I am Himanshu Shashikant Gadgil. I have spent my life until now trying to build my name and I plan to spend the rest of my life doing the same. And why should I not? My name defines me. Out of the 7 billion or so people there are only 2 or three other Himanshu Gadgils and I think I am the only Himanshu Shashikant Gadgil. Just like me, my name is unique. My name it is my identity and will end up becoming my legacy. My existence is a culmination of an infinite sequence of actions and events starting from the very start. And my name shouts out to the world and announces my miraculous existence.
But, wait a minute! My existence is only as miraculous as that of the daffodil plant which is in full glory but which will soon wilt under the onslaught of winter or that of the cockroach in the kitchen which will be taking bite of the deadly bait anytime now.
So why do we humans give so much importance to our name? Of course, every one of us is unique to the core and as individual as we can be. Yet, we are only as unique as any other life form around us. I am not suggesting that our individuality is not important. No matter how small, we are still an important part of this universe and the expression of our individuality will define the future of our universe. But, as far as the grand plan goes the ownership of our individuality is inconsequential. Who did it, is not as important as what was done. Every single action and event in our life, in that daffodil’s life and in the cockroach’s life will shape the future of our universe. The only difference is that we have a conscience. Hence, we have control over our actions, the daffodil and the cockroach don’t. Unfortunately, most of our actions are centered around our ego. These actions isolate us and leave us with discontent, pain and suffering. When we ignore the “who” and the “I”, we create harmony with our universe. We start doing things that are right “period”, not just things that are right for us. We still remain uniquely individual and yet resonate in tune with the grand symphony of the universe.
If you think about it, most of today’s names will remain only as tombstone markers a few hundred years from now. Some of the more illustrious names will adorn the history books for a while longer but, eventually, they will also be swallowed by the marching time. However, our every single action will have a consequence on the future. Every single action will start a cascade of events which will last until the very END.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Once in a lifetime
It’s the age of fast cars, 2 minute noodles, instant coffee and T20 cricket. Unfortunately in this fast paced world our expectations from life have also become fast paced. Our life is the sum of all our success and failures. Yet we often try to sum up all our life based on our day to day successes and failures. Every minute of every day we are searching for a new conquest a new victory a new success and when we fail in that search it seems as if our whole life is falling apart. I still remember that day in my life when it seemed as if the whole universe was conspiring against me. I was in seventh grade then and I had practiced hard all year to get selected in my school table tennis team. Unfortunately, I got slated against the number 1 seed and lost in the first selection round itself. I still vividly remember that dark evening when my whole life seemed to have lost meaning as I sat in front of an idol and kept asking “Why me?”. Next year I practiced harder and got selected in my school table tennis team, and blew it up right away (but that story is for another blog). In the grand scheme of my life the failure and success of being selected in my school table tennis team was inconsequential and yet in those two years the desire to be on my school table tennis team had engulfed my whole life.
What seems like the ultimate goal during a particular phase in our life is often just a small marker. And many times we put so much emphasis on our goals that we forget to enjoy our journey. For me the joy of playing table tennis got buried under the expectation of getting selected in the school team. Eventually table tennis became a chore for me and I quit playing after 8th grade. I rediscovered that joy again in graduate school when I used to get my behind kicked by friends from China for whom table tennis was not even a sport but just a way to kill time. And for me table tennis was fun again, it was not about winning or loosing or proving a point, it was just about enjoying the game.
My goals in life have changed but my passion of going after my goals is still the same and hence, failures are often as spectacular as those in 7th grade. But table tennis has taught me one valuable lesson. “Do try to reach your goals but make sure that you enjoy getting there because goals keep changing all the time but the journey happens just once in a life time.
What seems like the ultimate goal during a particular phase in our life is often just a small marker. And many times we put so much emphasis on our goals that we forget to enjoy our journey. For me the joy of playing table tennis got buried under the expectation of getting selected in the school team. Eventually table tennis became a chore for me and I quit playing after 8th grade. I rediscovered that joy again in graduate school when I used to get my behind kicked by friends from China for whom table tennis was not even a sport but just a way to kill time. And for me table tennis was fun again, it was not about winning or loosing or proving a point, it was just about enjoying the game.
