People fight. Everywhere and all the time. For money, land, work, possessions, but most of all, to feed their egos. They are not bad people. No one would make with his own hands a world of bad people. Only they do not know what they are doing. And when they realize, it could be too late. Too late to repent, too late to gather their courage and correct their wrongs.
Man is just not meant to live with others. He just cannot share his life, his actions, his mind with anyone else. For any two people are so very different from each other. And so they clash and they fight, to convince the other of their fault. Man is not witless. Yet his ego overshadows everything, until he has no energy left to fight or to pick up the reins. And at the end of it all, he still craves for the comfort of another hand to hold his.
He desires peace. And still his stubbornness leaves him no space to see the way to it. Through understanding; through acceptance of imperfections, their own and those of others. A way to have a perfect kind of happiness, where he may not have the ideal and yet can wish for no better. For if he can ever reach God, how can it be except through this state of having the most perfect happiness or knowing the most beautiful peace? Won't he listen and bend his knees; in prayer, in conciliation, in glory?
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Mumbai!
The impossibility of a city's existence strikes you. You step off a train onto a railway platform overflowing with people. They are men and women in formal wear, college students, casual laborers, newspaper vendors and beggars. Rushing through life. A city skyline beckons in the distance. You sit on the rocks, to take in the night sky, the jewels. You give your heart away to the place.
The world wakes up to a new dawn. Not Mumbai, the city never sleeps. There are always buses and trains to catch, offices and schools to run to, work to be done in shops and homes. Life does not stand still, never, not for anything.
Old tin roofs, large white clocks, tobacco stained walls, millions of lives breathe past you. You stand in relativity, in hushed surprise. The young ones cross the railway tracks to feel the adrenaline rush. Trains know better than to run late. Every 2 minutes, they arrive to whisk you off to wherever you have to spend the rest of your day.
Colors are everywhere. In streetlights, neon shop lights, sparkling glass buildings. The night smells of lashing waves, freshly caught fish, vada pav and kesar kulfi. Crabs bask in the evening light, cars flash by signals, the sun sets behind mountains or horizons. The millions of people suddenly materialize from nowhere, with no respect for those poor drivers the roads should belong to. And yet, they would willingly stop anytime to help give directions or watch roadside fights.
God casts his shadows over tall buildings, dark narrow roads, and the jewels come to life. The necklace of a Queen it is rumored to be. Nostalgia catches up as we remember the countless evenings spent strolling along Marine Drive. Sitting on the rocks and talking about life. Later we slept under the stars, ruffled by a gentle breeze. For all its noisy crowds, nothing could disturb the tranquility of the place.
There is a little place in our hearts for everyone coming here. We wait, we help, we touch, and we make a little space for you too. We do not need broad tree lined streets to make it a place worthy of being lived in. It is, and will be great for everything it is made of. Beauty lives in every wall and stone. Museums, churches and history amaze all. Mumbai has lived past that. The station is old, Victoria Terminus is astounding in its loveliness.
Terrorists those are, that walk in and try to burn holes in the city. Fear haunts us for a while, but we get back to our usual lives. A day or two, and it moves on. Life is full of hope and positive things. The city grows, against fear, against everything trying to drag it down. It was never crowned as the king. It grew into the financial capital of India.
For all of us who love Chinese dosas and every other experimental thing to eat, Dalal Street holds special meaning. Walk by and you see stargazers beguiled by the sight of the flashing screen. It would be sacrilege not to mention the kababs that can make a connoisseur faint from pleasure. No fancy Urdu names about generous leaders, the place is called Bade Miyan.
Child of the rain gods, Mumbai's people revel in its insanity. Stand near Worli Seaface and you can taste the salty drops as sheets of water spray you all over. A walk on a causeway over the sea brings you to the beautiful Haji Ali Dargah. Exquisitely constructed in the style of Indian Islamic architecture, the shrine is replete with legends about doomed lovers.
Bandra at the heart of Mumbai is enticing in its beauty. Old world bungalows on sloping roads, trees bending down to curtained windows, fishermen, rocks and sea. There is plenty for food lovers and no dearth of places to hang out - Biona, Lucky, China Gate, Pot Pourri, Hawaiian Shack, CCD, Bagel Place, Toto's, Poison.
MunnaBhai breaking bones, chasing girls and getting drunk. That is Dhobi Ghat.
The beach is just a few minutes away. If ever you feel like taking a walk, being by yourself, sitting down with the warmth of the sand grains beneath your feet. Sinking in the sand watching the sun go down. A sliver of red, a seductive glow bathing the sea in a silver sheen. Reflections..
Aksa, Madh and Marwe beaches are the perfect holiday spots with their many resorts, peaceful spots in a mad world. Juhu beach was the place we went to on Sunday evenings with our parents. Splashing about in the water, building sand castles and digging tunnels was followed by rides on the giant wheel and visits to the food stalls! The sev puri, pani puri and pav bhaji are beyond delicious, they are among the best you can find anywhere. And these Northerners think they know how to make chaat. The sight of colored Gola bottles always makes me long for my favorite - orange, kalakhatta and lemon.
You could be an auto driver or cruising in a fancy car, and yet you could not resist taking your eyes off the road to stare in wonder at the dark mysterious expanses of sea, the towers of diamonds built over you. They fly over the water, on the Bandra Worli Sea Link.
Earrings, sandals, hand bags, food stalls and coffee shops outside National's; you are lost in a maze of colors and girls bargaining with shopkeepers to bring down prices from 350 to 100. Linking Road in Bandra.
An old world mystique stuns you. World of sepia, of quaint little bungalows that have lived past the years. Quiet family homes framed in wooden arches, black iron gates creak open. From the sights and sounds of rushing madness to the smell of steaming chai and pakodas.
