coconut water or fruit juice and continue the fast.
3. Our body will warn us of any possible dangers sufficiently in advance. We would feel headache, fever, itch, twitch, pain, and a variety of other symptom. If we are alert, timely action is possible.
4. Fasting is known and practiced in all societies. In non-agricultural tribal societies people fasted for health and spiritual gain even for as long as 30 days. In the anthropological literature there are accounts of Eskimo spiritual seekers spending a full month alone in a small igloo built especially for them some distance from the village.
5. In the Indian society followers of the Jain religion practice fasting in various ways for long periods. I have never heard of anybody dying or suffering illness as a result. In fact almost everyone benefits. That is why the tradition has continued for more than 2000 years.
6. Millions of Muslims fast every year continuously for 28 days when they eat or drink nothing during the day beginning with sunrise and ending at sunset.
7. We know that all animals stop eating when sick. We too are their kin and have similar bodies. We learn many things from them. Fasting for healing is one of them.

However, if one suffers from some peculiar illness and is advised by their doctor to eat small amount of food frequently, such a person may avoid fasting until fit. Practitioners of modern allopathic medicine would normally not approve of fasting. But if one’s gut approves of fasting, I’d say it is okay to ignore the doctors. They do not know everything! Who does?

Hence, being time tested and widely practiced, fasting is safe. It is also free of cost and without side effects.

There is much more to say but there is no more space on this page.

Partap
April 11, 2009

Five Day Fast

2009-03-27T19:42:00.000-07:00

Whenever I am sick with a major or minor illness I fast, sometimes for one or two days, but usually for three days. I do not run to a doctor nor take medicines of any kind, even those recommended by well meaning friends. I believe that my body has awesome wisdom and power to heal itself. To help the body to do the healing work I do a few little things such as; eat only fruit and vegetables for a day or two, change quantity of my diet, or find and eat proven herbs growing nearby. Sometimes I try just to obey my true palate and eat what it craves. But if the illness persists, I fast for 3 days. I eat no solid food; drink no coconut water or fruit juice. I drink only plain water and rest in bed. I avoid reading, talking, walking and physical work of any kind. Unless it is the middle of summer and I feel hot and uncomfortable I avoid taking a bath. Sometimes, when necessary, I just rub my body with a wet towel once or twice a day. For about 20 years I have done the above quite faithfully and have succeeded marvelously in enjoying good health.

My first healing fast was 8 days long. After that, for 20 years, my fasts have not been longer than 3 days. March 3rd 2009 I was going to start a 5-day fast. Despite my strong positive experience and conviction that fasting is good and fairly easy, I admit, I was apprehensive.

Monday evening March 2nd I ate a light supper of two slices of bread, some cooked veggies and a small helping of finely cut salad. The total amount was about 3/4th of what I normally eat. The thought of ‘no food for 5 days’ was big in my mind. One reason is that I like to eat. I have eaten foods of many cultures, and have liked them all, of course not equally. My wife never tests any of her preparations on me because she thinks I will say it is good even if there is no salt in it. She exaggerates, but it is true that out of respect for the cooks and appreciation of generosity I praise what is given to me. Growing up in a Punjabi family I learned to eat heartily. Till age 30 it did not show on my strong, trim body. But then a little paunch began to show. It was partly due to rich American food that contained lots of cheese and some meat. I had to reduce my intake of food slowly to about half.

Early morning the first day, March 3, about 5:30am I went out to my outdoor dry toilet. This is my normal routine. My stomach emptied with perfect ease and so completely that for the next 5 days I did not have to go to toilet. This, in my view, was a good beginning. I felt elated. The day began well with a cheerful mood. I rested in bed all morning getting up 2-3 times to drink water or/and to urinate. Changes in the timing of my toilet routine do not worry me for I trust my body to adjust in its own time the best possible way.

Early afternoon my mood changed for the worse. I began to have negative thoughts about fasting. ‘Why five days, why not just three or even one?’ ‘What is the need for it?’ ‘I am not sick.’ For all this I had only one good answer; I have not fasted for 7-8 months and it will cleanse and tone up my body. But the mind kept repeating its complaints till late in the night till I went to sleep. I slept well all night and woke up feeling rested, calm and so cheerful I took a short walk. I washed my hands and face, took some deep breaths and lay down.

Morning of the second day my mind was still bickering, but only half heartedly, for it knew I would not relent. But all kinds of unhappy past memories kept popping up. Most of them were of silly little mistakes I had made in the past. On top of it I was famished all morning. I was thinking of food and eating. My hunger pangs were real but towards the evening they began to weaken. I had several short and long naps during the day and by late night about 10:00pm I fell asleep and in the second night of fast slept like a log.

In the morning of third day I felt fine. My hunger was weak and my mind resolved. The day passed quite easily as I dosed most of the time. During waking times my mind kept hearing the goings-on inside the body. I have a small callus near my right eye. I felt it softening and melting. There were groans, heightened activity, slight pain, itch in different parts of the body. But there was no severe pain or discomfort. A couple of time I felt mild head ache and light fever but they did not last.

On the fourth day my mind was occupied with fear of two more long days of fasting and inactivity. I was not very hungry any more. Yet thoughts of food and its taste kept coming to mind. By this time members of our community were thinking of me with a sense of sympathy and anxiety. Ananthu ji’s mother, oldest in our community, came to visit me. She was happy to see me cheerful, but I could see that she worried over me. She told Sudesh and Gopalan that I should be persuaded to drink a tender coconut. Gopalan’s mother agreed and added her weight to the elder’s recommendation. Feeling the awesome strength of their concern and my heart’s secret desire, I succumbed and drank a coconut in the evening of the fourth day. This I had never done in my earlier fasts.

As expected, I was persuaded to drink another coconut in the morning of the fifth and last day of my fast. The coconut water tasted like nectar but I feared it might hinder the healing work of the body. It is difficult to tell, but it seems the body kept right on working as if no infringement had occurred.

At about 5:30pm I was given some steamed ridge-gourd, which I relished like divine food. At suppertime I ate a small helping of cooked vegetables. On 8th March I ate all three meals but in smaller quantity than usual. My stomach began to move like before the fast. My body strength returned to normal very quickly. I felt that my facial skin had become smoother, eyes brighter, and sight clearer. Also, I felt cleaner and a bit lighter inside.

The Gain This Time
Twenty years ago when I fasted for 8 days my intestines were thoroughly scrubbed. I felt that my digestive system began to work very smoothly. I was absorbing nutrients more efficiently and as a consequence needed less food. I felt lighter, cleaner and transformed. The good effect is with me to this day.

This time my gain is of a different sort. I came out feeling sedated. It was as if I had been given a dope. I was hearing less and often forgetting things. Several times in the last 20 days since I broke the fast I have sat at the computer and gone blank. For several minutes I could not know which keys to punch and how to move the cursor. I just walk away and come back partly recovered. I am then able to work. These blackouts still keep coming but they are fewer and with longer gaps.

I know for sure that my hearing power has weakened in the last 2-3 years, especially in the left ear. I often do not hear clearly enough to understand what message the faint words convey. But now dopiness is added to my hearing disability. It feels as if the sounds comes through a double filter.

This seems to be the effect of the fast. It does not alarm or frighten me for I think the change is most probably not permanent, but I hope recurrent. For the body is trying to rein the mind. It seems that I am being instructed to try to listen to the body, i.e. the gut, and not the mind all the time. This may sound like autosuggestion of the mind. But I look at it differently.

I know for sure that body has its own wisdom that it draws from the Divine Spirit. The two are directly linked. Mind works with memory, past, thought and its ego needs. It can decide to put wrong foods into the mouth, and indulge in myriad temptations of the world, but it cannot enter the body and directly interfere in its working. For inside the body the gut is the ruler. We seldom feel it because we can neither see nor converse with it. All of us get so used to hearing and learning through words that we become deaf to the ‘sounds’ of the gut.

My body doped and dulled my mind so I could turn my full attention to listening and learning from inside where the Great Wisdom resides. This language is subtle and without words. It works in quantum leaps and with composite bunches of related realities. Learning in this fashion is of a different, unfamiliar order.

I feel that fasting led my body to wield its mace to awaken me to itself. There were many clear messages and more keep coming every morning. I have no reason to think that this communication will not continue for every morning heralds a brand new day.

Here is a sample of my gifts from body’s wisdom. It teaches: 1.Learn to be quiet. For with words you can neither teach anything worthwhile nor change anybody. ‘Being an old parrot’ there is no chance that you will learn to say the right thing at the right time. But you can be quiet. 2.The world is okay as it is, other things being equal. As the Vedic Rishi said, ‘it is purna,’ (complete) given what came before to shape it. So, do not bang your head against stonewall. Just live by the gut and do the best you can. 3. Love all. It will smoothen your path. 4. Speak always the truth for it will simplify your choice making.
Gut’s teachings are simple and direct. They are just right for my weak mind.

Partap, 21st March 2009

Honey in the Comb

2009-03-27T19:38:00.000-07:00

(My friend Nagrajan narrated to me two true first-hand experiences. I told you one last week. Here is the other. I am sure you will like it.)
A young man named Jugnu of the Solige tribe of south India was guiding a group of trekkers in the Nilgiri Forest. Nagrajan was one of the trekkers.

On a tall tree they saw a huge bee hive. It was very active with bees hovered all over it. Most of them were bringing nectar from flowers in the forest. This then is fanned to dry into honey. All the trekkers stopped and watched with fingers in their mouths. No one had seen such an active hive of this size. Some suggested that one of them should go up and bring some honey. The Solige guide told them that the bees would attack and can even kill. One needs appropriate skills to get honey from an active hive. He further told them that he knew how to do it. Hearing this everyone wanted him to climb the tree.

He hesitated but then agreed. With great skill he went right to the big active hive and stopped dead for several minutes. Then very carefully and with perfect calm he cut a small part of the hive with his knife and carefully wrapped it in his shawl. The bees sat over his face and arms but they did not bite him. Spirit of friendliness seemed to prevail between Jugnu and the bees. The bees who came to the tribal youth seemed to understand that he was a friend who would not harm the hive. So they did not hurt him.

So Jugnu brought down a big piece of hive brimming with honey. But it was only a small part, perhaps no more than a fifth of the whole hive. Many members of the group felt disappointed. A bold one among them asked, “Jugnu, why did you not take the whole hive, or at least half of it? Why let good honey go to waste?”

Jugnu seemed to be stunned to hear the question. He was quiet for a long moment. Then he answered: “For two main reasons, of course. One, I wanted to take only a small part of the honey for it belongs rightly to the bees. They worked very hard to collect it and will need it to survive in the lean season. And two, there are other claimants to the largesse of the bees-- the bears, monkeys and many others who have good fur that can provide protection from the bee stings.”

Jugnu also told the trekkers how beneficial the bees were to the forest and to all animals and plants. In fact the honey was only a minor part of what the bees gave us. They carry pollen on their wings and cross-pollinate all big and small plants. Without the bees the plants would be weaker and far less productive. Therefore, we adivasis are taught to be very gentle and leave enough for the bees. For only then they will survive to carry on their important service to the community of life. Also, we must take only the honey filled cells and not to destroy or harm any cells that have little babies in them. He then showed the trekkers what he had cut and brought down. The city youth were amazed and much impressed to see how careful and considerate Jugnu had been.

Partap
March 21, 2009

Birds and Animals Must Eat Their Share of Crop

2009-03-15T20:28:00.000-07:00

My friend Nagraj told me this, his firsthand experience.

He was visiting a forest in the hills half a day’s journey from Bangalore. There he stayed with a friend. He noticed that one young adivasi worker slept in the field to watch the ripening crop from wild boars and other animals. Nagraj too, wanted to sleep in the open, under the forest sky. His friend discouraged him for he thought it might be too cold for a soft city man. Or, some big cat or a crawler may accidentally come and cause harm. But in the end he agreed to let him go out with the Jeyn Korubu boy.

The Korubu boy had skillfully made an 18” high bed with bamboo legs. It was wide enough for two, so Nagraj was easily accommodated. The bed was not even, nor smooth and soft, but Nagraj had no objection for it was out in the open. Lying on it one saw the lights of the night and heard sounds of the jungle. The whole vast sky with millions of stars was open to view all night. The experience was so thrilling that Nagraj went daily on all the days he was there.

One night both the ‘watchers’ fell asleep. First the wild boars and then other animals came to nibble on the juicy ears of the grain crop. The owner heard of the damage and scolded the boy. The lad did not say a word. Apparently he was not sorry, so there was no need to say a thing. The owner was unhappy, but he knew what was in the boy’s mind and he did not press the point.

Next night Nagraj asked the boy, “Clearly, you saw no reason to regret having slept. Why is that? Do you not think the owner has the right to demand safety of his crop?”

The boy was quiet for a while. He then said, “Whose land? Whose crop? Who’s right to eat? The birds will eat, then the animals, and what remains is our share. In my view birds and animals have the same right as my employer to eat what the forest has produced. All of us have the right to eat. No one has the sole right to food, for that would starve all the others to death. The forest then will be in danger of dieing.”

“But your employer owns the land,” said Nagraj.

“The Great Spirit of the forest owns the land. All animals including humans are children of the forest. We may live in it and eat its fruits, but no one can claim ownership. This is what we Korubus believe.”

Nagraj fully agreed and never forgot the words of the boy.

Partap
14 March 2009

Grazing Other Peoples’ Cows

2009-03-15T20:27:00.000-07:00

In Indian villages and small towns people keep cows or buffaloes mainly to get milk for the family. During the day the animals are sent out to graze along the roads or in the open areas. Young boys serve as cowherds and they take ten to a hundred animals. . While the animals are grazing the boys often get together to play games or just chat. A popular topic of discussion is the animals. Knowledge of animal behavior is shared. They talk of the animals in their care as ‘my’ animals. Number is important, their looks and their milk yield are also features to talk and boast about. They compare ‘their’ cows with those under the care of others and brag. They often get into heated arguments defending their cows. Yet none of them own even one animal and probably never will. Sounds hilarious, rather silly, doesn’t it?

But on thinking about others and myself it occurs to me that we scholars and teachers act much like the cowherds. We interpret, defend and oppose ideas we have read in books as if they were ours. But they are never our ideas, as the cows do not belong to the cowherds. They cannot drink milk of their animals nor profit from their sale. Similarly we do not mould our lives by the good ideas. In fact many of us remain completely untouched.

For instance depression seems to be descending on us. Scholars cry hoarse about its nature and cause. They also talk of what needs to be done. But when we look at our lives we know that we are totally vulnerable. We will sink line, hook and float when the storm hits.

The ones who are likely to be least affected and to survive are the poor. They have never been to college. Nor have they read any books that theorize on these events. Their strength is the ability to adapt to the environment. When there is more, they enjoy it. In times of scarcity they reduce their consumption. Their suffering is minimal.

There is a moral to all this. We own only those good ideas that we live by, for only they benefit us. Others are like ephemeral bubbles thrown up by agitated water--here now and gone in the next moment.

Partap
December 6, 2008

Rati Ram talks of his life (III)

2009-02-28T21:59:00.000-08:00

Rati Ram talks of his life

Rati Ram is alive and well. I meet him almost every morning. But he seems to have abandoned his earlier spot outside the temple. As I do my rounds walking the circular road around the park Rati emerges from one or another lane lead to the circle. I am sure he smells me and comes happily waving his tail. This makes me very glad and I meet him with both my hands going to his back feeling his condition. I get back more love from him than I give, every time.

I asked: Rati, why have you changed your place?

Rati: Oh, I still go to the temple in the morning and get my prasad (consecrated food) from the lady priest. She is kind but she does things as a set routine. She is gentle and devout to her divine symbols. I do not blame her for anything. Like most other humans she does things by the book. I do not feel attracted either to the temple or to her. So I change my spot without much thought. This is the right thing to do. It is nature’s own way: for when a leaf falls from the branch, air blows it away. After ions of time they reunite when both have disintegrated and returned to the elements.

I: Why do you keep hinting that we humans are a strange species? It sounds as if you think there is something wrong with us.

Rati: Not at all, I do not mean to judge any beings. But strangely you feel different. Most other animals and we dogs follow our instincts. Faced with new situations we use the intelligence of our minds. But you humans seem to live only by the mind and dead past. Even that would not have been so bad had you not closed the window to the living, refreshing, and moment-to-moment changing present.

Remember, the mind has limited reach. It labels chunks of experience. It sees them as separate. It divides and enumerates. Unchecked, it finally drowns us in numbers. On the other hand the Great Spirit sees everything as interrelated and one. It is okay to see divisions in our day-to-day world but we get into trouble when we shut the window to the truth of relatedness of things. As a consequence most of your inventions clash with environment. You seem already in deep trouble.

I: Philosopher, Rati! I am very impressed. How did you learn all this?

Rati: I appreciate your compliment, but all living beings are born with the wisdom of the Spirit. I have nothing special. It comes easily to my mind because I have been constantly pondering since I was thrown out of my human family.

I: I think you are being too modest, brother Rati. But thank you for sharing your wisdom.

Rati: My brother Partapji, I too thank you for talking with me.

Partap, February 28, 2009

Sadhu Ram and Most of Us

2009-02-23T08:34:00.000-08:00

Some months ago I noticed a handsome young man of about thirty intently searching in the pile of garbage on the side of the main entrance to our Whitefield Park. I was curious. I watched him to see what he was looking for; in a moment it became clear it was food. He found small plastic bags in which people throw away breadcrumbs or cooked rice and vegetables. He picked them up, opened them and ate the food that appealed to him. His method of work was fast and efficient. His eye focused on food bags and his hand expertly picked them. It seemed he was aware of curious watchers but it was of no concern to him for he paid no attention. Very likely their glare made him uncomfortable but he did not show it and avoided eye contact. I later understood that his reason for working early in the morning was to avoid watchers.

I do not know his name, but I began calling him Sadhu Ram. I imagined him as a lovely baby and his parents lovingly giving him a nice Kannada name. The name I have given him is north Indian but it’s meaning is quite befitting and nice. Sadhu means a simple quiet social rebel and Ram is the Great Spirit in all of us as the animator. His real name probably ends with Appa as usual in Karnataka.

I began to be on the lookout for him and saw him every morning and some days more than once at different spots. He wears a shirt and pants, both at least two sizes too big. His shirt has about half its buttons gone and the pants have none. To hold the pants up he ties a string around his waist. His pants’ fly has neither zipper nor buttons, but since the pants are over sized one side overlaps the other and adequately covers his genitals. He seems concerned not to appear indecent even though he is unwashed and his long jet-black hair is beginning to become matted. His small beard is quite handsome but unkempt. It’s his habit to avoid eye contact with the strangers on the street.

I notice that he has settled down on the side of one of our main roads. The ground is loose mud and behind him is a row of small rarely opened warehouses. The winter here was quite chilly this year. Some kind person must have noticed that Sadhu had no bedding and must be cold. He would have given him a couple of blankets and a heavy sheet. He seems to be comfortable. To relieve himself he goes to a vacant plot near our house. It is overgrown with tall bushes to provide adequate privacy. I also notice that some people are bringing him food so that he does not have to scrounge garbage heaps.

I learned that one of his benefactors is a young lady who lives in our housing complex. She told me that she not only gives him food but also sometimes sits with him to give company. He seems to appreciate genuine friendly companionship but does not reveal anything about himself. One day this lady was coming back from her work about midnight on a motorcycle. Some street dogs started chasing her. They stopped her and started barking threateningly. She was scared out of her wits and did not know what to do.

Sadhu Ram was watching. He rushed to the scene and shooed the dogs away. The lady was relieved. She thanked Sadhu Ram and came home.