My goals in life have changed but my passion of going after my goals is still the same and hence, failures are often as spectacular as those in 7th grade. But table tennis has taught me one valuable lesson. “Do try to reach your goals but make sure that you enjoy getting there because goals keep changing all the time but the journey happens just once in a life time.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Yin Yang
Beautiful snow fall has paralyzed
Just by the virtue of being a woman “She” has a minor case of obsessive compulsive disorder. In her world, everything in the house has a place. The kitchen counter and sink are always completely empty. The bed is always made and the flat sheet folds just enough over the comforter, such that the embroidery on it is perfectly aligned with the border of the comforter. The pillows on the sofa are not meant for comfort but are for decoration, two pillows should always be on the arms of the sofa and the third is placed in the center with its edge pointing up. The TV remote control is always placed in fancy wooden remote holder, which is placed on the left side-table.
When men are at home they have a minor case of motivational deficiency disorder (She prefers to call it laziness). For us the house is a big playground and a sports bar, a small piece of world that we can rule. Cups are for drinking coffee and glasses are for drinking wine, its perfectly fine to just rinse them before use, why bother washing them everyday? The kitchen counter is a perfect place to keep important piles of bills/letters, car keys, and wallet. Men are introduced to a bedroom only after they start living with women. For us a bed has a transient existence and it could be a couch, a sofa that faces the TV or a hammock on warm summer day, so dressing up a bed is just beyond comprehension. The pillows on the sofa have one and only one purpose that is to serve their master; they have to be a headrest, a footrest, a backrest or anything else that enhances their masters TV viewing pleasures. We know the power of remote control, some of us even think that it was the biggest invention since TV, but give me a break a remote does not need its own space.
Men and women live in different worlds, which is why they have the expression “men are from Mars and women are from Venus” and tying the knot is like uniting these two extreme poles of universe. I am sure that by this time you are wondering what all of this has to do with snow in
But that's all just fine, because without Yin this Yang’s life would be full of chaos!
According to Chinese philosophy Yin and Yang are fundamentally opposing principles of universe. The balance between Yin and Yang is thought to be critical for existence of this universe. Yin often represents the female form and Yang represents the male form.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Yes We Can!!!
I have never been happier to admit that I was wrong. I did not think that a black man could win elections in America but Barack Obama proved me wrong. My skepticism was not because I think there is rampant racism but because we often tend to take decisions based on perceptions than on reality. And Xenophobia forms a major component of our perceptions when we judge others. Xenophobia which is defined as” the fear/hatred of that which is foreign” has plagued mankind from the very beginning. The displacement of natives and aborigines by the Europeans, slavery, the crusades, the holocaust, 9-11, the Babri masjid tragedy and genocides in Somalia Darfur and Bosnia and the recent terror attacks in Mumbai are all examples of the hideous nature of Xenophobia. Yet xenophobia has been an important factor in survival of humans and animals in general. A strong sense of self and rejection of the foreign has been a key component of the evolution of life. In fact it is so deeply ingrained in us that it is present even at a molecular level. The first lesson our immune system learns is to recognize self proteins from non-self proteins which is how our body is able to fight bacterial, viral and other foreign proteins without attacking our own “self” proteins. Globalization is the only cure for xenophobia. As cultures are melting into each other, through the internet, TV/movies, free trade and immigration, people are realizing that their biases are only skin deep. Obama winning the election is a shinning example of how much progress we have made in defeating xenophobia.
