Keeping Tryst

The sweetest days we'll know

2011-10-12T18:51:00.001+05:30

Summer and monsoon is giving place to autumn with its falling leaves and misty mornings as I watch the little warrior shedding the last vestiges of littleness before my very eyes. He is a big boy of four now, with his own friends who call him out to play with a well-directed shout from below our balcony. He sometimes brings home a page of homework from his Montessori preschool, just like his big cousins, in his own school bag. He has definite ideas about how things should be done and has plenty to say for himself. He is plumbing new and wondrous ways of expressing his feelings: "Amma, your face is so nice. You are such a nice mother! If a cow comes and bites you, I'm going to be so sad."

But there are still those last traces of babyhood that my hungry eyes search for and covet - the roundness of his cheeks, the dimples on his hands: fast disappearing but still there for now, the high voice and childish pronounciation that is rapidly being improved out of existence as we speak, the intent long-lashed eyes that widen ever so slightly when they encounter a new phenomenon, the little body that is barely little enough for me to scoop up quickly into my arms when we need to cross a troublesome street. He can still perch on my hip, though I can't walk effortlessly when he does that anymore. In a year or so, I know he'll be too big for any more scooping or perching, so I gather him up into my arms often these days just because I still can.

You realize the preciousness and evanescence of life more after having a child - then you know pregnancy goes by in a heartbeat, babyhood is gone in a blink of an eye, toddlerhood in a flash - everything rushes by, though it feels like it's going to last forever when you're experiencing it. So I try to reverently hold and cherish in my attention each moment, good or bad, even as I'm achingly aware of the truth of impermanence.

It reminds me of that last scene from American Beauty: "Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life..."

It reminds me to give of myself willingly to the demands of this stage - the incessant questions, the mess as he turns the house into his playtime wonderland, the frequent demands for a story, for participating in the imaginary sequences of his play-acting, for this that or the other - with a keener realization of "this too shall pass".

Tree Of Life movie

2011-08-07T10:17:00.009+05:30

Been hearing rumbles of this particular movie's surreality and brilliance, and took the first opportunity to watch it.

The movie is surreal, yet grounded in the exquisiteness of everyday moments - inspires awe of the sublime power that moves the cosmos, as also awe of the ordinary miracles of daily living that we take for granted - viscerally showing the freedom and wonder of childhood, yet also the helplessness of a child having his world shaped by powers beyond his control - impressionistic scenes portraying the rebellion and blind search for meaning of adolescence - the joy of life's blessings, as well as the sorrow of life's losses - the agony of grief, and the redemption of grace.

One review made this spot-on observation:

"Many films diminish us. They cheapen us, masturbate our senses, hammer us with shabby thrills, diminish the value of life. Some few films evoke the wonderment of life's experience, and those I consider a form of prayer. Not prayer "to" anyone or anything, but prayer "about" everyone and everything. I believe prayer that makes requests is pointless. What will be, will be. But I value the kind of prayer when you stand at the edge of the sea, or beneath a tree, or smell a flower, or love someone, or do a good thing. Those prayers validate existence and snatch it away from meaningless routine. It functions to pull us back from the distractions of the moment, and focus us on mystery and gratitude."

It is not an entertainer. It is a deep profound courageous look at our existence and the age old questions arising from the depths of suffering - "Lord, why? Where were you? Did you know what happened? Do you care?"

When you walk out of a movie hall, you retain a flavour of the world projected by the screen for a few minutes. But this movie does not draw you into its story world, it draws you deep into yourself, and you walk out of the movie hall wrapped in a strange solitude of being, not wanting to say anything for a long time afterwards.

Some defining lines from the movie (spoiler warning!) -

"The nuns taught us there were two ways through life - the way of nature and the way of grace. You have to choose which one you'll follow.

Grace doesn't try to please itself. Accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked. Accepts insults and injuries.

Nature only wants to please itself. Get others to please it too. Likes to lord it over them. To have its own way. It finds reasons to be unhappy when all the world is shining around it. And love is smiling through all things.

The nuns taught us that no one who loves the way of grace ever comes to a bad end."

For those in Bangalore, the movie is currently running at PVR Koramangala (in Forum Mall).

Gurupoornima tribute - Omnipresent Teacher

2011-07-15T22:51:00.002+05:30

Long enough have you dream’d contemptible dreams;
Now I wash the gum from your eyes;
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light, and of every moment of your life.

Long have you timidly waded, holding a plank by the shore;
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.

- Walt Whitman

One evening in Fresno, after attending bhajans and study circle at the local Sathya Sai Baba center, I popped into Savemart to pick up some yogurt on the way home. As I walked into the store and made my way to the dairy aisle, I became aware that a couple of people I met on the way had looked at me a second longer, and one had actually done a double take. I discreetly checked my reflection in the glass doors and immediately spotted the rather big blob of vibhuthi on my forehead. Vibhuthi is customarily offered to those present after Arathi at the Sai center, and I must have got a bit more on my fingertip this time. Now I've always had a perfect horror of being conspicuous - I'm one of those who would rather fade into the woodwork than be in the limelight for any reason. I struggled for a moment to stay detached, but there was no way I was going to get stared at some more at the cashier's. So as I made my way back from the dairy aisle, I surreptitiously rubbed the vibhuthi off my forehead. I did feel a few pangs of conscience, but thought no more of it.

The next morning I opened a book of Sai discourses - my regular early morning reading. If I happen to have time I read an entire chapter, if not, just a few paragraphs. That morning I was running short on time to leave for the office, so I decided to open the book at random and just read a few lines. As I opened the book, my eyes were drawn to a paragraph beginning down the page. I read unsuspectingly, gasped, and then read it again incredulously,

"We are always afraid of what the world would say and also afraid of the diversity of our own thoughts. When we do good things, there is no reason why we should be afraid of the world. Your thoughts are yours and your happiness should be yours. Many people go to a temple and put on vibhuthi, but they rub it off as soon as they come out, thinking that their friends will laugh at them. Why should they go to the temple when they have no courage to do it? Why is it that you are afraid to say that you have gone to a temple and that you have your own faith? Why can you not say that you have your faith and that you are not a slave to someone else’s ideas? There is a great deal for us to learn from the actions of the gopikas. Their courage and self-confidence are indeed exemplary. It is also necessary for us to have a certain amount of self-confidence. For sorrow or for pleasure, for defeat or for victory, we should develop the courage to meet them with equanimity."

