God gives us what we need and not what we desire. This is my most common refrain. A day does not pass by when I do not mention this to someone and I believe in the truth of this fervently. My own life is a reflection of this.
Often in life, we end up yearning for things that are unsuitable for us. God in all his wisdom rescues us by denying them to us. A few years ago, I was disappointed that I was not being given my due at work although I had put in enough work. I had filled in well during my senior’s absence and when he returned I found myself back where I started. It took me some time to realize that I was not ready for the responsibilities involved and it would be better for me to wait. In a few months’ time, when I was ready, the post was mine.
On the other hand, life seems to be bestowing us with all that we do not want. In truth, God knows that these are the very things that we need and he lovingly provides them in spite of our own refusal to heed. My most recent example would be my kidney stone and the subsequent surgery. I could have resented this and become miserable. Instead, I remembered this simple message that God had taught me and I was able to embrace my illness. I realized that I needed a break from my hectic life. My body and mind needed time to heal and I was able to do many things I had always wanted to do but never had the time for. There might be more good things in store for me than even I realize.
Armed with this simple belief in God’s grace, we can live life welcoming all that comes to us and not longing for what we do not have. I have left all my burdens in his hands and I am free as a bird.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Unity in Diversity
Words are inadequate to express the Supreme truth. It can cause much mischief but we as human beings cannot do without it. So, I will still attempt to explain my understanding of the truth but I apologize in advance for any misunderstanding my words could cause. Only God can forgive me.
Let us take the example of a man and a thought. A thought is not man but man can momentarily be so consumed by a thought that at times a part of him can become one with the thought but at the same time no other part of him disappears. Man has the power of thought, ability to analyze thought, witness thought, and even enjoy it.
Atman or Rooh is the individual spirit that has proceeded forth from Brahman or Allah. Atman is present in every man. The enlightened man has Ananda and his will is absolutely aligned with that of the Brahman. He is the stithaprajna or Muslim. He is unaffected by abuse or praise. The enlightened man alone can live the way it was meant to be. All discord is gone as his will is surrendered to the Brahman. He will have joy in all that he does. He has found the Kingdom of God.
As man has evolved from the manifest material universe or from the lower to upper evolution, so has other beings all of which we do not know of. Some of them especially beings of vitality (jinns) acting on their nature to survive might try to block man's progress. A man who has surrendered to God has nothing to fear but he must be on the guard and not be a fool thirsting after powers of vitality. There are also other beings (angels) already residing in superior worlds who also might exert an upward thrust to the evolution played out here. Our concern is not with them for the time being. Ours is with the Brahman or Allah or God or Lord. Thus the stress in Vedanta or Islam about not worshipping the creation but only the creator.
The right balance of intelligence, faith, bhakti, and righteous work done with detachment or love for the Lord is very important for the seeker. But ultimately only the grace of God can bring about the change.
All of the above is an amalgam of the Koran, Bhagavad-Gita, Upanishads, Bible, Buddha's teachings, Aurobindo's books, Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, Vivekananda, etc. etc. that I have read. I have understood things in this way.
Islam means surrender to God. Muslim means one who bows to the will of God. This is the path for me. All worship in truth is the worship of God. All beautiful names belong to God (quoted from Koran). There is great beauty in this variety as well as the oneness. In the essence of all religions is this great truth of Brahman or Jehovah or Allah.
Whenever there is need for reaffirmation of the truth, a great drought in true knowledge, he lets someone rise from mankind who will make us remember the truth. So these men who submit to the will of God have come to all civilizations from the ancient times. Krishna, Jesus, Moses, Mohammed, these are some we know of but many are whom we do not know (Peace be upon them all). They may be known as prophets, Avatars, etc. in different civilizations.
I first read the translation of Koran and in it were verses that exhorted me to read other revelations that have come before and the message that Koran contains not a new message but a reaffirmation of all that has come before. It tells me that I must respect all prophets equally and never put one above the other. It also states that anyone who believes and is righteous will find the grace of God. It specifically mentions Christians, Jews, Sabians, etc. It asks us to strive as in a race to all that is good. Leave all judgement to God. Diversity in religious beliefs is a reflection of the variety that we see in nature itself and the Koran clearly states that this is so that we can know each other (to enjoy the beauty of this rich diversity) and not despise one another.