On three occasions I walked quietly behind Sadhu Ram. He was babbling. I did not understand because I do not know the Kannada language. But it was obvious he was talking out loud the thoughts that were coming to his mind. I do not have any idea how much of the time Sadhu babbles but the thought came to my mind ‘Oh, how like most of us!’ We do it quietly in our minds and some of us do it all the time. Sadhu Ram does it loudly and perhaps just a few hours daily.

Partap
February 21, 2009

Street Dog Rati Ram II

2009-02-23T08:33:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday afternoon I went looking for Rati Ram. My eye sighted his back but I was not sure. I called. He turned around and came to me. I petted him on the back of his neck; he wagged his tail and was happy as usual. But I had questions for him so I led him to a bench and sat down.

I said: what happened Rati. I have not seen you for 4 days. Where were you? I was worried.

Rati: I missed you too but I imagined that you had followed a different path to come to the park. Once I went looking for you in the park. You had probably not come that day. I thought you had something more urgent and important to do. But what was there to worry? Friends sometimes have to walk their own diverse paths and fail to meet. This is quite normal.

I: But one can have an accident, get badly hurt, and even die.

Rati laughed: Indeed so, but it is foolish to worry over imagined accidents and hurts. When accidents happen we do the best we can. This is what our intelligence for, isn’t it?

I: Can you tell me the things you would do in case you had an accident? I, as you know, would call an ambulance and go to a hospital. Perhaps you can teach me an alternative.

Rati: If I got miner bruised and cuts I would find a cozy place, lie down and fast. I would heal enough in two or three days and go back to my normal routine. If I broke a bone I would also find a hiding place and try to set my bone if I could. After a few days of fasting and rest either my bone would be properly set or set in a wrong place. I would get up and hobble. I’d manage the best I could. But if my whole body were badly crushed I would lie down and welcome death. This in what I can imagine. You see, most animals and we dogs are not afraid of death. We prefer to die rather than to live as a cripple. Death offers deliverance from pain and suffering.

Accidents happen and Life teaches us to cope with them. I am sure I would not worry at any stage

I: So you do not fear pain and death.

Rati: No, I don’t. These are risks of life. Fear cannot prevent them. Worrying brings suffering even before the accident happens. I try to observe caution the best I can while I go about my business. That is all I can do I think.

I: Do you not make prior arrangements?

Rati: No, because every accident is unique and it is impossible to predict what it is going to bring. My immune system and the divine wisdom permeating my body are my protection. I will know what to do when the time comes. This is my experience all my life.

In fact Rati bhai (brother) our method has worked for us much better than what I have heard of your hospitals. Some people say that your hospitals give a lot of additional pain and suffering besides emptying your pockets. In our natural habitat we enjoyed robust health by depending only on our immune system and inborn wisdom. It is true even today. You might have noticed in some National Geographic programs how the skins of my wild brothers shine. They are full of vigor and confidence. I am a miserable wretch in comparison.

I: Thanks, brother Rati. Talking with you was very enlightening.

Partap Aggarwal
February 14, 2009

Street Dog Rati Ram

2009-02-23T08:29:00.000-08:00

I meet him every morning outside a small temple as I go for my daily morning walk. The lady priest of the temple feeds and cares for him but apparently he is not allowed to enter the temple compound. During cold winter nights he sleeps huddled close to the temple wall on dry grass. But sometimes when it is not so cold he sits in the middle of the road. On seeing me, sometimes, he gets up and comes near. I pet him for a few minutes. He wags his tail to show happiness and goes back to his favorite warm spot. Sometimes he does not get up and enjoys my petting in sitting position.

Occasionally he comes walking beside me for some distance and then veers off. He is quite detached and does not try to cling or beg for more petting. Not even once has he asked me to adopt him. He has the wisdom to know not to attach to anyone too closely. A local person told me that Rati Ram belonged to a family for many years. For some reason they suddenly moved away leaving him behind. Rati Ram was mortally crushed by this betrayal. He learned a new fact of life that one must never assume that attachments of this world will last forever.

On rare days when I do not see him in his usual place I miss my friend and wonder where he might be. But I just follow my usual path. Suddenly I sense his presence, look back, and find Rati Ram trailing close behind me. We sit down to greet each other with more warmth than usual. It is quite clear that when I do not appear at my usual time Rati looks for me.

I have not seen my friend for several days and I miss him badly. I hope he is not injured or dead, and if he is dead I hope he left his body peacefully without pain. I must go to the lady priest and ask her. If she does not know I must look around for Rati.

I named my friend Rati Ram for I feel it suits his character. Rati is a tiny tree seed used by jewelers as their smallest weight for gold, and Ram is one of the names of the divine animator who enlivens our bodies. This of course is the same Great Spirit that permeates every atom and tiniest living cell. My street dog friend reflected the highest and the littlest in a beautiful blend. For he had the humility of a tiny Rati seed and was filled with love and patience like Ram, the Great Spirit.

Partap
February 07, 2009

Childhood Memory

2008-12-18T02:31:00.001-08:00

Childhood Memory
Some childhood memories are etched so deep on our memory that they remain fresh for decades. One such that I am going to recall today dates back to 1941. I was ten years old. We lived in Karachi in a building named Mohammad Ishmael Building. Our apartment was on the third floor. There was one more floor above us. A Muslim family lived in the flat directly above us. This family was not a normal family, for it consisted of a woman and her four children. There were two boys and two girls. The oldest was a boy, Iqbal, about 20. Apparently he did not have a stable job. He often got into tiffs with the neighbors usually over trifles. But this gave the family a bad reputation. The mother and the two daughters rarely went out of the house. The boys did but they hardly talked with any one. We children were in awe of the big boy and wanted to talk with him. But he neither smiled nor made any friendly gesture. So we never talked, but we knew all members of the family.

Once when my mother’s two brothers were seriously ill, my parents went to Punjab to see them. My three sisters, an uncle, and I were at home. In the middle of the night when I woke up to go to the bathroom I heard a low sound in the other room. I froze. After a few minutes I saw Iqbal emerging. He saw me, stopped, came to me smiling and held my hand. I was still half asleep and quite puzzled. Iqbal led me toward the door, opened the latch and quietly walked out. As I latched the door I noticed a rolled up shawl in the grill just above it.

Everything happened so quickly that it left me in a daze. I went in and lay down in my bed. The idea that a thief had visited our house and walked away with things of some value did not enter my mind. After some time I got up and went to the outer door. The shawl was gone. I then realized what had happened but raised no alarm. Everyone was fast asleep and I did not want to disturb any one. I too quietly went to sleep.

In the morning I told my uncle what had happened during the night. He asked why I had not raised an alarm and woken him. He went out to the staircase shouted threats to Iqbal but there was no response. We knew the family living below us and told them what had happened. They thought it was best to ignore it since there did not seem to be much loss.

When I told the story to my friends in school they called me a big fool. I began to think and I realized my stupidity. My parents returned and inspected the only steel trunk in the house. My mother’s gold jewellery and her woolen shawl were missing. The total loss was not high. Both my parents were thankful that my sisters and I were unharmed. They did not scold me for my stupidity.

To this day, after 67 years, I remember every detail of that incident. But I still do not know if I acted foolishly or not. At age 10 what dominated my mind was that Iqbal was a neighbor and a ‘big boy’ whom I admired. This weighed more in my mind than gold or money. How could I have labeled him as a thief? May be I was naïve. Perhaps I still am.

Partap
17 December 2008

Life is an Echo

2008-12-10T07:51:00.000-08:00

Life is an Echo
(a friend sent me this story)
A boy and his father were walking on the mountain. Suddenly, the boy fell, hurt himself and screamed: Uuuh! To his surprise, he heard the voice repeating, somewhere in the
mountain: Uuuh!

Curious, he yelled: Who are you? He received the answer: Who are you?
And then he screamed to the mountain: I admire you! The voice answered: I admire you!

Angered at the response, he screamed: Coward! He received the answer: Coward!
He looked to his father and asked: What's going on? The father smiled and said: My son, pay attention.

Now the father screamed: You are a champion! The voice answers: You are a champion!
The boy was surprised, but did not understand.

Then the father explained: People call it ECHO, but really this is LIFE.
It gives you back everything you say or do. Our life is simply a reflection of our actions. If you want more love in the world, create more love in your heart. If you want more competence in your team, improve your competence. This relationship applies to everything, in all aspects of life: Life will give you back everything you have given to it.

Your life is not a coincidence. It is a reflection of you.

Partap
6th December 2008

Nonviolent Alternatives

2008-12-01T23:08:00.000-08:00

Nonviolent Alternatives

Buddhu Ram: I am glad to see you Kalu and Balu. Good to see Balu back from his escapade! I need your help if you have the time. (These 2 dogs are brothers born at Navadarshanam. Balu had run away, found after a week, and brought back.)

Kalu: You flatter us BR ji. Please ask. We will try our best.

BR: A group of Americans is coming to Navadarshanam. They are highly educated and experienced in active peace work. Some have at times risked their lives protesting movement of US warships carrying missiles fitted with nuclear warheads.
I am sure Ananthuji and Jyoti are going to ask me to speak to them and I do not have a clue to what might be appropriate. I do know that they are concerned about increasing violence around us but what can I say to them?

Balu: Being mere dogs what do we know about such complex matters, but since you ask I am willing to give it a shot. In my view violence among you humans arises from your tendency to think that more is better than less and bigger is always better.

BR: You may be right but I do not see the point you are making. Please explain with more details.

Balu: Okay, take cleanliness. We dogs understand the importance of cleanliness as much as any other specie of animals but do not go overboard like you. To relieve ourselves we go into the bush and cover up afterwards. We always sweep before we sit, unless the place is already clean. We take a head-bath when water is available, but we also dry clean our bodies by preening, rubbing, scratching, and rolling in sand or on a rock. We often take each other’s help in doing things we cannot do, such as debugging, licking some parts, and slicking. We manage to do a good job, don’t you think? Our brethren living in the wild do even better than us: they literally shine.

BR: We humans do the same; I do not see any difference.

Balu: I am afraid I do, and a lot of it. For instance you humans wash yourselves with strong soaps and rub your body with rough towels everyday; some do it 2 or 3 times a day in summer. By this you remove natural protective oils that our bodies provide to check harmful bacteria and to keep our skin moist and healthy. Your males shave every day using sharp blades as well as soaps and lotions of doubtful merit. Some people do this drill twice a day, thereby exposing their facial skin to double the harmful effects of chemicals in the lotions. To take away the body odors some of you use deodorants containing even more harmful chemicals. Your toothpastes and mouth cleaners have deadly germicides that kill good bacteria together with the bad and make you more vulnerable to infections.

You will agree with me that in cleaning your homes some of you beat even the standards of ICU’s in hospitals. Many of you have your floors swept and wet mopped every single day using strong insecticides even on days when the floors are clean and all this is not needed. In some homes floors and appliances (even kitchen gadgets) are rubbed, wax polished and disinfected daily. This blind addiction to spotless cleanliness enslaves you to your home and furniture for life. Even when they have servants, some housewives tire themselves sick by daily wiping their furniture and decoration items.

Yes, cleanliness is good, but do not go manic over it. Your madness perverts your perception and you begin to regard dust, soil, and mud as dirty. The fact is that there is nothing cleaner than natural dirt from the forest floor. But few humans can believe that dirt is not dirty and in fact it has powerful curative properties.

Kalu: Excuse me for interrupting, but I would like to add something. I have noticed that you humans carry your cleanliness mania even to your gardens, farms, and the forest. This is really sad because in the name of cleanliness you remove dead leaves and other organic matter that falls on the ground. You forget that this is valuable mulch that protects the soil from the hot sun, preserves moisture, and encourages the growth of soil building worms and insects that live and work under the surface. By removing the mulch you not only kill the insects but also the soil and invite soil erosion. Do you realize that this is violence on a far bigger scale than any of your wars?

One can go on and on. For the sake of health and cleanliness you process your food in insulated factories and then pack it in tins, bottles, pouches and cartons. The biscuits in a box are wrapped in layers of corrugated paper and foil. By doing all this you end up with a huge garbage problem. This garbage is dumped everywhere and the entire earth is turning dirty and sick.

BR: What you say is enlightening. Please go on.

Kalu: This craze for more and bigger things is applied virtually to every aspect of your life.
Your houses are bigger than necessary and they are crammed with furniture and knick-knack. As a result your lives are cramped. Yet most of you are killing yourselves to earn more so you can buy more. For transport you have cars, planes, boats and more. But every year you increase their number and travel more.

BR: Yes, you have a point there; but what is the connection between possessions and violence?

Balu: They are connected as day is to night. Obviously, all humans cannot possibly have all the things they desire. The supply is limited because earth’s resources are finite.
When a society puts high value on possessions few people become wealthy. A majority remains poor and suffers deprivation. Such unequal distribution inevitably leads to unrest and violence. Similarly, in a world divided into nations if some are rich and others poor there is bound to be violence. It is simple to see; the wealthy, individuals or nations, have to protect their wealth with weapons. As wealth grows in the hands of a few, weapons to protect it also grow bigger and more lethal. If you do not take steps toward distributive justice the weapons of war will become megaton nuclear bombs, and worse.

You humans are not very good in conflict resolution we dogs are better. We too have our disagreements and altercations, but they are momentary and easily resolved. But you humans keep fighting over an issue with armies year after year.

BR: I agree with you, but what are we to do? What are our nonviolent alternatives?

Kalu: Apparently humans were not always so greedy; otherwise they would have perished long ago. . Forest dwellers living simply in obedience to nature survived happily for hundreds of thousands of years. Only civilized people who spurn nature’s laws and try to control it have trouble.

Nature alone has the wisdom and the power to run the universe. No animal species, not even humans, can possibly handle nature’s job. In fact it is foolish to want it. I think you humans must learn to live in obedience to Nature. This means obeying its laws. These laws are written in the wind and even we dogs can read them.

For instance, nature values and loves all beings and makes sure they have enough to eat. Obviously, for all animals to survive there is a law that says no specie may deny other species their basic sustenance. You humans are disobeying this law by acquiring all the soil to produce food for yourselves. As a result your population is increasing and all other animals are dying.

Living in obedience to Nature is the real non-violent alternative.

May 14, 2005

Chitta Mending Broken Leg

2008-12-01T23:06:00.000-08:00

Chitta Mending Broken Leg

This is a true story based on a direct experience in Hyderabad in 1997. My wife Sudesh and I used to go every morning to the Sanjivayya Park for a walk and some exercise. The park spread over 100 acres but about half of it was developed and the rest left to overgrow with bushes and wild weeds. It was used as a safe haven by many small animals including dogs. Of them only dogs were daring enough to come out, the others were too shy and remained hidden from the humans.

Like all the morning walkers, Sudesh and I spent most of our time walking on the path built for us along the periphery. For a quarter or more of our time we went on to the lawns either for a barefoot stroll on the dew, or to do some yogic exercises. I was one of the very few to sometimes look into the overgrown area. Occasionally, I even ventured into the bush for two main reasons; one, if I needed urgently to visit a lavatory, and two, to watch animals or birds that attracted my attention.

A little white puppy not only attracted my attention but won my heart. I first noticed him when he was less than a month old. He would trail behind his mother together with his three siblings; so plump and white was he that when he walked one could mistake him as a rolling cotton ball. I would try to attract his attention but he showed no interest for a long time. As he grew older and a bit freer of his mother he noticed me and began to feel drawn. I called him Chitta (white in Punjabi) and he soon knew that this was his name; for when called he would brighten up, wag his tail vigorously, twist and turn like mad, and coo. He did not know what to do with himself in those moments of glee. We then knew that we were friends. Months passed as Chitta and I met each morning, talked, sometimes shared food, and often just fooled around.

One morning we did not see Chitta and wondered. He wasn’t there the second day either. On the third day I went into the bush to look for him. I hadn’t gone far when I noticed him lying on his side exercising rear legs and feet. He twirled his feet on the ankles, bent his knees and legs on the hip joints. Sudesh and I watched this in utter amazement for about 20 minutes. Chitta had injured himself badly in a road accident. His pelvis was broken and legs crushed; he was unable to use his rear legs. But his front half was in tact and by lifting himself on front legs he skillfully dragged his injured rear.

We asked Chitta what had happened. He answered: “Oh Brother, I am in great pain. Three days ago I was run over by a speeding scooter. A young man was driving; a pretty young woman was riding on the pillion. The vehicle went out of control. I was lying half asleep on the side of the road. It went over my back, crushed my legs and broke a vertebrae and the pelvis. Should I blame the poor driver, the girl, or my wrong choice of place to sleep? Perhaps all of them together and destiny caused the accident.”

“I cannot walk anymore. The fracture is complex. Body tells me to exercise the legs and other parts that will move. But I think my end is near. I am not afraid. Death will be relief from pain. I have found this secluded corner to lie down and starve to death. Fasting makes you groggy and subdues pain. Soon I will lose consciousness and that will be a signal to my friend the crow to come and eat up my eyes and make me blind to the world. Other birds too will get the message and descend to feast on my body. This will be good for I too will be in the feast as the host. I will give to my fellow beings what I got from life. After all what is death? This Chitta will cease to exist but every bit of his body will feed life in his brothers and sisters. They too will some day die, and Chitta reborn in a new body. The flow of life will go on and that is what counts.”

When we returned two days later all we saw was a few scattered bones. A grand feast must indeed have happened with Chitta the host giving his whole body with joy.

December 24, 2005

Skill of the Weaver Bird

2008-12-01T23:03:00.000-08:00

Skill of the Weaver Bird

I have watched the Bayas (Weaver Birds) building nests. They find strong marsh grass to make unbreakable ties on branches extending over a pond or an old well for safety from intruders from below. Then they build the nest by intricately weaving strand after strand of ordinary grass. Some nests are short, some up to two feet long. They have two chambers; one for the parents, the other for the chicks. The entrance is on a side of the bottom rim. The parents’ room is next to the entrance and the safer one in the back is for the eggs and later hatchlings. The nest hanging from the branch is a true piece of art and an architectural feat.
I often go to watch the Bayas at work sitting quietly some distance away for hours. In the beginning the birds were shy or suspicious. They used to freeze for a few minutes on noticing me. But now they trust me and carry on just after a quick nod of acknowledgement. I can go much nearer and remain in full view without disturbing them. Their trust melts my heart and I feel blessed.
After many visits, one day, I felt I had friendly attention of one Baya. I asked, “Excuse me friend, may I ask you who taught you to build such a beautiful nest?”
The Baya smiled, “Nature, of course, who else? She is the mother and teacher of all of us, as you surely know!”
“That I know,” I said, but “I am trying to learn to draw and cannot manage to do even simple stick figures. I need a human teacher to show me how.”
“Of course you need a teacher to learn such a useless thing as drawing stick figures. But you didn’t need a teacher how to suck milk from your mother’s breast. Who taught you that? The reason nature taught you to suckle is that your survival depended on it.”
“Yes, you are right. I suppose I was born with the skill to suck. It was imprinted on my genes because my survival depended on it.”
“And who taught you to cry, to smile, to gurgle, to hold, to recognize and trust your mother, to digest food, to eliminate body wastes. Without these abilities you would have died as a baby.”
“I suppose Mother Nature built these skills into me, and I was born with them. There was no need to learn them.”
“Right,” said the Baya. “I too, was born with the skill to build a nest. Perhaps millions of years ago my ancestors acquired this skill by trial and error. It had such great survival value for our species that it became firmly imprinted in our genes as an instinct. Since then we have been building nests. I don’t have to teach my chicks. When they grow up, become pregnant, or if they are males and realize they have a father’s role ahead of them, the instinct will unfailingly awaken. If, however, for some reason they lose the nest building instinct, or the will to build proper nests at the right time, they will die. You see, we are life, manifest in our bodies. Life has both wisdom and power. It knows how to survive. In fact if we interfere too much, we hinder nature’s work.”
“Thank you brother Baya,” I said. “Your words are full of wisdom. We humans need your wisdom more than all other animals, for we are taught to spurn certain useful instincts and drilled to modify even our good instincts often in the name of etiquette.”