The mountains, lakes, the sea and mangroves have laid claim to these lands. Just as rich as the physical diversity is that of the communities, cultures and regions its people belong to. The imam calls for prayer while the young men dance to loud drums. Carols are sung while they hold burning candles. They cover their heads and are merciful in prayer. Life, in more than one way, is a celebration. A Jewish Synagogue stands tall in its uniqueness and beauty.
The slumdogs of Mumbai, chasing real planes. Listening to the rush of planes taking off and betting on which airline it would be. Running to the balcony with my brother, to check, to watch the dazzling firecrackers in the distance, spraying the skies with their glittering colors.
The green of the forests is a trick by magic. Silver waterfalls twinkle in your ears wherever you go. The roads to Kanheri and Lonavla charm you with their raw, wild beauty.
The summers are not really hot, the winters are not really cold, and often you cannot tell the difference between the two. At least you do not need a winter mist to hide those unlikable faces. Meeting the same people everyday; the same time, in the same compartments; making a journey together in local trains, the lifeline of Mumbai. Nothing beats the feeling of standing near the door of a fast train compartment and hanging out of it to feel the wind rush up to you. Escaping from the TC.
But it rains all right! That is an understatement. The downpours are crazy, wrath like; flooding streets, stranding people outside their homes, bringing life in a normally unstoppable city to an almost complete halt. And in this madness, you would find a couple of naughty urchins dancing in the rain and splashing in the puddles like they have never enjoyed life more! Makes you think about those little things that suddenly make you feel beautiful.
Spending a day at The Gateway and taking a launch ride to Elephanta Caves. Walking in the by lanes behind the Taj, all the way to the Prince of Wales Museum. Lying down in the grass at Azad Maidan. Heavens above you, counting diamonds.
The best part about the city is its people. They may be busy, but they would genuinely help you. No 'Sorry', 'Please', 'Thank You' needed. No worrying about courteousness and manners, no having to think twice before you speak. Everyone bothers only with their own work, not that of neighbors and acquaintances.
You can do anything you like here, Mumbai provides you with it all. They are equals, be they beggars or the rich, they live, eat and travel together. They are comfortable with themselves and happy with their lives. You have your own space, no one and nothing can threaten you anywhere, any time. There is a warm feeling, a feeling of returning home. No matter where you come from, you grow to love the place and its people.
Disclaimer: All photos are taken from the Internet.
The world wakes up to a new dawn. Not Mumbai, the city never sleeps. There are always buses and trains to catch, offices and schools to run to, work to be done in shops and homes. Life does not stand still, never, not for anything.
Old tin roofs, large white clocks, tobacco stained walls, millions of lives breathe past you. You stand in relativity, in hushed surprise. The young ones cross the railway tracks to feel the adrenaline rush. Trains know better than to run late. Every 2 minutes, they arrive to whisk you off to wherever you have to spend the rest of your day.
Colors are everywhere. In streetlights, neon shop lights, sparkling glass buildings. The night smells of lashing waves, freshly caught fish, vada pav and kesar kulfi. Crabs bask in the evening light, cars flash by signals, the sun sets behind mountains or horizons. The millions of people suddenly materialize from nowhere, with no respect for those poor drivers the roads should belong to. And yet, they would willingly stop anytime to help give directions or watch roadside fights.
God casts his shadows over tall buildings, dark narrow roads, and the jewels come to life. The necklace of a Queen it is rumored to be. Nostalgia catches up as we remember the countless evenings spent strolling along Marine Drive. Sitting on the rocks and talking about life. Later we slept under the stars, ruffled by a gentle breeze. For all its noisy crowds, nothing could disturb the tranquility of the place.
There is a little place in our hearts for everyone coming here. We wait, we help, we touch, and we make a little space for you too. We do not need broad tree lined streets to make it a place worthy of being lived in. It is, and will be great for everything it is made of. Beauty lives in every wall and stone. Museums, churches and history amaze all. Mumbai has lived past that. The station is old, Victoria Terminus is astounding in its loveliness.
Terrorists those are, that walk in and try to burn holes in the city. Fear haunts us for a while, but we get back to our usual lives. A day or two, and it moves on. Life is full of hope and positive things. The city grows, against fear, against everything trying to drag it down. It was never crowned as the king. It grew into the financial capital of India.
For all of us who love Chinese dosas and every other experimental thing to eat, Dalal Street holds special meaning. Walk by and you see stargazers beguiled by the sight of the flashing screen. It would be sacrilege not to mention the kababs that can make a connoisseur faint from pleasure. No fancy Urdu names about generous leaders, the place is called Bade Miyan.
Child of the rain gods, Mumbai's people revel in its insanity. Stand near Worli Seaface and you can taste the salty drops as sheets of water spray you all over. A walk on a causeway over the sea brings you to the beautiful Haji Ali Dargah. Exquisitely constructed in the style of Indian Islamic architecture, the shrine is replete with legends about doomed lovers.
Bandra at the heart of Mumbai is enticing in its beauty. Old world bungalows on sloping roads, trees bending down to curtained windows, fishermen, rocks and sea. There is plenty for food lovers and no dearth of places to hang out - Biona, Lucky, China Gate, Pot Pourri, Hawaiian Shack, CCD, Bagel Place, Toto's, Poison.
MunnaBhai breaking bones, chasing girls and getting drunk. That is Dhobi Ghat.
The beach is just a few minutes away. If ever you feel like taking a walk, being by yourself, sitting down with the warmth of the sand grains beneath your feet. Sinking in the sand watching the sun go down. A sliver of red, a seductive glow bathing the sea in a silver sheen. Reflections..
Aksa, Madh and Marwe beaches are the perfect holiday spots with their many resorts, peaceful spots in a mad world. Juhu beach was the place we went to on Sunday evenings with our parents. Splashing about in the water, building sand castles and digging tunnels was followed by rides on the giant wheel and visits to the food stalls! The sev puri, pani puri and pav bhaji are beyond delicious, they are among the best you can find anywhere. And these Northerners think they know how to make chaat. The sight of colored Gola bottles always makes me long for my favorite - orange, kalakhatta and lemon.