Incredible! Baba was actually chiding me for something I thought was known only to myself, and I felt suitably chastised. But behind it all was a big smile on my face and in my heart for the rest of that day - no wordly accolade is sweeter than a Sai scolding! Each of those instances of amazing grace is a treasured jewel I can take out of my memory and marvel over endlessly.

Rest assured you won't catch me doing any rubbing off again, or being afraid to be in the limelight for all the right reasons!

Gandhi's talisman

2011-06-26T22:12:00.006+05:30

In one of the last notes left behind by Gandhi in 1948, he wrote,

"I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man whom you may have seen, and ask yourself, if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him. Will he gain anything by it? Will it restore him to a control over his own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj (self-governance) for the hungry and spiritually starving millions?
Then you will find your doubts and your self melt away."

I have often wondered whose that face may be, "the face of the poorest and the weakest man". Not a face that you can wince over for a minute, then submerge amidst the everyday busyness and needs and desires of your own existence - there is no dearth of such faces on the streets. But a face that will haunt you in the quiet moments before you fall asleep, when you sit down for dinner at a fancy restaurant, when you let yourself be tempted to buy that umpteenth pair of pretty strappy slippers.

A few weeks ago in the newspaper, I saw that face:
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/157714/for-poor-death-miserable-living.html

I want to burn the face of Hanumanthappa on my brain so I never again forget, slide into default easy ways of living, not thinking or doing anything for anyone except me and mine.

I need every gem of those swift kick in the pants shockers that Swami Vivekananda specialises in administering:

“The essential thing is renunciation. Without renunciation none can pour out his whole heart in working for others. The man of renunciation sees all with an equal eye and devotes himself to the service of all. Does not our Vedanta also teach us to see all with an equal eye? Why then do you cherish the idea that the wife and children are your own, more than others? At your very threshold, Narayana Himself in the form of a poor beggar is dying of starvation! Instead of giving him anything, would you only satisfy the appetite of your wife and children with delicacies? Why, that is beastly!”

Thank you Dr Asha Benakappa for writing that article and bringing alive Gandhi's talisman for so many of us.

What I wanted and what I got

2011-01-13T23:00:00.009+05:30

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost

All I wanted was to stay put and gestate in peace without any drama - but I found myself sprinting between terminals with a 7 month pregnant belly to catch a plane to India - so he could be born there.

I moved heaven and earth for him to be born like most people, nicely on time, and in the way nature designed - but he came 7 days late through an unexpected coup of a cesarean.

His father is O+ and I am B+ - but of course he had to go and be a maverick O- The universal donor...some grand notions this kid has! The doc had to actually draw us a chart to explain how this could be possible.

All I wanted was for his newborn care to proceed uneventfully but the vaccine issue somehow rose up like a camel in a desert - he played his part right on cue to upstage our hithertofore unchallenged perceptions - and ended up not being vaccinated for the most part.

All I wanted was for him to toddle off to school like a good little boy along with all the other kids, but as his fate would have it, here he is, happily hanging out at home - a preschool drop-out at the grand old age of 3! And I find myself embracing the idea of homeschooling.

Even as I stew in occasional discomfiture when I am at odds with What Is, I applaud the spirit of our little warrior. I am proud of all that he has accomplished in just 3 years on earth so far. Here's to many more breaking-out-of-the-box adventures together!

Making space for the other

2010-12-01T22:53:00.012+05:30

A couple of weeks ago, I joined up with a Sai seva women's group to celebrate Baba's 85th birthday with cake-cutting and feeding home-cooked food to the inmates of Nimhans. At the home for the mentally challenged, bhajans and cake cutting later, we served food to the inmates who seated themselves in rows on the ground in the big chowltry-like dining hall.

While I was standing by the door and waiting for my turn to serve the food, a couple of inmates caught my eye - an older and younger woman seated side by side. The older one seemed relatively more aware and together - the younger one more scattered and clueless. The young woman had angled herself toward the older one and was eating messily, with her plate touching the old woman. The old woman didn't seem to mind at all. As the meal progressed, the young woman swung closer and closer to the older one until at last she was completely facing her, her plate resting on the old woman's lap, occasionally coughing loudly in the old woman's face as she ate. It was remarkable to watch the old woman through all of this. Her position looked unbearably uncomfortable to me, but she herself was completely relaxed and calm. Not only that, she occasionally fussed over the young woman, telling her to eat certain items on her plate, and everytime she coughed, she'd cluck comfortingly to her. She seemed so solicitous and caring of the other woman regardless of her own discomfort.

I was amazed. I couldn't help but contrast that to the tight boundaries and intolerance and jealously guarded personal space of us supposedly saner folk.

Easwaran puts this observation across, "If life offers so many opportunities to practice non-violence today, it is because all of us have been so conditioned to focus on ourselves. Because of this, we have become so impatient that we burst out at the slightest provocation – not only mentally, not only verbally, but with our heart, our lungs, our whole nervous system. Not to be provoked, not to be frightened, not to retaliate requires a lot of stability inside so that these passing storms do not upset us. This is what Gandhi means by nonviolence, and he calls it the most active force in the world. You don’t retaliate, you don’t retire; you just stand where you are, firmly rooted – rooted in wisdom, rooted in love, unshakably kind in the face of criticism, opposition, calumny, or slander." Or discomfort.

That old woman was a living example of this. Granted she was probably mentally none too sound herself, but such an example of forbearance and kindness and courtesy is beautiful wherever it is found.

I came away from there touched and humbled. True acts of service include not only overt gestures like sharing our food with the under-privileged but also the small simple everyday acts like bearing a little discomfort, swallowing a sharp retort or refraining from making a hasty judgement in order to make space for the other.