April 30, 2005

Living in the Forest

2008-12-01T23:01:00.000-08:00

Living in the Forest

(Buddhu Ram* returned to Navadarshanam after a week. As always, dog Kaluram greeted him lovingly. The two sat down together and had an exchange of coos, barks, and words. Buddhu told Kalu that he wanted to talk about the forest. Kalu was delighted. They agreed to meet after an hour. Their conversation went as follows.)

BR: Kalu Ram ji I am curious about your view of the forest. It is bound to be different from mine. Let us see.

Kalu: You are right, for my view is gutsy, yours bookish.
When Nature thought of creating life and manifesting it in earthly beings she first provided a good home for them. This we call Forest and like mother it nourishes all animals, birds, and plants. She can be visualized as a living being like you or me. All of us, animals and plants, are her limbs.

BR: I am sorry Kalu ji; people will not understand the forest being a living body. Please elaborate on it a little?

Kalu: Obviously, like any living being, the forest is born and it dies. A good example is our own Navadarshanam land. An ancient forest lived here for a very long time and died about 50 years ago. A new one is being born. Like all living organisms the forest protects her integrity and health. By using her awesome powers and wisdom she draws needed sustenance from her immediate surroundings. For instance, she literally pulls clouds from the sky to squeeze their moisture for the plants. She evolves and sustains innumerable species of animals to do her work. Forest is breathtakingly beautiful and in perfect balance.

BR: Humans of the industrial culture do not want to live in the forest. They think they are clever enough to create their own environment.

Kalu: I beg your pardon Buddhu Ram ji. You humans are shamelessly boastful. A few of you came out of the forest less than ten thousand years ago and by interfering in nature’s work you have virtually ruined this planet and pointed it toward a horrendous disaster.

BR: You see Kalu Ram ji; human population has risen to 5 billion and is continuing to explode. We have to produce food for all of us. Don’t you think we are smart to produce the amount we currently do?

Kalu: I beg to disagree. Huge population increase of the humans is an aberration, and it is your own fault. Forest balances animal populations by controlling their food supply. For the first time ever, one specie (the humans), has stolen a major part of the available food. Consequently, the human population is exploding and all the other animals are dying. If you begin to share food with other animals your galloping growth rate will stop. It is as simple as that.

In fact your shortsighted actions have made you also an endangered species. By becoming dependent on a few varieties of cereals as your staple you have made your future food supply dangerously vulnerable. For instance if virus destroys a crop of wheat, your food supply will plummet worldwide and millions will starve. In fact by abandoning the bountiful, beautiful, healthy forest and moving to filthy morbid cities you have hit a hornets’ nest and gained nothing whatsoever; for your gadgets are tinsel compared to forest’s gifts.

BR: What you say is true, Kalu Ram ji, but how can so many of us fit in today’s woefully diminished forest?

Kalu: Physically returning to the forest would be ideal, but it is neither possible nor essential. You can, however, start living as if you were in the forest by changing your diet, clothing, and houses. You will have to stop agriculture and drastically cut the amount of cereals you eat. Luckily, trees and other natural plants can still produce enough wholesome and tasty sun cooked food for all of you.

Your education can begin by recognizing the forest as a model caretaker of life. You must also learn that you are not special. You are only one species in a community where everyone has equal claim to what our forest mother provides. Remember, like the Vedic Rishi had sung (sarve bhavantu sukhinaha), only if all the other beings are healthy and happy, the humans can prosper. If you stop cutting the forest back, she will automatically return quite rapidly, regain her vigor and spread.

BR: But, Kalu Ram, we have rigid food habits and strong desires. Do you think we can change them?
Kalu Ram: Yes you can. You are not a stranger to the forest. Your ancestors lived happily it for three million years. In fact life in the forest is much easier. The forest in its beauteous habitat provides good ready-to-eat foods. By going plucking and gathering every day you will get free exercise in fresh air.

BR: We cannot live under trees, can we? We have to build houses to protect ourselves from summer heat and winter cold.

Kalu: You can easily build simple shelters in the forest. But you will have to move to suitable climate for which your body has evolved. You need air-conditioning and central heating only because you live in wrong places.

BR: Do you think we can still squeeze into the tropical areas.
Kalu: Yes, I think you can if you do three things. 1. Trust the awesome power and wisdom of the forest. 2. Use your own abundant intelligence bestowed in you by nature. 3. Have compassion for all beings. If you do that, I don’t see how you can fail.

*pen name of the author.

April 16, 2005

Rich Man on Death Bed

2008-12-01T22:58:00.000-08:00

Rich Man on Death Bed

A wealthy Marwari Seth was critically ill. He was old and appeared close to death. Members of his large joint family fussed around him pretending to be sad when they actually wished that the old man would die soon, medical bills stop and life return to normal again.

The old man was only partially conscious but even so he jabbered away. At one point he appeared earnestly to want to say something important. With considerable effort he even pointed toward the neem tree and said something to his sons but it was unclear. The oldest son of the Seth came very close and tried to hear his father and he thought he heard ‘under the tree a pot of gold.’ This raised his curiosity sky high because he and his brothers had always suspected that their father had hidden some valuables. All of them wanted to know where it was.

When the doctor came they pleaded that their father be revived at whatever cost even if it was for an hour. The doctor did not think it was a good idea because the old man was very close to death and reviving him would be expensive. But the young men said they were willing to spend any amount to hear their father’s precious last words. So the doctor prescribed some very expensive medicines. The sons quickly procured them and gave them to their father.

The medicines were so effective that the old man perked up and started moving his hands and talking clearly. He talked non-stop but did not say a word about the hidden wealth. The sons were getting impatient.

When they could not bear it any longer, the oldest son asked point blank, “Father, half an hour ago you were saying something about the hidden wealth under the neem tree in the yard. What was it?”

The old man opened his eyes wide and replied, “Oh that? Well, it wasn’t anything important. I was pointing to you that outside in the yard the calf was chewing up the broom. But apparently I was not getting through to you. So I clammed up. I am afraid there is no hidden wealth anywhere if that is what you are wondering about.”

The young men were still curious, they asked, “Then why have we been hearing about it for years?”

“Well” said the old man, “I may as well let it out now for it is a valuable lesson in life. If you wish to be served well by your sons when you are old and sick it is a good idea to plant such a rumor.”

April 7, 2005

Learning to Live as an Old Man

2008-12-01T22:57:00.000-08:00

Learning to Live as an Old Man

My mother died in 1946 when I was 15. After about a year, in l947, our homes in Karachi and Panjab fell in newly formed Pakistan and we became refugees in Independent India. After wandering for several months my younger sister and I found refuge in Batala (a small town in Panjab). We lived there for 3 years and I graduated from a small local college in 1951. My father was in Karachi at the time of the birth of Pakistan. Few months later we got word that he moved safely to Bombay on a ship and set up his old hardware business there. Living alone in a new mammoth city did not suit him; he was lonely and very unhappy. I joined him after college and shared both his business and life for nearly a year. In that time I saw clearly that I was neither cut out for business, nor happy living in a city. I thought I would be happier in a small town or village relating with soil, plants, and animals. Therefore, after my sister’s marriage in 1952, I did not return to Bombay. For nearly 20 years after that my father and I were separated; he lived in an older people’s home in Haridwar, and my family and I periodically in rural India but mostly in upstate New York in America. I visited my father only after long intervals. In l971 I decided to return home to India and successively lived in Chandigarh, Delhi, and Rasulia in M.P. But every 4-5 years we went back to America for a year leaving my father homeless and to return to his Vanprastha Ashram (a sort of old peoples’ home).

My father tried to return ‘home’ to my family’s house every time we came to India; but he was always a stranger and very uncomfortable. Our culture had changed so much that to him we could be Martians. Having grown up in the era when people spent old age with their sons, he did not prepare for independent living in his old age. I think he knew very early that I would be a maverick, but he did not imagine that I would also be heartless. I have to admit that my guilt feeling has not completely gone away. For a time in my twenties and thirties I got so sucked into the Industrial Culture that I thought of career as most important. There was no need to waste time on an old parent. I did not think I owed him care and support. For were I not giving both to his grandchildren; wasn’t that sufficient? Doesn’t everyone do what I was doing? I did not then see clearly enough that my father, as a living individual, deserved attention in his own right.

My father had flaws like we all do. He was easily excitable and strong willed. He had difficulty letting go of past hurt feelings. Like a proud Pipal tree he did not know how to bend before strong winds of change as the wise bamboo. He had neither saved for old age nor acquired any useful adaptable skills. No wonder his pride got bruised wherever he went. He began therefore to avoid visiting relatives. I think mainly because in his eyes I was guilty of not doing my duty as a son, he was unable to communicate with me. For instance, whenever I asked if he needed money, he just said ‘no’. He probably expected that I would anyway thrust it into his pocket or bank account, but to the totally westernized me, a no meant no. Assuming that he still had what I had given him earlier; I foolishly failed to understand his need and did not give as frequently as I should have. I know now for sure I am guilty of not giving him enough. He did occasionally try to open a window between us; he even did naughty things in order to provoke me to look through it. But I was too dim to understand. His window did not work and the fault is entirely mine. Had I been kind and more generous, I would have looked behind the wall that separated us. Much too late, I now realize that all old people, regardless of what mistakes they have made in younger days, need and deserve our love and support. For the rest of my days I shall carry the burden of my omissions. Yet, in all this I see the hand of God, or the Great Wisdom that runs this universe, and know that what happens has to be the best at the time and in the circumstances: otherwise why should it happen?

I used to think what happened to my father will not happen to me because I am more educated and have a wider horizon. There was no doubt in my mind that the cultural difference between my children and me would not be as great as between my father and me. I also thought I was going to avoid his mistakes. Little did I know that some old age problems hit every individual no matter where schooled and how clever? Even the generation gap is a perennial problem, especially now when culture changes very fast. Hundred years ago older people were valued for their experience of living. Today it is not so because with big change in culture the experience of the older generation becomes redundant. College education is an impediment, not at all helpful. Savings are useful but only to a limited degree. Much else is needed, especially a strong ethical back bone. I now realize that love and ethics are not merely pious words. Their power is far greater than I ever imagined.

Old people do inevitably become slow, wrinkled, sloppier and touchy. They also seemingly become callous, insensitive, less caring, and weak. Some of these changes relate more to insecurity and other such social circumstances than to the old body. With love of family and community and a strong sense of security old people can change into valued elders who share wisdom and generate sound judgment and stability around them.

Lessons for the Old
1. Before one gets old, one must provide for old age. Some money is essential, but no amount may prove enough. Also, mere money cannot solve all problems. More important than money is a house regardless of location. When a good city house cannot be maintained because of high living cost, it can be sold. With the money realized one can buy a house in a town or village and have enough left over for daily expenses for years. The point is; we do have choices if we are flexible enough.
2. It is important to have simple and useful skills. The list to choose from is endless, for example cooking, cleaning floors and furniture, laundry, gardening, sewing, singing, painting, calligraphy, flower arrangement. Practice of these skills brings happiness and a sense of self reliance; the aged are meaningfully occupied.
3. Most important skill one can acquire is the ability and knowledge to live simply, at very low money cost, and by causing least harm to the environment. This can give old persons a sense of security that possessions never can. I am sure all of us know that the aged poor in our society feel more secure and content than the rich. Living simply is no hardship it’s a gift. Eating simple, fresh, and wholesome food and keeping minimum of furniture and few clothes makes ones life healthy and unencumbered.
4. Many old people slowly become hard of hearing. I often congratulate such people; for they no longer need to hear gossip and other trivia. It seems to me that partial loss of hearing in old age is a gift of God. Most young people resent a nosy old parent or aunt. The old can greatly help themselves by leaving the young alone. Furthermore, they should never argue either to prove a point or defend a view point.
5. We old people raised the young with love and a great deal of sacrifice. We should readopt those attitudes. Without doubt we will be rewarded in the same coin.
6. To do the above, one needs a spiritual foundation. Our immediate physical settings are inevitably full of hard knocks simply because we are in bodies separate from each other. In truth we are not separate. We are the one Life that makes all bodies alive; we are also Nature and the Universe. We are an indivisible part of an all-encompassing unity. We therefore never die, only our bodies do.
7. Love and compassion bind us all. When we know this it becomes easy to forgive insults and remember received kindnesses and respects.
8. Dare to be free from social obligations of younger days. For example if you do not wish to attend a wedding, just say sorry. Being old you will be easily forgiven.
9. This list is inexhaustible. Let us end by remembering that a very valuable attitude to acquire is humility; not servility but the sense of incompleteness that comes from realizing that in truth we are Life itself and in daily life we mistakenly act as mere bodies.

Lesson for the young
It seems not only possible but also eminently prudent that the young try to turn the old people into happy and useful elders. All they need is love, support, and a sense of security. What is given with love benefits the giver even more than the recipient? Imagine the incalculable benefit to children growing up in the shadow of grandparents!

April 2, 2005

Guru’s Talisman

2008-12-01T22:55:00.000-08:00

Guru’s Talisman
A learned guru gave a sat sang (discourse) every Sunday. Many people came regularly to listen; some were deeply devoted. One such person was a man named Ramayya.

One day after the discourse Ramayya went up to the guru and said, “Guruji, I try very hard to change my daily behavior, but always fail. Your lectures inspire me and I resolve to improve myself; but as soon as I face difficult situation anger bursts and the worst in me comes out. It might help me if you give me a solid object like a Talisman as a reminder for such times.”

The guru listened patiently and promised to give a Talisman on the following Sunday. So Ramayya received a small packet, took it home and placed it next to the god’s image in his little puja room (home temple).

A few weeks passed. The Talisman seemed not to have made any change in Ramayya’s behavior. Unable to resist his curiosity he one day opened the package to look. It had three things: a ball of cotton, a sewing needle, and a lamp. Ramayya was puzzled; ‘what do these 3 ordinary things signify? Why has the guru given them to me? He should know that every household has these things.’

On his next visit to the sat sang he asked the guru to explain. The guru said, “With cotton we make cloth, and cloth covers our shame. Cloth teaches us never to probe people’s flaws. If by chance you hear something, do not go round telling everyone. Like cloth, cover it, so that no one else will know. Second, the needle is used to join what has been torn apart; you too must always do that. When you see people turned enemies by small or big discords, do what you can to resolve them and restore peace and friendliness. Third, light dispels darkness; but only when it is lit. All of us are born with a divine light; we must remember always to keep it burning. If you do so you will not only overcome your own anger and violence, but spread love, kindness and truth wherever you go.”

The guru further said, “The overall idea of the Talisman is that you fix the 3 messages in your mind. After some time they will change your behavior and also, like a magnet, draw more good traits to themselves. Now shut the box, place it where it was and totally relax. The Talisman will work.”

March 26, 2005

Where to Write Our Hurts and Where Kindnesses

2008-12-01T22:54:00.000-08:00

Where to Write Our Hurts and Where Kindnesses

Two long time good friends were walking through a desert. They got into a discussion that turned into a heated argument. Heat of the altercation became so intense that one hit the other with a slap across his face. The latter felt hurt but remained quiet. After walking a little longer he sat down and wrote in the sand, “Today, my friend slapped me.”

They resumed their journey and reached an oasis where they planned to stop and do some business. Noticing a small pond in the middle of a marsh they felt tempted to go in and take a bath. The one who had been slapped got trapped in quicksand and was in danger of drowning. His friend rescued him putting his own life at risk.

The one first slapped and then rescued walked quietly until they came to a big rock. With a steel chisel he etched the following words on it. “Today my friend risked his life to save mine.” The friend asked, “Dear friend, why did you write the first incident on sand and the second on a rock?”

He answered, “I wrote my hurt on the sand so that the wind will soon blow it clean and make it easy to forget. But I wish always to remember your kindness of saving my life. So I etched it in stone.”

March 19, 05

Eighth Pitcher

2008-12-01T22:51:00.000-08:00

Eighth Pitcher

A very rich man was not content. He wanted more without knowing why. Vaguely, there was a notion in his mind that it would be nice if he was the richest man in town. But if that would really make him happier he did not know. In fact he did not think much of anything. All he knew was he wanted more. So he engaged in rash, risky business deals; but this did not improve his condition significantly. In addition to other things he also began to visit the local temple mornings and evenings and prayed hard.

Hard to say if it was due to his prayers, and difficult even to call it good or bad luck, but on digging under one of his properties he found seven old pots full to the brim with gold coins. He was overjoyed. Surprisingly, however, he noticed that his desire for a lot more became even stronger than before and he began to ask more diviners to see if there were more gold pots to be found.

Again, due to his bad or good luck he struck another ancient pot with a lot of gold in it. But, the pot was a little more than half full. The wealthy man began to think why. ‘Who had stolen the missing gold? He must have got the idea from his first dig. How can I find him? In any case, he thought, ‘I must fill this eighth pot like the other seven as quickly as possible.’

He asked for a pot of gold full to the brim. He was given seven. To be even more generous the gods gave him a half full eighth pitcher. The man forgot about the seven pitchers and gave all his thoughts to the eighth pitcher. Why isn’t it full? How can I fill it?

He worked day and night; even neglected his family and health. In the end he died quite young in the ICU room of an expensive hospital. Truly his greed was ever lasting but his health and body were not. He never learned that a half full purse is okay, but not an empty heart.

It does not cost a paisa to fill ones heart with love, joy, and contentment. Then it does not matter if the eighth pitcher is full or empty.

March 12, 2005

Water

2008-12-01T22:48:00.000-08:00

Water
Few days ago I woke up full of awe about water. What a wonder is this thing we use many times daily and take for granted. It is odorless, tasteless, colorless, soft, gentle, moist and pliant. It takes the shape of any vessel in which we put it and patiently stays there until we pour or scoop it out days, even years later. We may put it in an open container or a sealed can, water sits quietly without complaining. We may squish it, drop it from the tenth floor, beat it with a stick, or cut it with any instrument; water remains unhurt.

But the same pliant, quiet water pushed by wind turns into tsunami and levels buildings, flattens columns of steel, and razes entire cities. In the open ocean water can lift up a million ton ship like a paper boat, topple, and sink it to the floor in minutes. When heated, water turns into steam. Guided through tubes in a locomotive, steam can push a ten thousand ton train at hundred kilometers an hour. Flowing as river, water sometimes spates across thousands of square kilometers and breaks all bunds built by man to contain it. In its course it scoops up countless tons of loose naked soil and transports it hundreds of miles away. Dams, dykes, big boulders, hills; none can stop an angry river’s flow to its source, the ocean.

Chemists say it is just H²O, but imagine how well are hydrogen and oxygen welded together to make water. At temperatures bearable to humans water is liquid, when heated to 100ºC it turns into steam, and at OºC it freezes. The bond of H and O does not break no matter what we humanly do to it; cunning tricks, of course, can do unthinkably harm.