Let us take the example of a man and a thought. A thought is not man but man can momentarily be so consumed by a thought that at times a part of him can become one with the thought but at the same time no other part of him disappears. Man has the power of thought, ability to analyze thought, witness thought, and even enjoy it.
Atman or Rooh is the individual spirit that has proceeded forth from Brahman or Allah. Atman is present in every man. The enlightened man has Ananda and his will is absolutely aligned with that of the Brahman. He is the stithaprajna or Muslim. He is unaffected by abuse or praise. The enlightened man alone can live the way it was meant to be. All discord is gone as his will is surrendered to the Brahman. He will have joy in all that he does. He has found the Kingdom of God.
As man has evolved from the manifest material universe or from the lower to upper evolution, so has other beings all of which we do not know of. Some of them especially beings of vitality (jinns) acting on their nature to survive might try to block man's progress. A man who has surrendered to God has nothing to fear but he must be on the guard and not be a fool thirsting after powers of vitality. There are also other beings (angels) already residing in superior worlds who also might exert an upward thrust to the evolution played out here. Our concern is not with them for the time being. Ours is with the Brahman or Allah or God or Lord. Thus the stress in Vedanta or Islam about not worshipping the creation but only the creator.
The right balance of intelligence, faith, bhakti, and righteous work done with detachment or love for the Lord is very important for the seeker. But ultimately only the grace of God can bring about the change.
All of the above is an amalgam of the Koran, Bhagavad-Gita, Upanishads, Bible, Buddha's teachings, Aurobindo's books, Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, Vivekananda, etc. etc. that I have read. I have understood things in this way.
Islam means surrender to God. Muslim means one who bows to the will of God. This is the path for me. All worship in truth is the worship of God. All beautiful names belong to God (quoted from Koran). There is great beauty in this variety as well as the oneness. In the essence of all religions is this great truth of Brahman or Jehovah or Allah.
Whenever there is need for reaffirmation of the truth, a great drought in true knowledge, he lets someone rise from mankind who will make us remember the truth. So these men who submit to the will of God have come to all civilizations from the ancient times. Krishna, Jesus, Moses, Mohammed, these are some we know of but many are whom we do not know (Peace be upon them all). They may be known as prophets, Avatars, etc. in different civilizations.
I first read the translation of Koran and in it were verses that exhorted me to read other revelations that have come before and the message that Koran contains not a new message but a reaffirmation of all that has come before. It tells me that I must respect all prophets equally and never put one above the other. It also states that anyone who believes and is righteous will find the grace of God. It specifically mentions Christians, Jews, Sabians, etc. It asks us to strive as in a race to all that is good. Leave all judgement to God. Diversity in religious beliefs is a reflection of the variety that we see in nature itself and the Koran clearly states that this is so that we can know each other (to enjoy the beauty of this rich diversity) and not despise one another.
Friday, February 22, 2008
A plea to denounce the term 'Islamism' and such divisive language
The Holy Koran does not endorse violence in any form. It speaks of the use of force in the name of justice but it never condones violence. Did not Krishna himself urge Arjuna to fight a war (Bhagavad-Gita)? That need not inspire anyone to commit atrocities. It is not fair that ordinary Muslims (a great majority) who live decent lives have to feel guilty due to the deeds of some miscreants.
I am not advocating complacency. Far from it, we need to isolate and erode away the credibility of the terrorists. The way to do that is not by giving them legibility by bestowing upon their beliefs the peaceful name of Islam. We must call a spade a spade and condemn their beliefs as evil. Why grieve millions of people who practice Islam, the only way it is supposed to be, by associating these people with them? Whatever the rationale for arguing otherwise, it is not going to solve the problem but only contribute to it. Refraining from the terms Islamists, Muslim terrorist, etc. at least will not isolate a community and add to their woes.