You could be an auto driver or cruising in a fancy car, and yet you could not resist taking your eyes off the road to stare in wonder at the dark mysterious expanses of sea, the towers of diamonds built over you. They fly over the water, on the Bandra Worli Sea Link.
Earrings, sandals, hand bags, food stalls and coffee shops outside National's; you are lost in a maze of colors and girls bargaining with shopkeepers to bring down prices from 350 to 100. Linking Road in Bandra.
An old world mystique stuns you. World of sepia, of quaint little bungalows that have lived past the years. Quiet family homes framed in wooden arches, black iron gates creak open. From the sights and sounds of rushing madness to the smell of steaming chai and pakodas.
The mountains, lakes, the sea and mangroves have laid claim to these lands. Just as rich as the physical diversity is that of the communities, cultures and regions its people belong to. The imam calls for prayer while the young men dance to loud drums. Carols are sung while they hold burning candles. They cover their heads and are merciful in prayer. Life, in more than one way, is a celebration. A Jewish Synagogue stands tall in its uniqueness and beauty.
The slumdogs of Mumbai, chasing real planes. Listening to the rush of planes taking off and betting on which airline it would be. Running to the balcony with my brother, to check, to watch the dazzling firecrackers in the distance, spraying the skies with their glittering colors.
The green of the forests is a trick by magic. Silver waterfalls twinkle in your ears wherever you go. The roads to Kanheri and Lonavla charm you with their raw, wild beauty.
The summers are not really hot, the winters are not really cold, and often you cannot tell the difference between the two. At least you do not need a winter mist to hide those unlikable faces. Meeting the same people everyday; the same time, in the same compartments; making a journey together in local trains, the lifeline of Mumbai. Nothing beats the feeling of standing near the door of a fast train compartment and hanging out of it to feel the wind rush up to you. Escaping from the TC.
But it rains all right! That is an understatement. The downpours are crazy, wrath like; flooding streets, stranding people outside their homes, bringing life in a normally unstoppable city to an almost complete halt. And in this madness, you would find a couple of naughty urchins dancing in the rain and splashing in the puddles like they have never enjoyed life more! Makes you think about those little things that suddenly make you feel beautiful.
Spending a day at The Gateway and taking a launch ride to Elephanta Caves. Walking in the by lanes behind the Taj, all the way to the Prince of Wales Museum. Lying down in the grass at Azad Maidan. Heavens above you, counting diamonds.
The best part about the city is its people. They may be busy, but they would genuinely help you. No 'Sorry', 'Please', 'Thank You' needed. No worrying about courteousness and manners, no having to think twice before you speak. Everyone bothers only with their own work, not that of neighbors and acquaintances.
You can do anything you like here, Mumbai provides you with it all. They are equals, be they beggars or the rich, they live, eat and travel together. They are comfortable with themselves and happy with their lives. You have your own space, no one and nothing can threaten you anywhere, any time. There is a warm feeling, a feeling of returning home. No matter where you come from, you grow to love the place and its people.
Disclaimer: All photos are taken from the Internet.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Your catharsis
Wish I could make beautiful music. Beautiful, touching, painful. Music that would slice through you, rip you apart, stab every particle of being, every moment of pain.
Toss me a line, throw me a hand. Watch pain spread like blood. Warm me in its flow.
Letting go is more memorable than holding on, chasing who knows what. Expectation is the root cause of all sorrow. Illusions mirage the only reality, pain.
Nature is not you. Camouflage yourself. Do not believe in god.
It is not a comfortable world out there. There are knives and they lie, cheat, deceive. They are out to get you. I revel in your betrayal. I fall prey to the world's madness. Who has ever been your friend? Death of a soldier is a number.
As it rains, I dance. Life runs in circles, thought of a good life acts trigger.
No! Time to let it out. Time to wake up to nothingness, to blindness. Do not give me a sign! Do not give me a fantasy, a hope! Lose myself in that quicksand. Phase the darkness. Merge with my world in insignificance. Your true creation. I see it. Wish I did not know hope! The wrong side. Helplessness grips.
Fall slave to music in my moment of weakness.
Toss me a line, throw me a hand. Watch pain spread like blood. Warm me in its flow.
Letting go is more memorable than holding on, chasing who knows what. Expectation is the root cause of all sorrow. Illusions mirage the only reality, pain.
Nature is not you. Camouflage yourself. Do not believe in god.
It is not a comfortable world out there. There are knives and they lie, cheat, deceive. They are out to get you. I revel in your betrayal. I fall prey to the world's madness. Who has ever been your friend? Death of a soldier is a number.
As it rains, I dance. Life runs in circles, thought of a good life acts trigger.
No! Time to let it out. Time to wake up to nothingness, to blindness. Do not give me a sign! Do not give me a fantasy, a hope! Lose myself in that quicksand. Phase the darkness. Merge with my world in insignificance. Your true creation. I see it. Wish I did not know hope! The wrong side. Helplessness grips.
Fall slave to music in my moment of weakness.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Angel
Have you ever felt yourself reflected in another person? Have you been tremendously comforted by someone's presence because it felt like being with a part of your soul? Have you been unafraid to confess everything you hold close to your mind because you knew that they would understand? Have you ever wished for an angel?