Most important, however, is that water denotes manifest life. When humans probe other planets they train their keenest eye to look for water; for that means there might also be life. To be precise, life as such is one indivisible whole, very subtle, invisible, and indestructible. It becomes differentiated and visible only when it enters a body made of food. Bodies need water to function; for water inside a body acts as carrier of food and waste materials, air conditioning agent, lubricant, and much more. Hence no living being, neither plant nor animal, can live without water for more than a few days. Hence nature the creator has made secure arrangements for the supply of water to every being, even the humblest to our eye.

First, nearly 70 % of the earth’s surface is covered with salt water of the oceans. That is why when viewed from space our planet earth appears blue. Oceans are full of living plants and animals quite safe from water scarcity! Nor can they possibly destroy or pollute it unless, of course, they become civilized and start acting like us.

Beings of the dry land need sweet water to live and Nature in its wisdom and power has made ample arrangements for its making and distribution. Salt water of the oceans evaporates with the sun’s heat, turns into clouds filled with sweet water, sails across the skies, and falls on land as rain. Trees bushes and grasses receive this bounty in their upraised palms and drink their fill. The overflow slowly runs to the ground to soak the soil and make rivers. Water also goes deep into the ground with the help of roots of plants after they have stored enough for their own needs.

Water that has gone into the ground starts to travel laterally and down thousands of kilometers, i.e. as far as it can go depending on the nature of the ground, and it can continue to roll for thousands of years until some thirsty being taps it.. Most animals living on dry land use river or lake water. Some who live far out from them have to dig into the ground. Small beings such as ants and termites make their homes deep in the bowel of the earth close to moisture. Rodents, foxes, and other larger animals like us dig holes in the ground to get water.

Nature slowly evolved these water supply systems to such perfection that even after millions of years they are working as new. It is only due to these marvels that countless species of plants and animals have survived on dry earth so successfully for such a long time.

According to evidence dug up by physical anthropologists and archeologists the human line diverged from the primate order 3+ million years ago. Throughout this long period they found Nature’s water supply system quite adequate and did not suffer excessively from thirst. Only in the last ten thousand years, after a few human communities adopted agriculture, did the ground water network began to crack in some areas. We will go into more details of ground water depletion elsewhere in this book. Here we will examine water problems most of us are experiencing daily and directly where we live. I will briefly describe some of my own experiences; readers must recall their own from where they sit. For environments vary widely from place to place and it is hazardous, confusing and needless to generalize. Our brothers and sisters who do so get into endless futile discussions. Only when we stick to direct experience can we gain conviction and be motivated to sensible action so badly needed at this time of looming peril.

Navadarshanam
About 50 kilometers due south of Bangalore city a group of friends including my wife Sudesh and me jointly acquired 120 acres of land about 14 years ago. This land was under living forest until about 60 years ago, and is adjacent to a large reserved forest now. But when we bought it, it was quite exhausted from careless cultivation for some years and heavy grazing thereafter. It was so bare one could freely walk all over it. There were only three mutilated trees and a few Lantana bushes here and there. Tiny acacia sprouts were everywhere but the goats nibbled at their leaves and did not give them a chance to grow. Soil had eroded so badly that one saw only little pebbles and gravel on the surface. We fenced the land and after 6-7 years of hard vigilance curbed grazing. The land turned green with grasses, bushes and even trees shooting up from dormant roots. By now all the ground is covered with vegetation. There are approximately 5000 trees, some of them 25 feet tall. More recently, however, the growth seems to have slowed down. The reasons might be: 1. Four year long draught and 2. Fall of ground water level. Even in its worst condition our land had one quite strong and at least two weak perennial streams. All of them have dried up. The reason seems to be several new bore wells in our area fitted with electric or diesel pumps; all to draw huge amounts of water for irrigation.

In the forest adjacent to our land the same thing is happening. Till 6 years ago on our hikes in the forest we always found small streams in which to bathe and frolic. Now they have all dried up. Even the strong stream in the valley down below has weakened. We hear from the villagers living there that it goes completely dry part of the year that did not happen earlier.

A more dramatic illustration of the fall of ground water is to be seen in Gumlapuram village just two kilometers down the hill from us. This village has about 300 houses. Most of them had their own wells and all of them were full of water until about 7 years ago. Today all of them are dry. The reason is obvious: ten years ago there were no tube wells in the area, now there are several; all pumping away to irrigate fancy flowers for export and exotic foods for the rich in Bangalore. The ground water is virtually gone for the ordinary villagers and even for the tube well owners it is rapidly falling.

We also have a rented apartment in a Bangalore suburb called Whitefield. Two years ago our town council’s 5 tube wells went dry. They drilled several more but without finding water. . Most privately owned wells in our area have also gone dry and many new ones have failed. We and other residents of the area had to start buying water from farmers and traders who own tanker trucks. We now pray for long life for the farmers’ wells.

From what we hear, the water situation in other parts of Bangalore is by no means more promising. People pin their hopes on Cauvery water, but we all know that Bangalore is exploding and the river is dwindling. Can the two make a happy marriage?

Panjab
In March 2004, two Delhi friends and I went on a tour of Panjab villages. Between us we had several relatives and friends in the region. So we were able to meet and talk freely with farmers and workers known to our relatives. From our first stop to the last one concern that our informers frequently shared was the rapid fall of ground water level.
This area was known for ample water for irrigation from the time I was a boy in western Punjab. The reasons were: it is in the foot of the Himalayas, several rivers flow through the area, and there is an extensive functioning canal network.

Farmers told us that fifty years ago one needed to dig from 6 to 15 meters to strike water. Now it is nowhere less that thirty and in some places as low as 80 meters or more. We saw well drillers at work in several villages. Most of them were going down 80 to 100 meters.

With the introduction of high yielding dwarf wheat and rice seeds in the last 40 years the use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides has increased many fold. Consequently, the crops need more intensive irrigation as well. To make things worse, free supply of electricity to Panjab farmers has made them negligent. Too much water is pumped out and at least a quarter is wasted.

In any case the rate of ground water depletion in Panjab is alarming.

Some Random Experiences

My ancestors lived in a place called Daska in Sialkot district close to the Himalayas. They had come from somewhere in Rajasthan 400 years ago. In their original home soil had turned into sand and most people had slowly moved away. Four or five years before I was born my father moved from Daska to the newly opened Lyallpur area where pastures looked greener. The rest of the family followed in a year. My father’s brother’s family also migrated some time later and a big joint family had assembled with all its problems. I was five years old when my father moved to Karachi and lived there for ten years till 1947. About 1943, when there was danger of Germans attacking Karachi, my father sent us to Daska. We lived there for nearly two years. This gave me the opportunity to get to know the town and the area. It was different from both Karachi in the Sindh desert, and Lyallpur on the edge of it. Sialkot was in a belt of fertile land touching the Pir Panjal in the north and the Ganges valley and Rajasthan in the south. This was the area where the Sanskrit speaking Aryans are supposed to have lived. The Vedas and the Upanishads were written here. Evidently, this area somehow escaped the fate of Sindh and Rajasthan where Indus Civilization flourished and turned the soil into sand. Possibly the people and the culture of this area were different. The Rishis had talked in favor of Aranyak Sabhyata (forest culture) over and over. They had also opposed the city-based civilizations. They could have seen the Indus Civilization and what it did. My imagination runs too fast here. I must pull the reins.

I distinctly remember how safe, friendly, and pleasant this simple rural area was. Ordinary vegetables and chapattis (flat unleavened bread) tasted much better here than in Karachi or Lyallpur. People said it was due to the quality of water. All wells in the fields and in the homes of town dwellers were full. But the needs of people for water were meager. Wheat and other cereal crops were not irrigated; they grew only with the rainwater. Only small vegetable growers used irrigation. They used Persian wheel for lifting water. Soil was fertile. In the rainy season I distinctly remember seeing millions of earthworms crawling on the bunds. Having come from the city I had never seen them, and was afraid. Later I learned that they were friendly and totally harmless.

I was born in 1931 in the Lyallpur district of west Panjab (now in Pakistan). For a long time it had been an arid, treeless, semi-desert, splattered with bushes, and very sparsely populated by nomadic cattle herders. About the turn of the century the British colonial rulers built a canal system. Farmers from the rest of Punjab flocked here and became rich by harvesting heavy crops from virgin land. Traders (like my family) and people of other skills followed the farmers in the hope of sharing their bounty. All this had gone on for 20 years when I was born.

I recall that there was ample water in the canals and it flowed into square fields called murabba (literally square fields). Our house, like most others, had drilled wells fitted with a hand pump. These wells were 5 to 10 meter deep and had ample water. Sixteen years later, in 1947, when the country was partitioned and we had to migrate to east Punjab, this area was still prosperous but the decline had begun. The land was turning saline. A hard clay crust was forming a foot below the surface. Moisture was being trapped and pushed back up with the salts of the earth. The soil was fluffing with white salts visible right on the surface. The affected land turned unproductive; it was not good even for building houses because salty moisture rose into the walls and disintegrated the bricks and cement. Later, we have been reading in the newspapers that this process has accelerated and most of the farm lands are also affected. After this I went to college for four years in a small town in east Panjab. Here the ground water was high, main crops rain fed and only small vegetable patches irrigated with well water lifted with simple devices run with bullock power. Canals were few and far between.

From 1951 to 1956 I lived in Maharashtra and Madhya Pradesh. Forest was still alive and ground water level was high. All major crops (wheat, Jawar, Tur, cotton, oil seeds) were grown without irrigation. There was water in the rivers and the wells in towns and villages were full. All this began to change in the fifties. Bore wells were put in everywhere to irrigate orange or banana orchards and other commercial crops such as onion, ginger, potato, and sugar cane. I still have friends in the area who I periodically visit; only last month, i.e. in February 2005, I was there. What I heard and saw was saddening. The fall in the ground water level is alarming. In fact ground water is virtually gone. Orange orchards are being cut on a large scale and market gardening is weakening rapidly. In some places even the traditional crops cannot be grown with rain water because the soil’s capacity to soak and hold water has been curtailed.

In the sixties and seventies we lived in upstate New York. Both dairy and crop farming were still quite strong in the area. About the middle of the sixties smaller farms began to close shop. By mid-seventies very few large ones were surviving. The ground water level dropped but not enough to affect domestic supplies. The big change here was in the quality of water. All ground water now is contaminated and not fit to drink. People buy treated packaged water for drinking.

Overview

Sweet water in all our rivers, lakes, ponds, and under the ground constitutes about 3% of the total available on our planet; the rest is salt water of the oceans. All our sweet water comes from rainfall. All animals and plants need water to survive. Nature, therefore, has evolved a complex mechanism for the collection, preservation and distribution of this precious resource. It works beautifully and assures adequate supply to water to every being where it lives. In fact it is hard to imagine a better system.

Very simply put, this system has the forest on one end and widely scattered plants and animals on the other. The forest pulls moisture from the clouds, provides it soft landing on its head to soften its blow on the soil, lets most of it to flow off to make streams, ponds and rivers, and gently sends the rest into the ground. Of course the trees of the forest use what they want and preserve some for future use underneath themselves. This system has worked quite well for millions of years and is capable of adapting to change of environment. .

About ten thousand years ago some human communities began to do agriculture and quickly developed civilizations. To produce large amounts of grain they cleared forests, ploughed up the land and produced large quantities of grains. Other species living on the land were denied food and allowed to die. As the supply of food for the humans increased their number also exploded. This gave rise to a vicious circle.

On the one end civilized humans cut forest for timber and firewood to satisfy the needs of their growing populations and on the other they started taking too much water for their cities and for irrigating their crops. This double attack over a period of time busted Nature’s water distribution system. Evidence gathered so far shows that lack of sweet water was the major cause of the collapse of civilizations.
Today our Industrial Civilization is repeating what earlier ones did before. The major difference is that with our superior technology and greater use of fossil energy we can accelerate the process many fold and destroy Nature’s water distribution network in a short time.

Some people say we are good at laying pipes and we can fill them with desalinated sea water. I say, no thank you, I prefer to stick with ground water.

March 5, 2005

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Man’s Attachment to Samsara

2008-12-01T22:42:00.000-08:00

Man’s Attachment to Samsara

Narad the wandering Rishi was visiting baikunth (one of the heavens open to humans). He and Hanuman together watched them going about their business on the surface of the earth. They focused their gaze on a middle-aged couple in a small town.

The man’s name was Ghasi Ram and his wife’s Lakshmi. He had a small grocery shop that he kept open from dawn to dusk. He sold mainly dry grains, i.e. cereals, pulses, spices and hard candy. Early afternoons with the help of his wife he made and sold deep fried batter coated vegetables. Both husband and wife were busy all day earning money. With it they bought gold and furniture that they served by wiping and polishing daily. They had no children but hoped for some even though it was getting a bit late. Because of his sedentary routine Ghasi’s health was far from satisfactory; and Lakshmi too, had her aches and discomforts.

On watching Ghasi’s life Narad commented, “What miserable lives these foolish humans live. If I could, I would bring them all to Baikunth where life is much freer and happier.”

Like a spring, Hanuman retorted, “How little you know about these humans, Narad. They are so rooted in their culture that they are actually attached to their sufferings. I bet you, if you go and offer Baikunth to Ghasi Ram and Lakshmi on a platter, they would refuse it.”

“Incredible,’ said Narad. “But I would like to find out to be sure.” So he descended on earth and appeared before Ghasi Ram as a celestial being. He said, “Your life on earth is truly miserable. You are already in your forties, and it will become worse as you get older. I offer you Baikunth for quick release. You should not pass up the opportunity.”

Ghasi Ram pondered and said, “I am not ready. Look, who will mind my shop and who will care for my furniture? I still hope to have some children even though Lakshmi is getting old. Baikunth can wait. You can go where you came from; I am okay as I am. Good bye. “

Narad recounted his interview but Hanuman was not satisfied. He wanted the investigation to proceed further to be more convincing.

A few years later when Narad returned, to Ghasi’s shop a young boy was minding it. Ghasi had died and his son had succeeded him. With his special powers Narad found out that Ghasi’s soul had been reborn as a calf and was now a full grown bullock serving his own son.

Narad went up to the bullock and said, “Look at you, pulling heavy cart and beaten with a whip. What kind of a life is this? My offer of Baikunth is still open.”

“Go away,” answered Ghasi. “I am serving my son by making sure of prompt transport of supplies and deliveries. All my life as a human I waited for this son. He is young and needs assistance. Now let me enjoy serving him.”

Narad was amazed. He went back and reported his observations. But Hanuman advised that to know the strength of human attachments the experiment must continue.

After about five years Narad again returned to visit Ghasi. The bullock had died and reborn as a dog. Narad found him sitting in a little wet hole in the mud, for it was dead of summer. He served the family of his human son who, of course, did not know any of this.

Narad was full of compassion and pleaded, “Think Ghasi, had your son been an American, and you were living with him as his dog, I would have considered that you were already enjoying Baikunth. But here, your life is rotten. You are not even allowed inside the house. Rain or shine, you have no shelter. No special food is prepared for you. They give you stale crumbs to eat. No one ever gives you a proper bath. If you happen to be in their way, they kick or beat you with a stick. Yet they expect you to faithfully guard the house day and night. Are you now ready for Baikunth? Remember life there is superior to anything you have ever had on earth. My offer is still open; you just have to say yes. What do you say?”

“No, Narad. No. I don’t want your Baikunth yet. You see, my daughter-in-law is young and carefree. She wears a lot of gold and diamonds, and leaves them carelessly here and there and the thieves living all around here know this. They are looking for an opportunity to steal our property. I keep watch and make sure they do not enter the house. How can I think of going to Baikunth? Please come back in a few years.”

Hanuman heard Narad’s description and was still not satisfied. He insisted that Narad should visit again after a few years.

So after about ten years Narad went again to visit Ghasi Ram’s house. The dog had died. Ghasi’s soul had been reborn as a little worm that wriggled and crawled in filthy muck of the drain outside the house. Dirty water from the houses on the street flowed into the drain. One can only imagine what life would be like in such a place. Narad thought, ‘Now, surely, Ghasi will agree to come to Baikunth with me.’

But Ghasi said, “Life as a crawler is hard, but I am sorry, I am still not ready to leave it. I see my grandchildren playing happily and feel content. All this is familiar, but the freedom and comforts of Baikunth you offer are vague. To tell you the truth I feel scared of the unknown. How will I cope with the freedom you offer? Please leave me alone and go away.”

Narad returned to Baikunth, recounted everything to Hanuman and said, “What you said is true. What a wonderful glue of attachment our God has created? It holds all earth’s creatures, especially the humans, stuck tight to the samsara (web of life) into which they are born. Only one in a million becomes curious, works hard, and breaks loose. Then they taste freedom and know what bliss it is. But they can never fully describe the experience to the others because it is beyond words!”

February 26, 2005

Deserter of Battle

2008-12-01T22:39:00.000-08:00

Deserter of Battle

One of Lord Krishna’s many names is ranachhor, literally, deserter of battle. Such a name does not do credit to a brave warrior like Krishna; in fact it is an insult. Yet this name persists and is very popular in Gujarat where boys are often given the name ranachhor das (devotee of the deserter Krishna). Back of this is an interesting story.

A foreign invader named kala yavan came to the Yadav capital Mathura with a huge army of highly trained and well-equipped soldiers. Krishna had just vanquished Kamsa and was the de facto leader of his race.

Kala yavan laid a siege around the city of Mathura and challenged the Yadavas. Everyone knew that the poorly armed and vastly outnumbered Yadavas were no match for the invader. Their council met for several hours without coming to a clear decision. Before the meeting was adjourned, Krishna stood up and asked permission to speak. The king waved his hand indicating consent.

Krishna said, “Honored king of the Yadavas and fellow citizens, the odds against us are overwhelming. If we fight the result will be annihilation of the race; but if we surrender we lose honor, which is worse. Therefore none of the options is good enough. I suggest that I should challenge Kala Yavan to a duel. People will be saved and the issue will be resolved.”

Everyone shouted sadho, sadho in consent. A messenger was sent and Kala Yavan accepted the challenge for a duel. He came to the city gate on the appointed hour the following morning so sure of his strength and wrestling skill that he pitied boy Krishna’s naiveté in throwing him the challenge. In contrast Krishna had argued ‘why have hundreds of soldiers killed and wounded when my opponent wishes only to settle the score with me for killing Jarasandha.’ The city gate opened and Krishna emerged in his yellow fighting garb and a broad smile on his face. He drew his opponent to follow him to a secluded place where his guards would be out of reach.

The story goes that as Krishna walked he took on his divine form with every step. Kala Yavan too, kept following and with each step got into the eternal pursuit of man for the divine. The God gradually lost His form and became subtle and formless. The human pursuer realized that the divine was really within himself and the best place to look was inside and not out. So in the end the conflict was over and both sides came out winners. By leaving the battlefield Krishna enlightened Kala Yavan and taught human kind a lesson.

Feb 19, 2005

Monkey Subuddhi’s Revenge

2008-12-01T22:36:00.000-08:00

Monkey Subuddhi’s Revenge

In Panchatantra (an ancient Sanskrit book of animal stories) there is a tale of King Chandra whose sons were fond of monkeys. They kept one hundred of them and lovingly fed each one out of their hands. But incongruously their reason for keeping them was selfish, very cruel.

One day the leader of the monkeys named Subuddhi, who was very intelligent, imagined circumstances in the near future when all the hundred monkeys might be slaughtered. Worried for their lives, he tried to persuade them to flee to the forest; but they were so fond of fancy foods and other conveniences that they turned a deaf ear to his advice. Frustrated, Subuddhi left his companions, fancy food and city to begin new living alone in the forest.

