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 |   As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| The year was 1555. Portuguese colonial power was at its peak in the 1500’s. They destroyed Zamorins of Calicut. Defeated the Sultan of Bijapur. Took away Daman from the Sultan of Gujarat, Established a colony in Mylapore, Captured Bombay and made Goa as their headquarters. And while they were at it, pretty much unchallenged, they even ruined the ancient Kapaleeswarar Temple to build a Church over it. Their next target, the super profitable port of Mangalore. Their only bad luck, just 14 kilometers south of Mangalore was the small settlement of Ullal - ruled then by a feisty 30 year old woman - Rani Abbakka Chowta. Initially, they took her lightly and sent a few boats and soldiers to capture and bring her back to Goa - Those boats never came back. Shocked and enraged, they sent a huge fleet of ships this time, under the command of much celebrated Admiral Dom Álvaro da Silveira - The admiral soon returned, badly injured and empty handed. Thereafter, another Portuguese fleet was sent - only a few injured from the crew managed to make it back. Then the Portuguese went on to capture the Mangalore port and the fort anyways, perhaps planning to tackle Rani Abbakka Chowta from the convenient distance of the Mangalore fort. After the successful capture of Mangalore, a huge army under João Peixoto, an experienced Portuguese General was sent to Ullal. The brief was simple: Subjugate Ullal and capture Abbakka Chowta. The plan was foolproof- there was no way a 30 year old lady with a few men could withstand the might of an army of thousands with advanced weapons. The Portuguese reached Ullal and found it deserted. Abbakka was nowhere in sight. They roamed around, relaxed and thanked their stars - Just when they were about to call it a victory - Mrs Chowta attacked with 200 of her chosen men - there was chaos all around and many portuguese lost their lives even without a fight General João Peixoto was assassinated, 70 Portuguese were captured and the rest just ran away. So if you’re Abbakka Chowta, who’s just defeated a large army of aggressors, killed a general, captured fighters and defended her city - What will you do? - Rest and enjoy the moment right? - Right? - No! Rani Abbakka Chowta, rode with her men towards Mangalore that same night, and laid a siege of the Mangalore fort - She not just broke inside the fort successfully - but assassinated Admiral Mascarenhas the Chief of the Portuguese power there and forced the remaining Portuguese to vacate the fort. She didn’t just stop at this but went on to even capture the Portuguese settlement at Kundapura, a full 100 kms, north of Mangalore - Just to make a point. The Portuguese finally managed to get back at Abbakka Chowta by convincing her estranged husband, to betray for money. She was arrested and put in the prison where she revolted again and was killed while trying to escape. Abbakka Chowta was a Jain who fought against the Portuguese for four decades, with an army comprising of both Hindus and Muslims, a full 300 years before the First War of Indian Independence in 1857. What did we Indians do to her, as a mark of our respect and gratitude? - We just forgot her. We didn’t name our girls after her. We didn’t even teach her stories to our kids. Yes we did release a Postal Stamp in her name, named a boat after her and erected 2 statues - yes just 2 statues in the whole of India for someone who should be our national hero. The Indian Coast Guard ship ICGS Rani Abbakka the 1st of a series of five inshore patrol vessels built at Hindustan Shipyard Ltd is named after Abbakka Mahadevi. We might have got to read a chapter about her in our text books, had she been a European or an American. Many talk about her being the last Indian to have the power of the agni-ban. In all this cacophony, our generation has lost a great hero - a great source of inspiration. |
| A stage comes in the life of a sādhak (seeker of truth) when he may benefit others by his blessings. He may take on the illnesses or fulfil in various ways the material desires of others. He may bestow spiritual strength upon those who are spiritually inclined. How does one manifest such blessings? When the sādhak realizes that everything is contained within himself and that he exists in everything, it can happen that he takes upon himself the suffering of others for there is no difference - no duality. On the other hand, if that person is meant to be healed or saved, things can occur on their own in a way that accomplishes this. For instance, one day this Body was sitting in āsana at the Siddheswari temple (the first ashram in Siddheshwari Dhaka now in Bangladesh) talking to people when suddenly She stood up and walked towards a nearby pond. A child had fallen into it and was drifting towards deeper waters. She quickly lowered Herself into the water and pulled the child to safety and returned it to the parents who had been sitting within the Kālī temple. There is also a stage when a person can be saved without undergoing suffering or without the sādhak taking the suffering upon himself. A sādhak of a high calibre can enhance a person’s spiritual prowess by infusing him with