[Book Review] : The white book

Cover page of the White Book

The White Book , Han Kang. Based on a recommendation for Kang’s other book, The Vegetarian, I found myself shopping for books one fine Wednesday evening. I picked a stash of 5 books, The vegetarian, The White book(impulsive pick), How to be human. The other two , I’ll have to head back home to see what I picked.

I picked the white book to read first. There is something so sublime about the way the book is delivered. It’s pure white. It’s does have an air of mystery that surrounds it. The tale starts easy and fast. The narrator, whose name never gets mentioned, lists out words that can be associated with the colour White. Snow, frost, rice, and so on the list goes.

Then the narrator goes on to explain, with extreme obsession for brevity, the context of the words. The entire book is a list of words and what those words stand to convey. Hidden away, very obscurely, behind those words is a tale.

The narrator’s mother , when she was just about 22, births a baby girl whose face was as white as a white rice cake. That baby dies within a few hours. The tale also talks about a city of white. This city looks pristine white from the sky. Upon a closer inspection, the narrator realises that it’s a city wrapped in death and destruction. The city was apparently decimated by them jolly good fella Nazis , sometime in 1944. In the modern day, a replica of the city is build from scratch. The narrator ponders around life of such a city. Everything is new, everything is soulless. She goes on to contemplate the nature of the soul.

Somewhere between the words, the narrator recounts the story her mother used to tell her about the baby that died. That infant did not have the chance to open its eyes. The narrator often ponders the possibility of the soul of that child as being present in her.

A lot of words later, the narrator concludes the tale by describing the child of her own.

This book was not for me. While I struggle to connect the dots, struggle to grasp the things that I did read and totally miss, this book is twice as hard to soak in because it is a very crisp tale and the layout is not a constant narrative.

It feels like a journal of someone during the moments of lucidity while on an epic LSD trip.

Either the book masquerades as a super smart, super sneaky, insightful , deep dive into the nature of life, death and eventful reincarnation or I’m still dumb and too dense to understand the masterpiece.

The quick , not so satisfying read later, I felt insecure about my own ability to comprehend the book. A quick google later, I realised a lot of folks loved the book. It does feel like an emperor’s clothes moment to me. Do I pretend and praise or admit that I didn’t get it?

I don’t get it. Maybe I do need assistance in deciphering the book.

That said, the book feels creepy and claustrophobic. It adds suspense and does keep you wondering and guessing. But that’s all there is to it. I love Murakami. Murakami does not bother siting down and explaining the works as well. But the significant difference is that once you are done with a Murakami, you invest thoughts into it, you contemplate, you ponder , you will struggle to reach your own conclusion.

With this book, I threw my hands up in the air and went HUH!

So, if you chance to pick this book, please do give me a shout and tell me what I have obviously missed!

Coming up next : How to be human

Karthik

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[Book Review] : Tibetan book of the dead

If there was an illusion that could be called the mother of illusion, I think spirituality would be just that.

The Tibetan book of the dead is a fantastic book on spirituality. I’ve not read many books on the matter, so to me, it’s good enough. It just has way too much information that my jaded mind struggles to comprehend.

This review will stay away from the bias of a spiritual aspirant. This is my attempt at writing a non spiritual view of a quintessential spiritual book. Here goes. Fortune favours the brave.

Reverse Engineering : The process is a product to conception approach to problem solving. Just because all the parts and clockwork are there, it doesn’t translate to an easy approach. It does however establish the building blocks required to conjure the final finished product. Life’s biggest antonym is Death. What better way to define life than starting at death and sweeping back to the point of origin. The book of the dead does exactly just that. It’s a book about the list of things that ought to be passed on to folks who are near death. It’s still not a cool idea to say ‘ PSSST, you are gonna konk out bro’ .

Whilst the ideals are to help the near dying transition better into death and beyond, the principles work like a charm if the living were to follow it. That’s like having an issue in the production system, painful escalations and an extensive RCA later, one figures out that blokes did not bother having a review or running a unit test case.

The point is, knowing what matters in the end is a fantastic guideline to accommodate practices while we are still alive and kicking.

Fears , Regrets and messy closet! : Oh but I am trying hard to not sound like a frantic wannabe spiritualist trying to solicit the words of wisdom from a book. Through the eyes of psychology and behaviour, the message is not that difficult to understand. Bottom line, fear. Fear leads to everything else. Fear of failure results in lack of actions which results in regret. Fear of failure leads to insecurity which leads to lack of actions. Fear of failure, leads to inertia which leads to lack of actions. I think when fear paralyses the mind, we find ourselves incapable of progressing with life.

Science offers a way to confront such fears. Fish bone analysis, Root cause analysis, cause and effect analysis, they are all roads to identifying what fails and what the consequences of failures are. One can start with, I get this wrong and my entire life is wasted. By virtue of sitting down and deconstructing the effects of consequence, one might soon realise that not many things usually lead to a life getting wasted. Mess up a delivery, mess up the immediate appraisal. That’s a cause and effect. But assuming that one would always mess everything up hence forth is just paranoia taking creative control over all the choices we stand to make in life.

The worst that can happen is one can lose one’s job. The worst that can happen post that is one may never find a job. The question to ask is, why am I so unemployable? That question alters a lifetime of unemployment. It facilitates options that we had never considered before.

The road to a happy death, and a happy staying alive is taking a stock of the things that scare us crazy. It’s human to fail. It’s human to fear that failure. It’s very human to assume that there is no success ever , after a failure. It is also human to have a bit of a common sense and argue that one has to be an idiot to volunteer to carry out the same set of mistakes over and over again. That special skill is called reluctance to learn , adapt, evolve and grow. Science or spirituality can do very little to help such people from their moment of inertia.

Acceptance and denial: The big deal is, when you are about to die, would you rather accept everything that you’ve done or would you choose to die staying comforted by the talons of denial. Denial is the ability of a person to blame oneself or rest of the world in order to justify why one deserves misery.

Acceptance is the ability of a person to accept that one might have been responsible(partly or in complete) to actions that led to a failure. Acceptance leads to acknowledgement that there is something to learn and something new to adopt to. Acceptance is key to evolution and growth. Either lead a life in denial and face the moment of truth where time doesn’t really matter anymore or make that effort to accept, face your failures, make an effort to call out the different grades of consequences to deal with and live a life of choices rather than feeling helpless and saying ‘i’m going with the flow’.

Forget about the million gods and billion souls. It’s psychology one on one. One either learns or resists. Resistance is futile. Consequences are inevitable. One faces them one day.

Illusions and Illusions of illusions : The biggest take away from the book is that once we reach the choice of acceptance or denial, should one choose to accept, one also sees through the illusions that one has always been surrounded by. We are not talking about the entire world being an illusion. I’d very much like that if that were to be the case. It isn’t. Violence is real. Hunger and poverty is real. Abuse is real. Misery is real. Pain is real.