Less than a month later the unthinkable happened. A pet ram of a prince who had acquired the habit of sneaking into the kitchen and eating his favorite foods was caught one day red handed. The cook who found him eating in the kitchen went into a wild rage. He took a burning twig from the stove and ran after the ram. When he hit him on his back the thick wool on his body got lit. The ram panicked and raced toward a barn full of hay. On entering he began to roll on the ground to put the fire out, but the hay caught fire and it spread to the king’s stables where highly prized horses were kept. By the time fire could be quenched, most of the horses had suffered severe burns. The royal vet recommended that monkey fat should be applied to the burnt skin of horses. This being the time honored remedy in those days no one questioned it and all the pet monkeys were slaughtered for their body fat.

Subuddhi heard the tragic news and felt sad and very angry. He had heard that the brave always avenged the wrongs done to them. So he burned with the desire to settle the score with the king. But it was not an easy task by any means.

While roaming in the forest, one day, he came to a large pond full of fresh water. He wanted to go in and drink some but noticing curious patterns of footprints on the water’s edge deterred him. Why were there footprints going inside the lake and none coming out? He wondered. From what he saw, Subuddhi quite correctly deduced that some demon in the lake was eating up the animals that entered the lake. So he found a long lotus reed and began to suck water without entering the water. Soon a huge demon emerged and said’ “You are a very clever monkey. I admire your wisdom and grant you a boon. You may ask for anything you wish.”
Monkey Subuddhi’s mind was still full of the idea of revenge. Deep thinking flashed a brilliant scheme into his mind and he said, “Sir, I have never seen a more beautiful and precious necklace than the one you are wearing. Please give it to me.“ The demon gladly gave the necklace to the monkey and he started walking proudly toward town with the ornament prominently displayed on his chest. Strangers stopped, looked and admired the brilliant pearls. Soon the word spread through town like wildfire.

Subuddhi’s destination however was the King’s court, for he knew that “civilized” men tend to be greedy, and among them rich more so than the poor. All courtiers, and then the King noticed the exquisite garland and asked the monkey where he got it. Without answering, the monkey passed the jewelry around for everyone to evaluate its worth. When he had everyone spellbound he said to the King, “Sir, this most valuable treasure can be had for the asking from a lake some distance away. I invite you together with your courtiers and relatives to come with me and obtain one necklace each. I guarantee it.”

Everyone was salivating and all of them trooped with the monkey to the pond. He told them that since everyone must enter the water together they should line up along the shore and go in when he signaled. When all were positioned as desired, he took the king aside and gave the signal. Everyone entered the water and the monkey and the King watched on the shore. When they failed to come out the king was anxious.

The monkey quietly climbed the nearby tree and shouted, “Sir, I am sorry. My revenge is taken. You killed all my relatives for fat from their bodies. To let a big wrong like that go unchallenged is cowardice. I had to pay you back in the same coin. The demon of the lake has already eaten your relatives.”

February 12, 2005

Vinoba Finds out Fair Wage for Spinners

2008-12-01T22:23:00.000-08:00

Vinoba Finds out Fair Wage for Spinners

When Vinoba was still very new at Sevagram some workers started an organization to promote spinning and weaving as means of earning a living. One very important question was what would be the fair wage for a full day’s work. There were many different opinions and often-heated discussions. Everyone of course wanted to be fair to the workers, but some more than others.

Vinoba spoke few words. When asked he said he had no basis for suggesting a fair wage for a full day’s spinning at a hand operated wheel. He would want to know how much it cost to buy the basic necessities and how much yarns an average spinner could produce per day. To find that out would require long fieldwork. Nobody had time for that. Some people thought Vinoba was being too sticky. They needed to come to some figures before the end of their discussions. So they did just that.

Vinoba did not protest, but he was clear what he was going to do to find out the right answer. After the meetings he started spinning about 8 hours a day and continued for six months.
He sold the yarn every day to the shop set up by the khadi organization (predecessor to today’s Khadi and Village Industries Commission). He bought his food and other minimal necessities with the money he earned.

In the next meeting of the organization Vinoba gave detailed report of his experiment. What struck the members very deeply was his observation that all of six months he could afford only one meal a day. It is up to us he said, to change or not to change the figures we agreed on in our last meeting.

Vinoba’s diet even at that time was quite meager. We know that he lived on 600-700 calories per day in the second half of his life.

February 5, 2005

God Alone might save me

2008-12-01T22:21:00.000-08:00

God Alone might save me

Long time ago a king had no children. A learned man suggested sacrificing a child in front of the Devi.

The king announced a large reward if a family would give their child for the purpose. A poor couple had four sons. In order to get the reward they offered their 13-year-old boy to the king.

The boy was taken to the palace. He was bathed, properly groomed from head to toes, nicely dressed, and sumptuously fed. He was then given a last chance to do what he wished.

The boy wanted to perform a puja (ritual worship) at the riverbank. There he sat down on the sand and carefully built 4 sand piles. He then prayed before one of them and demolished it. He did the same to the send and the third. The boy did not destroy the fourth pile.

The king was curious and asked the boy the meaning of all he had done. The boy answered: “The first pile symbolized parents and family. They offered me to be sacrificed just for a little money. I rule them out from my list of well-wishers. The second pile stood for my community that I thought would always support me, but they failed me. I rule them out also. The third pile was for my king and he too proved useless. So I flattened his pile too. The fourth pile represents God. I have not destroyed because I do not know what He would do when all others have failed.

The king was so impressed he cancelled the sacrifice and adopted the boy. He grew up as the crown prince and in time became the king.
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January 29, 2005

Gambling Match of Mahabharat

2008-12-01T22:20:00.000-08:00

Gambling Match of Mahabharat

“Like a stone on a sling we are hurled, seemingly helplessly, round and round in a circle by destiny. What choice a situation offers only one in a million recognizes, for as brilliant light blinds
the eye, destiny clouds our vision.”

When Yudhishtar received his cousin Duryodhan’s invitation to a gambling game he answered in an affirmative. YES, he said. He knew Duryodhan was burning with envy and wanted to humble him and his brothers. He also knew that Shakuni will play for the Kauravas, and he is a cunning trickster.

Further, Yudhishtar was clearly warned by his uncle Vidur and others that the game he was being invited to was no mere game. It had a sinister motive. His brothers told him he was walking into a snare. Yet Yudhishtar accepted the invitation saying that a kshatriya never turns down a challenge. Was it destiny? At seems destiny did have a hand in it.

Hundreds of dignitaries were invited and accommodated in comfortable specially crafted sofas around the arena. King Dhritrashtra, patriarch Bhishma, guru Vishwamitra, as well as other important leaders and members of the clan were present and seated in places appropriate to their ranks. The public too was invited to this shameful chess of destiny with pawns from the royal family.

Yudhishtar lost the first two throws, when he also lost the third; he complained that Shakuni was cheating. But he was cleverer in talking even than in cheating. Like today’s lawyers he fooled and subdued everyone. The game continued. Duryodhan’s men were suggesting stakes to the rapidly losing Pandava. He lost villages, cities, gold, his brothers, himself, and finally Draupadi.

Bhim and Arjun were furious; they muttered oaths. The elders saw what was going on. Vidur talked into the king’s ear. Bhishma was stunned. The air was ominous. Foundations of a ruinous conflict were being laid. Even the ordinary people could guess trouble.

Duryodhan was warned, “Please stop. You know the dice are loaded. If you go on cheating beyond limits antagonism will reach flash point and total destruction will follow.” Duryodhan knew this well but he was too jubilant to listen. He said, “This is a game we have played since ancient times. One side always loses. Today, thank God, we are winning. Do you want me to be sorry for that? No, I cannot be sorry, for I am glad. We are lucky the Pandava are not. What can I do?”

As we know the game ended badly. Duryodhan’s brother Dushasan and his friend Karan misbehaved to the extent of insulting Draupadi in public. Arjun and Bhim vowed in the full assembly to avenge the insults. The ground for the great Kurukshetra war was laid.

Bhishma was angry. Dhritrashtra was asked to declare the game null and void and invalidate all gains and losses. Pandava were set free. But destiny was not deterred. The Kauravas did not learn any lessons. They continued to feed the flames of discord, and in the end the big war had to be fought.

Have we learned? Thousands of years later, today, nations (and social divisions within them) are playing the same game. Powerful industrialized nations are winning and the rest are losing all the time. Obviously the dice are loaded as they were then. Otherwise, in a game of chance how can one side win all the time?

Conflicts are increasing and violence spreading like wild fire. Wise men and women caution us that due to lack of socio-economic justice the entire human race is in danger, but are we listening? Can we do something? Or is it again destiny?

January 15, 2005

Mahadev Humbled

2008-12-01T22:18:00.000-08:00

Mahadev Humbled

Mahadev and Parvati sometimes go on a stroll to talk to ordinary folks. Once on such a visit, near a village they saw a farmer planting seeds. Mahadev asked him why he was planting seeds when there were neither clouds nor any other signs of impending rain. He got into a long drawn conversation and bored Parvati went home to Kailash.

The farmer said signs or not he still expected rain in the night.

The two got into a heated argument. One said it will and the other that it will not rain. In order to prove that he was right Mahadev went to the rain god, Indra, and told him not to send rain in the night. Indra agreed but said if the frogs croaked he would not be able to restrain himself.

Mahadev went to the king of frogs and told him to order the frogs not to croak in the evening. He said, “I’d like to obey you, lord, but I cannot help it if the fireflies come and shine.”

Mahadev went to the chief firefly and asked her reign her tribe for just one night. She agreed and Mahadev was happy.’ Now the farmer will be proved wrong,’ he thought.

But wonder of wonders, black clouds came from nowhere and it began to pour. Mahadev was furious. He went to Indra and shouted at him for breaking his word.

“But I was helpless,” he complained. “The frogs croaked. What could I do?”

Mahadev went and called the king of frogs a cheat. “Why did you promise one thing and do something else?”

The king of frogs said it was not his fault because a firefly shone.

Mahadev complained to the chief firefly. She said, “Not a single one of us shined, I swear.”

Mahadev was puzzled. He went to the tree under which he had seen the farmer. He was sitting there holding a pole. The burned cloth at the top of his mashal (firebrand) had fallen off, but the end of the stick was still glowing. It is this that the frogs had mistaken for a firefly flash.

Mahadev admitted defeat and went home to tell the story to Parvati, his beloved wife.

January 22, 2005

Food Offerings to Ancestors

2008-12-01T22:17:00.000-08:00

Food Offerings to Ancestors

India and China are next-door neighbors; naturally, they influenced each other’s culture. One such influence is in honoring ancestors. In both the cultures ancestors are remembered, honored and fed. On specified periods each year priests or the poor are feasted on favorite foods of the ancestors.

Also in both cultures the line of descent is traced all the way to the great flood when almost everyone was drowned. There are legends of such a flood called pralaya in the Indian tradition. The Chinese too have a beautiful story of the flood that we shall hear presently.

This folk tale is popular among the Jiro people of China and it goes as follows. Long ago, water began to flow alarmingly, inundating villages and killing people, plants and animals. One family that had a son named Manu and twin daughters Mani and Mang did some quick thinking. They packed a hollowed log with food and told the children to climb in. The opening at the top was covered with cowhide and sealed with bee’s wax. Bells were attached to the boat so that they would ring when the boat hit dry land. The raging flood drowned the parents and set the log afloat.

After many days on the water the children were curious to see what was happening. The boy slit the cowhide with his knife. There was high water and dead bodies floating everywhere. The boy quickly closed the opening and sealed it with wax.

After several weeks of floating the log landed on a hilltop. The bells rang; the children came out and began to scout for a suitable place to build a house. They put up a shelter the best way they knew how and found enough edible berries and leaves despite the destruction cause by the flood.

Many years passed. One day, Manu, now a man, noticed grey hair on his sisters’ heads. It dawned on him that they were the only three people alive and all were getting old. The boy proposed to his sisters the idea of marriage and procreation. They were horrified at first but on further reflection grasped the importance of their brother’s suggestion. The sisters decided to agree but said they must first get the permission of grandfather Banyan tree.

As they went to the tree, Manu quietly ran by the short cut and hid behind it. The sisters bowed down before the Banyan and said, “We know it is not right to marry our brother, but under the circumstances we are confused. Please guide us,” Manu answered in an old man’s deep voice, “Children, if you don’t marry your brother the human race will end. Incest is permitted in this case.” After saying this Manu raced home and was there before the sisters returned.

So the twin sisters married their brother, but for long years none of them conceived. Manu feared they might already be too old. But something strange was happening.

One of the pumpkin seeds their parents had packed in the boat grew and flourished unusually well. Its creeper crept over valleys and mountains and spread like no other plant had ever done before. Thousands of pumpkins ripened every year. One branch of the creeper climbed over the twins’ house and produced a lot of fruit.

One day Mani heard strange voices in the back of the house. The sounds were not loud, but it seemed that a lot of little people were clamoring. Who could they be? She called Manu and both of them looked everywhere. Finally, they were convinced that the sounds were coming from a large pumpkin. Not knowing what to do, they didn’t do anything.

After much hushed waiting Manu decided to release the people inside the pumpkin. With a big knife he tried to cut a hole. A piteous cry came from inside, ‘please have pity, do not cut us.’ Manu stopped. Twice again he tried to cut the gourd to release the people, but had to stop because of appeals from inside.

Then another more commanding voice spoke from inside, “Son, I am Apierer. These are my children. The time has come for them to come out and spread over the earth. Please open the path on my navel.”

Manu did what he was told. As soon as the way opened, Apo came out. Because he rubbed against Apierer’s black navel his skin became dark and to this day the Apo people of China are dark.

Next came out the Han to spread with his descendents over a lot of land. Third came Dai and last came Jiro. Ji in Chinese means ‘squeeze’ and no ‘last’. So the Jiro were the last to squeeze out.

By the time Jiro came out, all the land was already occupied. So the Jiro settled on the remaining least desirable hilly area where they still live. But they are full of gratitude to Grandmother Apierer for her sacrifice. They always offer food to her and give thanks whenever they have good fortune.

January 01, 2005

Ganga Talks of Her Children

2008-12-01T22:12:00.000-08:00

Ganga Talks of Her Children

River Mother Ganga flowed quietly one late afternoon. The day had been hot and muggy, but the soft breeze cooled quickly over the river water, especially because the sun had already turned toward the west. Mother Ganga was unhurried and in a pleasant mood.

I sat down on a ledge on the bank and turned both my ears to the river. My entire attention was in the ears. I heard no clear words I could understand, just a faint hum. But after some time, when I got more tuned in, I sensed that Ganga was watching me to read my thoughts. Like in a dream, she began to talk to me, telling me of her million experiences of watching life on her banks. This is what I heard.

“Son, you seem to be a serious young man. Let me tell you something about trees. They grow all along my course in a large variety and number. I often hear them talk about themselves.
The mango tree is boastful. She stands tall, wide, and luxuriant. In summer she is loaded with fruit. Some mango trees live for 500 years or more. When they flower, bees and other honey sucking insects gather in their millions and feast on the mango’s nectar. The scene is one of a giant mother suckling a vast brood. Then the flowers dry up and fall. Little mango fruits begin to appear and in a few weeks they ripen to the delight of humans and many other animals. Some of them literally subsist on mangoes for months every year. The tree has reason to boast but there is a price to pay.

Another day I watched a Pipal tree. It was huge like the mango but its thicker trunk and denser foliage made it look bigger. It produces no fruit for the humans, but twice a year it is loaded with little figs that the birds love to eat. Flocks of migratory birds alight on their favorite Pipal on their flight path year after year and stay for a few days to build up the fat level in their bodies. Local birds too, feast on the figs of the generous Pipal. The Pipal tree is proud of itself, but also enslaved by its worldly role for which it has to bend all its energies.

One day, I had the opportunity to visit with a Gulmohar (May Flower) growing tall on my bank. It was early April when the winter goes and spring arrives. The Gulmohar was sprouting millions of buds all over its branches. Soon after, these buds blossom into the most gorgeous flowers. There are so many of them that the whole tree appears to be one giant flower. There is no other tree that can match the Gulmohar in beauty. The flowers keep coming for about three months. The Gulmohar produces no food for humans, other animals, or birds; but its beauty gladdens all of them and they come as if pulled by a powerful magnet. Quite naturally, the tree is proud and it shoos all other plants from under it.

I could go on endlessly talking of my observations, but before stopping I must tell you of my conversation with a most unusual tree. It is called Cypress. It is neither big not long-lived, nor does it bear flowers or fruit. Occasionally a bird might build a nest in its branches, but otherwise no one is drawn to the Cypress tree. Yet in Persia they call the Cypress ‘Azad’, i.e. free. It has attracted the attention of poets and mystics everywhere through the ages. Naturally, I was full of curiosity when I got my chance to have the attention of a living, breathing Cypress not far from my shore. I wanted to know what this plain being had to say for himself. The following is what I learned.

The Cypress likes to remain still and unruffled. It takes for its sustenance a bare minimum of food, drink, space, and attention. It is so humble it does not ask for a particular terrain or climate. It grows in the Himalayas as well as in the desert. This strange tree remains green all year round. It is healthy, happy, and content most of the time.

Because it requires so little and thinks for itself, the Cypress chooses to be FREE. It does not dance to the wind, nor sing to the breeze like the Pipal. In the fall it does not shed its leaves. All winter it remains green when all other trees go grey, bare, and bald. Coming of spring gladdens the Cypress, but it does not glow, burst and dance like the others; for by turning inward it had remained cozy throughout the winter.

Cypress is neither stingy nor unloving even though it does not give anything tangible. Yet it gives something priceless—the knowledge of how to remain happy in this world full of sorrow. It is burdened neither by social obligations, nor political cumber. All its life it takes its just share of what is available. And since it does not suffer from the guilt of grabbing what should have gone to others it does not feel indebted to anyone. Perhaps when the Gita talks of stithapragnya, Cypress is her model.”

January 8, 2005

I Let Go of My Accumulations

2008-12-01T03:46:00.000-08:00

I Let Go of My Accumulations

This is a Black American prayer. I came across this beautiful poem in May 1997 and share it now with all you friends.

My ego is like a fortress.
I have built its walls
stone by stone
to hold out the invasion
of the love of God.

But I have stayed here long
enough. There is light,
over the barriers, Oh my God.
The darkness of my house
forgive
and overtake my soul.

I relax the barriers.
I abandon all that I think I am,
all I hope to be
all that I believe I possess.

I let go of the past,
I withdraw my grasping hand
from the future,
and in the great silence of this moment,
I alertly rest my soul.

As the sea gull lays in the wind current,
so I lay into the spirit of God,
my dearest human relationships,
my most precious dreams.
I surrender to His care all that I have called my own.

I give back
all my favorite things
which I withhold in my storehouse.
I let go.

I give myself unto thee
O my God.
Amen.

--Howard Thurman

January 28, 2006

Making of a Bhikshuni

2008-12-01T03:45:00.000-08:00

Making of a Bhikshuni

Twenty-five hundred years ago during travels across India to share his insight with the people, Gautam Buddha camped outside the city of Vidisha in a mango grove. (Vidisha still exists just north of Bhopal.) The grove was at some distance from the settlement and the Buddha and all the bhiksus went out every morning, bowls in hand, to beg food.

Buddha was walking along the street one day when a chariot stopped and a well dressed young lady came out of it. She walked toward him with a garland of jasmine flowers in hand. As she tried to put the garland around the Buddha’s neck, he said, “No, shubhe, (auspicious one), this is not the right time for it, for I am carrying my begging bowl. If you bring this garland to the grove tomorrow morning, I will gladly accept it.” The lady gracefully agreed and left.

