“In this world better take the position of the giver. Give love, give service to others, but never barter.”
(Swami Vivekananda, 9 Jan 1979)

“Some things hidden
inside the odd fragrances
of our hopes.
Hinting lost dreams
discarded for faithless ideas
but Love knows..
Love knows the way.”

“You do not know love! Not as yet. Your queer ideas is only about the efforts that you garner to attract and then possess the object that evokes some silly notions of love in your heart. All you want to know is how to get her to swoon over you, how you will tame her with your overtures until she is a virtual slave, then she would be hovering over you, eager to satisfy every whim of yours and because you will think, she loves you. She says something, she feels something else but she behaves like another hopeless imp in one of her fleeting fancies. She desperately seeks devotion, but if you were to demonstrate faithfulness before she expected it, you would be considered naïve.”

“You do nothing but grope for your own shadows. You refuse to look at the light that is shining IN you and instead relate only to those shadows - the needs, the desires, all those things you think they reflect your being. When people say they love each other, they are mostly driven by their own needs and feelings of inadequacy, the tingling of their hormones, the atavistic influence in their genes. Their visions of a better life and higher levels of excellence is related only to power. Wielding authority over some people, surviving on their ignorance. You have created some contemptible institutions, some elegantly designed places, and if you are able to access their worthless corridors, you think you become nobler.”

“And you have those half crazed humanitarians, who shout themselves hoarse over the abuse and the killings, over the shameless acts being committed by shameless people. And they too seek to say that due to their fraternizing they are somehow haloed and perhaps better off than the hopeless masses.”

“So you seek to be perfect. A perfect worker, a perfect person, perfectly emotional and a perfect soul? Sigh! Perfection is not about bits and pieces. Perfection cannot come about in twos. There is only ONE perfection and you are one with it!”

“You can only do what you have to do. You have no choice. You can only seek to understand but you will be helpless in the understanding of it. It is pain that transforms into a kind of joy, it is suffering that becomes a medium for something else. It is Love that sustains life. Those moments when you are alone with your self, when you seek a mirror that reflects you - no more, no less. Something honest, something pure, something that justifies the laboring of your breath and pounding of your heart. Something that energizes your consciousness and awakens your deep memory. Something that you forget so easily and ignore too often - that you are a part, only a fragment of everything else. Yes, you are a part of this Earth and everything in it and you seek a link so you can know it. That link is Love.”

I was left pondering and silent. So this is it? All we can do is seek true love and console ourselves after a futile search?

Sadness engulfed me from everywhere. Days passed in a kind of static trance that offered no clue. No hope. Matching my moods was the weather. The monsoon rains of Shillong when weeks pass by without a smidgen of clear sky. Grey and gloomy. Some friends called suddenly. They were the boisterous sort, always up to something, and of course, without a gigantic weight on their souls to trouble them.

“Want to go to Cherrapunjee?” I smiled. “When?” So the plans were made. Somebody's car, somebody else's music system. Some booze and the food. Painful pieces of meat, no doubt.

We drove along the winding road in a drizzle. The soft hazy mist, covering the grey silhouettes of evergreen tree tops. The whole atmosphere seemed to utter a prolonged sigh of anticipation. Words formed in the mind, and uttered with hesitating emotion, leaving the lips to form the disturbing shapes of dreams, so easily palpable in the smoky air.

A chill on the surface of the jeans and cold covering the jacket, hands folded in a warm fist inside the pockets, and the heart beating its slow and rhythmic apprehension. Socks clinging to flakes of dry skin, while the white sneakers gathered the wetness of dried pine branches strewn on the grass, kicking an occasional pinecone here and there.

Everything wet, wet, wet. Draped with thick grey clouds of gloom, and the mind restless from the waiting but the sun refused to shine. Weightless drops of rain just poured on, relentlessly, monotonously, heavier drops that fell all the way from tall branches of brave trees and somewhere a lonely sparrow lowly chirped, probably feeling cold.

Something like a disturbed chaotic dream. It looked so much like the unbearable imposing sadness in my mind… a small memory that acknowledged her presence somewhere, close but seeming very far… and faint, struggling so hard to make itself felt but I hardly knew… speechless and painfully silent like the fog, stubbornly spread over the green grass and brown woods, refusing to let the flowers bloom, leaves to dance and birds to fly. Everything frozen cold from an inexplicable despair… except for that memory like a tiny flickering flame that She had kindled one forgotten day… the only thing warming me.