On a personal level Obamas win has given me hope again. Hope, that was lost somewhere on the streets of Mumbai. During my recent visit to Mumbai I was shocked to read advertisements which were targeted against “foreigners”. There were boards with picture of a white man which said “Yeh Mumbai ka nahi Canada ka hai: (he is not from Mumbai; he is from Canada) or with a picture of Sikh with caption saying “he is not from Mumbai; he is from Punjab. Mumbai is the epitome of cultural, religious and economic diversity. Heck!! Mumbai has even formed its own dialect called Bambaiya which is an amalgamation of Hindi, Urdu Marathi, Gujrathi, Konkani and English. So it hurts that a handful of politicians are ruining the beauty of this most diverse city in the world. It hurts even more because India (and the sub continently civilization in general) has be a beacon of cultural liberation and equality for ages. Dr Zakir Husain was Indias first minority President in 1967, at a time when the US was deeply entrenched in segregation. India (Indira Gandhi 1966 to 1977 and 1980 to 1984) and Pakistan (Benazir Bhutto 1988-1990 and 1993 to 1996) both elected female prime ministers back in the 60’s and 80’s which is a stunning contradiction to the backward image of these countries that is portrayed in the “modern” western world, compared to that the US will have to wait for at least 8 more years before they can elect their first female president. And of course there was Mahatma Gandhi who was like a shining light house in the gloomy World War II era. Gandhijis influence extends way past his fight against apartheid in South Africa or his non violent struggle to free India. Gandhiji has influenced many of the modern leaders like Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Dalai Lama and even Barack Obama. We surely need more leaders like the Mahatma in this present war hungry world.
As president Obama makes his own history, these recent acts of bigotry in Mumbai will remain only as very tiny stains in the marvelous history of this great city of the world. And I have just one thing to say to the religious and political leaders who want to use bigotry and racism for personal gains: “Yes we can!!!”
On a personal level Obamas win has given me hope again. Hope, that was lost somewhere on the streets of Mumbai. During my recent visit to Mumbai I was shocked to read advertisements which were targeted against “foreigners”. There were boards with picture of a white man which said “Yeh Mumbai ka nahi Canada ka hai: (he is not from Mumbai; he is from Canada) or with a picture of Sikh with caption saying “he is not from Mumbai; he is from Punjab. Mumbai is the epitome of cultural, religious and economic diversity. Heck!! Mumbai has even formed its own dialect called Bambaiya which is an amalgamation of Hindi, Urdu Marathi, Gujrathi, Konkani and English. So it hurts that a handful of politicians are ruining the beauty of this most diverse city in the world. It hurts even more because India (and the sub continently civilization in general) has be a beacon of cultural liberation and equality for ages. Dr Zakir Husain was Indias first minority President in 1967, at a time when the US was deeply entrenched in segregation. India (Indira Gandhi 1966 to 1977 and 1980 to 1984) and Pakistan (Benazir Bhutto 1988-1990 and 1993 to 1996) both elected female prime ministers back in the 60’s and 80’s which is a stunning contradiction to the backward image of these countries that is portrayed in the “modern” western world, compared to that the US will have to wait for at least 8 more years before they can elect their first female president. And of course there was Mahatma Gandhi who was like a shining light house in the gloomy World War II era. Gandhijis influence extends way past his fight against apartheid in South Africa or his non violent struggle to free India. Gandhiji has influenced many of the modern leaders like Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Dalai Lama and even Barack Obama. We surely need more leaders like the Mahatma in this present war hungry world.
As president Obama makes his own history, these recent acts of bigotry in Mumbai will remain only as very tiny stains in the marvelous history of this great city of the world. And I have just one thing to say to the religious and political leaders who want to use bigotry and racism for personal gains: “Yes we can!!!”
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The Magic Shoe Box
The Magic Shoe box
I am back in the US after a month long (short) stay in Pune. Just like every other visit to Pune, this trip was also an emotional roller-coaster. And those beautiful moments shared with loved ones are now mere memories that are fading away quickly under the onslaught of my daily grind. There is one memory though that is clinging on to me very dearly and I still wake up at night thinking about that one moment that stormed into my leisurely comfortable India trip.