A companion informed the Buddha that the lady was Vanamala, a wealthy and prominent citizen of Vidisha. She entertained the rich with her beautiful songs and dances in an auditorium in her own palatial house. She also taught the young men of the area’s prominent houses in etiquette and finesse in interpersonal relations. Fame of her skill and beauty had spread throughout the region.

The following morning Vanamala arrived at the camp with the jasmine garland in hand and gracefully offered it to the Buddha. He respectfully received it, but commented, “Shubhe, as you can see, the jasmines have withered and their fragrance is gone. They are not like they were yesterday when you first offered them to me.”

Vanamala was a bit puzzled. She asked, “Bhante Bhagawan, don’t you know how fast these flowers decay? They are fresh today and gone tomorrow. I am sorry.”

“Yes indeed,” answered the Buddha, “but so is the body; strong and beautiful today, weak and wilted tomorrow.”

The lesson was crystal clear and its delivery straight as an arrow. Vanamala was pierced to the core.

She began to attend Buddha’s daily discourses. Soon after, she began to spend more time with the bhikshunis at the camp.

Her professional dates began to get passed up. New appointments were sparingly given. Disappointed customers turned to her rival performers. Her house was soon locked up for she spent all her time at the Buddha’s camp serving together with the other disciples.

In a couple of months as the rainy season came to close The Buddha was ready to pack and move on. Or more truthfully, just move on, for there was nothing to pack. Vanamala too, had donned yellow robes and she too walked barefoot carrying her begging bowl.

A new bhikshuni had been made and put on the path to love, compassion and bliss.

January 14, 2006

Neither a Saree nor a visiting Card!

2008-12-01T03:44:00.000-08:00

Neither a Saree nor a visiting Card!

Gandhi ji was a stickler for punctuality.

One day a khadi worker named Hanumanth Rao was ushered into his room full ten minutes late for his appointment at 4:00 PM. Gandhi ji asked him, “Why have you come late?”

Hanumanth Rao answered, “It is because I neither have a starched saree nor a visiting card.”

“What do you mean?” asked Gandhi ji.

“I came punctually five minutes before my appointment, but your volunteers did not allow me to enter your room. They were favoring rich men with visiting cards and women wearing starched sarees! I had neither.”

Gandhi ji laughed, but he also understood what was happening in his own house.

January 7, 2006

Chasing Tails

2008-12-01T03:42:00.000-08:00

Chasing Tails

This is an old story first written some years ago. It comes to you in its new avatar.

We have two dogs at Navadarshanam. One is a brown male called Raja. The other is a black female we naturally call Rani. You see, they periodically produce a litter of puppies which leads us to conclude that they are husband and wife.

Raja is handsomer with gold frame on his muzzle and a bit of gold on his ears. His bushy tail is his handsomest organ. It is not only well proportioned; it is also decorated tastefully with shades of brown and gold.

Rani is plain, even rustic in comparison, and not so smart. We cannot say whether or not dogs think of these things and let them fill their minds like us humans. But these two dogs do seem to be sensitive to looks and mental ability.

During my last 2 or 3 visits I had noticed a hint of superior attitude in Raja. In his occasional altercations with Rani he seemed always to want to win. This time I noticed a new habit in Raja of chasing his tail. Every dog with a handsome tail like Raja’s would naturally do such a thing, but Raja spent all his energy in this useless activity. In my opinion it was excessive.

One day I could not resist asking and politely said to him; “Friend Raja, why do you chase your tail all the time? True, it is handsome but why to waste all that energy. Besides, most observers would interpret it as egotistical.”

Raja was a bit embarrassed. He answered, “I know I have a bad habit but I am stuck with it. However, if you don’t mind my saying so I picked it up from you humans, for most of you have it and dogs normally don’t. I have been observing visitors to Navadarshanam. Some are occupied with their wealth. Most are circumspect, but with my superior olfactory power I can smell their body chemistry. Then there are others who are too taken with their education and knowledge. They are always defending a point of view or proving something or the other. Women are not much behind men in this game. They are a long step ahead as some of them spend hours in front of mirrors pinching, massaging, rubbing, plucking, powdering, creaming, coloring, and doing god knows what to their faces. All this is tail chasing and all humans are addicted to it.”

“You are right Raja, but are you suggesting that we can give up tail-chasing? If we did, much of our industry would collapse. For it is dependent on this habit of ours. Also many people would not know what to do with themselves.” I commented.

“Some people would for a time be confused, but they would soon learn to live healthier uncluttered lives. They will begin to enjoy their natural god given beauty and will not need to want to temper with their skin. There is no gain in tail-chasing. That I know from experience.” Raja explained.

I further probed, “Do you think humans have something really valuable to gain by realizing the silliness of tail-chasing? What in your opinion would it be?

“What a question to ask of a dog by a human!” laughed Raja. “You should know. Vishnu lies on a sheshnag (a huge snake) and on a lotus growing from his navel sits Brahma the creator. They do not chase their tails. Their energy is not wasted. And as you can see, they have become gods; Brahma creates and Vishnu sustains the universe. They carry on doing their onerous duties for billions of years because the energy of their silent stillness is awesome.”

“And by not chasing their tails they lose nothing. Lakshmi, Saraswati, and all the other goddesses press their feet. Wealth, learning and all other good things come to them in abundance. Humans too can follow their example and live blissful lives. By leaving your tails alone you can shed all your cares and become enlightened. Humans can do it easily. For dogs it is difficult.”

February 25, 2006

Power of a Boy’s Tears

2008-12-01T03:41:00.000-08:00

Power of a Boy’s Tears

This story comes to us from Iran. Jalaluddin Rumi recounted it in one of his works. I tell it in my far poorer style. Also, I take the liberty of giving imaginary names to places and people.

In the famous city of Shiraz there once lived a man named Sheikh Abbas. He belonged to a family of wealthy merchants, but he was totally different from other traders. He was unattached to money and his sight was fixed far beyond.

After his father died and Abbas became the head of the business he gave it a different turn. Whatever worthy cause came to his attention he gave it his energy and money. He set up several hospices to serve the ailing poor. In them he personally washed and bandaged festering sores, washed and dressed weak bodies, administered medicines to patients like a dutiful nurse. So devoted was he to this work that he never hesitated to spend whatever he had.

Soon all his wealth was gone, but his work continued. To carry on he began to borrow. But he was unable to repay and one day his creditors swarmed on him cursing, abusing, and demanding immediate repayment. Abbas sat in a corner of the room with his head covered with his shawl thinking, ‘I must take all this abuse without rancor. They are right in demanding their money back and there is no blame in their action.’

Suddenly Abbas heard the call of a halwa seller ‘Halwa, very good halwa, tastiest halwa in Shiraz.’ He thought a little sweet might cool the tempers of his angry creditors, so he sent his servant to buy and bring the whole lot.

The servant found that a young boy of about 15 carried about 3 kilograms of halwa in a tray. He quoted half a dinar and a bit for the entire lot. The servant haggled. The boys attracted by the chance to sell all the halwa in one go agreed to half a dinar for it.

The servant took the sweet inside the house and began distributing it to the irate creditors. The halwa was soon gone. The boy watched the scene and quickly realized what was going on. When it became clear to him that he too had become one of the gathered creditors, his grief became unbearable. He began to cry, “Oh, Allah, I am ruined. When I return empty handed my master will surely kill me. Oh, please God have mercy on me.” Big tears began to flow from his eyes as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Mysteriously, a man came carrying a covered silver tray. Everyone gaped when he took the cover off and revealed two bundles in silk cloth. The larger one contained a thousand dinars, exactly the amount owed by Abbas. The little packet contained half a dinar and a few dirhams. The boy was given his packet first; his face burst into a smile even though it was wet from crying.

The merchants were mystified. They went up to Abbas and apologized for abusing him. He answered, “You did nothing wrong. All creditors faced with your situation would behave like that, some even worse. We must thank the boy for what has happened. It is his tears that have brought God’s mercy to the melting pot.”

February 18, 2006

How the Jackfruit Turned a Bishop into an Archbishop

2008-12-01T03:39:00.000-08:00

How the Jackfruit Turned a Bishop into an Archbishop

Jackfruit is God’s special gift to the human species. It was probably created in the midst of a famine when all crops had failed and there was little to eat. God needed to provide food for starving millions in a hurry and loaded the jackfruit tree with hundreds of heavy fruits. Even when all the branches were overloaded and bent God didn’t think it was enough; so he put more, much heavier fruits on the tree trunk.

Because of its mission the jackfruit was made very versatile; it could be cooked when green and eaten raw when ripe. Some fruits are a bit too sweet, but many are heavenly delicious. In tropical areas round the world jackfruit is the savior of the poor. However, there is one little problem; it has to be cut and handled with skill and care because of its very sticky sap. Sometimes when the jackfruit is cut open by an unskilled stranger it leads to funny scenes like the true incident described below.

Long time ago when the Mer Thoma church of Kerala was still controlled from Syria, a Bishop was sent to replace another who had died. He was lively and rather young looking for the post of bishop. He had come to the tropical climate for the first time and as everything was done differently in this new culture, he was full of curiosity. Because of his friendly, jovial disposition people were always ready to help him.

One day the new bishop noticed a huge jackfruit in the kitchen. Being where it was the Bishop had no difficulty imagining that it was a fruit or a vegetable, but he had never ever seen such a thing and his eyes opened to their widest limits in wonderment. His excitement attracted everyone into the kitchen. He wanted to know all that the others knew about the jackfruit and the people around him explained the best they could. The Bishop’s ignorance of a common fruit quickly turned the atmosphere in the kitchen rather merry.

Having heard and learned all about the jackfruit, as soon as the bishop was alone, he thought he should cut the funny looking fruit and look inside. With a big knife as he cut the jackfruit, the jackfruit began to pull him inside of itself. The flowing white sap covered his hands. The knife stuck to one to one of them. He tried to wipe the other on his beard and had great difficulty pulling it loose. He noticed a sack full of cotton lying nearby. Thinking that he might be able to wipe his hand and the beard with the cotton he pulled some out of the sack. In no time his face was covered with cotton and his beard was twice its size. He looked more like Santa Clause than the Bishop. After struggling for a few minutes he realized that he was in bigger trouble than he could handle. He shouted for help and on hearing him people began to come into the kitchen.

On seeing the sight of the bishop turned Santa Clause they began to laugh. Word spread fast and the entire community congregated in no time. All got wrapped in mirth.

Everyone was having a good time. One of them remarked; “We began with a Bishop, thanks to the jackfruit, we now have an Archbishop.”

The bishop was furious. He shouted curses including, “For this you will all suffer mental retardation”

Some people believe that incidence of schizophrenia in the community is still high due to the Bishop’s curse.

February 4, 2006

Sound of One Hand Clapping

2008-12-01T03:38:00.000-08:00

Sound of One Hand Clapping

This riddle has been a popular teaching tool of Zen masters for centuries. Teachers told their disciples to meditate on the sound of one hand clapping and month after month, year on year they did what they were told. Very rarely did a disciple finally hear the sound.

A young boy came to learn from a teacher and was told to go and meditate on the sound of one hand clapping. The student went to his quiet room and meditated for several hours every day. After about a year, one day, he thought he had heard that sound and ran to the teacher to declare his success. He said to the teacher, “I heard the sound of a cuckoo way out in the distance, and that I think is the sound of one hand clapping.” The teacher listened with full attention, and then with his stick tapped the disciple lightly on the head. “No,” he said, “it is not. It is merely the music produced by air pushed through the bird’s vocal cords. Go back to your room and continue the meditation.”

Six months passed, the disciple returned to the Master and said, “Master, at last I have heard the sound of one hand clapping. In far distance a thin stream falls on a rock; that it seems to me is the sound of one hand clapping.” After hearing with rapt attention the Master picked up his stick and rapped the boy on the head. “No,” he said, “that is the sound produced by water falling on the rock. Go back and continue working.”

Then one, two, five, ten years passed. The master went over and he saw sparkle in the disciple’s eye. Subtle smile was on his lips and his face was aglow with indescribable joy.

The question about the one hand clapping had vanished; no answer was needed. He had heard the sound of life ticking and of the pulsing in the very core of the smallest particle of which the universe is made. The source of all sound, all knowledge and wisdom had been revealed to him. There was no more to be heard, learned or sought.

The Master knew what had happened. His stick fell from his hand; it was no longer needed.

The disciple recognized and welcomed the Master, but he could not describe what had happened. For it is beyond words. Words are limited in time and space. They cannot encompass what is boundless, timeless, and immeasurable. But he tried and said something like the following.

“I meditated on the meaning of every word in the mantra you gave me. Take for instance the word sound; there is more and more subtle meaning as you delve into its meanings. One goes on exploring; the search is long and arduous. It is something like peeling an onion. You take peel after peel and a new layer is revealed every time. On and on you go. Finally, nothing remains. You encounter nothingness. That is the sound of one hand clapping. You hear it; you are transformed, you are filled, but you cannot describe it; you are muted. The Rishis call it the anhat nad, the sound of silence. You hear the sound of total silence; the silence of a mountain peak or of the thick forest may possibly give a mild hint of it.”

The master understood. He could relate the disciple’s experience to his own. A rare sense of joy inundated him. The Master and the disciple embraced each other.

The disciple was now a Master ready to break his own path.

March 25, 2006

Awesome Strength of the Weak

2008-12-01T03:36:00.000-08:00

Awesome Strength of the Weak

Once, speaking in the bamboo grove where he camped, Gautam the Buddha told the following story.

Deep in the forest a quail had built her nest in the grass and in it she had laid six beautiful eggs. One day she noticed an elephant herd marching toward her nest.

She went to the herd leader and with folded wings begged for the safety of her eggs. The kind mighty giant agreed and dutifully guarded the nest while the herd passed. But a lone rogue elephant was following right behind. On hearing the quail’s appeal he laughed with mischief in his heart, and going straight to the nest crushed the eggs into a paste.

The quail was sick with grief. After a while when she had recovered enough she decided to teach the cruel beast a lesson. She called her three best friends—a crow, a blue fly, and a frog—and requested them to plan a revenge.

The crow being the cleverest was assigned the responsibility of overall planning. Soon a detailed plan was ready. All the participants were told what each one was expected to do.

One day when the rogue elephant was fast asleep on the bank of a stream, the crow landed on its head and with deadly precision gouged out his left eye. Few days later, in another attack he destroyed the elephant’s right eye as well.

Now the rogue was stone blind and terribly unhappy. To make matters worse the blue fly laid eggs in the elephant’s empty eye sockets. They were soon infested with maggots, and the elephant’s suffering multiplied manifold.

Very thirsty one day, he groped about in search of water. The frog with his croaks misled him up a cliff and down a steep slope. He slipped, fell, and rolled all the way down breaking every bone in his body.

Thus the cruel beast that misused his body strength died a miserable death. In dying he taught us never ever to bother fellow creatures who may look completely helpless; for even the humblest among us have reserves of strength hidden from the eye but quite usable in times of need.

March 18, 2006

Down Side of Flush Latrines

2008-12-01T03:35:00.000-08:00

Down Side of Flush Latrines

My nephew and dear friend Manoj came recently to Bangalore for three days and stayed with us. One day, during our chats and discussions we rambled on to the topic of flush latrines. Obviously, I had thought more on this subject than he but he was more interested than most people I know. When we parted, he asked that I should write it up as a weekly story. So here it is for what it is worth.

Origin
Many years ago I read about the origin of today’s ubiquitous flush latrines and a faint outline is still imprinted on my mind. I cannot say that the details are historically authentic, but for our purpose here it does not matter even if it is fiction. About the beginning of the 20th Century, somewhere in the American mid-west a young inventor brought a contraption to the manager of the local Sears, Roebuck store. Normally, such things are either ignored, or laughed over and forgotten. But this manager didn’t do either; he immediately saw the great potential of the simple looking device and after testing it in his own house drew the attention of his superiors.

His enthusiastic description of the innovation rubbed well on the State Manager and he promised to visit the following day to see it for himself. On carefully examining the new device he used it for a few days and felt even more enthusiastic than the local store manager. The inventor was given some money and asked to make a few more prototypes. In a short time the word spread and reached right to the top of the Sears organization which by that time had grown to be the world’s largest retail chain.

The device was named water closet. A manufacturer began to produce them and Sears sold them in their stores all over the United States. At that time industry was flourishing, cities were increasing in number and bursting in size. Dry latrines were a serious damper. Water closet came to the scene as a boon at an appropriate time. Naturally, therefore, it quickly became Sears’ fastest selling item. In just a few years every house in urban America had a flush toilet and soon afterward they spread even to the rural areas. Today, all over USA, it is illegal to defecate in a dry latrine. You cannot relieve yourself on the soil in the open, even if there is nobody around! That is what the law says, but I am sure some Americans disobey the law in dire circumstances or sometimes just for the heck of it! But the law is clear; you have to use a flush latrine that drains either into an urban sewage system or a septic tank built according to prescribed specifications. If you don’t, you can be put in jail.

Total acceptance
Not even a whimper was heard against the new toilet for many decades. The main reason for this was that it proved to be a great convenience for the urban dwellers and acquired the status of an indicator of modernity and progress. Also, with the coming of the chemical fertilizers the value of human excreta as organic manure began to slide downward. This happened even in countries like China and India where the merit of human excreta as highly valued manure was recognized for thousands of years. In India it was called son khad (gold manure); in China farmers expected their guests to defecate on their land. If they erred and went to the neighbor’s land, the neighbor had to send his guests to over to balance the account.

Awareness of Demerits
In the last two or three decades the downside of the flush latrine has begun to be noticed. In recent years it has become a major issue, and the downside is appearing to be much larger than the upside. Due to limitation of space we will talk only about a few major points and wait for the next opportunity to go into details.

First
Flushing human excrement requires a huge amount of water; roughly twenty to thirty times the weight and volume of the excreta. In a family of five, if on an average each person uses the lavatory 4 times a day, 400 liters of water is needed daily. If we calculate on this basis for a city of a million people, it would add up to 80m liters a day just for flushing the latrines. Other requirements such as bathing, laundry, cleaning, cooking, drinking etc. would consume an equal amount daily if not more. Even this very rough estimate shows that the total water requirements of our cities are becoming alarmingly huge.

At a time of water scarcity we can reduce our use of water for other needs but not our flush toilets. Imagine what would happen if a city’s water supply is stopped for some reason. People will cut down their water use, but from the second day onwards a panic will start to build up in their bathrooms. By the fourth day in many houses there will be no water for flushing and latrines will begin to get stinking full. By the fifth day some families will have to start evacuating the city. This is not just imaginary fear; such a thing can actually happen in all big cities. And this kind of movement is likely to turn into an exodus in a short time.

-2-

Second
Flush latrines present us a problem of handling a huge sea of liquid muck that grows larger every year. This muck is not dead and inactive; it is highly contaminated with pathogens and full of toxins.

Pathogens in our stomachs are under strict check of the immune systems of our bodies; but out in the open, and in a watery medium, they can multiply and spread very fast. Even in the most efficiently run cities constant underground flow of this dangerous material inevitably contaminates the earth and the drinking water. It is no wonder, therefore, that citizens of all modern cities (including London, Paris, and San Francisco) drink packaged water and their children cannot safely play with the mud.

If human excreta is mixed with dry organic matter and piled up for composting, it is not only harmless but in just 2 or 3 months it turns into valuable fertilizer and can be spread on the soil or even put in flower pots.
If, however, human excreta is mixed with water it becomes a perfect breeding medium for pathogens. Pathogens flourish and rapidly multiply in a watery medium.

