this one is for a wonderful person who is also an amazing kid :)
so grab your nearest swirling dervish and get your wine and let sufism take over.....
"I tried to find Him on the Christian cross, but He was not there; I went to the Temple of the Hindus and to the old pagodas, but I could not find a trace of Him anywhere.
I searched on the mountains and in the valleys but neither in the heights nor in the depths was I able to find Him. I went to the Caaba in Mecca, but He was not there either.
I questioned the scholars and philosophers but He was beyond their understanding.
I then looked into my heart, and it was there where He dwelled that I saw Him; He was nowhere else to be found."
******
There is a candle in your heart...
There is a candle in your heart,
ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul,
ready to be filled.
You feel it, don't you?
You feel the separation
from the Beloved.
Invite Him to fill you up,
embrace the fire.
Remind those who tell you otherwise that
Love
comes to you of its own accord,
and the yearning for it
cannot be learned in any school.
From: 'Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi'
************
Lover whispers to my ear,
"Better to be a prey than a hunter.
Make yourself My fool.
Stop trying to be the sun and become a speck!
Dwell at My door and be homeless.
Don't pretend to be a candle, be a moth,
so you may taste the savor of Life
and know the power hidden in serving."
Mathnawi V. 411-414 (translated by Kabir Helminski)
*****
Listen for the stream
that tells you one thing.
Die on this bank.
Begin in me
the way of rivers with the sea.
Rumi
*******
In the dead of night, a Sufi began to weep.
He said, "This world is like a closed coffin, in which
We are shut and in which, through our ignorance,
We spend our lives in folly and desolation.
When Death comes to open the lid of the coffin,
Each one who has wings will fly off to Eternity,
But those without will remain locked in the coffin.
So, my friends, before the lid of this coffin is taken off,
Do all you can to become a bird of the Way to God;
Do all you can to develop your wings and your feathers."
Farid ud Din Attar, - 'Perfume of the Desert'
**************
Hidden behind the veil of mystery, Beauty is eternally free from the slightest stain of imperfection.
From the atoms of the world, He created a multitude of mirrors; into each one of them He cast the image of His Face; to the awakened eye, anything that appears beautiful is only a reflection of that Face.
Now that you have seen the reflection, hurry to its Source; in that primordial Light the reflection vanishes completely. Do not linger far from that primal Source; when the reflection fades, you will be lost in darkness.
The reflection is as transient as the smile of a rose; if you want permanence, turn towards the Source; if you want fidelity, look to the Mine of faithfulness. Why tear your soul apart over something here one moment and gone the next?
Jami, translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut.
**************
Whether your destiny is glory or disgrace,
Purify yourself of hatred and love of self.
Polish your mirror; and that sublime Beauty
From the regions of mystery
Will flame out in your heart
As it did for the saints and prophets.
Then, with your heart on fire with that Splendor,
The secret of the Beloved will no longer be hidden.
Jami, translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut
***********
Longing is the core of mystery.
Longing itself brings the cure.
The only rule is, Suffer the pain.
Your desire must be disciplined,
and what you want to happen
in time, sacrificed.
Rumi
********
The Morning Wind Spreads
The morning wind spreads its fresh smell.
We must get up and take that in,
that wind that lets us live.
Breathe before it's gone.
Rumi
*********
I wonder
from these thousand of "me's",
which one am I?
Listen to my cry, do not drown my voice
I am completely filled with the thought of you.
Don't lay broken glass on my path
I will crush it into dust.
I am nothing, just a mirror in the palm of your hand,
reflecting your kindness, your sadness, your anger.
If you were a blade of grass or a tiny flower
I will pitch my tent in your shadow.
Only your presence revives my withered heart.
You are the candle that lights the whole world
and I am an empty vessel for your light.
Rumi
**************
O bird of the morning, learn love from the moth
Because it burnt, lost its life, and found no voice.
These pretenders are ignorantly in search of Him,
Because he who obtained knowledge has not returned.