The things that aren’t real are our forced choices to stay succumbed and imprisoned to the realities. Violence is real and walking away from it is a choice. Hunger is real, but trying hard to stay away from it is a choice. Abuse is real, standing up against it is a choice. We love our excuses. We hide behind words like ‘Insignificance’, ‘Powerless’, ‘What can one person really achieve’, ‘ its my fate’, ‘Destiny’ to stay comfortably numb , connected strong to such illusions.

There is no miracle cure. There are no one stop shops. Embracing science or spirituality for the sole reason of escaping the choices that one couldn’t find the courage to make is the biggest illusion of them all. In that context, Spirituality is the biggest illusion of them all. We are so eager to surrender and embrace something divine in order to distance ourselves from the responsibilities of the choices that we’ve already made and the choices that we hesitate forever to make It boils down to acceptance and denial. We awaken from one illusion only to embrace another.

One doesn’t need to read ancient scriptures or words of the wise to know this simple truth. As kids , we were told stories about god helps those who help themselves. As adults, we hide behind convenience that words from various sources provide.

And so even from a purist skeptic point of view, I do feel refreshingly enlightened by the book. It was easier to distance the imagery and symbolism adopted in the book and associate myself with the lessons that were intended to be imparted. I see the argument of science versus spirituality as a quintessential epitome of pointlessness. They are the same, different words and both leading to the fundamental simple truth. WAKE UP , SMELL THE ROSES, and START LIVING

Tamaso mā jyotir gamaya – From darkness, lead me to light

Karthik

Dual of Fates

The title is a play on the best ever sound track there ever is, ‘Duel of Fates’ from Star wars.

When it comes to spirituality, I’m not a well-read bloke. I’m starting to see the wisdom behind written words these days. Fresh out of an autobiography of a yogi to The Tibetan book of the dead. The latter, it’s helping me broaden my mind.

From what I’ve read and things that I’ve picked across conversations is the unshakeable duality that is the world around us. There is a yes and there is a no. There is existence and there is the opposite of that. I don’t know the word that represents the exact opposite of an existence. Then come the natural stereotypes of black and white, night and day, and so on and so forth. The arguments are around there is no dark, just an absence of light. There isn’t a night but only absence of a view of the sun. The hypothesis and the arguments are both right.

One of the conversations that I had in the recent past was around singularity. How and why would one drift away from that singularity. I could fathom a guess and one day I’d grow wise enough to know if that still remains valid. And so we started as a singularity. A singularity that could manifest anything. It manifested thoughts. Along the manifestation of thoughts, it manifested the causal plane where things manifest.

As thoughts manifested, based on a very human logic, thoughts also had an opportunity to confront and conflict with one another. There was a yes. And then there came a No. Hence the first fracture from the singularity. In the causal plane, thoughts manifest and I’d like to guess that the thoughts that the thoughts could think, would also manifest. More thoughts, more differences and with differences, there came by the need to reconcile, aka Heal. In time we had souls, soul families, soul clusters, soul mates and twin flames! Ever since, our souls have been in pursuit of reconciliation and uniting with souls that we fractured from. We inch towards that eventual and inevitable reunion.

The ultimate purpose of a spiritual aspirant is to unite with the singularity. The cycle of births, and through that the mind of a million thoughts, usually keep us distanced away from that union. For a physical body, it is the mind that is the eventual master of choices. Some argue that we are as how god intended. I, personally, wouldn’t know the difference. It’s easier for me accept and take accountability for my actions, my karma rather than delegating that to god and living an illusion.

And so we birth, lead a life, die, take stock of karma and rebirth, eventually break that cycle, and cruise through another round of illusions in the astral and the causal plane. Finally find the road that takes us to the singularity. For arguments sake, what if one wanted to remain wicked and evil? This would result in accumulation of bad karma and stay strong at it for the longest while, eventually that soul would be the exact opposite of the singularity. The antithesis, the antagonist. The yang to the ying. This validates the duality. There was Yes and then there came a No.

It is the mind that manifests thoughts and thoughts inspire actions. The mind fuels us towards the course of our lives. This is the mind that also has the ears to listen to the words of our soul. Our soul talks to us for which we do not need physical ears to listen to. Our mind facilitates our spiritual awakening. Our mind helps us progress that road.

Speaking of the mind, spiritually, all practices help us tune our mind to steer away from the illusion of the many lives we’ve lived. Meditation, prayers are all moments in time when one aspires to liberate the mind. The mind speaks to us in two ways. When we sleep and dream, the physical body, the conscious of the self, loses its grip over the mind. The mind speaks liberated.

Through meditation, one trains to separate the way of the mind from the way of the physical body’s influence of the mind. Dreaming and Meditation are almost the same. When we dream, we aren’t aware that we aren’t awake. When we meditate, we know and train ourselves to let go.

All of it comes down to the mind. This reality, all that is an illusion, they all exist because our minds make it real. When one spiritually awakens, it’s not the world that has changed and altered itself. It’s only us, who are now learning to decipher the world around in a brand new way. Through the sight of an awakened mind.

Duality exists because our mind makes it real.

The Tibetan book of the dead presents another approach to spirituality. Instead of going through cycles of birth, rebirth and purification and eventually uniting with the singularity, What if the truth was that our mind is the same and is united with the singularity right now. Today. As we speak?

We don’t yet see it or experience it because our mind is distracted from the distortion of choices across lives. The ultimate truth is we are still the same as that singularity. Rest is an illusion that keeps us distanced away from that truth. We spiritually awaken the mind and it continues its quest to simplify itself to be the same as the singularity. This is very different from ‘Finding’ the spiritual path. This is more around ‘Experiencing’ it. Why search for something that we already have handy.

The challenge is an exciting one. The mind is the same as the singularity that we so fondly long for. The mind is the only thing that keeps us away from it. It is the mind that we must use to remove the veil of illusion and realize that we are already where we want to be. This takes me back to the movie Matrix. Know yourself. The one is only ready when he realizes it. It’s probably the same case for us as well. Talk about fate. All real and non-existent.

The mind approach does appeal to me plenty. One, it does not strip us away from the responsibility and accountability of our ability to awaken from this stasis. Two, it drives the point about ‘Anubhava’ or ‘Experience’ really strong. When it’s all in the mind, there is nothing tangible to see, feel, touch or smell. We are left with the ability to feel its existence. I believe in that very much. It’s the same that the masters speak of, from what I’ve read from the autobiography of a yogi.