greater awareness of the Self (Ātmā). At this stage the sādhak is capable of exhibiting various powers, however, should he display these with pride and a sense of superiority, then his progress becomes arrested as there still remains the desire within him for recognition. Although the sādhak may acquire supernatural powers, he may realize that because he has not yet gone beyond likes and dislikes he is not qualified to use these freely. This is also Mā then laughingly started explaining the various stages. Those who have an attachment to various forms of prayer and meditation (like japa (ceaseless flow of God’s name), pūjā (ritualistic worship), pāth (recitation of holy scriptures), kīrtan (Chanting or singing the names or glories of God), satsang (association with a great soul or discussion on spiritual subjects) and try to be absorbed in the thought of their chosen deities via their particular aspect of sādhanā (spiritual practice for the purpose of preparing oneself for Self-realization). belong to the stage that you may classify as ‘student’. There are those who engage in pūjā (ritualistic worship), pāth (recitation of holy scriptures), dhyān (meditation), and dhāranā (concentration) and at the same time strive to remember God continuously by engaging in discussions and deliberations on the fundamental Truth. They strive earnestly to pursue the path of spiritual progress and search intensely for the way. Such persons represent the Intermediate stage. Again, there are those who become engrossed in various fundamental truths about God and their Ishta (One’s tutelary Deity), or are intent upon furthering their knowledge on the essence of Ātmā (soul). Such persons zealously pursue and analyze their individual quests.These represent the stage akin to your B.A. (Graduation) degree. Going beyond the involvements of the physical world or its three primordial qualities, sattva, rajas, tamas (Pure and good, passionate and restless, dull and torpid), there are those who experience the Supreme Reality, beyond all attributes, the Self- effulgent and without form. In them there is no question of there being lesser or greater progressive advancement of a particular doctrine. However, their revelations are proportionate to their pace of progress. Such persons have reached the penultimate stage (It is similar to the stage of opening of ‘Rudra Granthī’ in Tantra sādhanā- Rudra Granthī, the seat of subtle ego, intellect and volition, is located in the area of the third eye known as Ājnā Chakra), a process that you may align with your M.A. (Masters) degree. The above is explained in this manner to make it comprehensible. Supremely established in one’s Self - where there is no conflict or controversy - that is the desired goal. You say it is beyond doubt, yet doubt remains. How is that possible? How beautiful is the one who attains absolute knowledge of the Ultimate Reality, who is established beyond all knowledge and ignorance, and who melts to become formless and then congeals to be with form! Again, the all pervading One that solidifies to take form is the same as That which melts to become formless. All this eternal dissolving and solidifying is the essence of the Supreme Self. In both the form and the formless, there is only the One. A sādhak who has realized this ultimate state may choose to be merged with the Supreme or remain within form as the full embodiment of the non-dual revelation Itself. Where this merging into formlessness or remaining with form takes place in full realization of the Supreme, there remains no question. Again it is said that it dissolves in love and is ablaze in the fire of knowledge. That is, the sheath of ignorance can be removed by the aspect of divine love or the true knowledge of the Supreme. These are but different points of view and ways to attain the supreme goal of being established in the Self. It is interesting that for those who follow the path of Vedānta in order to realize the Supreme, as long as the aspect of reasoning exists there will always remain the concept of a judge, a subject to be judged and the argument for and against the subject; then the question of karma and sanskār (the consequences of the activities of past lives) will arise. The idea of formlessness and form will also play into that argument. When will the question of karma, vāsanā (subtle mental impression from previous lives), and sanskār not arise? Well, when these concepts are no longer relevant. Where is the place of language for what remains and what does not? Language floats on something, so where is that something? Again there is that Great Power beyond which there exists no other, where there is no dearth of revelation of any fundamental truth, be that in the aspect of Self (Ātmā) or God with form such as Rām-Sītā, Shiv-Shakti, or Rādhā-Krishna. Whichever way you may state it, it is where the real nature of the Supreme exists. It is That and only That. The ability to play freely in that state is equivalent to your Ph D. degree. Now, find out what THAT is! |