A legend of long ago that goes around this place says there was once a young man who charmed the local chief's wife with the beautiful tunes of his flute. Whenever she heard him play, she would long to be near him. Soon afterwards the villagers found out about their romance and convicted him to be burnt in a pyre. He kept playing on his flute as the flames consumed him until she, unable to bear the agony, broke out and plunged herself into the fire. Till today, the melancholy charms of Cherrapunjee, especially on a rainy day, seems filled with the pain of their mutual longing. But that was long ago, so long ago... and yet...

They who live like fighting cocks, practicing pangamy in the confines of over decorated living rooms, only dream of breathing the freedom of fresh air out in the open under beautiful blue skies and a dazzling sun. And so many wishes are stifled in the heart, just like that.

“He fills his world
with the miserable sound
of his own chaos.
The same hackneyed response
of relentless habit,
oblivious to his clinging roots
among the mire.
Locked up in the dungeon
of his small self prison
longing to be free
Headed to reconcile the world
with no reconciliation within.”

I thought of my life as one entity. It had its share of challenges and upheavals, but the uncovering of those obstacles would strengthen my spirit, which is what real life was all about. Life had a certain tough flavor, but behind the seeming adventure hid a trembling dream. There would be Somebody else to share that dream. I wondered constantly how that dream would finally be.

“I was there before
the haunted paths
to your home,
like we used to walk
under tall eucalyptus trees
and an evening breeze,
looking at an endless sky
and sharing a sigh,
touching your face
with an enchanted gaze,
You are still the same...
just a different name.”

Why did she fight shy of the guy who seemed to offer all the answers with a candid attitude? Probably he had tried very hard, once upon a beautiful time. Two young people had found that which was most valuable. Something that the timeless soul understood but failed to convince the doubting mind, always wandering away towards frivolous things, filled with apprehensions of endless kinds and Love could endure no more. The chasm got widened and two more people drifted away into loneliness.

“There is a part of me
where I end
and She begins
hazy fragrance like pure love,
elusive flower like smile,
conscious in absent mindedness,
feel of a faint music in mind,
a thrill in fleeting senses
- the throbbing She in me.
Memories like her breath
that lull me to sleep,
and once again that aura,
ambience of a wilderness,
blue skies and fresh green grass,
flowers bursting with an ecstasy of colors
swimming in a fragrant trance,
the atmosphere filled with her..
A groaning pleasure disturbing the dream,
her softness teasing me to awaken,
smile of a subtle desire
my eyes open to beauty..
- shades of Her beauty.”

Everything was deathly calm. The raging winds had disappeared but an uneasy waiting peace prevailed. Night of my soul and an uncertain dawn, everything looked so deceptive on the outside. I felt completely perplexed. What do I do now? Dire circumstances easily muddle up the clarity of thought and it seemed it was nothing but an infatuation. An adolescent fantasy. A figment of my fertile imagination.

“An opaque silence
in the eye of the storm
is a deathly calm.
Battle of a turbulent mind
unrelenting compromise of spirit
and tears, the only measure
of desperation.
We can turn our faces,
our eyes not to see,
but the hinting smile speaks
and a helplessness remind
us of the provenential guilt.
Each, thrown to the lonely winds
charting a narrow trail
of confused footsteps
Who is there, to show the way
when we have closed so firmly
the silent seeing eye?”

Slowly the repercussions were dying away. I was rendered with reflection, detachment and silence. It all projected the true nature of things and circumstances. It was absurd to try anything too ambitious because one is always surprised and awed that life is only a lengthy process of manifestation and discovery. This was only a turning point.

*                 *                 * 

My sister who was working in Gangtok needed me, so I was sent packing from home, my first venture out of town alone, which brought tears to my mom's eyes as I bid her goodbye and took a bus for Sikkim.

It was another beautiful morning in the middle of a mellowing autumn, the day we drove down to Guwahati on our way to Gangtok. The beautiful landscape through the highway from Siliguri by the Teesta river under an ecstatic blue sky gave my heart a fresh dewy feeling and I felt rejuvenated. The trip was a nice way to delve into the tribulations of my life and whet the keen edges of my spirit to fight back against all odds. I was more than rewarded.

It was probably the sight of those tranquil monks walking about calmly in the monasteries that soothed my frayed nerves. In the end, it’s all in the mind. To detect an illusory idea creeping in or program it to accept anything, as Gadzookz considers it a computer. And therefore, the assiduous commitment to one's own awareness.