The bigger take away. I’ve believed in this for a while and my character expresses it from time to time. The virtues and the vices of this life, or any life, doesn’t really matter for we judge ourselves through the acquired intelligence of our mind. There isn’t a right or a wrong and once we awaken ourselves to that truth that we are not held hostage by actions of the past, we can focus our energies into making things right. The awakening of the mind hints at this. The book offers a framework to that spiritual life. It isn’t vulgarly complicated. Don’t do wrong by yourself or others. Don’t shy away from working. Don’t speak ill of yourself and others. It’s not a perfect verbatim match, but the gist is be kind to the world and be kind to yourself. See the illusion that surrounds your mind. Let your mind awaken and stay aware. It’s simple enough. I’m yet to read through the book. I am quite excited and looking forward to it. I’m able to connect the words called here and the experiences that I’ve read in the other book. Together, they all convey the same story. Just different words.

Do not let the failures and challenges of the past deter your from the spiritual progress that awaits ahead. Accept them, forgive yourself for falling, forgive others for pushing you towards that fall. Make your peace with it all and free yourself to experience the world beyond. I think that is the key. That is the big leap away from the inertia of births and rebirths.

The Tibetan framework starts with invocation of the mind to become aware. It then progresses to help us reach out to the awakened masters for guidance and help. We then proceed to cleanse ourselves, by first forgiving our self and then forgiving the world around. This is similar to the forgiveness prayer that I’ve come across. Then one progresses to cleanse the aura around the chakras. That’s where I have paused the book. Interestingly, it also offers a color code explanation of our energy centres (chakras). I noticed Red, Yellow, White and Green. White is east, Red is west. Yellow was south and Green north. I have no idea what they or any of it means. Might live to learn someday.

So far, the illusions have been kind 🙂

Karthik

In light of stranger dark things!

A quick homage to Stranger things and Dark from Netflix. We’ll talk a bit about both in a little while from now. In light of the stranger dark things is a quick comparative study of stranger things, dark things and Light.

And so my heart broke again. Heart a bit broken, I stood deep in contemplation. The story does not start there though. It starts on a much happier note.

The retro rock of 1980’s blaring, I had found myself getting hooked on to the series called Stranger things. Like a junkie, it was the right time to binge on the seasons. Two seasons vanished under a week. Ah, time well spent. Most junkies feel that kick from withdrawal. I needed my thriller/horror fix. I found that fix in DARK, another series. The two series now watched, my mind had reached it’s normalcy. A nativity that I find in stitching thoughts together.

Staying cautious of the spoilers , I’ll refrain from the plots. Funny that. Fiction and life, sharing a common trait of keeping the plot points concealed. Perfect. Both stories are about the existence of more than one dimension. Both deal with that other dimension in their own unique way. Stranger things is a funny , goofy and feisty. Dark is a grim tale in comparison. The duality of the circumstance baffles me. One is light hearted and other is heavy with its undertones.

Both explore the possibilities of the existence of other realms. I’ve spent a few moments trying to guess if such a dimension(s) really exists? Different people have very different names for such parallel worlds. Instead of setting my eyes towards in the infinite vastness of the world around me, I turned my gaze towards the world within in. The mind. A mind offers limitless possibilities. We change our perspectives based on knowledge and experiences gained. We base our perspectives based on the people in our lives and the nature of company that we keep. We rest our faith in many things invisible but struggle to back the reflection that we see when we view ourselves in a mirror. The mind is a world of its own making. Understanding the clockwork of our mind is just as herculean task as trying to pin the infinite vastness of the world that surrounds us. In effect, we, our cognisance is a thin line that separates the two infinities that are found within ourselves and found everywhere else.

When I heard the things that I heard, my heart broke. The snippet of information was first heard, then listened to a million times as a reverberating echo that my mind kept replaying. Once I had listened, I dug deeper within to see what I had done to bring such a fate upon myself. All the actions in the past were now ripe and apt to be charged with guilt. Even before another word was said, I had sentenced myself.

When the dust settled, A walk under the cloudy sky was in order. The walk helped me brush aside the broken ego and guilt trips. I believe I was finally ready to accept things that I hadn’t even had the time to contemplate before. I reasoned the causes, only this time I managed keep myself and my guilt away from the equation. Things fell into a perspective when I was no longer the charged instigator of events that had transpired. I assessed the situation and could call out the subtle difference between doing what’s right and doing what’s right by me.

Now armed with a progressive cause and effect of things, with acceptance now under the belt, I felt ready to talk about things with the heartbreaker. When things aren’t personal, there aint much to feel offended about. This helped the conversation plenty. Emotional conversations are hard while neutral conversations are easier to manage. A quick tete-a-tete later, RCA was simple enough. Just so happened that the decisions were wondered because of circumstances that in no way related to me. I just happened to be the guy in the place when the message was passed.

Now , how is this any different from weird things that spill over to our side across the many other dimensions? The unknowns managed by our minds are nothing short of a fantastic scripted mystery. We make everything real. The ridiculousness that truth offers is lost to us because we are what our minds make of us. A blink of an eye later, I had succumbed to the many failures of my life. A walk later, I had accepted them and had made a choice to rise above them. All the while, it was an exercise not worth the while. My mind had made it a necessity.

We live with Stranger , darker things residing in our mind. Call it buried deep within the heart or call it a biased reflex response to stimuli, we are a product of our own making and conditioning. If only our mind could be personified, it would have been easier to confront that bloke and set things right. Battling a mind is twice the challenge. It takes an effort for the mind to rebel against its hardwiring. It takes an effort to contradict it and pick a side. The exercise is difficult because the mind executes the judgement and the same mind accepts that sentence and still it’s the same mind that tries to challenge that agreed status quo.

It is in the light where our absolution rests. In the light where the stranger dark things dissipate. The irony is, it is the mind that is darkness and it is the mind that is the light!

Karthik

Autobiography of a yogi : A spiritual wilderness to wander

How do you guys manage to do it? I’d often ask. I only got a smile in response. The smile conveyed a lot.

Context is king and I’ll set the context using that question as an example. I’m a fitness enthusiast and I’ve been battling the bugle earnestly for a few years now. My trainers, they have no trouble gaining or losing their weight. They do it at will. Their smiles reveal a simple secret. Hard and smart work. A thorough understanding of how their bodies work. Sweat and Consistency helps them reap the benefits.

To me, it’s still nothing short of magic. I lack the conviction to go all the way. I have my array of excuses. It’s hard. It’s tough. I work and I don’t have the time to dedicate myself to the cause. I’m cold and sick. The well of excuses never runs dry. Long story short, ‘they’ are able to do it because they understand the clockwork better. I struggle because my efforts are scattered and so is my investment to the cause.

Autobiography of a yogi is a book that houses a wealth of spiritual knowledge. I feel compelled to soak myself with thoughts about it. I am excited to pour my thoughts about it. Honesty is the right way to make a start. With honesty, I shall.

The fact that everybody in the book seemed to live with the universe, the astral travel, the peaceful realization of oneness with the universe, the energies, the power of meditation, I believe in most of them. Some, I couldn’t. Instead of trivialising it as ‘Not possible’ or as ‘Fantasy’, I paused to ask myself a simpler question. Do I have trouble believing because I don’t understand how things can work, or is it because I don’t think things are possible? I feel fortunate to acknowledge that I lack the skills required to understand the clockwork. Just like I lacked in the scenario of the gym. I made peace with my ignorance and accepted that I still have a long way in my journey.