"Angel,
Put sad wings around me now
Protect me from this world of sin
We can find our way somehow
Escaping from the world we're in
To a place where we begin
When I close my eyes
I hear your velvet wings and cry
I'm waiting here with open arms
Oh can't you see
Angel shine your light on me
We'll meet once more I'll pray
When all my sins are washed away
Hold me inside your wings and stay
Oh take me far away"
- Judas Priest
Angel,
You flew down from the heavens one night
Into the world, to the waiting child
To always be with me
When you smiled into my eyes
Thoughts turned into dreams
Treading through desert lands
I wish you were here with me
Holding my hand
A thousand things you told me
In words unspoken etched in stone
Secrets I had dared not reveal
Fears and dying hopes
Oh how I waited for you to heal
Angel you comfort me
In a way I have never known
Your memory is a beautiful rose
Angel of love, fly away with me
"Angel,
Put sad wings around me now
Protect me from this world of sin
We can find our way somehow
Escaping from the world we're in
To a place where we begin
When I close my eyes
I hear your velvet wings and cry
I'm waiting here with open arms
Oh can't you see
Angel shine your light on me
We'll meet once more I'll pray
When all my sins are washed away
Hold me inside your wings and stay
Oh take me far away"
- Judas Priest
Angel,
You flew down from the heavens one night
Into the world, to the waiting child
To always be with me
When you smiled into my eyes
Thoughts turned into dreams
Treading through desert lands
I wish you were here with me
Holding my hand
A thousand things you told me
In words unspoken etched in stone
Secrets I had dared not reveal
Fears and dying hopes
Oh how I waited for you to heal
Angel you comfort me
In a way I have never known
Your memory is a beautiful rose
Angel of love, fly away with me
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Dispelling the Darkness around Aghoris
Deep in the dense jungles of Bengal, the hot deserts of Gujarat and the cremation grounds of Varanasi, exists an order of ascetics known as the Aghoris. One of the most extreme and feared of all sects of sadhus, they are abhorred for their cannibalistic habits and revered by rural Indians for their Tantrik healing powers. The burning grounds of the Hindu dead is their place of meditation. These followers of Lord Shiva worship his third face or the destructive side of the god. They indulge in meat eating, alcohol drinking, consumption of beverages and foods with opiates, hallucinogens and cannabis products, and Tantrik sexual rituals.
In essence, Aghoris base their beliefs on two principles. First, that Shiva is perfect. Second, that Shiva is responsible for everything; every rock, tree, animal, and every thought. Everything that exists must be perfect, and to deny the perfection of anything would be to deny the sacredness of all life in its full manifestation as well as to deny the gods and goddesses and the demigods in their perfection.
It is for this reason that an Aghori lives a simple yet extremely challenging life. For 12 years he meditates in the name of Lord Shiva and eats everything from human faeces to the flesh of dead bodies. Aghoris believe in preserving the perfection of nature and would never touch fruits or food that requires cooking. They see no difference between chicken and human flesh. To them both are meat and when they have a sudden hunger or desire to eat, they can have anything. At such times, the feeling is so overpowering that they do not know what they are eating or doing. The power in them is so strong that they can consume an entire human body,
An Aghori does not hold hate in his heart. They believe that one who hates cannot meditate. Sharing food with dogs and cows does not sound repulsive to them, rather it is how they eat their meals - alongside the animals which frequent cremation grounds, out of the same bowl. It is their belief that if they were to start worrying about insignificant things like animals dirtying their food, they would not be able to focus on their higher aims of meditating and becoming one with Lord Shiva.
Once a powerful sect, Aghoris now are just a handful in number. The sect is not hereditary. Often men have been known to take it up as a challenge. The Hindu belief that the human soul reincarnates in an endless cycle of life, death and rebirth is embodied by Aghoris. Ultimate salvation is got when one can liberate himself from this cycle and this is what they try to achieve through their meditation. The cremation grounds are their empires, where they can get everything. Clothes and food are often left by relatives of the dead or drawn from offerings to the dead body.
The Aghori has no fear of the dead or the burial ground. His life centers around it and he lives there night and day. Fire, ash and wood is available in plenty. As flames reduce the body to ashes, it is returned to the elements from which it was forged. Ash is the cloth for Aghoris as was used by Lord Shiva. As his child, the Aghori must use it as well. Being made from the 5 elements, ash is essential to protect him from disease and mosquitoes. His constant state is to be one with Lord Shiva, and he starts to do this by imitating his physical appearance. Nothing can give them more pleasure than to be in this state.
The human skull or 'kapal' is the true sign of an Aghori. This is the first thing he must procure from the floating corpses of holy men in rivers where they are laid to rest. After he receives the magical incantation from his guru, he starts his life as an Aghori, eating the remnants of the dead and bathing in the icy waters of the Ganga. The fire pit is his temple, and the abode of ghosts and evil spirits his home. At night, when people do not go near cremation grounds for fear of ghouls and phantoms, he meditates in peace. Breaking the rules between the clean and the unclean, the pure and the impure is the way in which he hopes to gain magical powers to cure and heal.
The end of his education is signified by a visit to his home by his guru who chants sacred mantras to call the gods and goddesses to enter his body and talk to him. This is rumored to be the instant when the guru gives the Aghori the power to heal and drive away evil spirits. Their rituals are strange, as defined by instances when they are 'called' by the gods to consume food, drink or have sex. Alcohol and opium are widely consumed. In keeping with their convention of not disturbing the perfection of life, they drink from the blood of dead humans and eat from their flesh. A sex tradition is followed where at certain instances they must have sex with dead bodies which are found floating in rivers, not to appease their lust but to answer the call of the gods.
For an Aghori, God imbues everything, the best and the worst in the world. Nothing is profane, everything is sacred. The equality of all humans with the most powerful of animals, the most flighty of birds, the meanest of insects, the oldest of trees and the most insignificant of grains of sand reinforces their belief in the perfection of God and his creation, the universe. As they meditate, they ponder over deeper issues than we can ever imagine as being possible. The men of Shiva gain in wisdom, understanding, simplicity and humility.