LMM Tribute

2010-07-26T21:36:00.013+05:30

My comfort food in books are the ones by L.M. Montgomery. It is where I go for entertainment or escape...and it never fails me for either. The charm of those books are in the world she spins in them, complete with all the little touches and details that satisfy some nameless need of the reader, gorgeous descriptions of mood and setting, exquisite sensitivity and unerring instict in marrying just the right words to provide the telling effect, keen observation of human nature, characters so alive that you seem to be watching them instead of reading about them, protagonists you completely identify with, fascinating side characters you are completely intrigued by, an underlying fitness of things that satisfies both the dramatic and the humourous by turn, and an overall sense of life that is good, true and beautiful. Her world draws you in so captivatingly that, like a friend remarked, it feels odd to find yourself back in your own world after it's over.

The first time I encountered an LMM book was in my teens while browsing in a decades-old local library. Amidst wall-to-wall shelves of old dusty volumes emnating that delicious bookish odour, I found a green hardbound with "Emily Climbs" stamped on it in gold lettering. The "Climbs" was intriguing - I slid it off the shelf, read the first line and was straightaway transported into the charm of the simple old-fashioned vista it conjured up:

Emily Byrd Starr was alone in her room, in the old New Moon farmhouse at Blair Water, one stormy night in a February of the olden years before the world turned upside down.

Of course I took it home. And I was hooked.

Take this excerpt for instance.

Yesterday evening I went to the Land of Uprightness for one of the last rambles I shall have in it. I climbed the hill of firs and looked down over the fields of mist and silver in the moonlight. The shadows of the ferns and sweet wild grasses along the edge of the woods were like a dance of sprites. Away beyond the harbour, below the moonlight, was a sky of purple and amber where a sunset had been. But behind me was darkness--a darkness which, with its tang of fir balsam, was like a perfumed chamber where one might dream dreams and see visions. Always when I go into the Land of Uprightness I leave behind the realm of daylight and things known and go into the realm of shadow and mystery and enchantment where anything might happen--anything might come true. I can BELIEVE anything there--old myths--legends--dryads--fauns--leprechauns. One of my wonder moments came to me--it seemed to me that I got out of my body and was FREE--I'm sure I heard an echo of that 'random word' of the gods--and I wanted some unused language to express what I saw and felt.

Enter Andrew, spic and span, prim and gentlemanly.

Fauns--fairies--wonder moments--random words--fled pell-mell. No new language was needed now.

"What a pity side-whiskers went out with the last generation--they would suit him so," I said to myself in good plain English.

I knew Andrew had come to say something special. Otherwise he would not have followed me into the Land of Uprightness, but have waited decorously in Aunt Ruth's parlour. I knew it had to come and I made up my mind to get it over and have done with it.

But I was NOT going to have Andrew propose to me by moonlight in the Land of Uprightness. I might have been bewitched into accepting him. So when he said, "It's nice here, let's stay here for a while--after all, I think there is nothing so pretty as nature," I said gently but firmly that, though nature must feel highly flattered, it was too damp for a person with a tendency to consumption, and I must go in.

This ability to combine the sublime and the ridiculous in balanced proportions, to encompass the sacred and the profane with equal felicity and take in stride "the full catastrophe" of life is the cornerstone of her writing. Authors who wield this ability are among the forefront of the story-tellers, we are beholden to them and spellbound by their tales.

Although her books are all mostly written and set at the turn of the twentieth century, they are classics for all time. Next time you're in a blue funk, grab an LMM, any LMM - and see what magic she can work.

The Age of the Unnecessarean

2010-05-13T10:30:00.024+05:30

She can take it back
She will take it back
Some day
- Pink Floyd

One of the favourite stories in my family is how my great-grandmother went into labour in the night, and helped by her mother, gave birth to the baby in her own bed. After which she calmly walked out of the backdoor to a nearby stream to clean up, and then went back to bed with her baby. The household woke up the next morning to find a new family member in its midst!

Our grandmothers had midwives attend them in their own homes. Birth was considered inherently safe, as safe as life - no more, no less - and women's bodies were trusted to work just as they had been doing since the dawn of humankind. Midwives drew on a traditional lore of childbirth knowledge, and had they been around today, they might have saved us thousands of surgeries with their innate artistry and patience in handling birth.

Birth started going out of the woman's own domain at the time the generation our mothers belong to had babies. A doctor had become mandatory by then for pre-natal care, and hospitals owned birth. The doctor was accorded a demi-god status - women followed their doctor's orders to the letter and meekly surrendered the birth completely into their hands. What kind of birth experience a woman would have was just a matter of the luck of the draw. If she was fortunate enough to have a doctor who was patient and calm and not so intervention-happy, she might scrape by with a "normal" birth, though attendant with indignities that are inevitable in a hospital setting. If the doc happened to be someone who viewed birth as a medical event to be "managed" and she was unlucky enough for her labour to not follow a textbook pattern, she would likely wind up with a cesarean birth. Still, the majority of women still managed to have a vaginal birth.

Fast-forward to now - the age of technology and super specialisation - and the cesarean bandwagon has turned into a massive jumbo jet, the quickest and most "convenient" way of arriving at the destination, the unquestioned monarch of the birth scene. In urban India, one in two women will have had their baby by c-section, and in some private hospitals the c-section rate is at a whopping 80%, even though the World Health Organization (WHO) states that no region in the world is justified in having a cesarean rate greater than 5% to 15%.

The word "cesarean" has been bandied about for so long that it has become a neat little label in people's minds as an acceptable way to bring children into the world. Just watch any youtube video of a cesarean and you can graphically see for yourself what a horrifically brutal procedure it is. What a crying shame when it happens unnecessarily, as it does in the vast majority of present day cases!

Dr. Dermot W. McDonald of the National Maternity Hospital in Dublin, Ireland, said it best:
"If one went to the extreme of giving the patient the full details of mortality and morbidity related to cesarean section, most of them would get up and go out and have their baby under a tree."

A woman who has managed to have a vaginal birth in this scenario is something of an anomaly. People exclaim with wonder when they hear of someone having a vaginal birth as opposed to the standard cesarean. I say vaginal birth and not normal birth, because even those births would have been subject to induction or augmentation or some form of intervention or another, making it a torturous medical ordeal that mother and baby are happy to get on the other side of - making modern hospital birth literally the rape of the twentieth century.