With my scepticism addressed, my heart feels lighter and conscience a little more clear, I can now focus on bliss of the things that I managed to learn.

Power of faith:

There are days when I question my delusion about meditation and the universe. Did I ever witness the vast universe at play or did I manage to appease my delusion. I still don’t have an answer to that question. What I have is the ability to believe. That, to me, seems to be crucial enough. A battle cannot be won when there are doubts seeded in the heart. How can one pursue the universe and experience the singularity that the universe is, if we ourselves aren’t certain about their existence. While I cannot substantiate the existence of the spiritual universe, I also don’t care if it’s real or otherwise. I’m not looking for a proof of their being. I’m convinced, beyond doubt, that there are things out there. Beyond my comprehension, beyond my reach. I’d still choose to wander. I ask for the sense to know where my delusion ends and where the truth spans. Someday, I might know that difference.

I strongly believe in this power of faith. Believing in the power of meditation and the power of a still mind. A state of mind where we can visualise the clutter of noise that sits within our minds. A state of ability where we can brave to quieten that clutter. It is only possible if we believe in it.

Karma:

For a while now, I’ve put my faith around karma. Not in the way where I obsess over good karma and bad ones that I accumulate. I don’t have sight of the ledger and how it pans to balance. I do believe that karma exists. It ties back to the soul. We birth through lives, carrying the learnings and desires of our karma. The good that we do, helps us awaken each birth. The bad karma that we have, keeps us locked in desires and misery. To simplify, when nothing matters to us, that’s the influence of the good karma. When we view life through pain and pleasure, that’s a result of karma which influences our character and the choices that we make across each lifetime. The rule of cause and effect takes precedence. We are therefore locked in a cycle of births and rebirths in effort to either reconcile or compensate the effects of choices made in the past. This also goes to determine the choices that we stand to make in the future. The linearity of time goes for a toss. Our choices impacted by the past, alters both the present and the future. The past itself is corrected, reconciled, healed in the present or the future. Everything converges to this moment. Each moment is therefore a step in a given direction. Any direction.

Contrary to the conversations that I’ve had, based on the words and lives of Baba ji, Lahari Mahasaya, Yukteshwar , Karma is transferable in parts. The masters have absorbed the effects of karma to help their followers. Why them? What makes them special? I don’t have an answer. I can speculate that help is given when help is deserved. We get to decide when we are deserving of that help.

Free will versus Surrender – The question of individuality:

I’ve always struggled to reconcile freewill and surrender. I wouldn’t surrender my freewill and my individuality in favour of unconditional surrender. Unconditional surrender is a step toward the universal singularity. I felt that I was destined to remain forever banished from spiritual progression. Based on Yukteshwar’s discussion with Yogananda, post his resurrection, there is a mention of this said individuality. We retain that version of self as we progress in our spiritual path. When we merge with the singularity, it’s a union of our individuality with the singularity. This is special to me. It taught me a simple lesson. We would continue to be our own self. As we progress, maybe there won’t be anything that differentiates that version of self and the singularity. We strip ego off as we progress. With each iteration, we distil and purify ourselves removing the effects of causes and choices made across the many lives. With each iteration, we start to resemble the singularity. The apex of our pristine pure self, therefore becomes that singularity. Harmonious and homogeneous with the singularity. Freewill and surrender are therefore illusions. There wasn’t anything to fight to hold on to. There isn’t anything left to surrender. The inertia of our life distorts that vision.

Coincidences and people:

The lives of the people called out in the book, they felt connected. It felt as if the lives gravitated towards the inevitability of crossing paths with the masters. In that sense, the lives that we lead, we are predetermined to keep meeting the same set of people, rather souls, across the many lives that we take. The reason is to help us distil the version of ourselves. We meet, not because we have learnt our lessons and healed, but because we still haven’t and are waiting to heal. That’s precisely why we keep meeting the same people. That’s precisely why coincidences orchestrate the journey of our souls. Timing is very important. Don’t get me wrong, when I said timing, I didn’t mean the right opportune moment. I meant, unless we are ready, the timing is always wrong. The minute we are ready, coincidences would direct us towards the inevitable. Healing of the soul is inevitable. It might take longer, it might take a very short duration of time, but that healing is inevitable.

This coincidence, people and karma brings me to understand the game of births. I am not wise enough to call out the reasons yet, but I can fathom a guess. The pains and suffering of this life, the wins and jubilation of this life, they are an outcome of choices made across lives. I suffer because I haven’t woken up to the realization that there is nothing here to suffer over. I rejoice and celebrate because I haven’t realized that the wins and losses are for this body. To a soul, that sees many a lifetimes, what one stands to accomplish from 60 years of a lifetime is still only an incremental step. I don’t mean to trivialise this life or this birth. All I’m guessing is that the nature of choices that we make, matter more than momentary pain or pleasure.

To put things into perspective, the reasons of our birth are unknown to most of us. Our pains and suffering are because of the choices that we’ve made in this life. The answer to the question, ‘Why me?’, ‘What did I do to deserve such a fate’? , I could manage to glimpse a response from the book.

Pain and suffering helps us move away from the inertia of this birth. The pain fuels us to reject this reality and see the illusion that surrounds us. Instead of victimising ourselves over what did we do to deserve the misery this life, it could be seen that a soul has learnt a few-many lessons and it wants us to wake up from the illusion of this life. I do not endorse misery as a way of life, it’s just that, many lives stitched together, the way this life presents; it could be a reflection of what our soul is learning and how much of itself it is healing. By virtue of calling out many lives of the past as a means to impact the life at present, I do not see it as a means to escape from the accountability of this life. All I’m saying is that, we experience joys for a reason. We experience the misery for a reason. That reason, beyond the choices made in this life, are also deeply connected to the progression of the soul.

How we treat the present life, the choices that we go on to make, determines the nature of the cycle or births that a soul is a part of. A spiritual awakening is not the first solution to a lot of us. Some eventually do so. That helps them with the healing process.

Experiencing it all:

The biggest takeaway from the book is around Anubhava. The masters speak about it. What does it mean to experience spirituality? What does it mean to experience the universe? Honestly, I don’t know to articulate it. There are moments of sublime peace that I feel during a meditation. I feel lighter for a while when I awaken. Besides that, I don’t feel anything new or anything different. It brings back to the question on delusion versus truth. We experienced gravity even before we knew what word described it and what that word meant. Similarly, we experience the universe even at a time when we do not have the necessary tools to articulate on it. I’m not talking about astral projections or telepathic means of communication. When in dire need of help, sometimes we do get it from unexpected folks. When we are in need for that strength, we do muster that courage. Somehow. A lot of life lived along the banks of Somehow. The skeptic in me has terms and definitions for them. The spiritual aspirant in me, wants to see this as that ability to suspend doubts and believe that the universe is there to help, if and only if, we are able to channelize our thoughts at it and seek its help. That sure explains how the followers of the masters were able to simplify their lives. Power of faith comes into play. How can we stand to experience in things beyond us, if deep within our hearts we are flowering doubts on the very same things that we also desire to experience? Doubts negate the process. It is one thing to question everything, it’s another to doubt. Questions have answers whereas doubts wait for our perspectives to clear before evaporating away.