The myriad ways of Hindu sects have rarely been known to advocate restraint from the world's pleasures, rather they support indulging in wealth, beauty, pleasure if one has the desire to do so. Aghoris have a healthy acceptance of tabooed people such as prostitutes. They call them mother or sister and eat with them in their homes, thus earning the respect of these socially unacceptable people. This is even when the world refuses to acknowledge their presence, while secretly alluding with these faceless in the safety of darkness.
Are the Aghoris cannibals who do not shy from necrophagy in any form or are they demigods capable of unleashing and controlling the power of spirits? Or are they really just men who live their lives in a reality impossible to be understood by us?
P.S. Anyone interested in starting a partial Aghori sect? We can skip the drinking blood and eating dead bodies part, but wouldn't it be cool to be in a sect where your God tells you, "Okay, you can have alcohol now because this is the sacred time for you to do so!"
In essence, Aghoris base their beliefs on two principles. First, that Shiva is perfect. Second, that Shiva is responsible for everything; every rock, tree, animal, and every thought. Everything that exists must be perfect, and to deny the perfection of anything would be to deny the sacredness of all life in its full manifestation as well as to deny the gods and goddesses and the demigods in their perfection.
It is for this reason that an Aghori lives a simple yet extremely challenging life. For 12 years he meditates in the name of Lord Shiva and eats everything from human faeces to the flesh of dead bodies. Aghoris believe in preserving the perfection of nature and would never touch fruits or food that requires cooking. They see no difference between chicken and human flesh. To them both are meat and when they have a sudden hunger or desire to eat, they can have anything. At such times, the feeling is so overpowering that they do not know what they are eating or doing. The power in them is so strong that they can consume an entire human body,
An Aghori does not hold hate in his heart. They believe that one who hates cannot meditate. Sharing food with dogs and cows does not sound repulsive to them, rather it is how they eat their meals - alongside the animals which frequent cremation grounds, out of the same bowl. It is their belief that if they were to start worrying about insignificant things like animals dirtying their food, they would not be able to focus on their higher aims of meditating and becoming one with Lord Shiva.
Once a powerful sect, Aghoris now are just a handful in number. The sect is not hereditary. Often men have been known to take it up as a challenge. The Hindu belief that the human soul reincarnates in an endless cycle of life, death and rebirth is embodied by Aghoris. Ultimate salvation is got when one can liberate himself from this cycle and this is what they try to achieve through their meditation. The cremation grounds are their empires, where they can get everything. Clothes and food are often left by relatives of the dead or drawn from offerings to the dead body.
The Aghori has no fear of the dead or the burial ground. His life centers around it and he lives there night and day. Fire, ash and wood is available in plenty. As flames reduce the body to ashes, it is returned to the elements from which it was forged. Ash is the cloth for Aghoris as was used by Lord Shiva. As his child, the Aghori must use it as well. Being made from the 5 elements, ash is essential to protect him from disease and mosquitoes. His constant state is to be one with Lord Shiva, and he starts to do this by imitating his physical appearance. Nothing can give them more pleasure than to be in this state.
The human skull or 'kapal' is the true sign of an Aghori. This is the first thing he must procure from the floating corpses of holy men in rivers where they are laid to rest. After he receives the magical incantation from his guru, he starts his life as an Aghori, eating the remnants of the dead and bathing in the icy waters of the Ganga. The fire pit is his temple, and the abode of ghosts and evil spirits his home. At night, when people do not go near cremation grounds for fear of ghouls and phantoms, he meditates in peace. Breaking the rules between the clean and the unclean, the pure and the impure is the way in which he hopes to gain magical powers to cure and heal.
The end of his education is signified by a visit to his home by his guru who chants sacred mantras to call the gods and goddesses to enter his body and talk to him. This is rumored to be the instant when the guru gives the Aghori the power to heal and drive away evil spirits. Their rituals are strange, as defined by instances when they are 'called' by the gods to consume food, drink or have sex. Alcohol and opium are widely consumed. In keeping with their convention of not disturbing the perfection of life, they drink from the blood of dead humans and eat from their flesh. A sex tradition is followed where at certain instances they must have sex with dead bodies which are found floating in rivers, not to appease their lust but to answer the call of the gods.
For an Aghori, God imbues everything, the best and the worst in the world. Nothing is profane, everything is sacred. The equality of all humans with the most powerful of animals, the most flighty of birds, the meanest of insects, the oldest of trees and the most insignificant of grains of sand reinforces their belief in the perfection of God and his creation, the universe. As they meditate, they ponder over deeper issues than we can ever imagine as being possible. The men of Shiva gain in wisdom, understanding, simplicity and humility.
The myriad ways of Hindu sects have rarely been known to advocate restraint from the world's pleasures, rather they support indulging in wealth, beauty, pleasure if one has the desire to do so. Aghoris have a healthy acceptance of tabooed people such as prostitutes. They call them mother or sister and eat with them in their homes, thus earning the respect of these socially unacceptable people. This is even when the world refuses to acknowledge their presence, while secretly alluding with these faceless in the safety of darkness.
Are the Aghoris cannibals who do not shy from necrophagy in any form or are they demigods capable of unleashing and controlling the power of spirits? Or are they really just men who live their lives in a reality impossible to be understood by us?
P.S. Anyone interested in starting a partial Aghori sect? We can skip the drinking blood and eating dead bodies part, but wouldn't it be cool to be in a sect where your God tells you, "Okay, you can have alcohol now because this is the sacred time for you to do so!"