A truly natural undisturbed birth that is allowed to unfold at its own rhythm is not just a rarity these days, it is unheard of. This article by Dr Sarah J. Buckley, in which she eloquently outlines how giving birth in ecstasy is our birthright and our body’s intent, and indeed all her other articles too, should be required reading for every woman (or man, for that matter):
Ecstatic Birth - Nature’s Hormonal Blueprint For Labor

Given the cesarean epidemic that is engulfing our birthing scene, one can't help but wonder what its long-term effects will be on a species that is designed by nature to enter the world "in an ecstatic cocktail of hormones" but is instead entering it in pain, fear and separation. What a heart-breaking gulf between the baby born naturally and immediately put skin-to-skin with its mother, and the baby pulled out through a surgical wound in the mother's abdomen, else evicted forcefully from the womb with violent artificially induced contractions, and then bundled off to be poked, prodded and examined by yet another medical team.

In spite of my relatively enlightened perspectives about birth and all the research I'd done, I ended up letting the OB force a c-section on me with my first child because she panicked when she found the baby had the cord around his neck. Much later, I found out that 1 in 3 babies have the cord around their necks and it is definitely not a cause for surgical birth.

It is easy to make the OBs look like the bad guys in these situations, but the truth is it takes two hands to clap. I don't doubt my OB's sincerity or her motives - she honestly believed she was doing her best for me and would have probably done the same for her own daughter. Most doctors are so entrenched within the patriarchal system of birth management that they might as well have blinders on. The rigid parameters of the textbook medical paradigm they are trained in don't allow any room for variations of normal nor a healthy trust in a woman's body. A woman's body is treated like a ticking time bomb that could go off any second, and consequently it is fear that drives many of their decisions.

Eckhart Tolle observes with his usual penetrating insight, "The psychological condition of fear is divorced from any concrete and true immediate danger. This kind of psychological fear is always of something that might happen, not of something that is happening now." Swami Vivekananda goes even further - "The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you, depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help are you free."

One lesson that clearly came home to me from my experience was that any decision made from fear will entail suffering and pain as consequences. When you let fear gain a foothold, you lose touch with your inner intuitive wisdom. Then you allow a default decision to be made for you, invariably giving your power away. When you give your power away, you are not response-able anymore, and are at the mercy of the people who will take over that situation to serve their ends. There is no situation more vulnerable to this stripping away of power and the blunting of authentic choice, as childbirth. As women, the more of us that awaken to this realization, educate ourselves, and take back the power and responsibility to birth according to our own deep inner knowing, the better. It is our God-given right to be the keepers of the sacred dimension of childbirth.

It is encouraging to see women building awareness at grassroots level by banding together to support each other in making informed birth choices and trusting their own body wisdom by locally forming groups such as the Bangalore Birth Network and Birth India. May their tribe increase!

"Bitti kotruu Bt beda!"

2010-02-15T21:04:00.006+05:30

Either the Government must have the capacity to educate and reform the people or the people must have the capacity to educate the Government.
- Sri Sathya Sai Baba

I have been reading Eknath Easwaran's Gita where he draws heavily upon Gandhi's philosophy and example to illustrate many points. I was inspired by the duty Easwaran extolled of putting all our thoughts, words and deeds on the side of everything that supports the unity of life and withdrawing our support from things which violate the same. As Gandhi said, non-co-operation with evil is the civic duty of all citizens.

So when I found out from Greenpeace India's emails that Environment Minister Jairam Ramesh would be in Bangalore on the last leg of public consultations on the introduction of the first GM food crop, Bt brinjal, I knew I had to go and be part of the protest group. I emailed friends and family to find out whether anyone would join me - my sister S signed up, bless her heart.

All that previous evening I mused about the wonderful souls who would turn out on the morrow and lend their skills and speech and presence in protesting against the corporate greed that held so lightly the livelihood and health of millions of people, and the earth itself. The song "Endaro mahanubhavulu andariki vandanamulu" kept playing itself in my mind as I thought about these modern day heroes. The next day I arrived at my mother's house from where S and I were set to depart for the public consultation, and the tv was on full blast. And what song should play but "Endaro mahanubhavulu"!! With that auspicious omen, we left for Central College where the meeting was taking place.

When we arrived there, there were huge anti-GM posters and groups of people shouting slogans and carrying placards and the place was simply chockful of policemen - the driveway was thick with them. We stood around a while, and then thanks to S's initiative, started to edge around the garden towards the main entrance to the building. No-one stopped us, so we got in and walked to the auditorium. The first two aisle entrances had men spilling out of them, but the third had a couple women in there and was relatively less crowded so we squeezed in and got a good view of the proceedings.

Jairam Ramesh was dressed in colourful khadi and sported long hair and looked as environmentalist as anyone else. He was giving both parties a fair and open hearing. He seemed well up on all his facts and quoted most ppl's emails verbatim at them. It was evident that he was an extremely intelligent, well-educated and well-informed minister indeed. He also had quite a bit of the brahminical intellectual arrogance about him. When one lady introduced herself before speaking, he interjected with an amused smile, "Oh, you've sent me a lot of emails!" at which she shot back, "And I'll send you lots more!" Those anti-GM ppl were awesome! Everytime an anti-GM point was made S and I lifted our arms over our heads and clapped for all we were worth while yelling "ooooooooooooooooo" approvingly to indicate our support. I'm afraid that was the inarticulate extent of our anti-GM support at this event :)

The proceedings were suddenly interrupted when a group of slogan chanting ("Bt brinjal bedve beda!!") Raitha Sangha people, whose chant we had been hearing get louder and louder, suddenly burst into the auditorium, and parting the sea of ppl in one aisle, streamed down it like a river towards the dais. The tv cameras promptly turned and zoomed in on them. They did their shouting for a while and then quite as suddenly disappeared. I read in the paper the next day that they had been bodily carried out by the police. Fast work that! All I could do was whisper to S, "Thank God they didn't choose our aisle!" At one point a pigeon suddenly swooped under the curtain and winged its way into the auditorim where it circled the entire place once and twice before dropping out of sight. I thought that was a good sign - a sign of peace and freedom.

