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
(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
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
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
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
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
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)
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
(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
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