Monday, November 9, 2009
Dusk
The skies are grey, and I've been walking all day. Waiting in the clouds, shadows raining down on me. I smile in the dark. No one can see me. I look into the eyes and they hold back their tears. The stars were shining a moment back, they left me a trail. I reach out to touch them. The spark is gone, the light burns no more. A promise that was, near perfection; that was, unkept. It still lingers within. The dust in my eyes blinds my sight. Dance and twirl ends it all. And I leave behind a wake of agony, grief, desolation. Life vanishes without a trace. Hope surfaces in an instant, the moors are wild with despair. Signs are long lost. The night is mine, and mine alone. I can hear the music, it still plays in me.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Memoirs of "Shodh Yatra"- A trip to Mizoram
A week in the wild
Shodh Yatra is a course offered to 2nd year students at IIM-A, wherein a group of students led by Prof Anil Gupta, visit an Indian place with the objective of learning from the local people, nature, from our colleagues and ourselves. This year, a group of 27 students visited Mizoram in the far North-east, a state about which we knew little. Going there with open minds and looking for new experiences, for most of us it was a great opportunity to tour Mizoram and have a good time with friends.
Day 1
We took a connecting flight from Ahmedabad to Aizawl, via Delhi and Guwahati. Once at Aizawl, we met our guides, Robert and Bawitlung and learnt that we were to undertake a 10 hour bus ride to Champei, the 3rd largest city in Mizoram. Stiff with cramps though we all were, we played Antakshari for long hours, catering to different genres like mawali, romantic [;)]. Stopping on the way at a teaplace to grab a bite, we finally reached Champei which was in the south of the state at close to 4 am in the morning. Exhausted, we collapsed in our rooms, little knowing that this was the last time we would be seeing anything akin to a hotel or villa for the next 5 days!
Day 2
Refreshed after a long sleep in the cold, we ate and were briefed by the professor on what was expected from us during the course. We met our trekking guides, Mafaka and Angu and finally embarked on the trek! After an introduction session sitting down on a rocky path, all of us enthusiastically volunteered to take a shortcut that would bring us closer to the forest. We started an arduous uphill climb that offered some breathtaking sights of the surrounding mountains. Often, we stopped to drink water at the local houses or simply to look at the adorable kids! We took every chance to splash ourselves with ice-cold water from the waterfalls everywhere.
Towards evening, we walked to our campsite on the outskirts of the village, Ngur. It was beautiful, watching the sunset, the mountainside bathed in a golden glow, the sky a seductive shade of blue and orange. The first of our discussions took place with all of us sitting in a tent, which ended with Milam asking for some much needed 'food for thought'. Dinner was quite an experience, under the clear star studded sky. It was time for some fun after the tiring trek. A couple of guys collected firewood and Patwa started a fire (using his 'desert skills'). What followed were some amazing song and dance performances. Anna (for Chane ke khet mein {we would have more of that later}) and Lars (for all the enthusiasm and walking on hands!) deserve a special mention.
Day 3
The day started with a bus ride to the entrance of Murlen National Park where we were told that we would have to carry all our requirements for 2 days as the bus could not traverse those tracks. Okay, bad idea to carry all your stuff while trekking up! It was a quiet walk, on narrow paths snaking around picturesque tree covered hill slopes. The intense sun made it a tiring walk, though the passion fruits, "Happy Powder" and walking sticks we extricated from fallen tree branches eased things a lot! Around afternoon, we reached a beautiful clearing which housed 3 forest lodges and learnt that that was to be our campsite for the night. A discussion on "Learning from Strangers " ensued, which Daddu successfully turned into a discussion on "The generation gap between parents and children". A hot topic indeed, we continued to talk about it during our night session as well!
At 3 in the noon, we walked down to a village and visited the house of the village headman. All of us enjoyed having locally made grape wine so much so that we carried back a few bottles for later consumption. The 4 level cooking mechanism and the crabs they were cooking for dinner held our fascination. On reaching back, we settled in one of the lodges and played "Truth and Dare" which saw some brilliant questions, answers and dare suggestions (read "Rahul S K"). Geeta wrapped it up with a very realistic sounding "Save me Please!" drama in front of our guide Bawitlung. Dinner and we were back in our sleeping bags, Dhiresh trying to eavesdrop on people's conversations. [;)] The only disturbances during the night were fireflies and Parcel grunting as he kept hitting the wall in the 5 ft of space he was trying to sleep in.
Day 4
The next morning saw us up early as we wondered what we would face that day (we were told that it was to be the longest and most difficult trek so far). The 'jungle trek' was tough no doubt, but the most memorable yet. At the start, we merely had to find our way through ankle deep mud and slosh, wade through narrow streams, walk on dirt tracks in grasslands (which many claimed were sure to grow marijuana), all the while being bitten by leeches and scraped by nettles. The forest was too dark and dense to follow the people ahead and see the ones behind, and we were soon divided into smaller groups, each one calling out to the others to Wait! We realized very soon that we were probably the first group of trekkers to go there, by the absence of clear tracks. In no time, we were taking the support of bamboos, rocks, hanging branches, walking sticks and one another to climb up or down. The slopes, wet with mud, made it easy to simply slide down them. Leroy let loose little landslides every time he slipped, and there was a close competition between some (including me) as to who fell or tripped the most. [;)]
The forest was beautiful and pristine, with trees and wild moss growing unevenly over the slopes. Tree stumps burnt black and log structures, now hidden by overgrown grass, were remnants of the practice of shift and burn cultivation practiced in those parts of the country in earlier times. Exhausted and bruised as we were, the sight of a clear path was a refreshing change for all. Singing as we walked back to the bus, the most entertaining sight was when we all turned around to see Daddu running top speed towards us! Just before leaving, we spoke to a few villagers who were very keen on knowing where we had come from, why we were there and what we thought of the place.
We were then taken to a stream near the village of Vapar, and it was with great relief that we bathed and washed ourselves off 2 and a 1/2 days of accumulated dirt. Climbing back to our campsite, where a tent had been set up as an extension of a shed, we had a discussion on "The role of Perfect Strangers". And finally it rained! (thankfully we were done with trekking by then!) The rains lashed outside, almost threatening to blow away our tent. At night, we went for walks on the bridge over the stream. Even our weariness could not help us fall asleep while being attacked by an army of mosquitoes. After trying unsuccessfully to sleep till 2 am and listening to Parcel shouting about a snake slithering over his sleeping bag (he still claims it was there), a few of us moved into the bus where we had an extremely sound sleep and which, after the tent, felt better than a Deluxe Suite.