After an hour or so, S and I made our way out of there and picked up anti-GM posters to take home. Our auto was decorated with one of them on our way back, and my car now proudly sports those posters on the back. The minister's final decision will be announced tomorrow. [The next day Jairam Ramesh declared a moratorium on Bt brinjal and was lauded by environmentalists, farmers and top scientists for his courageous decision. Long live Jairam Ramesh, you're a hero!!]

It was wonderful to be part of those amazing energy dynamics and to add our little part to the focused mass of consciousness that existed there. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I kept smiling now and then during it all. It was, after all, a joy to be alive and to put ourselves in a place where our thought, word and deed were aligned and joined with a thousand others' for a noble and worthy cause.

Is there anything more we can do? Greenpeace India has rendered yeoman's service in whipping up awareness on the issue and mobilising people from all over the country in making their opinion known. We can donate to support them in their outstanding work and to join their continuing fight against genetic contamination of our food.

In defense of solar eclipse traditions

2010-01-20T00:30:00.010+05:30

Following the solar eclipse last week, there was a loud hullabaloo in newspapers and other media bemoaning how "superstition" still keeps most people indoors, following certain time-honoured observances. Most young people consider it fashionable and cool to roundly denounce traditions followed by the "ignorant" masses, and seem to get a kick out of going against the custom themselves. They are presumably operating from their own belief in a rational science that limits a human being to just the body and the senses, forgetting, as Shakespeare said, that "there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

The sun, the moon, the earth, and you and me are not "undiffused, separate, and rigidly alone" objects but are a part of a huge symphony of oneness, all sharing the same essence, and thus acting and reacting on each other. Even science now knows that the phases of the moon influence the tides and the rising of sap in trees and plants. It is well-known that on new moon and full moon days insane people tend to act more insane and there is a rise in the number of traffic accidents. As John Muir says, "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe." Everything is connected - as without, so within. As above, so below. How then can a solar eclipse, such a grand event in the heavens, not fail to have an influence on human beings?

From what I have heard and read and gathered over the years, the basic theory is that the sun corresponds to the Intellect (Buddhi) in human beings which includes the higher faculties of conscience and discrimination and intuition, and the moon corresponds to the mind (Manas). The Vedas state that the moon is the presiding deity of the mind - Chandramaa Manaso Jaathaha - "Out of the mind of the Purusha (Godhead), the moon was born." There is a close affinity between the mind and the moon; both are subject to decline and progress.

In a solar eclipse, the moon temporarily obscures the sun. The corresponding influence on humans is that the mind obscures or tends to get the upperhand over the intellect during the time, which could lead to misjudgements and mistakes. This premise probably explains the eclipse regulations and do's and dont's prescribed by the sages in scriptures like the Devi Bhagwatha Purana and Skanda Purana. Eclipses are also supposed to be power points of energy transformation very similar to the energy experienced at the cardinal points of the day, dawn/sunrise/noon/sunset, and are thus fertile times to make faster and deeper progress in spiritual disciplines like meditation. This is why, based on the regulations in the shastras, orthodox people and spiritual aspirants spend the time indoors, fasting and in prayer. Would you call this "superstition"? Superstition is defined as a credulous belief or notion, not based on reason, knowledge, or experience. I would say that a condescending dismissal of such ancient practices because one's own limited awareness is more of a superstition than the other.

Of course, over time there have grown around this topic a lot of foolish fears and misrepresentations and urban legends that only serve to make the confusion worse compounded. Outer phenomena is only the symbol of the inner reality and processes to which we must pay attention. Baba talked about this in a Discourse during a Birthday that happened to fall on a solar eclipse day: "This day, there is a Solar eclipse and many people wondered whether the Birthday festival would be celebrated or postponed. The moon obscuring the sun is not the calamity that people should fear; the shadow of maaya falling upon the intelligence is the eclipse that has to be treated as a bad omen, as inauspicious. The mind is the moon, the intelligence is the sun; see that they do not suffer from eclipse. Then, you are safe. Do not worry when something happens in the outer sky; worry when the shadow of some dark desire, some foul passion, some monstrous emotion, some fell intention casts its evil gloom over your inner sky. See that the splendour of the Lord, the cool rays of His Grace are not dimmed in the recesses of your heart."

We may choose the follow tradition if we are so inclined, or we may choose to disregard it, but it behooves us at all times to respect the faith and choices of others and be aware in all humility that what we consider reality is only the tip of the iceberg.

Towards zero waste

2009-09-11T15:37:00.013+05:30

In our relationship with the environment, the real power does not lie in the hands of technologists or politicians or directors of multinational corporations. It is individuals like you and me who make the final decisions about what is bought and sold in the stores, how much carbon dioxide is pumped into the atmosphere, and what is dumped into the sea. Each of us can begin to heal the environment right away by changing our daily habits.
- Eknath Easwaran

On Earth Day this year, Bangalore was battered by a tremendous wind and rain storm that caused trees and electric poles to keel over. The worst of the all-round mayhem was the sight of all the tattered white plastic covers, flushed out from the bowels of the city and spewed around by the storm to drape itself over absolutely every surface the eye fell on - on the road, footpath, drains, even over trees. It was as if the Earth was sending out an urgent graphic SOS message to her children on the day designated as Earth Day. That awful sight jolted me into finally doing something about the simmering unease I'd been feeling everytime I threw the garbage out, plastic and all.

Back when we lived in Seattle, there used to be a separate section for disposing recyclable dry waste(paper, plastic, glass, etc.), and another for general garbage. But here everything, recyclable or not, is just dumped into one common garbage area, from where the garbage truck picks it up only to dump it in turn into unofficial landfills. Apparently, these "landfills" are located in the outskirts of the city near various villages. And the un-segregated waste that has been dumped there has been decaying and releasing toxic sludge into the water bodies which are used for drinking and agriculture, causing several health hazards to the villagers such as such as diarrhea, bronchitis, cough and respiratory infections. Isn't it a crying shame?