It was another lovely Shravan (post monsoon) day in Pune. I had just stepped out of Marzorin after eating a chicken roll, a chicken burger and shared a cheese sandwich with Shilpa. The heavy showers had just passed and the sun was peeking out of the clouds as if to seek my attention. Shilpa and my mother wanted to do some more shopping and I was lost in my own world trying to soak in much of the ambiance around me. I was reminiscing about how years ago, I had spent some wonderful Christmas and new years nights at the same spot. All this while, as I was foolishly chasing the time long gone, there was a voice calling out to me. It was a voice of a little kid who wanted my attention, and he finally got my attention because he spoke in English. He said “Sir it will be only 2 rupees”. I looked back at him because this was the first time I had herd a beggar in India speak in English. Our eyes met only briefly and as I was turning away he said “Please let me polish your shoes it will only be 2 Rs”. He kept following me with a little plastic bag in hand as he kept pleading to polish my shoes. There was no way that I was going to let this kid polish my $100 REI shoes, so I grabbed a 10 Rs note from my pocket, handed it to him and walked away. To my utter disbelief the kid kept following me and as I turned around he gazed in my eyes and holding the note out said “Sir I am not a beggar, please let me polish your shoes”. At that moment my ignorance came crashing down and surrendered to the pride of a 10 year old self respecting street boy.
I motioned Shilpa and my mother to carry on their shopping and I stood embarrassed and speechless as the kid started to polish my shoes. In the next 10 minutes I got a glimpse of his world. His name was Ajit (invincible) a fitting name because he clearly did not let his situation defeat him. Ajit went to a mission night school where he learnt 3rd grade English and Science. Ajits life was a constant struggle, he came by bus from Hadapsar (which is around 10 km from the place we were at). He carried a white bag which had a shoe brush and some white solution. He had to walk the street for 4 to 5 hrs to earn just 15 Rs a day. To put that in context it had taken me only around 30 seconds to gobble up the cheese sandwich which cost 25 Rs. With the 15 Rs that he earned Ajit had to support his 5 year old brother, a 2 year old sister and his mom who stayed at home to look after his siblings. Ajit was very curious about my life he wanted to know everything about me, where I lived and where I worked. Just as our conversation was drifting, Ajit looked up and said “Bhai (brother) I feel very sad when people think I am a beggar. Since I carry this plastic bag and follow people around they assume that I am begging but I don’t like to beg, I am just here to earn money”. His words came like a hurricane and striped me off of my cozy existence. I felt naked to my core as I was desperately searching for words to cover up my ignorance in handing him that 10 Rs note. Before I could respond he said “Bhai if I had a shoe box I could sit in my own spot and would not have to follow people around and then perhaps, people would not think that I am a beggar”.
I had no idea what a shoe box was, and asked him how much it cost. He replied that it was “very very expensive” and after further probing he said that it would cost around 350 rupees. We both stayed silent for sometime he was almost done polishing my shoes when he said “Bhai would you consider buying me the shoebox?” I hesitated and then asked him where we would get the shoebox? He asked me to follow him and we started walking along main street. As we walked the fog in my head started to evaporate and I started thinking rationally again. I noticed another boy carrying a bag just like Ajit and I remembered the stories my friends had told me about how they had been duped in India and China before. Slowly I was getting convinced that the little boy was trying to con me and I was determined not to fall for this dirty trick. We finally reached the end of main street and Ajit pointed to an older boy who was sitting in the street polishing shoes. Now feeling completely aloof I walked up to the kid and asked the price for the shoe box. He replied that a big one would cost 320 Rs. I shrugged my shoulders and told him that I could pay only 150 Rs because that was all the money I had on me. I was smiling wickedly in my mind, I knew that these con artists will fall for my bait of 150 Rs and right at that instant I would walk away without paying a single penny. Well I was wrong again, the older kid replied the best he could do was sell the box for 270 Rs. He went on about how he had purchased it for Rs 250 and how he would make sure that he would replace or fix it if anything went wrong (Which I thought was epitome of the capitalistic influence on mostly poor India). Now I was in real predicament because I only had two 100 Rs notes with me, so I bargained again and offered to pay 200 Rs for the shoe box. The kid shook his head and replied that 270 was his final offer. I was ready to use this excuse to get out of this situation but one look at Ajit made me change my mind. The disappointment in Ajits eyes was real. They say that eyes are windows to ones heart and my heart was telling me that the pain in Ajits eyes could not be fake. As I do in most difficult situations, I let my heart take control over my rational mind. And before I knew Ajit and I were walking back trying to find Shilpa and my mother.