Day 5
It was the day of reflection. After the traditional meal of rice, dal and potatoes, we all moved to find a place where we could have visible silence (we could not see one another). The 4 hours that we were left alone were a perfect time to explore the countryside and nearby farms. Sitting on some rocks in a stream, taking respite from the blazing sun, it was wonderful to reminisce about the pure fun we had had. In the afternoon, we left for Aizawl, a 13 hour journey which left us all dead tired. With a short halt at Champei and the same teaplace we had stopped at on the way there (here we were treated to some wonderful tasting Mizo delicacies), we reached the Yatri Niwas guesthouse at 4.30 am and simply crashed on our beds.
Day 6
Finally we were back amidst civilization! We were scheduled to meet the Chief Minister of Mizoram, Mr Pu Lalthanhawla that morning to discuss our trip, what we had come across and what we felt about the place, and to discuss possible steps to improve tourism in the state. We were treated to an extremely interesting talk on how hunters and poachers had nearly wiped out the wildlife of Mizoram. A meeting with the IT minister was up next, after which we were taken to a market to shop or eat as we wished. We had a good time browsing through the shops and checking out the collection of cane items (including an incredibly useful stool designed like cow skin) and locally made shawls.
And on the final day of the trip, we did manage to get wet in the rains! A treat was ensured to all meat lovers as we had chicken, mutton and pork momos in the evening. That night, we had our longest yet session with Prof Gupta discussing characters from books, movies and real life who had influenced us. That was the most enjoyable, educational and inspiring discussion we had on the entire trip.
Day 7
We had to wake up early the next morning and leave for the airport. Standing before our bus, we felt strangely emotional as we thought of the amazing times we had had in the last 6 days. [:)] An hour bus journey (which felt amazingly short considering the trips we had been making over the last few days) and "senti speeches" from our guides later, we had checked in at Aizawl airport. Parcel and I entertained the tiny audience with a dance performance on 'Jai Ho', originally meant to happen during the campfire on the 2nd night.
Our group split up as we had different flights to catch. With a stopover at Guwahati which was spent browsing the handicrafts store at the airport and Delhi, from where we went to Ambience Mall in Gurgaon, we landed at Ahmedabad at close to midnight. The last journey was one Kingfisher ensured would live up to the excitement of the last few days. It was rough weather, and in the last 1/2 hour of the flight, the lights to the emergency exits turned on as the plane shook violently causing Anna to exclaim "Aaj mera Sabarmati mein swim karke wapas jaane ka sapna poora hoga!" [:P]
That was it! A brilliant, truly awesome and memorable, magnificent trip full of great fun, entertainment, beautiful forests, sleeping bags and leeches, meeting new people, campfires, singing and dancing, and of course great trekking!!
Shodh Yatra is a course offered to 2nd year students at IIM-A, wherein a group of students led by Prof Anil Gupta, visit an Indian place with the objective of learning from the local people, nature, from our colleagues and ourselves. This year, a group of 27 students visited Mizoram in the far North-east, a state about which we knew little. Going there with open minds and looking for new experiences, for most of us it was a great opportunity to tour Mizoram and have a good time with friends.
Day 1
We took a connecting flight from Ahmedabad to Aizawl, via Delhi and Guwahati. Once at Aizawl, we met our guides, Robert and Bawitlung and learnt that we were to undertake a 10 hour bus ride to Champei, the 3rd largest city in Mizoram. Stiff with cramps though we all were, we played Antakshari for long hours, catering to different genres like mawali, romantic [;)]. Stopping on the way at a teaplace to grab a bite, we finally reached Champei which was in the south of the state at close to 4 am in the morning. Exhausted, we collapsed in our rooms, little knowing that this was the last time we would be seeing anything akin to a hotel or villa for the next 5 days!
Day 2
Refreshed after a long sleep in the cold, we ate and were briefed by the professor on what was expected from us during the course. We met our trekking guides, Mafaka and Angu and finally embarked on the trek! After an introduction session sitting down on a rocky path, all of us enthusiastically volunteered to take a shortcut that would bring us closer to the forest. We started an arduous uphill climb that offered some breathtaking sights of the surrounding mountains. Often, we stopped to drink water at the local houses or simply to look at the adorable kids! We took every chance to splash ourselves with ice-cold water from the waterfalls everywhere.
Towards evening, we walked to our campsite on the outskirts of the village, Ngur. It was beautiful, watching the sunset, the mountainside bathed in a golden glow, the sky a seductive shade of blue and orange. The first of our discussions took place with all of us sitting in a tent, which ended with Milam asking for some much needed 'food for thought'. Dinner was quite an experience, under the clear star studded sky. It was time for some fun after the tiring trek. A couple of guys collected firewood and Patwa started a fire (using his 'desert skills'). What followed were some amazing song and dance performances. Anna (for Chane ke khet mein {we would have more of that later}) and Lars (for all the enthusiasm and walking on hands!) deserve a special mention.
Day 3
The day started with a bus ride to the entrance of Murlen National Park where we were told that we would have to carry all our requirements for 2 days as the bus could not traverse those tracks. Okay, bad idea to carry all your stuff while trekking up! It was a quiet walk, on narrow paths snaking around picturesque tree covered hill slopes. The intense sun made it a tiring walk, though the passion fruits, "Happy Powder" and walking sticks we extricated from fallen tree branches eased things a lot! Around afternoon, we reached a beautiful clearing which housed 3 forest lodges and learnt that that was to be our campsite for the night. A discussion on "Learning from Strangers " ensued, which Daddu successfully turned into a discussion on "The generation gap between parents and children". A hot topic indeed, we continued to talk about it during our night session as well!