People in general seem to feel that it is the responsibility of the municipal department to manage proper disposal of waste, but in the absence of conscious responsible co-operation on part of the each citizen by way of segregation of recyclable and other waste, what can the government do? There should be a joint initiative from both people and the government to address the problem, but there only seems to be apathy all around. Unfortunately, in the end, the people who suffer from this selfish irresponsibility are the poor and the helpless - and Mother Earth.

I found out that an NGO called Saahas - www.saahas.org - works with issues related to the management of solid waste in Bangalore. I visited their office and was very relieved and happy to learn that they have well-structured programs for dealing with recyclable waste, which they call dry waste. Now, all my junk mail, food covers, stray plastic and paper, bottles, packaging material and other clean dry waste all goes into a separate trash can which eventually finds its way to Saahas where the waste is sorted and recycled at the nominal cost of Rs. 35 per contributing household per month. To see the details for participating in this program, check the images at the end of this post.

Saahas also has a program for e-waste, which includes batteries, floppies, and CDs. They have placed free public e-waste disposal containers at various points around the city - there is one at GK Vale, Jayanagar, and one at Fitness One, Jayanagar, where small e-waste like batteries, floppies, CDs, etc. can be disposed. Bigger e-waste like printers, keyboards, mouse, monitors, etc. will have to be dropped off at their office.

So now I'm only left with wet waste from the kitchen that I throw out as garbage. While my household still generates some waste that contributes to the villagers' misery, my conscience is largely assauged by the recycling of dry waste that I found a way to do, thanks to Saahas. Ideally, the organic waste from the kitchen should be composted and converted into manure that can be used for growing plants, potted or otherwise. But living as I do in an apartment, no corner of which escapes my toddler's investigations, composting is not a viable option for me right now - but hopefully, some day it will be. And then, perhaps, I can dream about a zero waste household...

Home sweet home

2009-05-31T00:00:00.004+05:30

Now that we're back in India after our stint in the West, the whole colourful spectrum of life here has so completely filled us up that we haven't spared a moment's thought to our life back in the United States, where we first started our lives together. But lately, nearly a year after being here, we find ourselves now and then poignantly remembering details of our life back in America.

A sudden flash of memory of driving down First Avenue in Fresno on the perfect large curving road, mission style red roofed buildings on either side, with palm trees spreading against the crystal blue California sky. Going to gym at Bally's. Long weekends away in the wilderness of that magnificent land - vast pine-laden mountains, lakes that seem like the sea, tall noble trees shooting straight up from the earth, feather quilt sky, air crisp and clear as an icicle. Big bold furry grey squirrels the size of a rabbit, strangely(at first!) missing the stripes on the back. Interesting uncommon cloud formations you can study every so often. Lingering rose and saffron sunsets gradually fading into subtle tintings of apple green and mauve, and finally into a starry dusk(twilight is so much shorter in tropical India). Bronzed maple trees in fall. Snowflakes feathering down to the earth in that curiously still manner, soundlessly transforming the entire landscape into a white wonderland.

Beautiful large free libraries where you can order any book on the face of the earth and happily go to fetch in a couple weeks. The different moods of Lake Washington - dull grey on cloudy days, fresh azure on clear days, sometimes leaden and flat, sometimes navy blue and brooding, diamond sparkles dancing on wind-ruffled wavelets on sunny days. Darling houses that look like they appeared out of a dreamy picture book. The mountains in the distance, always visible even from the heart of the city. Cheerful nods from people you encounter. Sincere close-knit divine Sai centres that are a home away from home, the like of which I will probably never find again.

Breakfast now and then at Judy's Doughnuts - our standard fare of chocolate-iced doughnut and coffee, so utterly satisfying. Fries to die for at Rally's. An occasional veggie patty sandwich for lunch at Subway whose toasted cheddar and oozing mustard and mayonnaise I can still vividly taste. Blueberry green tea frappuchino at Starbucks, the tastiest drink I've ever had, and during Christmas season, delicious gingerbread with hot latte. Spicy cheesy bean chalupas at Taco Bell for a quick evening snack. Custard drenched tiramisu for dessert at California Pizza Kitchen - a slice of heaven on earth.

The painstaking attention to detail that is given to every aspect of any work. The typical American penchant for quips and one-liners on every occasion and the hearty readiness to laugh at any attempt of a joke, however corny. Mellow country music playing on radio in the car as we roll over endless freeways, past golden hills and grassy pastures. The scale of everything - everything is big big big - the trees, the roads, the ice-creams, the malls, the cars, and last but not the least, the friendly heart of the American people that is as open as it is big, bless them.

These things will always be a part of us. A beloved part of our memories. And yet, with all this, what was it that inexplicably drew us back to the land of our birth, even as the wild geese that are mysteriously guided homeward on their long flight?

Poet Kathleen Raine said about India, "The worst of going to India is that afterwards everywhere else is a kind of exile." You only realize the truth of it once you've left India and soujourned afar for a few years. It is an organic visceral mother love whose pull you always feel at the center of your soul, no matter what sights and sounds other lands might dazzle you with.

Swami Vivekananda was asked by an English friend on the eve of his departure from the West, "Swami, how do you like now your motherland after four years' experience of the luxurious, glorious, powerful West?" He could only answer, "India I loved before I came away. Now the very dust of India has become holy to me, the very air is now to me holy; it is now the holy land, the place of pilgrimage, the Tirtha." It is worth the years spent away from the native land just for a shadow of this kind of realization.

In high school, one of my favourite poems in my English textbook was Rabindranath Tagore's "Motherland" which I thrilled to even back then. But I never dreamed how much inspiration and fuel it would someday provide me to turn my footsteps onto the path back home.

Blessed am I that I was born to this land
And that I had the luck to love her
What care I if queenly treasures is not in her trove
But precious enough is for me the living wealth of her love.
The best gift of fragrance to my heart
Is from her own flowers,
And I know not where else shines the moon
That can flood my being with such loveliness.
The first light revealed to my eyes
Was from her own skies,
And let the same light kiss them
Before they are closed for ever.

We are grateful for our experience of the West which has vastly enriched, deepened and expanded life for us, and will always treasure the experiences and friendships that have been woven there into the tapestry of our lives. We are also very grateful and happy to be Home at last.