Same applies to the toxins; residues of pesticides, fertilizers, detergents, lead, etc. are appearing in increasing quantities in our excrements, and in a watery medium they become very mobile. These hazardous materials spread under our feet, run parallel to our water supply lines and contaminate our drinking water just like the pathogens. In many cities tests have shown dangerously high presence of toxic chemicals in the tap water.

Alternatives
It is not at all necessary to mix our excreta with large quantities of water. For rural areas many simple dry latrine designs are in use. We should further improve them and encourage their spread. Many years ago at the Sewagram Ashram a museum of latrine designs was established to which many inventors contributed designs. One or the other of these designs has been used in most Gandhi Ashrams throughout the country. I have myself used one of them (the trench latrine) for many years and found it quite satisfactory. In recent years many people all over the world are making and testing new innovations. One that is getting a lot of praise is a Swedish design that I hear can be installed and used even in a multistory modern building. In this design together with the excreta all other organic household waste is composted for use in flower and vegetable beds or pots.

In the rural areas we can easily develop hygienic and decent ways of depositing our excreta directly on the ground. In good living soil it decomposes in a week or less and turns into rich safe compost loved by plants. I know this from personal experience. All my life while living in rural areas or visiting them I have avoided using indoor facilities. I cover the material with mud or cowdung if I can find some lying around. At times I use grass or dead leaves. A bonus one gets from this method is that by examining our own stool we can know if we are eating the right food in right amount. For instance if my stool stinks the food in my stomach is petrifying; I need to regulate my diet.

Twenty years ago I knew an American maverick who lived on a small homestead in Maine and used only his simple dry latrine where he used saw dust. The city came to know about it and tried to open the law book to him. He refused to obey the wrong law. The city backed out fearing adverse media publicity.

This man used to produce a monthly newsletter for limited circulation. I was one of his customers. In one of the issues he said to the effect that the flush latrine was one of the three most dangerous inventions of man; the other two being nuclear reactor and the automobile. Events of last 20 years are proving his prophetic words.

Let me end by saying that I am neither an expert nor a missionary. I am only sharing my experiences. Use your own judgment. If you think I exaggerate, press the erase button and forget it. But if you think there is truth in what I say then think and do what you can.

March 11, 2006

Mira and Krishna

2008-12-01T03:34:00.000-08:00

Mira and Krishna

Mira was so deeply in love with Krishna that, day and night, she thought of none else. Her parents married her to a Rajput prince hoping that she would change; but she refused to accept her wedded husband as her man. She openly admitted her love for Krishna and declared that she was as good as married to him.

All this was scandalous among her people in those times. But Mira was so firm in her resolve that no amount of opposition succeeded in bending her. After years of struggle she gradually became relieved of family resistance and was free to move around in pursuit of her goal.

Mira wanted so urgently to meet Krishna that she began traveling to places associated with his life mentioned in the epics (Brindavan, Dwarika, Mathura). A close friend once suggested a visit to Dwarika on the sea coast in Gujrat. In those days such journeys were not easy for one had to go in a caravan of bullock carts and horses and be prepared to face bandits and other hazards. So, after necessary preparations Mira set out to go to Dwarika, about a thousand kilometers away from her native Udaipur.

One late evening during this trip she arrived at a large city. Local people directed her to a Dharamshala (an inn) to spend the night. It was attached to a Krishna temple and the mahant (title of the local person in charge of a Dharamshala) was a highly respected elder of the city.

Mira wrote down a brief introduction and asked the doorman to seek the permission of the Mahant to stay in the inn as a guest for two or three nights. The gateman went inside and delivered the note. The Mahant asked and the gateman described the visitor as a young princess dressed like a saintly recluse. He gave other details about the entourage that he had learned or guessed.

Considering everything it appeared to the Mahant that he should avoid the mad sounding princess. He sent word that according to the prevailing policy of the establishment he could not entertain a single woman. To underline the excuse he said that since he himself was a single male resident in the premises it was improper to allow a single female visitor.

On hearing this Mira said: "but to my understanding there is only one male in the universe and that is Krishna. All of us, male or female, are gopis (Krishna's beloveds)… Our goal is to become one with Krishna; our lover. Physical male or femaleness is irrelevant…. Why then should your Mahant be concerned about such a trivial matter?"

The Mahant was hearing Mira's discourse from behind the closed door, and being an ardent devotee of Krishna he was able to comprehend the deeper meaning of what Mira was saying. As he heard her wise and knowing words he became curious about the strange visitor. The depth of Mira's devotion and the clear truth in her word made him speechless. He realized that he should not fritter away a rare opportunity to meet and serve a great saint. He opened the gate and personally escorted Mira and her companions into the Dharamshala.

March 4, 2006

GIVE MORE

2008-12-01T03:32:00.000-08:00

GIVE MORE

A Native American child was constantly advised to give more, not less.

A young father is arranging a ceremony to honor his stepdaughter. He
consults his wife. She says, "All I know to say is that we should be
generous; more rather than less generous. But you should ask our old
father. He will give right advice. I will also consult our mother. We
should then do what they say."

He goes to his father and asks: "Father, how much and to whom should
we give by way of gifts?"

The father answers after a long moment of quiet thinking: "Son, give
the maximum you can afford. This is what we have always done. And give
to all the families in our community, ALL. We must also send gifts to
our close relatives in other communities. Main message of all our
celebrations is to strengthen the spirit of generosity. Remember, the
more people give the more everyone receives."

Nothing is Too Good to Give
A renowned priest is visiting a community to perform the naming rite
of an infant. Children go to visit him. A boy asks his grandfather:
"What gift should I take to the honored man?"

Grandpa advises: "He is a man of few needs and his tipi is almost
bare. But you must not go empty handed. You may take for him just one
small thing, but it should be something precious; the thing you most
cherish. Know that nothing is too good to give; even your beloved best
horse. Remember, what you give him will soon go to someone who needs
it more than you. This is what my father would have advised me to do.
From the beginning of time this is our tradition."

May 28, 2006
(Written and sent on May 30th)

--

Difference Between Two Musicians

2008-12-01T03:31:00.000-08:00

Difference Between Two Musicians

King Akbar kept nine distinguished men in his court; they were
referred to as 'the nine gems'. One of them was a musician named
Tansen. In his time, had no equal in the entire world. It is said
that by playing deepak raaga (i.e. the lamp song) he could put out all
lamps in the city of Agra, and by another variant of the song light
them again.

One evening after an inspiring performance Akbar asked Tansen if he
knew anyone anywhere who played better music. "Yes," said Tansen.
Akbar was surprised and wanted to know who he could be. Tansen
replied. " My guru Haridas, of course."

"Invite him to our court; we would like to hear his music." Tansen was
quiet for a long moment and then said, "But that is impossible. He
will not come. To hear him we will have to go to him." Akbar agreed.
So, one day, disguised as a peasant he accompanied Tansen to Guru
Haridas's humble hut outside a small village.

Tansen asked Akbar to sit under a tree while he went inside the hut.
The guru was taking a siesta. Tansen went quietly to the veena and
deliberately struck a wrong note. The guru opened his eyes and seeing
Tansen on the musical instrument shouted a strong complaint: "Tansen,
you fool, all your training has gone to waste."

Tansen folded his hands and fell at the guru's feet. "Guruji, I have
come to hear you sing so that Ma Saraswati will again smile on me."
Smiling, Guru Haridas said, 'You rascal,' and picked up the veena. As
he played, whole universe became still. Birds in the sky lost their
sense of direction and trees began to sway. Animals, insects, plants,
human beings, air and water listened with rapt attention. It was a
rare feast for all. Akbar was in a trance.

After the guru stopped playing, the spell he had caused lingered for a
bit and then all returned to normal again. Tansen returned to Akbar
and found him in rapture. When he came to, he said, "This is sublime
music. Why can't you sing like that? Will the time ever come when you
too can play like your guru?"

"No, I am afraid, sir, never."

"Why not Tansen? You are the world's best musician. What is the
difference between you and your guru?

"The difference, sir, is this. My guru sings to the master of the
universe and I to a mere Emperor."

May 20, 2006

--

Palace on Fire

2008-12-01T03:30:00.000-08:00

Palace on Fire

Siddharth Gautam wakes up at 2:00 am. Yashodara and little Rahul are fast asleep. He looks at them lovingly and wants to say proper farewell. But for fear that his resolve might weaken, he decides to tiptoe out of the room. Down the stairs and out of the palace he goes.

Sumant is waiting with the chariot. Siddharth gets aboard and they race toward the river long distance from Kapilvastu. No one is up and about at that hour of night. The guards at the city gate dare not halt the royal carriage driven by Sumant.

The chariot reaches the river and over the bridge it goes. On the other side of the river Sumant pulls the reins to stops the horses. The prince is still in the chariot. With folded hands and tears in his eyes the chariot driver speaks.

"Dear prince, think again. Look back. Even from this distance the palace looks magnificent. Its golden domes glow beautifully. Inside it, as we know, every comfort and luxury is provided. I cannot imagine anyone not wanting what is already yours. But here you are, turning your back on it. Do you realize that all this is due to your good fortune? Such luck is very rare in this world. Once you throw it away, you may never get it back again. Think, prince, I beseech you."

Siddharth answers, "Sumant, if your house were on fire, would you stay put and burn, or would you go out to a safe place?"

Sumant, "Seek a safe place, of course; but why do you ask, prince? Your palace is not on fire. Why do you run?"

Siddharth, "I see what you don't see. I see that palace engulfed in red-hot flames. They burn me from inside and cause insufferable misery. The invisible fire in the palace is fed by greed, lust for power, a million desires, and fear. If I live there, I will roast till the end of my life. The palace is on fire; it is clear as day to me."
"I, therefore, seek liberation from this manmade inferno. I cannot run away from life but I can find peace and joy through enlightenment. That is what I seek, and not just for myself. I seek it for all humanity."

So saying, Siddharth abruptly gets down from the chariot, turns, and begins to walk away as fast as his legs can carry him. Sumant keeps looking. Siddharth does not turn to look back even once. He is gone."

One wonders if the flame of greed is stronger today than it was then.
Partap
June 24, 2006

--

Last Survivor of a Native American Tribe

2008-12-01T03:28:00.000-08:00

Last Survivor of a Native American Tribe

Ishi was born in 1961in the Yahi tribe, in northern California. By the time when he was ten years old European gold seekers arrived in the area and soon killed all the Indians. A few, like Ishi, escaped and hid
in a protected shelf of a canyon. They set up a village and lived by the old, very successful, way of the Yahi. In 1908 some power company workers discovered them and they were disbanded and scattered. Ishi
wandered off and survived as a rabbit in the civilized world until he was found in a slaughterhouse in a nearby town in 1911. They found him in a corral that he had entered in panic together with the cattle.

Anthropologist Alfred Kroeber arranged to adopt him as member of his family. Ishi lived with the Kroebers until his death in 1916 leaving an indelible imprint on all of them.

Kroeber arranged to obtain a workplace for Ishi in the University of California museum. In the five years of his association with the museum researchers recorded a wealth of information stored in Ishi's head. Added to all this there was much unique information that Theodora Kroeber wrote down in her diary from direct observation of her amazing guest. She published it in her book, Ishi: Last of His Tribe. I have obtained a copy and you might hear more about what is in it.

Here, I quote two people who had close contact with Ishi.

Alfred Kroeber: "He had mastered the philosophy of patience, without trace either of self-pity, or of bitterness to dull the purity of his cheerful enduringness."

Saxton T. Pope: "He looked upon us as sophisticated children—smart, but not wise. We knew many things, and much that is false. He knew nature, which is always true. His were the qualities of character that
last for ever. He was kind; he had courage and self-restraint, and though all had been taken from him, there was no bitterness in his heart. His soul was that of a child, his mind that of a philosopher."

Ishi died at age 55 peacefully and with joy in his heart; also, in the manner of the Yahi, with all death rites, just as he would have wished. His friends were near him and they had heard and learned the
tribal rituals from him. All details of the death ritual were meticulously performed and Ishi was given a loving farewell. His bow and arrows, some corn meal, and his cow pin were buried with his body.

Bye, till we meet next Saturday!

Partap
June 17, 2006

--
Partap
A-7 Whitefield Ville
Bangalore-560066

Dealing with Murder

2008-12-01T02:34:00.000-08:00

Dealing with Murder

If we live by the dictum 'eye for an eye'
the process may continue
till all of us turn blind.

Imagine a Native American camp 300 years ago somewhere in the American Midwest. A young man of an Omaha tribal camp is murdered. People are deeply hurt. Young men clamor for revenge. In small communities where people know each other there are no secrets; everyone knows the murderer and the antecedents. So, a murderer cannot run and hide, for no one would give protection. In a week's time he is captured and brought to camp.

Murder is a serious matter in Native American societies. So on a day fixed for the trial almost the whole community has gathered, i.e. all the men and many women. Everyone is standing forming a big circle. The council of elders sits in a prominent place so that all can see and hear them. The murderer is brought inside the open space in the circle. He walks around with head bent and eyes downcast. Everyone has seen him before and knows who his relatives are. One or more men of his camp might be in the crowd; but they only observe, none of them are there to defend him. His people know that he is guilty and to defend him would mean war. Surely many more deaths would occur and long time enmity ensue. They also know the dignity, strength, and fairness of tribal justice.

The young man knows he will be killed, but he is brave; he does not seek pity or pardon. He had acted in a moment of blind anger, but he knows the severity of his deed. He is therefore prepared for the worst. The elders begin their deliberations. Most recommend death penalty.

After hearing everyone, the chief speaks: "Brothers, cousins, sons, nephews, today we have gathered over an unhappy incident. A young nephew is killed when he had long life ahead of him. His untimely death makes us cry like children in public even though we are grown men. I can see that you are very angry. I do not blame you for wanting revenge. But I want you to know that death to the killer is an easy, cowardly, thoughtless penalty. I am sure you also know that this can lead to a chain of killings.

Yes, there is a wiser and more humane alternative. But we have to be very brave, for it is difficult beyond endurance. And it is not my original idea. I have witnessed our ancestors applying it many times. Are you ready to consider it? All the elders gestured yes.
The chief said, "make this young man a cousin to replace the one who is no more."
Nobody opposed the idea. The Chief gestured to some young men to give gifts to the youth. The young man was dumb struck, but he bowed to the offer. Mustering all his strength of character he lived the rest of his life as an ideal relative in the new camp.

Partap
June 10, 2006

--

Always Share

2008-12-01T02:32:00.000-08:00

Always Share

Native Americans were just like you and me, neither saints nor brutes, but capable of being either or both sequentially. My curiosity about them is aroused because of their utterly marvelous cultures. They lived by them happily and in good health on this vast continent for 30 to 50 thousand years without damaging natural environment. These cultures evolved slowly by trial and error like all things in nature and were rooted in tenets as relevant today as then.

When a hunter killed a buffalo, or a deer, and his family members gathered to slaughter it, the elders invited all the families in the camp to come and take some meat. The best portions were offered to them. But etiquette required that they take the less desired pieces in moderate and appropriate quantity. So whenever any hunter made a kill everyone got a share of food.

In season, wild fruits appeared on the trees in large quantities; also berries on bushes. Families that had many hands picked huge mounds of them. But before doing anything further, they offered them to others who were unable to collect enough. These products were dried and kept for winter when nothing grew and food was scarce. The rule of sharing applied also to vegetables and all other foods.

In sharing food people were extra generous to the poor, for they recognized that everyone had to eat to live. Food was acknowledged as a gift from the Great Animator and it was for all. No one had the right to keep it in storage while some people of the camp were hungry. In small, close knit communities everyone knew if a family did not have food.

Sharing of food was not mere altruism; it was a form of insurance. If you gave to others, you also got from them when they had surplus. In this way waste of food was prevented and everyone had food to eat most of the time. People knew that meat as well as many other foods would spoil if not eaten in a few days. It is also obvious to all that if one did not share, one would overeat and get sick. So it was wise to share.

Did people in all Native American cultures share food generously? Studies of hundreds of cultures reveal that the answer is yes.

I have heard of only one exception. Sadly, I do not remember the name of the tribe. I do vaguely recall that they lived somewhere in South America. Anthropologist who studied them talked of men and women who overate when there was food and starved when there was none. Bodies of both men and women were misshapen and most of them were in poor health. They are a rare example of a failure culture.

Food comes in spurts to people living in the forest. Sharing evens out the supply brings welfare and spells life.

Partap
June 3, 2006

--

What can we do?

2008-12-01T02:31:00.000-08:00

What can we do?

As I grow old my thoughts turn to the turbulent world around us. My head bends in shame when I remember that my generation is largely responsible. I know that I neither listened to my inner voice nor followed the advice of many wise men and women of the time. It is true that we inherited a culture already set on a destructive path but I feel sad that we failed to change its course. My head again bends when I think of the world my grandchildren are going to inherit. But I know better than ever that The Great Wisdom runs this universe. We don’t. Each one of us needs only to do his or her best. This thought brings peace to my old head. So, as you will presently see, I move right along and jabber!

The hottest topic of discussion these days is environment. But experience teaches me that it is also very complex. Most people agree that we have a problem, but some are sure we have crossed the point of no return and others think there is nothing to worry for we can repair the damage. I have also learned that almost everyone wants to know what they can personally do.

Knowing my nature, and many weaknesses, I avoid getting embroiled in sticky, meaningless arguments. I say I respect all viewpoints because to the viewers they are true. My viewpoint is one of many. It grows out of what I have gleaned from my life's unique circumstances and I am open to learning more and changing. I talk to share my view for it might have something of value to others. I have no desire to convert anyone. You should take what rings as true and leave what doesn't.

I begin by saying that I do not claim to know more than you about the experts' opinion, for I am sure you have read them more than I. Talk of global warming, holes in the ozone layer, water crisis, changing weather patterns alarm and excite us. In my younger days I used to get very agitated and vigorously preached what I thought people aught to know and do. I still catch myself doing that, but as I grow older this tendency is mellowing. I now take the word of "scientists" with a big grain of salt. Also, I test their theories against local developments that I can actually see. For instance it is easy to see water level in the village wells falling, stable rainfall patterns turning erratic, soil fertility deteriorating, summer heat rising and so forth. The changes everyone and I can directly see do indeed indicate deterioration of our environment. This way of knowing prompts us to find causes of these changes. It is easy to see that falling water level in the wells is linked with deep tube wells fitted with power driven pumps. With great speed they suck enormous amount of water from the ground. Other such links begin also to reveal themselves. So, the urgent need to change our own lifestyle becomes apparent.

Changing the world is difficult and beyond the power of the individual. But with relatively little effort individuals can change their own lifestyle. Once the process starts, living examples multiply and they speak louder than learned speeches. The list of 'what to do' is long and individuals must choose according to their particular situation. I offer just a few simple hints from personal experience.

1. If we buy less, we grow richer instantly. Pay off your debts and avoid gathering useful assets, including a bank balance

2. Eat healthy. Avoid junk foods, alcohol, tobacco, coffee, coke and you know what else.

3. Use or exercise all parts of the body daily. Choose gadgets free exercises such as walking and yoga.

4. You know your body better than your doctor, for you live in it all the time. Learn to hear the body and heed its calls. Take care of minor ailments by home remedies. Resting when tired, adjusting food intake, and periodic fasting can do much. Avoid doctors for minor aches and fevers. If you break a bone or have a serious illness, consult a wise and principled physician.

5.Cut down on watching TV.