| The self-identification of “ I” with this body, produces the bondage of existence. Like a mother who, utterly unmindful of the child that rests on her lap, searches for her child everywhere, so all people, without cognizing Atma within, suffer the bondage of existence. Like water which, through agitation in it, generates waves and others, so also through the excess of thoughts, the delusions of Consciousness greatly increases ; but should the stains of thoughts be removed and the expanded Consciousness be concentrated firmly upon Self, you will be able to rule your Kingdom without any fluctuation, even in the tossing waves of (Samsaric) ocean and being immovable in your Atma, to be eternal and blissful. Then Atma, which, remains after all, will through its Sankalpic (or voluntary; potencies create diverse sports like children in this world.” |
| Their birth was big news in Kerala back in 1995. They were the state’s quintuplets, five children born in a single delivery. Their first day in school, first day in college and then, first vote: the media celebrated all their movements notwithstanding their personal loss. Leaving behind bitter memories, the four women are set to start another innings in their life. They will tie knot at Sree Krishna temple in Guruvayoor on April 26 next year. And their brother is busy with arrangements. When they were born on 18 November 1995, their father, a small-time trader, was excited and he gave similar names to all five: Uhtraja, Uthara, Uthama, Uthra and Uthrajan. They were born on the Uthram star in Malayalam calendar. Soon the trader renamed their house, “Pancha Ratnam” (five jewels). The children were stars in many ways. But it was never easy. Their father struggled to get them similar dress, bag, umbrella and the like. He insisted that all their belongings should be similar, if not identical. But when his wife had a heart problem, the family ran into financial troubles, one after the other. Nine years after the jewels were born, the father committed suicide in 2004 leaving his ailing wife and five children behind. The tragedy stunned the state. Many blamed the media for failing to see “the other side”. There were enough good Samaritans around and help did pour in. The mother, who had got a pace-maker by then, also got a job in the government. Some media houses also took the lead to help them. True, the gusty mother lived for her children and gave them the best education she could. They will turn 24 this month and doing well for themselves. One daughter is fashion designer, two are anesthesia technicians and the other is an online writer. Their brother, Uthrajan, is a techie. THE MOTHER said :- “I was clueless after my husband’s sudden death. Then I thought I should live for my children and started fighting back. If there is a will, there is a way,” she said to explain how she crossed the hurdles, one after other. “When he was alive he was very particular that all five should get equal opportunity and treatment. We want to keep his dream alive so we decided they should get married on the same day. My son has to scale more heights so he can wait a bit,” said the proud mother who works as the class four employee at the district co-operative bank branch in Thiruvananthapuram. “We will miss our brother now,” said Uthara. |
| In a couple of days from now, the commemoration of the centenary of World War 1, also called the Great War, will officially come to a close. The War which started on 28 Jul 1914 ended with the Armistice on 11 Nov 1918. While it was thought, at that time, that mankind would be spared the horrors of another world war, it was sadly not to be. Just two decades later, the world witnessed an even bigger war. India’s contributions in the two world wars earned her the status of the founding member, first of the League of Nations and later of the United Nations, while still not being an independent nation. While each war was unique - if one can use the word - and occasions its own post mortems and remembrance, much of the world observes Remembrance Day in honour of all their war dead on the Sunday closest to 11 Nov (the Armistice day). This year, fortuitously, 11 Nov falls on a Sunday and thus enables the function to be held exactly hundred years after the war ended. Many will recall the flurry of activity four years ago when the centenary commemorations commenced. During this time, in several parts of the world, especially Europe, there have been events galore, remembrance of specific battles, several books written, movies and documentaries made, new memorials constructed and several aspects of the War brought back to life - be it the sacrifices, the horrors, the political and military salients or poignant individual stories of grit, bravery and human caprices. While I was aware, if somewhat hazily, of India’s contribution to both the World Wars, I experienced its most concrete personal manifestation on the sudden ‘discovery’ of a lone Indian sailor’s grave in the Asmara Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery, in May 2009, on an official visit to the Eritrean capital, in my tour of duty as Defence Adviser to the High Commission of India (HCI), Nairobi, with concurrent accreditation to Eritrea. That experience led to an article called ‘Far Corner of a Foreign Graveyard’ (inspired, no doubt, by Rupert Brooke) and was published in the Naval journal ‘Quarterdeck’ in Jan 2010 issue. (Article attached for those interested). It also led to