Balance amid the everyday storm

2009-04-29T19:50:00.003+05:30

I'm convinced that those whom the gods wish to destroy they make mothers first. No doubt it is the ego that is being destroyed, and though it sounds noble and beneficial, it is not exactly an endearing process. It's the most excrutiating ordeal one has to ever go through, if only because it's not something that knocks you on the head one day and disappears, but something that you have to constantly negotiate every waking(and sleeping) hour of your life. A hundred constant pinpricks take more spirit and depth to tolerate than one hard slam you can be over and done with.

My toddler is teething molars and hence very needy and clingy, has not been a biped for too long and hence not too stable on his feet, is not too verbal yet and hence constantly resorting to tantrums when the world gets too much for him. I have to have all my attention on him at all times to save him from tripping on thin air and getting his face walloped on the floor for the umpteenth time, to listen to and encourage his fledgling words, to keep him engaged in relatively less destructive activities. I have to have infinite resourcefulness to be cutting vegetables and getting lunch ready while keeping him from falling head first into the big trash can he's investigating. So I head him off instead into taking the ladles one by one from their drawer and popping them in the trash can. It'll buy me enough time to mount the cooker and keep him safely occupied in the meantime. After all, I can fish out the ladles, wash them and put them back in their place when he's napping. And that's one of the better days. On the bad days, all he does when I'm cooking is cling like a limpet onto my legs with both hands and cry to be picked up. Try taking a few steps across the kitchen with your whining heavy toddler dangling off your legs, getting the lunch ready on time, with the telephone ringing off the hook and someone sounding the doorbell. It's enough to make me want to spontaneously combust into a million particles, especially if it has been a while since I meditated. I used to have a regular meditation practice before my little boy appeared on the scene. But having to look after the entire existence of another human being, complete from clipping their nails to putting on their shoes, seems to somehow suck every moment of time away, and before I know it an entire year has passed - and the combustible circumstances are only on the rise.

So many spiritual teachers and traditions point out the fact that mothering, or any other duty for that matter, itself is a spiritual practice, if done with the right attitude. Brother Lawrence, a Christian mystic, wrote
"The time of business does not differ from the time of prayer, and in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees at the blessed sacrament."

How enviable is that? The Gita refers to it as “inaction in the midst of action” (4:18), and also prescribes the regimen that will get one there, perfectly summarized by Eknath Easwaran in his book on the Gita: daily meditation, chanting the mantra at every opportunity, restraint of the senses, and putting the welfare of others first. Giving up self-will especially is the constant refrain of the Gita:
Who serve both friend and foe with equal love,
Not buoyed up by praise or cast down by blame,
Alike in heat and cold, pleasure and pain,
Free from selfish attachments and self-will,
Ever full, in harmony everywhere,
Firm in faith - such as these are dear to Me.

Easwaran says in his translation, "There is no barrier between us and God realization except self-will. That is all that keeps us thinking that we are separate from the whole. The more we love, the less our self-will - and the less subject we are to time and death. All of us have moments when we forget ourselves in helping others. In those moments of self-forgetfulness, we step out of ourselves: we really cease, if only for an instant, to be a separate person. Those are the moments of immortality, right on earth. Stretch them out until they fill the day and you will no longer be living in yourself alone; you will live in everyone."

It struck me that from the moment your child is born, you have willy nilly signed up for an hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute stripping away of self-will. When all you want to do is sleep like the dead, your baby wants to be fed. When all you crave desperately on a rainy day is to curl up cozily and escape into a book, your child wants you to play with and entertain him. When you really want to take a break from cooking and eat out, your conscience will insist on a healthy home-cooked meal for your child. Let alone indulgences, being able to take a few minutes alone to shower becomes a luxury. And your own personal pint-sized little spiritual master knows exactly how to put you through the hoops and will enthusiastically scrounge out even the hidden pockets of self-will tucked away in remote corners of your personality. No spiritual aspirant practicing in his cave could have set himself a tougher regimen. But of course, the saving grace in all of this is the love that keeps the wheels of duty turning smoothly. Kahlil Gibran expresses this beautifully

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All the threshing and sifting, however, can get old pretty fast if it is not balanced by some inner work. Something Bo Lozoff said in one of his wonderful articles struck a chord with me - "Trying to dedicate yourself entirely through outward activity will sooner or later chew you up and spit you out if you don't take time for inner silence. It's like trying to breathe out all the time without breathing in. Be sure you breathe in, so that you're helping others from a deeper place."

That's where daily meditation comes in. On the few days that I happen to manage it, the difference is amazing. I'm so spacious and accepting that I can bear anything, juggle anything - all with a cheerful smile and sense of humour intact. The challenges are a pleasure to take on; the days are "lit from above". If I've let myself slide and not meditated in a while, I find myself getting reactive and irritable, teetering on the edge of a bad case of mommy burnout. Lao Tzu declares, "Don't think you can attain total awareness and whole enlightenment without proper discipline and practice. This is egomania. Appropriate rituals channel your emotions and life energy toward the light. Without the discipline to practice them, you will tumble constantly backward into darkness." Tumble constantly backward into darkness! Ouch!!

Whether I am travelling through good times or bad on this amazing journey of mothering, some things remain the same - it always is interesting, and it sure makes life worthwhile! There's really nothing else I'd rather be doing.

Divine poetry

2009-04-12T23:17:00.001+05:30

The poetry of Mary Oliver is one of the magical things in this world. Whenever I feel choked by the dry crumbs of the prosaic bread of life, reading her poetry is like receiving a draught of living water. It's an immediate opening into stillness, and wonder. A quiet reverence for life unfolds and all's well with the world again.

Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

Her words are transparent, letting the essence in, transmuting the mundane into the mystical. With what subtelty she invokes That which is "subtler than the subtlest"!

In "The Swan" she writes

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

Her work is a constant challenge to turn inward. There is an urgency to touch the very centre of that ache for truth, goodness, beauty.

"Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?" she asks.

And then again,

"When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world."