The ‘we’ that Muslims want to be associated with is that of all the good and sane people of the world. Instead to club us forcibly with the scum of the earth is not just a cause for great anguish but also, I feel, will push a few who are at the periphery into the other side. Instead we must isolate ‘them’ and join forces.
When there is a fire ravaging a house, if those on either side of the street keep accusing each other, will that save either of their homes?
I am not advocating complacency. Far from it, we need to isolate and erode away the credibility of the terrorists. The way to do that is not by giving them legibility by bestowing upon their beliefs the peaceful name of Islam. We must call a spade a spade and condemn their beliefs as evil. Why grieve millions of people who practice Islam, the only way it is supposed to be, by associating these people with them? Whatever the rationale for arguing otherwise, it is not going to solve the problem but only contribute to it. Refraining from the terms Islamists, Muslim terrorist, etc. at least will not isolate a community and add to their woes.
The ‘we’ that Muslims want to be associated with is that of all the good and sane people of the world. Instead to club us forcibly with the scum of the earth is not just a cause for great anguish but also, I feel, will push a few who are at the periphery into the other side. Instead we must isolate ‘them’ and join forces.
When there is a fire ravaging a house, if those on either side of the street keep accusing each other, will that save either of their homes?
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Transformation
An overwhelming fear of losing ground,
A fall into an abyss of obscurity,
Wherefore do these waves wash ashore;
Heavily laden with mysterious contents.
The deep-seated flower of virtue
Shines forth, its beauty undiminished.
Time cannot caress it nor make it grieve;
It exists not to the tainted eye.
It is time to let go of all that I held so dear,
Let all fly loose with unfettered cheer.
O, the joy of mitigated burdens,
Of a lighter heart and clearer mind,
Of shared love and brighter morrows.
A fall into an abyss of obscurity,
Wherefore do these waves wash ashore;
Heavily laden with mysterious contents.
The deep-seated flower of virtue
Shines forth, its beauty undiminished.
Time cannot caress it nor make it grieve;
It exists not to the tainted eye.
It is time to let go of all that I held so dear,
Let all fly loose with unfettered cheer.
O, the joy of mitigated burdens,
Of a lighter heart and clearer mind,
Of shared love and brighter morrows.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Stoned
Recently I had a renal calculus. This pea-shaped object actually upturned my whole life. I found the pace of my life transitioning from break-neck speed to a full stop.
I was going about my usual hectic life, planning my kid’s birthday, going to office, cooking and doing chores when suddenly I found myself bending over backwards (literally) in the bus. Then a shooting pain seemed to radiate from my lower back to the front. We, in the medical transcription business, like to believe (secretly of course) that we can diagnose any illness ourselves and so my colleagues and I embarked on an animated discussion about the origin of my pain, which at one point, I think actually included vitamin deficiency. When my employer’s maid remarked that it could be a “urinary problem,” we scarcely gave it a thought before continuing our sagacious theses. Of course a day or two later, when the urine was coming out in a bright red hue, there was no doubt who had hit the nail on the head.
In the month that followed there was a spurt of medical activity with my husband and I running from pill to post. As I wriggled in pain, a couple of visitors would drop in, empathize with me, and regale my mom with their own Stone-Ache stories. My mom, no doubt wishing to provide me with the best medical care would then toy with these new-fangled treatments that she just heard. No stone including Ayurveda was left unturned. So as I drank these exotic (polite term for horribly bitter and awful) concoctions, I would be filled with gratitude for my benefactors and new hope pervaded my stoned soul.
It was around the time, I think, when someone began to extol the virtues of poison extracted from a scorpion as the next big thing in stone cure that I ran to the nearest urosurgeon. I was quite comforted by the thought of having a stent put in my kidney and my stone powdered away via multiple shock-wave sessions.
As I drifted away slowly into the anesthetic daze, I dreamt of the next 40 days I would spend doing lithotripsy and drinking tomato juice but it was not meant to be.