Sheikh Muslih-uddin Sa'di Shirazi - The Gulistan of Sa'di
Monday, December 27, 2004
tsunami's and other waves ....
it was the day before xmas when family abandoned me and vamoosed to the unsalubrious shores of madras.I had thought I was in for a week of serene reading and calm broken by regular intakes of vodka / wine, music and possible blending with couch in front of tv. in short vegetate and grow roots slowly.
but life,as rod stewart puts it, is a bitch.i had driven clan to airport putting on a stoic face akin to families lost during partition.svelte woman behind counter in velvet voice which made harps ring and angels sing told me that flight to madras which came in from delhi was 5 hours late due to fog in delhi. i could have burnt woman to stake (in her mini skirt and revlon smile).
day 1 friday - lost in airport and no cath zeta jones too. only consolation amazing plum cake provided by neighbours and some wunderbar wine........ hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
day 2 sat- nature takes revenge on my decadent living. family in madras but frantic calls from wife that there was an earthquake there and to make matters worse, mr. tsunami does his bit too.all that was missing was noah and his ark.sat glued to telly watching various regional weather newspersons being prophets of doom. son being oblivious to surrounding disaster would call me every hour that his pogo and cartoon network channels were on the blink...
day 3 sunday - my house has the curse of the wood goddess and is the environmentalist femme fatale delight. since the time i moved in, bees have taken particular liking to the place and have built hives of disparate shapes. pest control men being wise in their financial matters have ripped me of moolah and have tried everything from grease to something close to napalm. !!! in any case it has not solved matters.
the bees this time came in to work with much gusto and built something like a radical mullah's beard within 25 minutes. they then admired their handiwork and started to fight among themselves. now in addition to house being swarmed by bees, it was swarmed by rampaging tyson like bees.some restorative brandy did help and the homicide count among winged friends was quite high which I had to mop up. bee hive is now looking like day old stubble.
day 4 (today) monday - decided to get back to work and be slave to cubicle rather than stay at home and face impending new disaster.
moral of the story - elements are women and am sure wife has bribed them to ensure i am not lazing around.
but life,as rod stewart puts it, is a bitch.i had driven clan to airport putting on a stoic face akin to families lost during partition.svelte woman behind counter in velvet voice which made harps ring and angels sing told me that flight to madras which came in from delhi was 5 hours late due to fog in delhi. i could have burnt woman to stake (in her mini skirt and revlon smile).
day 1 friday - lost in airport and no cath zeta jones too. only consolation amazing plum cake provided by neighbours and some wunderbar wine........ hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
day 2 sat- nature takes revenge on my decadent living. family in madras but frantic calls from wife that there was an earthquake there and to make matters worse, mr. tsunami does his bit too.all that was missing was noah and his ark.sat glued to telly watching various regional weather newspersons being prophets of doom. son being oblivious to surrounding disaster would call me every hour that his pogo and cartoon network channels were on the blink...
day 3 sunday - my house has the curse of the wood goddess and is the environmentalist femme fatale delight. since the time i moved in, bees have taken particular liking to the place and have built hives of disparate shapes. pest control men being wise in their financial matters have ripped me of moolah and have tried everything from grease to something close to napalm. !!! in any case it has not solved matters.
the bees this time came in to work with much gusto and built something like a radical mullah's beard within 25 minutes. they then admired their handiwork and started to fight among themselves. now in addition to house being swarmed by bees, it was swarmed by rampaging tyson like bees.some restorative brandy did help and the homicide count among winged friends was quite high which I had to mop up. bee hive is now looking like day old stubble.
day 4 (today) monday - decided to get back to work and be slave to cubicle rather than stay at home and face impending new disaster.
moral of the story - elements are women and am sure wife has bribed them to ensure i am not lazing around.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
volvo bus diary
Saturday saw an extremely cold morning. maybe its a sign of the times.my wife's office in all their dilligence planned a get together meet for employees and their clan in a resort in the wilderness near to hassan. this is a ironic statement as if we wanted seclusion, why a resort?
Anyways, mine not to ask why. we got up at a crazy hour. son who normally gets up at 4:30 am decided that he was rip van winkle and wanted to sleep longer. we rushed through empty roads and a few stray dogs to find we were the earliest.
Bus ride was un eventful broken sporadically by enthusiatic folks who wanted more participation from people in songs etc. since I valued my sanity I prayed fervently for a comet or lightening to come through the roof and vaporise the cretin who wanted everyone to sing.
Son slept most of the way. wife decided to catch up with her pals on whats happening where scene.i pretended to sleep so that I did not have to consume the crisps passed around at regular interval or make banal conversation (e.g - so your name is vivek and you are kamala's husband?".). Someone please kick me - I am getting far too old and far too crabby.