a renewed quest from my side to ferret out more information about Indian involvement in East Africa during the Great War. A search for all Indian cemeteries, better listing and cataloguing of all Indian soldiers who lost their lives there and endeavouring to organise dedicated memorial services for Indian soldiers (in which alas I was only partly successful) were some of the things I tried to do. Locating Indian cemeteries or graves was sometimes a little difficult because, unlike those of other nations who were buried and have independent tombstones, Indians (most of who were cremated) are mentioned on plaque stones, with few of these in obscure places. But the most challenging part of this job was in disseminating this information to many stakeholders – officials within the Mission, Indians in Africa – whether they were the diaspora descended from earlier generations or those recently relocated, foreigners in East Africa who held impressive memorial services for their countrymen whose war dead in the region were far less and above all the locals, the East Africans. On most occasions, the reaction was one of disbelief or bemusement – most of them had absolutely no idea of India being there. When informed that more than 3000 Indians were killed in East Africa and are commemorated there, the reaction tuned to one of incredulity, almost an ‘Are you kidding?’ kind of stupefied expression. Needless to say, I would be both angered and pained by these reactions. That so few knew so little about something ‘so significant’ was jarring to me. But at some level, this is understandable. Africa was no Europe, the war was fought to no avail and there were no great strategic gains or losses; this was not Flanders or Ypres or Neuve Chapelle or even Gallipoli or Haifa. Post-colonial nations had other, more pressing, concerns. War nostalgia or remembrance was seen as a sort of ersatz romanticism, a luxury that developing countries could ill afford. It was more or less the same thing in India. Knowledge of our participation in the War is scant and that of the East African theatre even less known. Even among those aware, many, including some of my erudite friends, consider it a war fought for ‘A King and another country ‘(the title of a book released few years by Shrabani Basu) and therefore not worthy of praise. In fact, sadly, many Indian scholars and intellectuals actually look down upon this effort. This neglect or disdain has, therefore, resulted in near obliteration of this aspect from our memory, even though it has happened relatively recently. Thus, while India did see some belated recognition, some India specific books and fair bit of government initiatives, especially by our Missions and diaspora in Europe, the common man, by and large, is both ignorant and impervious to this chapter of Indian history. This is best illustrated by a revealing Instagram post and photo (see pic below) by my wife’s former colleague and good friend, the eminent photographer Chirodeep Chaudhuri and I am quoting him in full to illustrate the malaise His post says “Adjoining the Office of the Superintendent of Customs and the Shore Guards at the Malvan Jetty is a small structure covered in pink bathroom tiles. It no higher than 5 feet. At first I thought it might be a drinking water pyau and then spotting the plaque, which for some reason didn't quite seem to be appropriate on a structure such as this, I decided to get out of the car and explore. ‘From this town 75 men went to the great war. 1914-1919. Of these some gave up their lives’ read the inscription on the marble plaque. Around us on the jetty was the usual lazy activities that are typical of such places. Locals and a few tourists were shooting the breeze on the few benches. Flea infested stray dogs itched themselves furiously and snarled at each other. A group of young girls sporting colourful ribbons in their hair crowded around a bhel puri stall. Sindhudurg, Shivaji's fort in the sea, sat in a grey haze in the distance. Tiny boats bobbed in the sea. I was curious about when this memorial might have been installed. I looked around but could see none who I felt might be able to throw any real light on the matter. Just then a man emerged from inside that crumbling Customs office. I enquired with him. "I'm not sure. I have been posted here for 10-11 years. I have always seen it here," he said. "I think it's from sometime in the 1800s...It's a memorial to martyrs of some old war but I don't know the exact year," he added almost apologetically. India and the World War 1 is an aggregate of many such stories. Of many towns that sent its sons and of some that never came back. And of those very towns and places and the country at large forgetting about that. It saw the participation of about 1.5 million Indian soldiers and about 74,000 of them lost their lives. They went to different theatres - Europe, West Asia and East Africa to fight a war which was not of their making. They faced harsh weather with inadequate clothing, they went into varied terrain with inadequate preparation, they were often without enough artillery or logistics support and through all this they put up brave fights. They won some and lost some but by and large their courage and commitment was