At the postoperative ICU, I awoke with a start and gazed lovingly into my husband’s eyes (cut, cut … this is no Bollywood story). Ahem! I blinked and stared stupidly at my doctor’s face as he pronounced with great elation that he had done a laparoscopy and taken the stone out. I blurted out something like “cool, you are the best surgeon ever.” Then I thanked (Yes, I am one of those compulsive thankers who miss not a single opportunity to say the magic words – thank you and sorry. The legend goes that I thanked mom right after she breastfed me and thus got my first whacking.) the operating room staff including the anesthetist as they in turn gazed at me stone-faced. But soon they were hilarious as I finally caught my husband’s eye and went on to profess my eternal love to him and adamantly demanded that he kiss me. He, as usual, muttered some excuses for not doing it in public, quite illogical I thought, like “too many tubes going into you” and so forth. Then I noticed my father and did not spare him either. Alas! I was soon drifting away and when I awoke next they were gone.
This time, I was quite amused by the sensation that my right hand had become bigger than my whole body. I have often been told that I have good hands, so I was not altogether put off by it. Every now and then a nurse would come and ask me why I had covered my hair (they were very concerned about looks in the ICU as they mostly dealt with plastic surgery). I would explain pleasantly that it was for my prayers lest they thought I was dressing up like Osama Bin Laden. Sometimes an odd surgeon or two would venture in and ask me whether I had just had liposuction. Perhaps they could not reconcile the chubby face to the flat stomach that I had after fasting for 48 hours. Thus the night passed uneventfully.
With the advent of daylight came new occupants to the ICU. The first one was a 3-month-old baby whose mother was trying to surpass its ability to cry when finally a doctor came in and put an end to the competition. The young man who was in the next bed (who helped the night-duty nurse stay on her feet all night) was replaced by an 8-year-old. This boy obviously was not thrilled by the level of honesty with which everyone dealt with him. He constantly called the entire nursing staff and his parents, “a pack of liars!”
By mid-afternoon, the attending nurse had already told me her entire life story and confessed her sins. (She was much impressed by the ‘thank you and sorry’ obviously. Ha! Take that mom!) My surgeon strode in and asked me to sit up. I was wearing the latest in drain fashion and did not want to be cut off (this was my fetish) but he was not to be persuaded. I worked my biceps and soon was on a stretcher to my room where I would finally have a chance to meet my tormentor.
It was yellow like a ray of sunshine, its origins eclectic, and its dimensions the work of pure genius. I never knew I had such an amazing talent. Tête-à-tête with the magic (more like witchcraft!) pebble at last. Over the next few days, it became the jewel of our mantelpiece as Zak and mom competed with each other to display it to whoever cared to visit. Not to be outdone, I would show off my staples. The funny thing is that when you say staples, people choose to think it would be different from the ones that you use to hold paper together. They are really horrified to find out that it is the same thing that holds my skin together. I grossed out a lot of my relatives that way. Some even had nightmares (bless their little hearts for visiting me). Mom started calling me Frankenstein and avoided eye contact.
The nurse had just come in to take the drain and catheter out and I was quite thrilled to be able to walk unattached and independent (the first time I walked the euphoria was so much, I almost fainted). The phone rang and I picked it up with some zest. It was my boss. Obviously thrilled to hear me so hale and hearty, he asked me when I would like to get back to work. He must have caught the hidden (so hidden that I did not pick it up myself) desire in my voice to be working at that blessed moment.
After a tumultuous week in the hospital, it was now time to go home. As I handed the stone over to the analyst, did my lips quiver, my heartbeat fasten? (Of course not, good riddance!)
I was going about my usual hectic life, planning my kid’s birthday, going to office, cooking and doing chores when suddenly I found myself bending over backwards (literally) in the bus. Then a shooting pain seemed to radiate from my lower back to the front. We, in the medical transcription business, like to believe (secretly of course) that we can diagnose any illness ourselves and so my colleagues and I embarked on an animated discussion about the origin of my pain, which at one point, I think actually included vitamin deficiency. When my employer’s maid remarked that it could be a “urinary problem,” we scarcely gave it a thought before continuing our sagacious theses. Of course a day or two later, when the urine was coming out in a bright red hue, there was no doubt who had hit the nail on the head.