The cycle:

 

The chapter on Yukteshwar’s resurrection was a revelation. It did help me with a few more thoughts on the cycles of life and death. There aren’t just 7 rebirths. In fact there are as many rebirths as required by the soul to heal and distil itself. The astral plane, to my mind, resembles the human view of heaven and hell. While alive, we create a heaven and a hell through our thoughts and energies. When we die, we head out to the astral plane where that thought and view manifests. Each time we die, we spend time in the astral plane before we are born again. I don’t know what we do during that phase.

The karmic ledger probably comes into play. We take a stock of what we still long and desire, the list of lessons that we’ve learnt. Based on them, we birth again, to satisfy the needs of both the soul and the desires carried forward from the previous lives. The popular term is karmic balance. We birth again to pay dues. I see this as a negative connotation. The universe does not want to TEACH us a lesson. It wants our soul to heal. We carry forward the traits and lessons and baggage of each life into the next life. Our ability to heal or otherwise goes on to influence the choices that we would stand to make. The cycle endures.

Another beautiful lesson that I got to learn was along bliss and the complacent nature that it warrants. Beyond the astral plane, there is the causal plane. Beyond the causal plane, there is the Singularity. Souls stagnate at each of those levels. Without reconciliation, souls are tied to physical bodies and we birth and die on Earth. Once in the astral plane, I guess there is more to reconcile. Unless we do that, we aren’t free to enter the causal plane. There, same deal. It does seem like an iterative process of cleansing of the soul before it’s ready for the big union. One thing at a time, I aint ready for any of it yet.

The road ahead is long and I’m not alone.

karthik

Book Experience : Autobiography of a yogi

“May you find peace” – Oct 2015

It was a simple message that adorned the book when I received it. It’s taken me a lot of time to read through the book. Have I found peace? I wouldn’t know the answer for that. Have I found questions worth asking? Absolutely. Have I found answers to all the questions locked away in the universe of my mind? March 2018 is probably not the right time to assess the answer to that question.

It’s neither modesty nor humility that encouraged me to revamp the title from a book review to a book experience. I accept and acknowledge that I’m not yet ready to comprehend the book in its entirety. One also cannot deny the experience that is called reading this wonderful book. This is by no means a review. It’s a scribe of the experience that I’ve had reading through its pages.

I’m a novice at best, in the road of spirituality. I jot my experiences for two reasons, 1. To serve as a milestone so that one day I might reflect and see how far I might have travelled. 2. Blur the lines of spirituality and simple well being. This is important as the tag ‘Spirituality’ can be a bit too overwhelming to us. This is a kind of book where you get what you read. Viewing it through different eyes still offers wisdom that we stand to gain from.

I classify the book into 3 sections .

1. Where are we in the vast wideness of the universe

2. Have others been here and done that? What is so special about them?

3. Is it real? What is real?

I’ll elaborate on the second point first. It sets the context for the book.

Have others been here and done that? What is so special about them?

A considerable portion of the book accounts the experiences and lives of many people. From scientists to faces that none of us might have heard of, the book offers us a peek into their wonderful life. This aspect of the book, to me, is very important. The book is not about yogis locked away in the Himalayas, far away from the societal civilization of the modern day living. Different people from all walks of life experience a happy fulfilling life. They are awake to a wisdom beyond the books that our educational institutions cover. These folks are amongst us. Some as entrepreneurs, some as common folk, some as full time spiritual aspirants and some as skeptics. The book does not intend to have a focused target audience. It rests open to all.

The biggest takeaway is also along the much sought after purpose of life. Many people , whose experiences have been elaborated in the book, did not start with Altruistic , global peace and wellbeing in their minds. Just like you and me, they wanted something normal. They put their faith and it changed their way of life. One needn’t set their eyes on the lonely mountains to connect with this book. Have your eyes on the trinket, and put your faith and maybe you’d end up with your share of the loot.

What is so special about the people that have been quoted in the book? Apart from being normal as you and I can ever be, there is nothing special about them. And that is a level playing field. The book banks on our ability to be the best that we aspire to be. It helps along the way. I’ll get to the simplicity of it shortly.

Is it real? What is real?

Reality is a floating baseline. For some of us, reality is a bucket load of system issues waiting to be fixed by the close of play today. For some, reality is that we live in a world of illusion. We’d like to see what is real. For some, science is the yardstick that determines what is real and what is not. This book is a convergence of all the realities around. Reality is what we want it to be. Reality is challenging the status quo. When we are happy with everything about and around us, there is no further quest for reality. When we aren’t happy, our efforts to make things better, that becomes our reality. When we aren’t happy and we feel trapped by it. That also becomes our reality. All of it is real. Coincidentally, none of it has to be real as well. It’s all about perception and what we want things to be. As I said, reality is a floating baseline. It is what we want it to be. Through time, as we evolve, our understanding and our acceptance and tolerance to the said reality also changes. This explains why we constantly evolve and alter the realities around us.

Where are we in the vast wide universe ?

The answer to this question really depends on who is asking that question. The book offers wonderful, realistic examples as a response to that question. As a skeptic, what I got to see in the words were that put your faith in yourself. Do what you possibly can. Improve where you can improve. That’s precisely where you are in the vast wide universe.

To the believer in me, the tells me that there indeed is a god. One god, many faces and names. It recommends god as an idea. The book explicitly doesn’t, but it draws parallels across religions.

To the spiritual aspirant in me, it opens a million more thoughts and questions. It offers some answers.

Regardless of what you believe in, the crux of the conversation is around Experience. Anubhava. One doesn’t find the truth, or the god, or whatever. One experiences it. Most of us would have experienced love. We call it, ‘found love’. Finding love can either result in having it and holding on to it, or losing it. Experiencing love on the other hand, it stays with us. Irrespective of the outcome, irrespective of where time has taken us, One cannot un-experience what that was experienced. That is the nature of all the truths around us. We try to find it. We seldom try to experience it. The risk of finding is that by virtue of objectifying it, we also stand to lose it.

The book, in so many different ways, through so many people’s lives , explains the simplicity of our lives. We can be special, if we let ourselves experience the things that we call special and miraculous.

The book is polymorphic in nature. Based on the maturity of thoughts of the reader, the words it imparts can/will offer grander answers to some of our questions. It still is not a one stop shop for every Q that bothers us.