never in doubt. To recollect what Marshal Ferdinand Foch, supreme allied Commander of WW 1 said to the Indian troops at the unveiling of the Neuve Chapelle memorial in 1927 “Return to your homes in the distant, sun-bathed East and proclaim how your countrymen drenched with their blood the cold northern land of France and Flanders, how they delivered it by their ardent spirit from the firm grip of a determined enemy; tell all India that we shall watch over their graves with the devotion due to all our dead. We shall cherish above all the memory of their example. They showed us the way; they made the first steps towards the final victory”. In addition, Indian contribution towards the expenditure of the war, supplies and equipment was significant. Hence, it was natural that most soldiers came back to India expecting a heroes' welcome, but to their disappointment had found nothing of the sort. They had also presumed that the British promise of self-rule or dominion status would get a boost by recognition of their participation. Alas, the Brits reneged on their commitment, to reward India's support in the Great War. This absence of recognition at personal and national level was to possibly scar them forever. However, as per Sqn Ldr Rana T.S. Chhina (retd), Secretary, Centre for Armed Forces Historical Research at the United Service Institution of India (USI), ‘it fuelled a renewed cry for the fight against the British rule. The war acted as a catalyst for the freedom struggle that ultimately helped India to gain her freedom.” It is only now, belatedly, that some authorities, entities and individuals are striving hard to win recognition for the stellar role played by our Army in this war. The India Remembers project is a joint endeavour of the USI and the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) as a part of the ‘India and the Great War’ Centenary Commemoration project initiated by the USI in 2014 with the support of the Ministry of External Affairs. I have read reports that the USI is collaborating with travel agencies to boost battlefield tourism and make the historical war locations more popular across the world. With active support from MEA, a war memorial is also being constricted through USI at Villers Guislan, a town about 200 km from Paris. It is scheduled to be inaugurated on 10 November 2018. Just three days ago, a 3-metre statue of a Sikh soldier was unveiled in Birmingham, UK and has been paid for by the local Sikh community. (See https://t.co/VLHb5krgWm for details) It is also understood that the USI in association with the government is actively campaigning to identify the descendants of WWI, both in India and Pakistan, to recognise and felicitate them. Even so, one can see that the bias is towards the European theatre. Africa suffers by neglect. As author Shrabani Basu says “The harshest thing we can do is forget them. It was time for their stories to be told". And, in this connection I have a unique story to tell. Of the African theatre. That will be for a subsequent follow on article but I will attempt a sneak peek. Shortly after my experience in Eritrea, our mission in Nairobi received a strange request. A gentleman wanted to trace if his great grandfather’s grave was somewhere in East Africa. He wanted to build a memorial for his great granddad in his home town, but the latter’s name was not inscribed at the India Gate and more ‘proof’ was needed. To cut a long story short, we indeed found that proof and furnished it to him. But his struggle had only begun. It took him five years to get this information, it was to take him another five to move an indifferent and ignorant bureaucracy in India and construct the memorial. To me, that story of one man and a memorial not in ‘far corner of a foreign field’ as Rupert Brooke wistfully wrote, but in the heart of an Indian village illustrate Indian reality and apathy despite the Government doing its best. To borrow a quote from author Raghu Karnad “the idea of India in War or War in India’ is distant and strange to many’. Do watch this space for part two. Meanwhile, it fills me with lots of happiness to learn that the marigold flower has been chosen as the uniquely Indian symbol of India’s sacrifices; like the red poppy (from the poppy of Flanders fields) does internationally, the marigold will be the concrete symbol to allow citizens in India, as well as the international diaspora, to ‘acknowledge the valour and sacrifice of the Indian armed forces in the service of the nation, including those who fell in the two world wars’. As Sqn. Ldr. Chhina puts it “The marigold was chosen because it is easily and widely available and also because saffron is often seen as a colour of sacrifice”. (Remember Rang De Basanti the great song written by Ram Prasad ‘Bismil’, one of India’s revolutionaries and a song that Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev and Rajguru apparently had on their lips when they were led to the gallows). Centenary commemorations may pass but as the childhood cliché goes we must “Remember, not to forget’ and ‘Forget Not, to remember’ those who are now standing guard elsewhere in eternity. As, we used to say at the conclusion of every memorial service in East Africa that I attended, “Their name liveth for evermore.” Let us colour ourselves marigold on this occasion of the centenary commemoration and for the future. |