But what about Love? Surely it was no mental aberration!?? Gadzookz chuckled. “Only your commitment to truth leads to love,” he said. “How can you claim the rewards when you have spent most of your being running away from truth?” “It flows like a sparkling brook, that part of you, deep and lonely, willing to be shared. You feel a thrill whenever it fills your mind but a few seconds in time and it is gone. You want it to be there always but it escapes your hold. Like a piece of music, heard and forgotten, like the sudden joy in somebody's smile, but the next time, it isn't there.”

What is this elusive emotion? And why is life so empty without it? If only we could find a way to make it last and last. Pondering by the rocky rivers, I realized nothing is absolute in any way. Not even the memories of togetherness. Everything is always in a flux. Forever changing and we hardly had the power to control the pace.

“So much of us
beyond this moment
is a mystery.
So much of us
before this moment
is a useless memory.
Then this frantic struggle
to make things go
Our whimsical ways.
The fetters of unscrupulous ideas
instilled corny by the burdens
of a redundant society,
caging all our dreams
and stifling
the unfolding of a lotus
like the beauty of life
and realization is only
a spontaneous discovery of love.”

We feel disheartened because we always live in some illusion. Holding on to ideas in the confines of our thoughts that are mirages, while the truth is always there somewhere, vulnerable, unsure, wistful.

Certain experiences are so elusive, so abstract. They do not lend themselves to concrete expression. Maybe our language is not yet true enough. We are filled with a sense of wonder and awe when we encounter those moments - moments of enchantment. Our imagination struggles to capture that elusive noumena in words, in gestures, yet we know it remains beyond our grasp. The effulgence of nature reflected in the gardens by the steep winding roads of Gangtok, tinged with a lazy feeling, melancholy yet ecstatic, told me so simply, all is goodness if only I found a way through my complicated thoughts.

“There exists another language in our being; that which is now only longing in separation, a desolation, crying out to its counterpart, its desire for oneness. The depth of its feeling experienced as pain, the vanity of desires, an afterthought in someone's talking, a vague look in the eyes, a sudden excitement of hope. So much remains unsaid, sensed so strongly, yet hidden in some corner, covered with a look of importance, of being worthy in the uncompleted state of ourselves.”

Something eggs us on, towards an undisclosed destination. We imagine it to be a world of one humanity, with the sublimity of nature to inspire and guide us towards a slow but steady dawning of the lost wisdom in our consciousness.

“To be special, one of an only kind is a very deep longing. The aspiration is rooted in the cells, fuelled by the warmth of blood. Love is also another springboard to be one-in-a-million. The familiarity of a long lost wish, suddenly found again. All it involves is giving oneself totally and completely. A surrender.”

But how could one know that this was the one?

“There are two distinct ways of being. One is involved in living. The other is more wise, silent and deeper, telling you how things are, not letting you get carried away and unfolding everything. You need to listen to that part, learn to trust what it says because it will always turn out to be true.”

“When only logic prevails, there is no sense of wonder or mystery about life. Fantasies run amok. Ideals rage with passion and behavior turns cynical. Fanatic words and actions, imagined fears and unnecessary restlessness. And so we grow. Out of the chaos and the ruins of mistakes, we rise.”

Growing inwardly is not painful. We don't struggle to know, to do anything but we discover our immensity more and more. The narrow boundaries of individuality is stretched. Our eyes open, vision clears to see expanding horizons. The power, the compassionate force behind, smiling unseen as a quiet protective angel. We yield, and it takes over to enable us to tread the rocky road of life.

“One more sigh,
two more teardrops,
for a hidden heart
and disguised love.
We meet,
we differ,
we understand,
we find joy
and return to our solitude.”

“Love is to be interpreted as an unbreakable bond. An intimate familiarity with the great secret of life. A spontaneous joy of being, to be convinced we are one. We become the medium, if only purified enough, to transmit its possibilities, a fragment of that consciousness that pervades everything. Nobody wants to be left out in this game. So everybody tries, each in his or her own way, to perceive that state of being connected and integrated into the whole. The joy exists with the universal mind at all times. We are only affected when we are somehow able, to briefly sense that higher source, when we are part of a larger self than we seemingly are.”

“Till then, for me
the purple swaying against the green
never held appeal,
but with your sudden wistful glance
I've come to see
that flowers make me smile.
Within that was
an ocean of void
now splashes a white foamy wave
against an orange radiance;
Walking in an evening breeze
not so cold and half happy,
that is disturbing my hair
and ruffling your clothes,
filling us more and more
with the only joy
we always know.”