Karthik

Disney’s silly song

The story starts in the year 2000. Ripe out of school, right into a university, there was this wonderful gestation period of a few months to acclimatise to the new way of adolescent life. The time would go on to alter my life forever. It was the time when I had discovered the musician in me. What started with a gig bag of a notebook and a pen , soon ballooned up to include an instrument of musical expression. The band knew that we had to take that first step. That step was soon taken.

Cue in my cousin. We looked up to him. A product of IIT-Madras, he had the right collection of rock in the form of audio cassettes. In fact, when I was too young to even acknowledge music, he had already curated an impressive collection of the best that 80’s bill board had to offer. From Madonna to Michael Jackson, from Judas priest to Guns and roses, he had it all. He was a musician. I guess he might be one , even today. Just goes to say that time parts us all.

Anyways, we needed a guitar and he had one to sell. Two amateur , wannabe musicians walked to his hallowed room. A sale was made. My cousin did say, at some point, that it was his first guitar. That took us by surprise. ‘Why are you selling off your first guitar dude?’ , I had asked.

‘I need the money to buy a new one’, the simplicity of his detachment was mind numbing. I couldn’t understand back then, his stoic and cold sense of business. I don’t fully understand even now. That guitar was the first of the acoustic guitars that I’ve owned. I went on to pick a few more acoustic ones and four more electric ones. One of my acoustic guitars , now sleeps happy in my friend’s place. I don’t have any of my electric guitars anymore.

Somewhere down the line, I had freed myself from the clutches of musical instrument attachment. If only I could recreate the magic across all spheres of my life.

Flash forward to 2018, Feb the 23rd. I was talking about a book with a colleague of mine. ‘Do you mind if I can borrow it once you’ve done with it’, my colleague meekly asked.

‘Negatory , dude. I don’t think I can part with it. It’s special to me’ , I turned him down. That was that.

I found it easier to buy him a new one than afford the cost of handing out my cherished possession. I nudged him this morning to tell him that I’ve placed an order for his new book. I thanked him for the valuable lesson that he helped me see.

Disney’s lousy song, ‘Let it go’, is easy to sing and enormously difficult to imbibe. I’ve not considered myself as a materialistic person and I knew the book didn’t mean much to me. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to part with it. The irony was a jibing slap on my face. The words and wisdom that it stood to impart were in direct contradiction to the actions that I was committing myself to. I acknowledged my inability to let it go. I also accepted the influencing factors. Maybe one day, I’d be ready to treat it as a book and sever the strings that it houses.

The whole exercise, the lesson that I could see, makes me believe that attachment does slow us down. We like holding on to things. Some things, because they have wonderful and nice memories tied to them. Some, because we’d like the unpleasantness that was plastered across every inch of them, to serve as a reminder for the future. By virtue of just holding on, we do risk skipping the opportunity to hold new things, explore new possibilities and try something new. One doesn’t have to be clad in orange and move to the mountains to see the benefits of keeping a free pair of hands. My rock-n-rolla cousin saw this a very long time ago. He knew what he wanted and was ready to do what it took to get him closer to his dreams. Maybe one day my hands will be free too.

The deal with letting things go is that we are comfortable with the deal if we have something else to hold on to. The challenge is to let things go, especially when we have nothing else to replace it with. Who knows, it can open doors. On the things that await behind them doors, it’s only a matter of time to see if there is a reward or another lousy lesson waiting to be learnt !

Karthik

The recruit

‘Yo newbie’ I yelled loud in an arrogant displeasure. ‘Over here’ , I signalled her to come closer to where I was standing.

The day was gloomy and the clouds had claimed the sun as their precious hostage. The rays did struggle to escape from the thick density of the cover that the clouds provided. A chill wind swept through the city. The air that I exhaled, condensed into a smoke. Perfect. This was the perfect kind of a day to test the magnitude of my gracious tolerance towards newbies.

New guys, they are usually the worst. The come armed with ignorance and feel enlightened by years and years of mental conditioning that nonsensical notions provide. It’s one thing to deal with a clean slate, it’s another battle to work through concrete opinions. It was still part of the package that I call my job. The glitz and glamorous life of a babysitter, I wondered sarcastically. If only the world knew this, my job wouldn’t be a one that inspired a jealousy in many. Perfect.

The new one , with an air of indifference, shrugged her shoulders and walked towards me. For a given Friday, she was dressed in her best formals. Neat, clean and lavishly pressed to a wrinkleless perfection. I hated that too. Who in their right mind would work dressed like that, especially on a Friday. Years on the job had rendered me immune to such thoughts of compliance. I couldn’t care less. It was not like I put on one of the grandest show for the world to watch. The job required almost zero social skills. The job required almost near zero interaction. The job also mandated that the meetings with the boss was as sparse as godly possible. I didn’t like to dress up and pony up for no bloody reason. In time, I came to believe that a conviction towards such an obedience to a pointless dress code was a reflection of a feeble mind, a kind of mind that lacked ambition , drive and sensibilities to understand the grand picture of the work. Bluntly put, dorks dressed and I didn’t tolerate dorks.

I tried to ignore the young bundle of enthusiasm. I relented eventually. Boredom is a big part of the work. I was actually glad that I had company.

‘So, new around here? First day at work?’ I enquired. I guess I did manage to sound a little rough. Solitude does that to one.

She replied a polite , meek yes. There was a tinge of nervousness to her voice. It was normal. The first few weeks are meant to be that way. In fact, for many, the first few years are like that. I wasn’t the one to judge. I opted to tone down my hostilities and decided to be a better babysitter.

We both sat in silence for a while. We both were monitoring. New batch, waiting to run its course. I knew that it wouldn’t be long now. The Friday was not packed. Most Fridays are not packed. It’s funny that way. When I was younger, I had suspected a conspiracy. As I grew older, I was grateful. I stopped trying to poke around things. I had also learnt to appreciate the simple blessings. A relaxed day at work was a blessing.

She sat still for a while and then began to grow fidgety. She was struggling to find that courage to make a conversation. The monitoring aside, there was nothing but time and a lot of it to kill. She searched deep within her soul to muster that courage. She cleared her voice. The silence finally shattered through the hypnotizing rhythemic drone.

‘Do you?’, she asked

‘Do I what?’ I replied.

‘Do you, like remember. I tried to, but nothing. It’s kind of weird, but the more I tried to remember, I realized that I knew nothing’.

I paused for a second. I haven’t had this conversation in years. Maybe even decades. The dumb perks of doing the same job for a very long time!

‘It’s like this sweetheart. The universe is vast. Both on the outside and on the inside. It’s so vast that you’d go blank and numb trying to understand it all’

She took a moment to process the things I had said. ‘ Doesn’t made any sense. I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand’

I liked that. Meek and yet outspoken. She showed potential. She showed integrity and a spine.