| Sometimes I feel I want to go back in time... Not to change things, but to feel a couple of things twice.. Sometimes I wish I was a baby for a while... Not to be walked in the pram but to see my mother's smile Some times I wish I could go back to school... Not to become a child but to spend more time with those friends I never met after school.. Sometimes I wish I could be back in college... Not to be a rebel but to really understand what I studied Sometimes I wish I was a fresher at my work... Not to do less work but to recall the joy of the first pay cheque Sometimes I wish I could marry again all over... Not to change the partner but to 'feel' the ceremony better Sometimes I wish my kids were younger.... Not because they grew fast but to play with them a bit more Sometimes I feel I still had some more time to live... Not to have a longer life but to know what I could give to others Since the times that are gone can never come back, let's enjoy the moments as we live them from now on, to the fullest.. Let's celebrate our everyday life . . . |
| One morning at a Law College, when a new teacher for "Introduction to Rights" entered the classroom, the first thing he did was to ask the name of a student who was seated on the first bench: "What is your name?" "My name is Juan, Sir." "Leave the classroom and I don't want to ever see you in my class ever!" screamed the unpleasant teacher. Juan was bewildered. When he got hold of his senses, he got up quickly, collected his belongings and left the classroom. All were scared and angry; however nobody spoke anything. "Well, let's start the class," said the new teacher. "What purpose do the enacted laws serve?" We were afraid, but slowly gained confidence and we began to answer his questions. "So that there is order in our society." "No!" the teacher shouted. "So that people pay for their wrong actions?" "No! Doesn't anybody here have enough brains to know the answer to this question?!" asked the teacher, sarcastically. "So that there is justice," said a girl timidly. "At last! One person who is not a complete moron! That's correct.... so that there is justice. And now, what is the use of justice?" All of us were extremely uneasy with his rude attitude. However, we continued trying to answer.... "To safeguard human rights." "Well, what more?" asked the teacher. "To differentiate right from wrong and to reward the good." "Ok, that's not bad. However, answer this question: Did I act correctly when expelling Juan from the classroom?" All were quiet, nobody answered. "I want a decisive and unanimous answer!" he shouted. "No!" we all replied in unison. "Then could you say I committed an injustice?" "Yes!" Then his voice softened and he asked, "And why did nobody do anything in that respect? So why do we need rules and laws if we don't have the necessary will to practice them? Each one of you has an obligation to do something when you witness an injustice. ALL of you! Do not stay quiet, never again! Go and call Juan," he said staring at me. On that day, I received the most practical lesson in my course of Law. When we don't defend our rights, we lose our dignity, and *dignity is not negotiable.* 🙏🏼 |
| Akbar asked Birbal to look for five biggest idiots in his state and produce them in his court within a month. After a month's extensive search operations, Birbal brought to the court only two people! "But I asked for five", Akbar angrily asked. "Give me a chance to present them one by one", Birbal pleaded and went on to present his idiots: "Maharaj, this man, while travelling in a bullock cart, was keeping his luggage on his head so as not to hurt the bullocks. He is the first idiot. (In corporate parlance , the ones who take all load on themselves and not delegate) Pointing to the second man Birbal continued, "And this man here is the second idiot. Some grass grew on the roof of his thatched house and he was trying to force his cow climb up a ladder to graze on them." ( In corporate parlance, these are those who set unrealistic targets and force others to achieve it without realising their capabilities and competency) Birbal continued, "Maharaj, there were a lot of importants jobs for me to do in the state, but I ignored them and wasted a precious month in searching for idiots. According to me I am the third idiot." ( Idiots who rush obediently for wrong job assignments without any qualms) Birbal paused here for a moment. "Who are the fourth and fifth idiots?", Akbar thundered. "Beg your pardon, Maharaj", Birbal continued, "You are the King and are responsible for the wellbeing of the entire state and its people. You need wise persons to help you oversee the state affairs. Instead of looking for wise people you engaged me to look for idiots. According to me you are the fourth idiot. ( Bad leaders who make poor strategies and want idiots to follow blindly) And, Maharaj, the person who is glued to this post, keeping aside all his high priority assignments, oblivious of pressing needs of his familiy, just to learn who is the fifth idiot, is the fifth idiot himself. You will not find a better idiot to beat this one. What do you say, Maharaj?" Birbal concluded. Akbar said, "Post it immediately in all groups. Lots of idiots are eagerly waiting". |