At times I feel the way my life has moved is so pre-programmed. How much can I really do, other than be cool, and keep on trying, exerting only as much as I comfortably can? Of what use is it to be so motivated and determined if life was only a routine of stern duty?

“The subtle process will emerge into a clear consciousness. A little truth has unfolded but outside chaos is still rampant. Agitation is only a step towards peace. The pain is only a prelude to joy.”

“You cannot escape from the inevitable unevenness in the balancing act of life, on the way to find true equilibrium. In becoming involved with the world you are to become integrated and take your share of its many burdens - the sham of the value system, the pride of elitism and the hysterical attachment to the past. Your only option is to trust the future - to be good, to be better than now, and much better than the Golden Past even.”

“With each inward retreat, you will come out with newer understanding until it is the same, within and without, but you'll never stop growing; in understanding things better and better.”

But I feel there is no more distance to go. I cannot be anymore successful than I am. Yet there's something missing. I do not want to be more successful. I want to be complete.

“Life is never complete without love.”

But love is so vague. I do not know what to expect. I do not know if my haunches are right and this shy and silent waiting seems like forever. I feel my life is an illusion on the brink of disaster. I don't know who I am and what I am doing here.

“Realisation is the fulfillment of others in oneself, but one cannot rush this. Things are happening too fast and obscure ideas, unperfected methods are churning out and fizzling away before anyone can even grasp the essentials. You have your being in others. Others have their being in you. You are not alone. You alone can do nothing. The very idea of trying to be someone is ridiculous. The deepest urge of every self encased in a body is to blossom and thrive in the realms of an expanded selfhood.”

Sometimes, my whole being shudders with the worries of my inadequacy, with nothing to turn to for faith, to quiet the endless questions. I am looking for hope, to strive and follow the aspiration. I wanted success to become the passport to my ideal. But I am disillusioned.

“Opportunists will remain obscure, their spark hidden, undiscovered. This is not about one lucky break. Deep down it glimmers, trying to break out and fill us up with splendor. It is there in every single one of us.”

I remember. Once I was journeying by train and we were stranded in some station. I was strolling on the platform when a policeman on duty struck up a conversation. There was a bright moon above and that fellow remarked on the celestial beauty which overshadowed the dull sodium vapor lamps lighting up the dark railway tracks. It struck me. Here he was, a sentimental sort of fellow and employed in the Police force. Round peg in a square hole, bechara.

Leonardo DaVinci’s The Universal Man..
Infinite Spirit trapped in finite conditions: Round peg in a square hole…

“Always think in terms of being that which appeals to the heart and is unconcerned by compulsive considerations. You cannot do justice by tolerating something for the sake of convenience only.”

I had to quit my newspaper job. That was another truth covered by the cobwebs of my indecision.

“It seems difficult in the face of people who are simply stuck in a certain mindset. It is terrible to see them hold fast to their opinions, inflicting themselves with their own reluctance to accept change out of an ambiguity in their minds. They simply do not understand while they watch - fascinated and fooled at the same time.”

But isn't it strange that I've been here all my life, more than twenty years of it and there is not ONE relationship which I can vouch for as guaranteed? If this is the irony I have lived for so long it must reflect a greater irony clouding the minds of millions!

“Where is that ONE relationship untainted by superficial layers of ego? The fetters of our stubborn nature - the refusal to let go of pettiness. Those are the obstacles to overcome and evolve into the sublime romance of life.”

“A silent ripple
on the pond of yearning,
You
the warmth of the fire,
and She
the form of its flames,
always the other
in every desire.
A loneliness
that fuels
the trembling wish
behind a hesitating smile
to allow memory
linger with the pain
of coming together.
Singing not too loud
to stifle the others song,
Waiting with patience
while she is on her way,
Letting him wander
so he can return
and never let doubt to take
its ugly shape in words”

It is painfully hilarious. All the romance in our songs, all our gut wrenching love stories and yet we find true love eluding us. Faced with the choice in real life, the human heart remains skeptical, afraid to open up its bolted doors. Inhibitions that create obstacles which are not there and never meant to be.

“You think you will never find the love of your life and that's it. You have postponed the beautiful hour of your tryst. You somehow curb your emotions, you remain aloof, not allowing the joy that somebody's presence brings and love loses its way. You do not allow it to happen.”

Isn't it the same queer dithering reflected in our laws and international protocol? The wary suspicions between neighboring countries, between ideological or cultural groups? The smug look of power and authority, concealing frail hearts??

(.*_*.)

1. Bechara, poor fellow