‘What that means is that when you sign up, they wipe your slate clean. I’m afraid that’s how it is. You start new and I mean completely new’.

She shrugged her shoulders again. We both let the droning noise take over. I pretended to check the time on a watch that wasn’t there on my wrist. Habitual residue , is what I called it. I knew it that it was going to be a wrap soon. I didn’t realize that she had observed the nuance.

‘If they wipe it clean, it doesn’t explain why you did that. Why did you stare at your wrist? What does it mean? It feels like a memory to me’.

She was right though. The process, as dictated and mandated by the company, did wipe things clean in the ‘proverbial’ head. While it works for most. There are a few who do manage to retain bits and pieces. That doesn’t make us special, it just makes us miserable. There are things that I see. There are things that I feel. It always haunts me like an ugly ghost. It reminds me of what a pain is. It reminds me of what an experience used to be. Misplaced functions. Much like a glitch in the system. Nobody does anything about it though. There is nothing much to do anyways. No matter where you are, when you are a freak, you aren’t taken seriously. Make enough noise and you are silenced. Those among us, who are such anomalies, we do tend to shut up.

The incessant rising beeping sound yanked me away from my thoughts.

‘It’s time’ I signalled her. ‘What to do the honours?’, I asked.

Her nervousness was visible now. It was the moment of truth. What does one tell ? How does one handle such responsibility? Why is it so much pressure? The whole deal of playing out a role was an accepted norm, but no one spoke of the effect that job had. It was , both, the most important role and at the same time, the most pointless thankless job.

She walked away from me. She walked closer to the bed.

Friday, 11:11 am, October 2017. The date was scribed somewhere. Automation had it’s perks.

‘Don’t be scared’ her soft tender voice carried. ‘You are no longer going to be in pain. Here, hold my hand’ . The rest was a practiced script executed to flawless perfection.

***********

I sat by the terrace , looking at the sun peering through the clouds. She was back after a while. She sat beside me. We both sat in silence for a while.

‘Is it true?’ she broke the silence.

I said nothing. I was waiting for her to quench her curiosity.

‘That , an angel gets its wings , each time a bell chimes?’

I laughed out loud. ‘Is that what the others say these days’ I teased her.

‘Angels, us, we don’t have wings darling. We observe people. When it’s time for them to be born into this land, we ferry them from up there’, I said pointing towards the sky. ‘When it’s time for them to depart, we ferry them back. That’s all there is to it. We are monkeys with a torch light. We are glorified ushers. We watch humans, we watch their spirits soar high, we watch them get crushed. We work with their souls, and oddly we don’t have one ourselves. Maybe we are souls, maybe we are just empty vessels. We don’t have a conscience of our own and not having one makes it easy for us.’

‘You asked me about memories. I had one , a long time ago. I thought it made me special. I thought it bestowed me with a purpose. There came a day and I had to usher an old one back to the gate. The face was familiar, the soul felt known. I was miserable for a while. I didn’t know how the judgement went. I don’t know if she’s in heaven or condemned to hell or worst, left again on earth. These questions make me miserable. I’m scared of the answers too. I’d rather not ask them, I’d rather not have a memory of the existence of such questions. Empty vessels. Remember that. It is the grandest comfort that you’ll ever get here.’

She rested her head on my shoulder and said nothing. If we could cry, she might have shed a few tears that fine sunny afternoon. We cant. She couldn’t. We watched the sun set a few hours later.

Angels!!!! Our job is so overrated.

Karthik

A face in the crowd

The more you run, the more things follow. The rule holds well to animals and the demons in the mind.

The Saturday was fun. With news of Ophelia , the hurricane, looming around the social feeds, the morning was pleasantly sunny. The plan was set in stone. We were to hit the Istore near Covent Garden to pick up a fixed Mac. That’s a funny tale all by itself. I treat my Mac like crap. I don’t guard it, I don’t pamper it. I don’t let it flaunt it’s worth. For its part, my Mac has not died on me yet. It was a different tale for this friend of mine. Kept her safe, like a Disney princess. She died the moment he tried to connect the DSLR memory stick in it.

Delicate little darling, that mac turned out to be.

The plan was set in stone. We were to meet by 9. Hit Central London and collect the laptop. I had made alternate plans to visit South bank and stay lost in the food festival that the place hosts every weekend. None of that materialized though. Mostly because the plan was set in stone.

The day did start lazy. I hadn’t slept well and I usually don’t sleep well on most Fridays. I woke up groggy. I decided to indulge an English breakfast. Toast, eggs, beans, grilled vegetables and a tall glass of Pineapple juice. The food came as ordered, Pineapple juice, not so much. Apples were served, pines took a hike. The heavy hearty meal rendered me near useless. I had to endure an hour’s commute and I didn’t have a book handy to keep me company. I slept through the train and woke up miserable when the train stopped at the station.

With the laptop collected, with musical instruments gawked at a shop next to the store, we made it a point to walk a while. A lousy raspberry crush drink thrashed in the process. The time had ticked, the hours loitered, it was the time to head back home. The train ride back wasn’t any spectacular either. I did my best to keep myself entertained by playing a game on the mobile. I still couldn’t buy a book to keep me occupied. The book would have to wait for a while.

That’s when I noticed a face in the crowd. It wasn’t the usual spot. I presumed her to be in her sixties. She looked blissfully in her fifties, but her wrinkles conveyed a different story. People are a part of the daily commute. One gets to observe many faces. Some are pleasant, some are beautiful, some people carry a certain creepy vibe to them. I’m happy with the role of an observer that I play in the city. I observe. I steal a few glances, I make jokes in my head at times and smile things off. Some times, I imagine macabre plots and wonder about the many secrets that the eyes hide. It’s usual for an observer to observe without intruding into the comfortable safety zone that surrounds us all. It’s almost like stealing a glance at the sun. You see and then you don’t.

She was different. She had the kindest eyes that I had ever seen. There was something so familiar about her that I couldn’t stick to my golden role as an observer. A glance became many glances. I even mustered the courage to offer a smile. A smile offered, a smile reciprocated. The realities of this life came into play and a few stops later, we parted ways as strangers that we were.

I couldn’t help but think about the untold stories that were running in my mind. Such comforting familiarity, such gravitating vibes, those tired eyes surrounded by a touch of kindness. Her old age was on display. She’d , from time to time, wear her glasses to keep track of the stations that passed us by. She’d gently place them back into the case and repeat and rinse the exercise a few times. I watched the first times and decided to slip into a deep slumber where I could indulge in a tale that spanned across lives, across lifetimes, across appearances and logistics that mandated the reality that we are a part of.

I see similar faces all the time. The people change , their ethnicity changes, the colours of their eyes and skin change, their hairdo comes in various tones and shapes, the familiarity remains the same. It’s like holding on to pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and realizing that a few pieces are extremely compatible irrespective of which puzzle I’m trying to assemble back together.