The walk back was long and hard. My rational thoughts kept on reminding me that I was acting on impulse. They kept on telling me that I had not committed to anything and I could still walk away. They reminded me that my money would be better spent through a donation to a reputed charitable organization. But at the same time my heart was weeping for the suffering that filled Ajits life. Ajit was talking continuously on the way back but I was in such a hypnotic trance that, I can barely remember my conversations with him and I barely remember the details of how I got more money from Shilpa. However, I remember vividly the spring in Ajit steps as we re-approached the shoe polish boy and the sparkle in Ajits eyes after I bought him the shoe box. It was not the same sparkle of excitement I see in kids eyes when they get a new toy, but it was a sparkle of hope that lights up the dim surroundings.
Ajit could not hold his excitement back. He showed me where he would put his brush and shoe polish. He pointed to the spot where he would sit daily. He was ecstatic about his official elevation in status to a shoe polish boy. Then suddenly he paused and looked up at me with tears in eyes and said “Bhai I will never forget this day, Bhai I will pray for you everyday”. His moist eyes and quivering lips still haunt me, and constantly remind my ignorant mind not to judge people that quickly. Then he said “Bhai I do not know how to pay you back for this”. I could not find an adequate response and mumbled something back to him about how he should remember to help folks when he grows up. It was almost time to stay good bye when Ajit made a last request. He said “Bhai let me please do Bhavani (auspicious term used for the first client/business) by polishing your shoes on the new shoe box. So right in the middle of the foot path (side walk) he was polishing my shoes again for a second time in less than an hour. The only difference was that this time his eyes were gleaming with pride of being a real shoe polish boy.
The shoe box was magical for both of us that day. It was magical for Ajit because it gave him hope of a better life. I pray to any and every god out there that his hope will become a reality someday. I know however, that it’s my heart wishing things again, and my rational mind tells me that my impact on Ajits life was over as soon as we said good bye. Something tells me that, more than likely Ajits life will for ever continue to meander below the poverty line. The shoe box however, was indeed magical for me and that moment has left such deep imprints in my heart that it is bound to change my mind forever, whether I like it or not.
Ajit with his shoe box.
Ajit polishing my shoes on his shoe box .
(I have struggled quite a bit on whether I should upload theses image or not. The only reason for uploading these images is that if anyone who reads this blog, happens to be on main street, they can identify Ajit and get their shoes polished.)
I am back in the US after a month long (short) stay in Pune. Just like every other visit to Pune, this trip was also an emotional roller-coaster. And those beautiful moments shared with loved ones are now mere memories that are fading away quickly under the onslaught of my daily grind. There is one memory though that is clinging on to me very dearly and I still wake up at night thinking about that one moment that stormed into my leisurely comfortable India trip.
It was another lovely Shravan (post monsoon) day in Pune. I had just stepped out of Marzorin after eating a chicken roll, a chicken burger and shared a cheese sandwich with Shilpa. The heavy showers had just passed and the sun was peeking out of the clouds as if to seek my attention. Shilpa and my mother wanted to do some more shopping and I was lost in my own world trying to soak in much of the ambiance around me. I was reminiscing about how years ago, I had spent some wonderful Christmas and new years nights at the same spot. All this while, as I was foolishly chasing the time long gone, there was a voice calling out to me. It was a voice of a little kid who wanted my attention, and he finally got my attention because he spoke in English. He said “Sir it will be only 2 rupees”. I looked back at him because this was the first time I had herd a beggar in India speak in English. Our eyes met only briefly and as I was turning away he said “Please let me polish your shoes it will only be 2 Rs”. He kept following me with a little plastic bag in hand as he kept pleading to polish my shoes. There was no way that I was going to let this kid polish my $100 REI shoes, so I grabbed a 10 Rs note from my pocket, handed it to him and walked away. To my utter disbelief the kid kept following me and as I turned around he gazed in my eyes and holding the note out said “Sir I am not a beggar, please let me polish your shoes”. At that moment my ignorance came crashing down and surrendered to the pride of a 10 year old self respecting street boy.