At 3 in the noon, we walked down to a village and visited the house of the village headman. All of us enjoyed having locally made grape wine so much so that we carried back a few bottles for later consumption. The 4 level cooking mechanism and the crabs they were cooking for dinner held our fascination. On reaching back, we settled in one of the lodges and played "Truth and Dare" which saw some brilliant questions, answers and dare suggestions (read "Rahul S K"). Geeta wrapped it up with a very realistic sounding "Save me Please!" drama in front of our guide Bawitlung. Dinner and we were back in our sleeping bags, Dhiresh trying to eavesdrop on people's conversations. [;)] The only disturbances during the night were fireflies and Parcel grunting as he kept hitting the wall in the 5 ft of space he was trying to sleep in.
Day 4
The next morning saw us up early as we wondered what we would face that day (we were told that it was to be the longest and most difficult trek so far). The 'jungle trek' was tough no doubt, but the most memorable yet. At the start, we merely had to find our way through ankle deep mud and slosh, wade through narrow streams, walk on dirt tracks in grasslands (which many claimed were sure to grow marijuana), all the while being bitten by leeches and scraped by nettles. The forest was too dark and dense to follow the people ahead and see the ones behind, and we were soon divided into smaller groups, each one calling out to the others to Wait! We realized very soon that we were probably the first group of trekkers to go there, by the absence of clear tracks. In no time, we were taking the support of bamboos, rocks, hanging branches, walking sticks and one another to climb up or down. The slopes, wet with mud, made it easy to simply slide down them. Leroy let loose little landslides every time he slipped, and there was a close competition between some (including me) as to who fell or tripped the most. [;)]
The forest was beautiful and pristine, with trees and wild moss growing unevenly over the slopes. Tree stumps burnt black and log structures, now hidden by overgrown grass, were remnants of the practice of shift and burn cultivation practiced in those parts of the country in earlier times. Exhausted and bruised as we were, the sight of a clear path was a refreshing change for all. Singing as we walked back to the bus, the most entertaining sight was when we all turned around to see Daddu running top speed towards us! Just before leaving, we spoke to a few villagers who were very keen on knowing where we had come from, why we were there and what we thought of the place.
We were then taken to a stream near the village of Vapar, and it was with great relief that we bathed and washed ourselves off 2 and a 1/2 days of accumulated dirt. Climbing back to our campsite, where a tent had been set up as an extension of a shed, we had a discussion on "The role of Perfect Strangers". And finally it rained! (thankfully we were done with trekking by then!) The rains lashed outside, almost threatening to blow away our tent. At night, we went for walks on the bridge over the stream. Even our weariness could not help us fall asleep while being attacked by an army of mosquitoes. After trying unsuccessfully to sleep till 2 am and listening to Parcel shouting about a snake slithering over his sleeping bag (he still claims it was there), a few of us moved into the bus where we had an extremely sound sleep and which, after the tent, felt better than a Deluxe Suite.
Day 5
It was the day of reflection. After the traditional meal of rice, dal and potatoes, we all moved to find a place where we could have visible silence (we could not see one another). The 4 hours that we were left alone were a perfect time to explore the countryside and nearby farms. Sitting on some rocks in a stream, taking respite from the blazing sun, it was wonderful to reminisce about the pure fun we had had. In the afternoon, we left for Aizawl, a 13 hour journey which left us all dead tired. With a short halt at Champei and the same teaplace we had stopped at on the way there (here we were treated to some wonderful tasting Mizo delicacies), we reached the Yatri Niwas guesthouse at 4.30 am and simply crashed on our beds.
Day 6
Finally we were back amidst civilization! We were scheduled to meet the Chief Minister of Mizoram, Mr Pu Lalthanhawla that morning to discuss our trip, what we had come across and what we felt about the place, and to discuss possible steps to improve tourism in the state. We were treated to an extremely interesting talk on how hunters and poachers had nearly wiped out the wildlife of Mizoram. A meeting with the IT minister was up next, after which we were taken to a market to shop or eat as we wished. We had a good time browsing through the shops and checking out the collection of cane items (including an incredibly useful stool designed like cow skin) and locally made shawls.
And on the final day of the trip, we did manage to get wet in the rains! A treat was ensured to all meat lovers as we had chicken, mutton and pork momos in the evening. That night, we had our longest yet session with Prof Gupta discussing characters from books, movies and real life who had influenced us. That was the most enjoyable, educational and inspiring discussion we had on the entire trip.
Day 7
We had to wake up early the next morning and leave for the airport. Standing before our bus, we felt strangely emotional as we thought of the amazing times we had had in the last 6 days. [:)] An hour bus journey (which felt amazingly short considering the trips we had been making over the last few days) and "senti speeches" from our guides later, we had checked in at Aizawl airport. Parcel and I entertained the tiny audience with a dance performance on 'Jai Ho', originally meant to happen during the campfire on the 2nd night.
Our group split up as we had different flights to catch. With a stopover at Guwahati which was spent browsing the handicrafts store at the airport and Delhi, from where we went to Ambience Mall in Gurgaon, we landed at Ahmedabad at close to midnight. The last journey was one Kingfisher ensured would live up to the excitement of the last few days. It was rough weather, and in the last 1/2 hour of the flight, the lights to the emergency exits turned on as the plane shook violently causing Anna to exclaim "Aaj mera Sabarmati mein swim karke wapas jaane ka sapna poora hoga!" [:P]
That was it! A brilliant, truly awesome and memorable, magnificent trip full of great fun, entertainment, beautiful forests, sleeping bags and leeches, meeting new people, campfires, singing and dancing, and of course great trekking!!
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