The more I tried to ignore the coincidences , the harder it kept coincidenting! That’s not even a word but I couldn’t think of a suitable alternate. I think that’s the deal with life. The more we run away from things , we put ourselves in a spot where we are forced to confront them. There is no escape. The only viable way is to endure and survive. I couldn’t help but delude myself into imagining the same set of folks that I keep bumping into. I couldn’t help but try to see if there was a cryptic secret in front of my eyes that was challenging me to solve them. I couldn’t resist the temptation of believing that there is more to life than the mundaneness of normal ,sober, existence.

When faces in the crowd aren’t a reflection of fading away into obscurity, but are a manifested haunting of a mind trying to piece back a fractured point in time, the world becomes a canvas of a surreal tale , waiting to be written. Who knew, that descent into madness would be so much fun.

Have you ever experienced such doppelgangers? Do you ever see the same people around you, irrespective of where you are in the world or whom you are looking at? Is it the case of comedy of errors and mistaken identities because people are people and most of them are the same!

Small world after all and thank god, the world ain’t so small

Karthik

Journey of a million miles

It was odd. These days, everything is odd. I couldn't start where the absurdity began. I couldn't put a finger on the frenzy that it all was. If I may, I'd skip the oddities and craziness of the world around and restrict myself to the nature throwing me a curve ball. The land covered in white of the snow, the biting cold, the defeated sun and it's near sterile rays, I couldn't quite fathom the heat that seemed to be emitting from somewhere beyond my eyes. It didn't make sense. On that cold day, it wasn't the cold that made me comfortable. The heat felt unbearably torturing.

The queue was long. It was going to be a long wait ahead. I gently smiled at the irony to the moment. Nothing felt rushed. A gentle subtle and a near final reminder that nothing was meant to be rushed in life. The thoughts amused me. All things aside, I found myself smiling like a silly man. The smile was a rare commodity. The grave grim air around us couldn't tolerate the conspicuous smile. Eyes cast on me. I knew the eyes. I knew. I had no comfort or justification to reciprocate those glances. I let them be. I had built a wall around my mind to phase them out of my peripheral attention. I denied the world around an acknowledgement.

It wasn't long before I had to sacrifice my decision to disown the world around me. I couldn't. He wouldn't let me be. A little boy of possibly eight. His eyes looked bored. He looked a bit tired but then again, so was everybody else. The wonders and magic of a confused winter morning. He had an air of curiosity about him, that little boy. While I could stereotype the gazes that I was attracting from everyone else, his, his was different. His eyes neither passed a judgement nor represented the cold sadness. He was just himself. He viewed the world through his curious little eyes. Everything fascinated him. Everything was new to him. Everything excited him. Everything.

'Hallo' I gently waved my hand to engage a conversation with him. He was standing with his dad a few places ahead. I must have caught him off his guard. Part embarrassed, part flustered, he quickly turned around and gripped his father's hand tight. I was amused by his innocent juvenile reaction. Kids will be kids and I quite enjoyed his little panic. The boy didn't give up. Not yet. He took his moment, gathered his courage and turned back. He meekly waved his hand and said nothing. The boy's action did stir his dad's inertia. He turned back and smiled. There was a certain relief on his face. He quickly turned his face again to look straight.

The little boy stood watching the place for a while. Outwitted by his boredom, he decided to embark on a tiny adventure. He walked towards me.

'Do I know you?' his gentle soft voice pierced through the cold silence.

'Ja', I promptly replied. You see, I started, we are but friends from a long long time ago. You and I have always been friends. You grew bored, just like how you are bored now, and that explains why you are little today. I have never been bored. I've always played my games, been a silly explorer. That's why I'm old now. Just as old as your dad.

The boy wasn't sure on how he had to comprehend what he had heard. His curiosity had gotten the better of him. He asked me a lot of questions. How? what? When? Are you lying? He'd ask me from time to time.

And so began the long tale of two friends who first met when the earth itself was young. This was the time after the apple incident. This was the time after the floods. The lands had been painted green, and that's where we had met first. He was a tiger, I was a lion. We had roamed carelessly in the jungle. We had played in the meadows, given hunters the slip, we had hunted together for the longest of while. One stormy night, we had walked our separate roads.

'I was a tiger?' he asked me in excitement.

'Ja', 'See that explains why you are always excited and brave. Just like the tiger you once were' I explained .

That had made sense to him.

As the story progressed, he and I had been friends in the wild. Eagle and a hawk. We had been trees too. We finally became men. Ah yes, that was a fun age. French one time, ancient heretic Indian once. We had met so many times and there were times when we weren't friends any more. The thought that we weren't friends seemed to sadden him a bit.

'Oh don't be sad' I tried to comfort him. See, we are friends now. That's how it is. We always spot each other.

That seemed to cheer the little rascal a bit. We went on to talk about his school, his friends. The queue had moved further quite significantly.

'Ok bye' he enthusiastically shrieked. I bid him a silent farewell. It was odd indeed. An odd day to make a new friend. An odd day to die. My journey from Berlin to Auschwitz was not as foreboding as I thought it would be. It was a day to remember. The kind of day that was hot for a given winter morning. The kind of day when two very old friends got to meet each other. I wanted the silly tale to be true. I wished there was some truth to it. It was after all the last day under the sun for both of us. The sadness in the eyes of the world managed to find mine too.

************

'Mummy' I kept pestering my mother. I was too little to know what depressing meant, but I was old enough to feel it crushing my enthusiasm. The hall was depressingly boring. I fidgeted restlessly. My mother wouldn't bother pacifying me. Glued to her fancy rectangle box of sorts, she kept staring into it irritably. It was not the day where I could manage to draw her attention gravitate towards me. Defeated, I gave up without a fight. I looked around to see the place. Old people, coughing people sick people were around. This was not the way I had intended to spend the day. I fancied a walk in the park instead. The kind of park where there were gulls to feed, pigeons to shoo. This was boring.

As I grazed my eyes across the room, I couldn't help but stare at this old man. He looked like a proper grandfather. The grey, the way his face was, full of folks. I think it's called rinkle or something. Rinkles scare mummy. I've heard her talk about it. He looked old.

'Hello little princess' he called out softly.

Mummy shot her eyes away from the box thing and directed it towards the grandfather. 'Agatha, don't bother the nice gentleman there' she blurted a noncommittal warning. She was happy to get rid of me , she was happy to have me bother someone else. I walked towards the old man.

'Do I know you?' I asked him curiously.

'Oh, but we are friends, from a long long time ago, little one' he replied in excitement.

Karthik

Tale inspired by this little girl, with an angel face who waved a familiar hi. We didn't speak, it was a very short hi. She smiled as her car picked up speed and left me standing and wondering if She and I were friends from a long long time ago. What can I say, Life inspires Life.