6. Read less and very selectively. Contemplate more.

7. If possible live in a house with a yard where you can grow your own fruits and vegetables.

8. Walk and bike more and cut down on car use.

9. Take a job in a small town even with a lower salary.

10. Reduce the use of detergents, soaps, cosmetics, and body conditioners.

11. Grow a beard if you are a male and save time and money!
Partap
July 22, 2006

Unfinished Monkey Story

2008-12-01T02:30:00.000-08:00

Unfinished Monkey Story

Few days ago our granddaughter Vibha's teacher invited me to tell stories to her class. I went and told them some monkey stories that we commonly hear in India. One of them was the story in which the crocodile's wife wants to eat the monkey's heart. The crocodile reluctantly agrees to bring his friend the monkey to her. He invites him to dinner. The monkey agrees and rides on his back to go to his house. When they reach the middle of the lake the crocodile tell him the truth. The monkey apparently fools the crocodile by telling him that he had hidden his heart in the tree for safekeeping. The crocodile brings him back to the tree to fetch the heart. I ended the story by saying that the safe and happy monkey said to the crocodile: "Now go and tell your wife that you are the dumbest crocodile in the whole world." The children laughed.

But I have been thinking whether the monkey had really said that. Monkeys are very clever and wise animals. How then could he have said such an unkind thing to a dear friend? It does not make sense, does it?

So I racked my brain very hard to recall the truth of the matter. Finally, I realized that I had foolishly left out the crucial tail end of the story. To make amends, I have written it down for you. I apologize for the slip up and hereby send it to you.

The crocodile quietly left on hearing the monkey's unfriendly chastisement, but he returned the following morning to eat the jamuns.

The monkey was pleased to see his friend and said: "Friend, I apologize for my dumb, unkind remarks. You and your wife brought my life so close to an end that I was scared to death and driven out of my wits. In haste I assumed that you brought me back to the tree because you were fooled by my ploy. But after thinking with a cool mind I know it cannot be true. Being so old and pensive, you must be ten times wiser than I. How could my simple ploy fool you even for a second?"

"I know that crocodiles are carnivorous but I also know that you love me and never wish to harm me. It was your wife who forced you to seek my heart. To save my life you quietly pretended to swallow my ploy. Please forgive my bad behavior. I suggest we forget the whole incident and carry on being good friends. Come everyday for the jamuns. I will gladly give them to you for you and your wife."

Partap
July 15, 2006

Ramakrishna's Love for Food

2008-12-01T02:27:00.000-08:00

Ramakrishna's Love for Food

In my favorite picture of Ramakrishna he is eating Indian sweet called laddu. Standing in a temple with the idol of Goddess Kali behind him, he has bitten into a laddu. He is now chewing it. The remaining half of the sweet is in his right hand. On his outstretched left hand there is a tray full of laddus. He is not dancing but it appears that he is. His munching mouth exposes his front teeth. His eyes are lit with laughter and focused far beyond. Joy is reflected all over his face. He seems to be intoxicated. This type of ecstatic mood is typical of Ramakrishna.

Ramakrishna loved all foods, not just sweets. Perhaps he experienced the divine through his sense of taste. Not strange. Isn't food the giver of life, and therefore Brahma? As food went past his taste buds and entered his stomach a sense of joy radiated and filled his entire body. At times he would become unconscious and remain so for hours. Sometimes he would walk out of a gathering of disciples, run to the kitchen, smell or taste what was ready, and dart back. His wife, Ma Sharada, at times felt embarrassed wondering what people would think. But Ramakrishna was oblivious, for he knew that some mysterious power was in control and he was doing its bidding. He never talked about his weakness for food because he said he did not wish to attract a following of gluttons!

Anyway, Ramakrishna enjoyed food all his life, experienced great joy, and kept quiet about it. His followers reverently ignored his weakness. Toward the end of his life he suffered cancer of the throat. He was unable to eat or drink for he could not swallow. Yet he was joyful as ever despite acute pain and denial of food. Calcutta's best doctors tried their best but failed to cure him.

One day Vivekananda and some other disciples were sitting with Ramakrishna. Vivekananda said to him: "Parmahamsa, your suffering is unbearable to us. Doctors have tried and failed to help you. It is a very difficult situation. Since you are so close to God, why don't you seek His help? I am sure your prayer will not be ignored."

Ramakrishna grinned and replied that he did ask Ma Kali to cure him.

"But do you know what she said to me?
'Ramakrishna, you have eaten and enjoyed enough food; it's time to stop. From now on you should relish what others eat. As food touches their taste buds and goes down their throats, you should feel as if you are eating it. Become one with your brothers and sisters.'

That I think is good advice, for I am the gainer. Earlier, I relished only what touched my taste buds; now I enjoy what all of you eat. My enjoyment is multiplied a thousand fold!"

Parmahamsa Ramakrishna left his body after about 8 days of fasting. His enchanting smile stayed on his face every minute of those days and it remained imprinted on it even after he departed from his body.

Partap
July 8, 2006

Survival Skills of Ishi

2008-12-01T02:23:00.000-08:00

Survival Skills of Ishi

From 1871, when he was 10, till his death in 1916, Ishi lived a very hard life. His people were hounded and hunted down by the saldu (Yahi word for barbaric whites) driven by lust for gold and land. His tribe was attacked, decimated and driven many times. In the end about 50 individuals escaped when the entire camp was massacred, and burned. For about forty years they hid in a canyon. Their numbers dwindled to 40 to 20 and finally to 1, Ishi. He lived alone for 3 years until 1911 when he was found and delivered to a museum. It is utterly remarkable that despite all these tribulations Ishi survived sound in body, sane in mind, and firm in spirit.

Plant foods. Ishi had vast knowledge of wild flora and he knew how where and when to find fruits, wild cereals, edible leaves, mushrooms and roots. He also knew how to grow corn, beans, tomatoes, and squashes in undisturbed soil. Upon harvesting various foods he was able to process and protect them from rodents, insects and rot. Many of these foods needed some amount of processing and cooking before they were fit to eat; Ishi knew how to do that.

Good hunter and fisher. He was a sharp shooter, which meant a good procurer of meat. Ishi could track expertly, attract animal and birds by calling, and walk or run day and night without food for four or more days. After making a kill he could carry a deer on his shoulders over a four-day walk. In season, when salmon and trout came up the streams for breeding, Ishi caught them with bare hands, net, or spear. He also caught small fishes in little ponds along the river in the deep valley.

Clothing. In Yahi tradition clothes were fashioned mostly by women from hides, and a variety of plant fibers. But men assisted them in this work and learned the basics. Ishi therefore was quite able to cover himself for decency and comfort even when he was left alone.

Cleanliness. Ishi kept his body clean and healthy by bathing and washing regularly with appropriate natural soap nuts and known soil chemicals.

Healthcare. He had vast knowledge of medicinal herbs, which he used to remain in good health. Ishi ate in moderation and fasted to allow the body to heal itself. From boyhood he was encouraged occasionally to live alone for a few days in a special tipi to fast and meditate.

Bow is better than the trap. Ishi had learned to love and respect all living beings: snakes, bears, deer, and rabbits. He was taught to refer to them as brothers or sisters, and always remember to thank them for giving of himself. He and his tribal brothers never killed except for necessary food. Once he found an animal suffering intense pain from injury caused by the trap he had set. He vowed to prefer bow and arrow in future. Kindness to animals gave him tremendous moral strength.

Not all saldu are bad. Ishi had every reason to hate the saldu for their cruelty to his people for mere greed of land and gold. Indeed, he occasionally thought of waging a war against them. He was strong, brave and skilled enough to do a lot of harm to his enemies; but wise mentors restrained him. They told him that all white men were not bad. They also advised him to examine the ground reality before waging an all out war; for one man with a bow could not stand for long against 20 enemy with fire sticks (guns)? When young men and women talked constantly of saldu and their evil deeds, the elders told them that it was unhealthy.

By 1911 Ishi was no longer able to hide. He came into the open and fell in the hands of saldu. Luckily he quickly fell in the hands of a friendly sheriff. Ishi instantly and correctly read the man's face and shed all resistance. He became even more relaxed on reaching the university museum. They led him to his room and offered him a set of saldu clothes. He put them on, including the tie, but refused the shoes.
"Do you walk in them all the time? If your feet do not touch earth, how do they know where they are going?" He asked.
A Professor replied; as you well know, ours don't; most of the time.

Partap
July 1, 2006
P.S. (Ishi was born in 1861, not 1961, as wrongly said in story June 17, 2006.)

When God Was Disappointed

2008-12-01T02:22:00.000-08:00

When God Was Disappointed
( a story from the Arab land)

Long ago two beggars lived in the city of Medina. One named Kamal was blind and the other, Jamal, was lame.
They worked as a team for the blind carried the lame on his shoulders. The city being small in those days, the two earned a meager living even by working for long hours.

Most days they returned home with enough to buy the necessities, but sometimes their earnings were too small. On such days they tended to bicker and quarrel. Kamal would blame his companion for stealing and Jamal complained that they moved too slowly because of Kamal's laziness. They would argue till sleep gripped both. But indeed, carrying a grown man on his shoulders all day was not easy for Kamal even after years of practice. So, sometimes, even a minor criticism by Jamal made him flare up and use harsh words.

A blind man carrying a lame one on his shoulders is not a common sight. It provoked some spectators to taunt or cut jokes. One day a stranger remarked, "What is the difference between a donkey and a blind man?" Then he answered his own question by saying, "One carries diverse loads while the blind man carries a lame man on his shoulders." Hearing this some people chuckled. Unable to control himself Jamal too, burst into laughter. Kamal was livid with rage. He thought, 'this Jamal whom I carry all day is calling me a donkey. Who does he think he is?' The stranger's comment had hurt him but Jamal's laughter was unbearable.

Kamal turned around and started walking home. On arrival he dumped Jamal on the ground with a thud. Not expecting such behavior, Jamal was unprepared. He fell on his face and got badly injured. By chance a bamboo pole was lying nearby. He picked it up and hit Kamal on his head. His scalp was cut and blood began to flow. A flood of accusations ensued. Each partner swore at the other to hurt. This went on till both were exhausted. Next day they were unable to go to work and lay in bed hurting, cursing, and feeling miserable

God was, of course, watching from on high. Filled with pity, He decided to help. Appearing before the beggars he told them who he was, and also why he had come. He turned first to Kamal and said, "To help you, I grant you a boon. You may ask for anything you wish and it will be given." Kamal was still seething with anger. Without taking even a minute to think, he said, "Jamal is an evil man. Take away his eyes. That will make me happy."

God was stunned for he had not anticipated such a response. But before doing anything further he decided also to ask Jamal. He too was burning with rage. He said, "The boon I ask for is that you take away both of Kamal's legs."

God was puzzled for he did not know what he should do. Having granted the boons he was duty bound to give what the two men had asked for, but he felt bad to deliver misery when he had come to relieve it.

On returning to heaven God thought: 'what has gone wrong? Humans are the most intelligent of all the animals I have created and see how low they have fallen. Tomorrow they may fight big wars with nuclear weapons. They may even start playing with the genome. Still worse, they may even want to kill me and take over my powers. They will make a terrible mess, and soon destroy themselves. I must do something to prevent it. Otherwise I will have a massive cleanup job on my hands."

No wonder our population is growing at an alarming rate, the globe is over warming, there is perpetual violence within and between nations, earthquakes have become more frequent, cyclones are more powerful, and there are myriad other upheavals in sight as well as over the horizon. Could these be God's warning signals?

August 5, 2006

World Was a Library

2008-12-01T02:20:00.000-08:00

World Was a Library

"Knowledge was inherent in all things. The world was a library…"
--Chief Luther Standing Bear, Oglala Sioux

These wise words of an American Indian sage remind me of my own life's knowledge learned from sources outside of the books. I learned in this way almost all my life, but the process became more conscious when I lived in rural settings for several years beginning in 1952. Let me illustrate by describing experiences of my second long sojourn in a village.

My family and I lived 8 years in a small village (1979 to 1987) in Central India where I led a natural farming experiment at a Quaker Center. Though it was a small institution we managed to generate our own big and small crises. At such times my wisest friend and counselor was a 100+ years old Pipal tree growing in the back of our house. I would meet him with a hug and quietly sit down leaning my back against his massive trunk. He spoke to me and often taught by sharing his own experiences. "Look at me," he would (of course quietly) say. "I have lived through bigger problems; but without fail, life dissolves them as butter on a hot pan."

Dogs taught me many things about health. For instance one or more of them would always come with me for morning walks. Sometimes when I over slept, a waiting dog would bark to wake and remind me. By this and other actions they taught me that exercise was as important for good health as right food. During these morning walks the dogs every day defecated on the ground; they would scratch the ground, drop their excreta, smell and examine it, then cover it with dirt. Following their good example I did as they. From them I learned the importance of checking excreta every morning to know if the food one ate the previous day was properly digested, whether the quantity and content were right, and how to adjust all these during the dawning new day. Vinoba Bhave who ate healthy diet in measured quantities all his life and also carefully checked his own body's functioning without help of pathologists endorsed this experience of mine. He used strongly to recommend "prabhate mala darshanam", i.e. every morning examine your own feces.

A bull taught me love. We had a young bull in our dairy named Bali. I had brought him from Jaisalmer, in Rajasthan, when he was less than one year old. Every morning and evening I would have a session of my petting him and his licking me. He expressed displeasure when I failed to visit him. At age 3 he was very big and strong like a full-grown breeding bull, but his actions were like a child's. Occasionally, when by mistake his enclosure's gate was left open, he would walk out to prance around and explore the world. People would get excited and try to send him back by shouting or brandishing sticks. These threats had as much effect on Bali as barking dogs on a passing elephant. As the last resort I would be called to intervene. Bali would come straight to me and licked my hand. We would walk around together for some time and then go back to the dairy. Once in his enclosure, Bali would start feeding from his manger. I would leave him never forgetting to say goodbye in our normal style.

I learned a great deal more from plants and animals then and am continuing to do so. The enduring lesson I leaned is that nature's wisdom is written clearly all around us, including our own bodies. Reading it can teach us more than the words heard from teachers or read in books.

Partap
September 23, 2006

Mother Earth

2008-12-01T02:18:00.000-08:00

Mother Earth

My human mother is my mother once removed,
my primary mother is mother earth.

She is the mother of my mother and of all beings,
plants or animals, big and small.

All Earth Mother's children are parts of her body,
hence needed and valued.

When we buy, cut and fence her we hinder normal
functions in Mothr's body and make her sick.

Furthermore, we dig her up with huge moldboard
ploughs, and pollute her with chemical fertilizers, and deadly poisons.

Quite visible symptoms indicate that she is sick
and getting sicker.

Mother's warning signals are loud and clear,
how much longer are we going to ignore them?

Time is running out.

Partap
September 9, 2006

Lion's Share

2008-12-01T02:16:00.000-08:00

Lion's Share

Nature's bounty is for ALL her children.
I can have lion's share only by humbling my brother.
To have a bigger share of world's resources nations must fight wars.
Yet, in the modern world it is considered smart to want the lion's share.
Think of the price of unjust sharing and know that it is smarter to share equally.

Partap
September 2, 2006

Fourth Ashram

2008-12-01T02:11:00.000-08:00

Fourth Ashram

I grew up in a culture where birthdays are not celebrated: no party, no gifts, and no resolutions. It was just another day. I didn't even know my date of birth till age 17. My parents, of course, knew it and we all knew that we had our janma-patris (birth certificate prepared by the family priest). But mine, we thought, was lost in 1947 when our country was partitioned and we had to leave our home and all our possessions. On my first college admission form I put down a cooked up birth date. Then, mysteriously, my janma-patri reappeared. It was with some papers my sister had put away in a locker. I discovered that my true birth date is May 21, 1931.

We still do not celebrate birthdays but they are highlighted mentally. May 21st this year, however, was special, for I had turned 75. In the Vedic culture we are supposed to enter the contemplative life at this age. In this day and age very few people take this tradition seriously: but I am old fashioned. Since May 21st my mind began to throb and tick. It has been planning a course of action: 'As soon as you get back home its one meal a day, simpler dress, sleep on the floor, meditate all morning on empty stomach, be silent, cut out outer and inner noise, on and on ad infinitum! It puzzled and petrified me.'

Another, more sane voice then intervened. "Stop" it said. "Drop all your worthless plans. Your mind is having a gala time. It will go on like this and you will still be where you are five years from now. That is because for your mind planning is everything: work is not important."

You must enter contemplative life (sanyas) now. Right this minute. You need to shed your mind's baggage. Seek the light of the Great Spirit and walk the path lit by it. It will guide your every step if you submit. Be ready to receive help moment to moment. Be empty, humble, and obedient. Not easy, but the only choice for you.

I am awe struck and very happy.

Partap
October 25, 2006

Only Forgiveness Can End the Circle of Violence

2008-12-01T02:10:00.000-08:00

Only Forgiveness Can End the Circle of Violence

(I have derived the following story from an article by Clarence Page in the Chicago Tribune.)

On October 2, 2006 a terrible incidence of violence occurred in an Amish village in Pennsylvania. A young milk delivery truck driver entered an isolated one-room school carrying a loaded rifle. He ordered the teacher and the male pupils to leave.

Eleven young girls, the oldest 13, were lined up for killing. The oldest girl, in order to gain time for the others, asked to be shot first. She was shot and killed. Her 11 years old sister offered to be second. She too was shot, but she survived. The gunman shot all of them killing five on the spot and injuring the rest. Then he shot and killed himself.

The girls' families and the entire Amish community felt shocked and hurt but they responded in a most extraordinary manner. They reasoned: 'all deaths are God's will. So we grieve but gracefully accept His will. The killer too is dead. His family too, like us, grieves. All of us, therefore, are victims of violence.

So, few days after the tragedy, the Amish organized a caravan of buggies and went to the killer's house to offer food and condolences to his grieving family.

Partap
October 14, 2006

Seeing Nature from Within

2008-12-01T02:08:00.000-08:00

Seeing Nature from Within

We acquire the habit of seeing nature only with our eyes and think that we are separate from it. In fact we are nature, and inseparable. Therefore if we can see from within, we get an entirely different view of what is around us.

A beautiful story in the Upanishads illustrates this. Briefly, the story is: a demon misbehaves with Shiva and his wife Parvati. Shiva gets angry and opens is third eye. Horrific hurricane with loud thunder ensues. When it passes, a lean demon appears with the intention of eating the bad one. The bad demon falls at Shiva's feet and is forgiven. The famished lean one asks Shiva what he should eat. Shiva tells him to eat himself. He obeys and begins from the feet. When only his face is left, Shiva stops him, names him kirtimukh (face of glory), and declares that his icon will be displayed outside all Shiva temples. It will teach people the truth that 'life eats life'. Deer eats grass, tiger meat, birds’ seeds, but all eat life.

Shiva, of course, is saying much more. He is teaching us that our eye sees in a limited frame. Mind can conceptualize and broaden our view but only a tiny bit. To get the true and full picture we must see the universe from within. Only then nature's working is revealed to us in its true form.

We are in fact life that temporarily manifests to animate our bodies. We therefore can see nature from within. By forgetting this we shortchange ourselves and invite misery.

Partap
October 7, 2006

Man without the Beasts

2008-12-01T02:07:00.000-08:00

Man without the Beasts

“What is man without the beasts? If all beasts were gone,
men would die from great loneliness of spirit, for whatever
happens to the beasts also happens to man. All things
are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls
the children of the earth.”
Chief Seattle
Suquamish and Duwamish

Every word of this wise Indian chief is true and incontrovertible. Yet knowingly and unknowingly we continue to destroy the beasts at an alarming rate. Many species have totally vanished, thousands are dying every day, and none are safe any more. We humans are the major cause of this and ironically, we too have become an endangered species.

Partap
November 25, 2006