| Akbar asked Birbal to look for five biggest idiots in his state and produce them in his court within a month. After a month's extensive search operations, Birbal brought to the court only two people! "But I asked for five", Akbar angrily asked. "Give me a chance to present them one by one", Birbal pleaded and went on to present his idiots: "Maharaj, this man, while travelling in a bullock cart, was keeping his luggage on his head so as not to hurt the bullocks. He is the first idiot. (In corporate parlance , the ones who take all load on themselves and not delegate) Pointing to the second man Birbal continued, "And this man here is the second idiot. Some grass grew on the roof of his thatched house and he was trying to force his cow climb up a ladder to graze on them." ( In corporate parlance, these are those who set unrealistic targets and force others to achieve it without realising their capabilities and competency) Birbal continued, "Maharaj, there were a lot of importants jobs for me to do in the state, but I ignored them and wasted a precious month in searching for idiots. According to me I am the third idiot." ( Idiots who rush obediently for wrong job assignments without any qualms) Birbal paused here for a moment. "Who are the fourth and fifth idiots?", Akbar thundered. "Beg your pardon, Maharaj", Birbal continued, "You are the King and are responsible for the wellbeing of the entire state and its people. You need wise persons to help you oversee the state affairs. Instead of looking for wise people you engaged me to look for idiots. According to me you are the fourth idiot. ( Bad leaders who make poor strategies and want idiots to follow blindly) And, Maharaj, the person who is glued to this Whatsapp, keeping aside all his high priority assignments, oblivious of pressing needs of his familiy, just to learn who is the fifth idiot, is the fifth idiot himself. You will not find a better idiot to beat this one. What do you say, Maharaj?" Birbal concluded. Akbar said, "Post it immediately in all groups. Lots of idiots are eagerly waiting". |
| In his book "Higher Consciousness" Gopi Krishna describes what he calls the "essential characteristics of genuine mystical experience." Some of these are "the sensation of light . . .the subject feels as if a wondrous effulgence has illuminated his interior and maybe even the objects in the outside world . . .an overwhelming sense of wonder and awe . . unshakable conviction about the reality of the experience . . a sense of infinitude and unbounded knowledge . . certainty of immortality . . a vivid feeling of encounter with an inexpressible, all-knowing Intelligence of omniscient Divine Being . . an overwhelming feeling of devotion, reverence, submission, love, and . .cascading tears. . " I think of the words of the poet Robert Bly who said: "I have risen to a body not yet born, like a light around the body, through which the body moves like a sliding moon." The first time I felt such an experience was in the silent worship of a small Quaker church in Virginia. After an hour of silence, I felt such an overwhelming warmth around me that it was as if a sun had risen and enveloped me. The second time was what I call being shocked into my soul. When a doctor told me that my daughter's X-ray showed the tumors of acute leukemia all over her body and implied little hope, suddenly I was enveloped by such warmth that I again felt caught up into what I can only describe as the brightest sun enveloping me in Love, and I knew beyond any doubt that no matter what, she would be fine. Through all of her treatments and almost losing her, I knew, I knew beyond a doubt she would live. She indeed did and is now alive and healthy. The third time happened after a strange accident in which I broke my left shoulder in four places. With my arm in a sling, all I could do was use one hand and sit by the computer and wait for healing. One day I happened to see a video with a photo of Anandamayi Ma. It was as if I went into physical shock. Somewhere deep within I recognized Her. I kept looking at Her face over and over. Then I started to shed profuse tears, crying for over an hour. And suddenly, during those profuse tears I again was not in my body. The only words I have are to say that I knew I was in Her Heart. Not in my heart. In Her Heart. How long I do not know. I have never felt such Love. Since then, many memories have been given to me in dreams and while awake in visions. I will not speak of them because they are not for others. After the initial experience I remembered Her also from an incident way back in 1972, which I cannot relate here. In 2012 I found these words of Sri Anandamayi Ma: "When by the flood of your tears, the inner and outer have fused into One, you will find Her whom you sought with such anguish, nearer than the nearest, the very breath of life, the very core of every heart." Many have asked me to tell my story. This is as close as I can do so at this time. "What you are" said Tagore "you do not see. What you see - that you are not." Blessings in Light |
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