In the month that followed there was a spurt of medical activity with my husband and I running from pill to post. As I wriggled in pain, a couple of visitors would drop in, empathize with me, and regale my mom with their own Stone-Ache stories. My mom, no doubt wishing to provide me with the best medical care would then toy with these new-fangled treatments that she just heard. No stone including Ayurveda was left unturned. So as I drank these exotic (polite term for horribly bitter and awful) concoctions, I would be filled with gratitude for my benefactors and new hope pervaded my stoned soul.
It was around the time, I think, when someone began to extol the virtues of poison extracted from a scorpion as the next big thing in stone cure that I ran to the nearest urosurgeon. I was quite comforted by the thought of having a stent put in my kidney and my stone powdered away via multiple shock-wave sessions.
As I drifted away slowly into the anesthetic daze, I dreamt of the next 40 days I would spend doing lithotripsy and drinking tomato juice but it was not meant to be.
At the postoperative ICU, I awoke with a start and gazed lovingly into my husband’s eyes (cut, cut … this is no Bollywood story). Ahem! I blinked and stared stupidly at my doctor’s face as he pronounced with great elation that he had done a laparoscopy and taken the stone out. I blurted out something like “cool, you are the best surgeon ever.” Then I thanked (Yes, I am one of those compulsive thankers who miss not a single opportunity to say the magic words – thank you and sorry. The legend goes that I thanked mom right after she breastfed me and thus got my first whacking.) the operating room staff including the anesthetist as they in turn gazed at me stone-faced. But soon they were hilarious as I finally caught my husband’s eye and went on to profess my eternal love to him and adamantly demanded that he kiss me. He, as usual, muttered some excuses for not doing it in public, quite illogical I thought, like “too many tubes going into you” and so forth. Then I noticed my father and did not spare him either. Alas! I was soon drifting away and when I awoke next they were gone.
This time, I was quite amused by the sensation that my right hand had become bigger than my whole body. I have often been told that I have good hands, so I was not altogether put off by it. Every now and then a nurse would come and ask me why I had covered my hair (they were very concerned about looks in the ICU as they mostly dealt with plastic surgery). I would explain pleasantly that it was for my prayers lest they thought I was dressing up like Osama Bin Laden. Sometimes an odd surgeon or two would venture in and ask me whether I had just had liposuction. Perhaps they could not reconcile the chubby face to the flat stomach that I had after fasting for 48 hours. Thus the night passed uneventfully.
With the advent of daylight came new occupants to the ICU. The first one was a 3-month-old baby whose mother was trying to surpass its ability to cry when finally a doctor came in and put an end to the competition. The young man who was in the next bed (who helped the night-duty nurse stay on her feet all night) was replaced by an 8-year-old. This boy obviously was not thrilled by the level of honesty with which everyone dealt with him. He constantly called the entire nursing staff and his parents, “a pack of liars!”
By mid-afternoon, the attending nurse had already told me her entire life story and confessed her sins. (She was much impressed by the ‘thank you and sorry’ obviously. Ha! Take that mom!) My surgeon strode in and asked me to sit up. I was wearing the latest in drain fashion and did not want to be cut off (this was my fetish) but he was not to be persuaded. I worked my biceps and soon was on a stretcher to my room where I would finally have a chance to meet my tormentor.
It was yellow like a ray of sunshine, its origins eclectic, and its dimensions the work of pure genius. I never knew I had such an amazing talent. Tête-à-tête with the magic (more like witchcraft!) pebble at last. Over the next few days, it became the jewel of our mantelpiece as Zak and mom competed with each other to display it to whoever cared to visit. Not to be outdone, I would show off my staples. The funny thing is that when you say staples, people choose to think it would be different from the ones that you use to hold paper together. They are really horrified to find out that it is the same thing that holds my skin together. I grossed out a lot of my relatives that way. Some even had nightmares (bless their little hearts for visiting me). Mom started calling me Frankenstein and avoided eye contact.