I motioned Shilpa and my mother to carry on their shopping and I stood embarrassed and speechless as the kid started to polish my shoes. In the next 10 minutes I got a glimpse of his world. His name was Ajit (invincible) a fitting name because he clearly did not let his situation defeat him. Ajit went to a mission night school where he learnt 3rd grade English and Science. Ajits life was a constant struggle, he came by bus from Hadapsar (which is around 10 km from the place we were at). He carried a white bag which had a shoe brush and some white solution. He had to walk the street for 4 to 5 hrs to earn just 15 Rs a day. To put that in context it had taken me only around 30 seconds to gobble up the cheese sandwich which cost 25 Rs. With the 15 Rs that he earned Ajit had to support his 5 year old brother, a 2 year old sister and his mom who stayed at home to look after his siblings. Ajit was very curious about my life he wanted to know everything about me, where I lived and where I worked. Just as our conversation was drifting, Ajit looked up and said “Bhai (brother) I feel very sad when people think I am a beggar. Since I carry this plastic bag and follow people around they assume that I am begging but I don’t like to beg, I am just here to earn money”. His words came like a hurricane and striped me off of my cozy existence. I felt naked to my core as I was desperately searching for words to cover up my ignorance in handing him that 10 Rs note. Before I could respond he said “Bhai if I had a shoe box I could sit in my own spot and would not have to follow people around and then perhaps, people would not think that I am a beggar”.
I had no idea what a shoe box was, and asked him how much it cost. He replied that it was “very very expensive” and after further probing he said that it would cost around 350 rupees. We both stayed silent for sometime he was almost done polishing my shoes when he said “Bhai would you consider buying me the shoebox?” I hesitated and then asked him where we would get the shoebox? He asked me to follow him and we started walking along main street. As we walked the fog in my head started to evaporate and I started thinking rationally again. I noticed another boy carrying a bag just like Ajit and I remembered the stories my friends had told me about how they had been duped in India and China before. Slowly I was getting convinced that the little boy was trying to con me and I was determined not to fall for this dirty trick. We finally reached the end of main street and Ajit pointed to an older boy who was sitting in the street polishing shoes. Now feeling completely aloof I walked up to the kid and asked the price for the shoe box. He replied that a big one would cost 320 Rs. I shrugged my shoulders and told him that I could pay only 150 Rs because that was all the money I had on me. I was smiling wickedly in my mind, I knew that these con artists will fall for my bait of 150 Rs and right at that instant I would walk away without paying a single penny. Well I was wrong again, the older kid replied the best he could do was sell the box for 270 Rs. He went on about how he had purchased it for Rs 250 and how he would make sure that he would replace or fix it if anything went wrong (Which I thought was epitome of the capitalistic influence on mostly poor India). Now I was in real predicament because I only had two 100 Rs notes with me, so I bargained again and offered to pay 200 Rs for the shoe box. The kid shook his head and replied that 270 was his final offer. I was ready to use this excuse to get out of this situation but one look at Ajit made me change my mind. The disappointment in Ajits eyes was real. They say that eyes are windows to ones heart and my heart was telling me that the pain in Ajits eyes could not be fake. As I do in most difficult situations, I let my heart take control over my rational mind. And before I knew Ajit and I were walking back trying to find Shilpa and my mother.
The walk back was long and hard. My rational thoughts kept on reminding me that I was acting on impulse. They kept on telling me that I had not committed to anything and I could still walk away. They reminded me that my money would be better spent through a donation to a reputed charitable organization. But at the same time my heart was weeping for the suffering that filled Ajits life. Ajit was talking continuously on the way back but I was in such a hypnotic trance that, I can barely remember my conversations with him and I barely remember the details of how I got more money from Shilpa. However, I remember vividly the spring in Ajit steps as we re-approached the shoe polish boy and the sparkle in Ajits eyes after I bought him the shoe box. It was not the same sparkle of excitement I see in kids eyes when they get a new toy, but it was a sparkle of hope that lights up the dim surroundings.