We reached the place, which turned out to be quite nice and looked secluded. but no man is an island by himself as from nowwhere sprung Prince, an extremely repulsive dj, vj , public pest all in one, who decided he had to shout through the sound barrier to make him self heard. He apparently was the guy who made sure guys were welcomed and would stick to us like porous plaster over the next 2 days.
To cut along story short and not make the blog like a films division documentary, i will summise and say a good time was had by all. the high point being a visit to an old derelict 16th century portuguese church by the river side. it was like a ghost city and im sure there were voices from the crypts which were drowned with cries of " I want more cutlet"or "Can I have an extra coffee please".I went to the altar which had stood the test of time, dusty roads and moronic modern day lovers (the ramu loves smitha type of idiots).Iam sure when I die and if I go to the pearly gates, I will find one of those grafitti etched in the wall.
A sleep rejuvenated son decided it was time to give his old man some exercise and ran like Forest Gump. Whatever extra flab I had gained through cholestrol ridden food was all exercised and i could have competed with all the artificial beauty ladies competing in shanghai. a better part of the night was spent around campfire with wife and many bottles of the demon drink. morning arose too quickly and strange rhumba sounds reverbrated in my head. After a mammoth orgy of a breakfast,we came back to civilisation. The bus driver had very resourcefully got his hand on a bollywood potboiler and insisted on playing it full blast.
I must add that my son slept through it all. I now plan to invest in a bus and keep it at home so he sleeps longer on weekends and not get up at unearthly hours.
PS - There were also morale building group activities but I read Paul Coelho and some books on code breaking anagrams and did not take part in them much to wife's dismay.
PPS - Discovery of the week - unattended plants on country roads look gorgeous unlike gardner attended plants at home !!!! (maybe there's a moral somewhere...)
Anyways, mine not to ask why. we got up at a crazy hour. son who normally gets up at 4:30 am decided that he was rip van winkle and wanted to sleep longer. we rushed through empty roads and a few stray dogs to find we were the earliest.
Bus ride was un eventful broken sporadically by enthusiatic folks who wanted more participation from people in songs etc. since I valued my sanity I prayed fervently for a comet or lightening to come through the roof and vaporise the cretin who wanted everyone to sing.
Son slept most of the way. wife decided to catch up with her pals on whats happening where scene.i pretended to sleep so that I did not have to consume the crisps passed around at regular interval or make banal conversation (e.g - so your name is vivek and you are kamala's husband?".). Someone please kick me - I am getting far too old and far too crabby.
We reached the place, which turned out to be quite nice and looked secluded. but no man is an island by himself as from nowwhere sprung Prince, an extremely repulsive dj, vj , public pest all in one, who decided he had to shout through the sound barrier to make him self heard. He apparently was the guy who made sure guys were welcomed and would stick to us like porous plaster over the next 2 days.
To cut along story short and not make the blog like a films division documentary, i will summise and say a good time was had by all. the high point being a visit to an old derelict 16th century portuguese church by the river side. it was like a ghost city and im sure there were voices from the crypts which were drowned with cries of " I want more cutlet"or "Can I have an extra coffee please".I went to the altar which had stood the test of time, dusty roads and moronic modern day lovers (the ramu loves smitha type of idiots).Iam sure when I die and if I go to the pearly gates, I will find one of those grafitti etched in the wall.
A sleep rejuvenated son decided it was time to give his old man some exercise and ran like Forest Gump. Whatever extra flab I had gained through cholestrol ridden food was all exercised and i could have competed with all the artificial beauty ladies competing in shanghai. a better part of the night was spent around campfire with wife and many bottles of the demon drink. morning arose too quickly and strange rhumba sounds reverbrated in my head. After a mammoth orgy of a breakfast,we came back to civilisation. The bus driver had very resourcefully got his hand on a bollywood potboiler and insisted on playing it full blast.
I must add that my son slept through it all. I now plan to invest in a bus and keep it at home so he sleeps longer on weekends and not get up at unearthly hours.
PS - There were also morale building group activities but I read Paul Coelho and some books on code breaking anagrams and did not take part in them much to wife's dismay.
PPS - Discovery of the week - unattended plants on country roads look gorgeous unlike gardner attended plants at home !!!! (maybe there's a moral somewhere...)
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