The nurse had just come in to take the drain and catheter out and I was quite thrilled to be able to walk unattached and independent (the first time I walked the euphoria was so much, I almost fainted). The phone rang and I picked it up with some zest. It was my boss. Obviously thrilled to hear me so hale and hearty, he asked me when I would like to get back to work. He must have caught the hidden (so hidden that I did not pick it up myself) desire in my voice to be working at that blessed moment.
After a tumultuous week in the hospital, it was now time to go home. As I handed the stone over to the analyst, did my lips quiver, my heartbeat fasten? (Of course not, good riddance!)
Inner Space
A flash of anger, rains of sorrow,
Black holes that drain you hollow;
Inner space unexplored inviting
Turmoil, irresistible unending.
Comets of fury shower at will,
Space and time are relative.
Bright new stars born to die,
A death so gruesome;
Its dust remains as hope scattered.
Not many ships dare to tread,
This wilderness beckoning to be revealed.
A multitude of stars adorn the path,
Like beacons of love guiding the way,
For a painful probe into its mysteries,
Welcomed and loathed in the same breath.
The sun and moon betray the earth,
Eclipsing each other at intervals,
Robbed of light the earth is veiled in a gloom;
It cannot defy either of them.
Indebted forever for the light they give,
The earth goes around them devoted.
Sometimes her tears enrich her fields,
Sometimes it drowns her seeds.
More meteors have scarred Venus than earth,
Her beauty is an illusion; her grace a myth.
Many are the mirages that vanish,
When you venture in for a closer look.
Black holes that drain you hollow;
Inner space unexplored inviting
Turmoil, irresistible unending.
Comets of fury shower at will,
Space and time are relative.
Bright new stars born to die,
A death so gruesome;
Its dust remains as hope scattered.
Not many ships dare to tread,
This wilderness beckoning to be revealed.
A multitude of stars adorn the path,
Like beacons of love guiding the way,
For a painful probe into its mysteries,
Welcomed and loathed in the same breath.
The sun and moon betray the earth,
Eclipsing each other at intervals,
Robbed of light the earth is veiled in a gloom;
It cannot defy either of them.
Indebted forever for the light they give,
The earth goes around them devoted.
Sometimes her tears enrich her fields,
Sometimes it drowns her seeds.
More meteors have scarred Venus than earth,
Her beauty is an illusion; her grace a myth.
Many are the mirages that vanish,
When you venture in for a closer look.
The Wall
The wall seemed to say:
“Come here, you are mine today.
I gave you warmth
When the sun was gone;
I shaded you from the heat
When it was dawn.”
“I am not young any more,
I don’t need your shade like before.
I want to see the sun,
Go out, have freedom and fun.
Your walls seem to close in,
Strangling the very essence of my being.”
She was so distraught,
Nevertheless she fought.
The wall seemed to have softened;
It did have a window that beckoned.
The light streamed in a golden hue.
The wall whispered,
“The sun is a dream only I am true.”
Beads of silver tear flowed down as she wept,
To venture out into that glorious world her tiny heart was set.
The wall knew in the silent night,
She wouldn’t give up without a fight.
The wall loved her with all its heart;
It unlocked its door with a dreary thought:
What if she didn’t return?
Out there was so much to learn.
In her freedom she reveled,
To new heights she traveled.
In the great outdoors she thought she would sleep,
But woke up to find a wall more steep.
“Come here, you are mine today.
I gave you warmth
When the sun was gone;
I shaded you from the heat
When it was dawn.”
“I am not young any more,
I don’t need your shade like before.
I want to see the sun,
Go out, have freedom and fun.
Your walls seem to close in,
Strangling the very essence of my being.”
She was so distraught,
Nevertheless she fought.
The wall seemed to have softened;
It did have a window that beckoned.
The light streamed in a golden hue.
The wall whispered,
“The sun is a dream only I am true.”
Beads of silver tear flowed down as she wept,
To venture out into that glorious world her tiny heart was set.
The wall knew in the silent night,
She wouldn’t give up without a fight.
The wall loved her with all its heart;
It unlocked its door with a dreary thought:
What if she didn’t return?
Out there was so much to learn.
In her freedom she reveled,
To new heights she traveled.
In the great outdoors she thought she would sleep,
But woke up to find a wall more steep.
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