Ajit could not hold his excitement back. He showed me where he would put his brush and shoe polish. He pointed to the spot where he would sit daily. He was ecstatic about his official elevation in status to a shoe polish boy. Then suddenly he paused and looked up at me with tears in eyes and said “Bhai I will never forget this day, Bhai I will pray for you everyday”. His moist eyes and quivering lips still haunt me, and constantly remind my ignorant mind not to judge people that quickly. Then he said “Bhai I do not know how to pay you back for this”. I could not find an adequate response and mumbled something back to him about how he should remember to help folks when he grows up. It was almost time to stay good bye when Ajit made a last request. He said “Bhai let me please do Bhavani (auspicious term used for the first client/business) by polishing your shoes on the new shoe box. So right in the middle of the foot path (side walk) he was polishing my shoes again for a second time in less than an hour. The only difference was that this time his eyes were gleaming with pride of being a real shoe polish boy.
The shoe box was magical for both of us that day. It was magical for Ajit because it gave him hope of a better life. I pray to any and every god out there that his hope will become a reality someday. I know however, that it’s my heart wishing things again, and my rational mind tells me that my impact on Ajits life was over as soon as we said good bye. Something tells me that, more than likely Ajits life will for ever continue to meander below the poverty line. The shoe box however, was indeed magical for me and that moment has left such deep imprints in my heart that it is bound to change my mind forever, whether I like it or not.
Ajit with his shoe box.
Ajit polishing my shoes on his shoe box .
(I have struggled quite a bit on whether I should upload theses image or not. The only reason for uploading these images is that if anyone who reads this blog, happens to be on main street, they can identify Ajit and get their shoes polished.)
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Maya
Buddha by Deepak Chopra is a powerful book. I finished reading it a few days back, but I am still carrying it in my subconscious. The book revolves around the life of Buddha and touches repeatedly upon “Maya” the central theme in most eastern philosophies. So my mind has been freely wandering again in the enthralling web of Maya. Maya is an intriguing concept, which is quite difficult to define. Yet it (or she or he) touches upon some of the most basic concepts of universe and humanity. I am a true agnostic and I only believe in things that can be proven by rigorous scientific data. Yet there are some questions that are so confounding that they almost shatter my beliefs to the core. If the whole universe was created in an instant with a “Big Bang” what was before that? Is there really a time and space continuum in which everything that is going to happen tomorrow has happened already in a different time dimension? And the most interesting question is, if the whole universe is moving towards disorder then why have LIFE, which the most ordered state of matter.
All these questions churn up my mind into an uncontrollable storm and that’s when I lean on Maya for support. Maya in literary term means “the ultimate illusion” and suggests that this material world is just an illusion and that our greater purpose in life is to try to find the truth of our existence. Every soul is born and (according to some philosophies) reborn to pursue this quest of truth and as we embark upon this journey, all our perceptions of the material existence of good and of evil collapse one by one until our soul meets the ultimate truth, becomes part of this ultimate truth to attain enlightenment (Nirvana). A few special souls like the Buddha, Jesus Mahavira and other modern day messiahs have reached this destination while most others are struggling to escape the intricate web of Maya.
I have spent hours talking passionately to my friends about Maya. Yet when I reflect back on my thoughts I see a hypocrite, because I am more tied in to the material world than most people. For example, a little while after we had crazy debate about Maya, a friend nonchalantly asked me “So are you going to buy an iphone? And without even thinking my response was “Yes of course”. I immediately knew that my Maya had lost the debate. I like to sample the pleasures of life whenever I can afford them. I have no guilt in enjoying few hours of euphoria that I get from a glass or two of wine. My idea of playing sport is buying the kit and then quitting and finding a new sport after a week. (So email me if you want a set of golf clubs that have been used only once!!!) I am an epitome of material existence and I can never see myself sitting under a banyan tree trying to find out the true meaning of life.
Yet I have learned a lot from Buddha’s struggle towards enlightenment. I have learnt that just thinking about Maya and the true meaning of life takes you away (even if just for a few moments) from your day-to-day existence. Just today when I was faced with an unfavorable situation at work instead of reacting to it immediately (and probably making it worse) I let my mind drift into the mist of Maya and when I got back that unfavorable moment had passed away. It was almost as if I had transcended time and traveled to the future. Taking that time out I was able to remind myself that there are things in life that are lot bigger than the rat race we are all trying to win. Sometimes disengaging our mind helps us get a better perspective about the mundane things we worry about. Thinking about Maya is like a short vacation that our mind needs every day.
So cheers friends and keep those discussions going. But, remember after all is said and done, its all just Maya!!!!!!!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The Four Walls
So here I am sitting in a bar in San Diego, having dinner alone. Ultimate fighting championship (UFC) is playing on the only big screen TV that adorns this place. This is only the second or maybe the third time in my life that I am eating dinner all by myself in a public place. So to hide my loneliness I brought my laptop and a book that I have just started reading called Buddha by Deepak Chopra The violence on TV and the dim lighting has filled this place with such darkness that it is difficult for me to read Buddha. Hence, I am going to use the little light that my laptop screen is reflecting to reflect upon the part of the book that I have read so far.
Buddha is a story of Siddhartha a divine child who was born in a royal family of king Suddhodana and his queen Maya. It was prophesied that that Siddhartha would become the greatest ruler ever and rule the four corners of this world. However, if Siddhartha every got exposed to grief sorrow and suffering he would become ruler of his soul and become a great sage an ascetic who would be totally disconnected from the material world. After hearing this, Suddhodana with the help of his advisor Cankhi, devised a plan to shield Siddhartha from any sorrow or grief. So anyone who was sick crippled or old was driven out of the kingdom and four big walls were constructed around the palace to screen Siddhartha from the outside world. Siddhartha would be confined inside the four walls for the early part of his life. Suddhodana thought that shielding Siddharth from pain and suffering of the real world would lead him to his real destiny as the ruler of this world
Suddhodanas plan bore some early success as young 18 year old Siddharth was crowned the future king, and that’s the book so far. I have been wondering though if just like Siddhartha we all have the four walls around us. Walls formed by expectations of our parents, elders, loved ones, teachers and the society that we live in. Our parents and elders are trying to live their unfulfilled dreams through us. Our teachers see us as yet another branch of their legacy. Our loved ones want to make us their possession and the society wants to stamp its authority all over our existence. Many decisions that we take are made within the confines of these walls. We are asked to become doctors or engineers anything less would be the end o the world. We are told to marry within our caste, sect, religion and color or be prepared to face the wrath of the society or of god himself. Success is defined by the amount of money we make or by the car we drive or by the neighborhood we live in. It makes me wonder if we are running towards a goal that’s not really our own or living somebody else’s dream and calling it our own.
Have you ever wondered where your life would be if without these four walls? I have and the answer scares me.
Buddha is a story of Siddhartha a divine child who was born in a royal family of king Suddhodana and his queen Maya. It was prophesied that that Siddhartha would become the greatest ruler ever and rule the four corners of this world. However, if Siddhartha every got exposed to grief sorrow and suffering he would become ruler of his soul and become a great sage an ascetic who would be totally disconnected from the material world. After hearing this, Suddhodana with the help of his advisor Cankhi, devised a plan to shield Siddhartha from any sorrow or grief. So anyone who was sick crippled or old was driven out of the kingdom and four big walls were constructed around the palace to screen Siddhartha from the outside world. Siddhartha would be confined inside the four walls for the early part of his life. Suddhodana thought that shielding Siddharth from pain and suffering of the real world would lead him to his real destiny as the ruler of this world
Suddhodanas plan bore some early success as young 18 year old Siddharth was crowned the future king, and that’s the book so far. I have been wondering though if just like Siddhartha we all have the four walls around us. Walls formed by expectations of our parents, elders, loved ones, teachers and the society that we live in. Our parents and elders are trying to live their unfulfilled dreams through us. Our teachers see us as yet another branch of their legacy. Our loved ones want to make us their possession and the society wants to stamp its authority all over our existence. Many decisions that we take are made within the confines of these walls. We are asked to become doctors or engineers anything less would be the end o the world. We are told to marry within our caste, sect, religion and color or be prepared to face the wrath of the society or of god himself. Success is defined by the amount of money we make or by the car we drive or by the neighborhood we live in. It makes me wonder if we are running towards a goal that’s not really our own or living somebody else’s dream and calling it our own.
Have you ever wondered where your life would be if without these four walls? I have and the answer scares me.
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