She brings out so well that plumbing spirit which is not satisfied with the surface of things but has to dive and discover in order to justify its existence...something we lose so often in the grooves of everyday life.
"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

"I have a notion that if you are going to be spiritually curious, you better not get cluttered up with too many material things," she said in an interview, and you can see that notion pervading her work:

Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another -- why don't you get going?

For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.

And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money,

I don't even want to come in out of the rain.

Mary Oliver is a Poet in every sense of the word, a high priestess of nature. Baba defined a poet once. He said only an artist who brings out the living spirit of the Divine in their work in a way that can stir the heart of the common man can be called a poet, and not someone who merely strings together a pretty fancy. In the Gita, the Lord Himself is described as "Kavi":
"He is the Great Poet, the Ancient Poet; the whole universe is His poem, coming in verses and rhymes and rhythms, written in infinite bliss."

The uniqueness of this poet is in the way she returns a sense of the miraculous to life without pedantry or preaching. She says her endeavour is "to keep words from eating the mind, to hear sounds and not verbalize them... to reach to the level that has no name." She never talks directly about the divine, she only suggests it, embodies it, brings it into closer-than-breathing awareness, and awakens it in the direct experience of the reader.

Eckhart Tolle says, "We have forgotten what rocks, plants, and animals still know. We have forgotten how to be - to be still, to be ourselves, to be where life is: Here and Now." But thank goodness the world still has poets like Mary Oliver to remind us!

Here is a sampling of some of my favourites. Enjoy!

The Sun

When I Am Among the Trees

The Summer Day

Bone

Little Summer Poem Touching The Subject Of Faith

Wild Geese

In Blackwater Woods

When Death Comes

No more shots in the dark

2009-03-13T23:07:00.005+05:30

I had always thought that vaccinations were an inevitable part of the process of living, as inevitable as taxes and death. I was dimly aware that back in the day, my father had taken a principled stand against vaccinations and had refused to let all his 3 children be vaccinated, but I had dismissed it as just another idiosyncrasy of his. In the course of time I became a mother, and duly took my son around to the paediatrician for his first round of vaccinations. The doctor put my 6-week-old baby on the table, lined up all 3 injections in a row, and injected them into him one after another continuously, one on each arm and one on the thigh, with a nurse pinning him down. He screamed with pain, and at each successive injection that scream was higher and more incredulous, as if he couldn't believe that anyone could be doing that to him...like he couldn't believe that a world that had heretofore protected and loved him could suddenly be turning around and attacking him now. Right after the shots, when he was gasping with shock and keening in an intensive high-pitched way almost like an animal in pain, the doc squeezed polio drops into his mouth, causing him to splutter and gasp even more. Several times he lost his breath with the intensity of the crying. When I went to comfort him after the shots, streams of tears were rolling down the sides of his head and he had a helpless imploring look in his eyes that just went like a knife through my heart. Those cries still ring in my ears, I don't think I can ever forget them...

When my mother gathered him up and held him close, he fell asleep right away with total exhaustion. At home he woke up, nursed and fell asleep again. When he woke up the next time, he was crying inconsolably with pain, and my mother had to walk him up and down and generally comfort him the way she does when he has colic. I checked the package insert of the vaccines and among the contra-indications were listed screaming and high-pitched inconsolable crying, which means he had an adverse reaction to the vaccines. I know doctors dismiss such reactions, and even fever, as routine - but what do they really, really know? They only know what their textbooks and pharmaceutical industry tells them.

I knew what I had witnessed was barbaric. I felt in my bones that there was something profoundly wrong about it. I got out the laptop and plunged into research. I snatched every minute I could, everytime the baby was napping, or was being engaged by my mom, I read and read for days. What I learned horrified me. Presented below are snippets of my research that will give you a general idea of what I learned, and be a good jumping off point should you decide to do your own independent research.

In addition to the viral and bacterial RNA or DNA that is part of the vaccines, here are the fillers:
- animal tissues: pig blood, horse blood, rabbit brain, dog kidney, monkey kidney, chick embryo, chicken egg, duck egg
- calf (bovine) serum
- human diploid cells (originating from human aborted fetal tissue)
- porcine (pig) pancreatic hydrolysate of casein
- VERO cells, a continuous line of monkey kidney cells
- washed sheep red blood cells
- hydrolized gelatin
- monosodium glutamate (MSG)
- phenoxyethanol (antifreeze)
- thimerosal (mercury - neurotoxin linked to autism)
- formaldehyde (used for embalming)
- aluminum hydroxide (neurotoxin linked to Parkinson's disease and Alzheimer's)
and many other such deadly toxins.

The artificial immunity created by injecting this deadly cocktail into our children is not infallible, meaning people can get the very diseases they were vaccinated against, and it is temporary, which is why the need arises for booster shots. Here is a chilling article on this topic which explains how the sanctity of the bloodstream is violated when the immune system is "tricked" into mounting an all-out response to an attenuated(half-killed) virus or bacteria, something nature would never permit. The incidence of autism as well as other chronic auto-immune diseases like asthma, diabetes, etc. and neurological disorders like ADHD(attention-deficit-hyperactivity disorder) and dyslexia among children is growing at an alarming rate, and coincides with the increase in the number of vaccinations routinely given to children. The possible relationship between these diseases and various vaccines has been recognized for a generation. Children whose immunity has been weakened by vaccinations are also subject to constantly returning colds, fluids from the ears/re-occurring ear infections, eczema and various allergies.

Just ponder the contradictions regarding the claim that measles is a "killer" disease:
- A child under the age of five has 0.01 percent chance of contracting measles.
- That same child has a 0.3 percent chance of dying from the disease and a 0.2 percent chance of being autistic as a result of vaccine damage.

Harvard graduate and physician, R. Moskowitz, explains how the live viruses in vaccines can, in the long term, lead to such auto-immune disease conditions. Vaccinal attenuated viruses attach their own genetic "episome" to the genome (half set of chromosomes and their genes) of the host cell, and are thus capable of surviving or remaining latent within the host cells for years. The presence of this foreign antigenic material within the host cell sets the stage for their unpredictable provocation of various auto-immune phenomena such as herpes, shingles, warts, tumors -- both benign and malignant -- and diseases of the central nervous system, such as varied forms of paralysis and inflammation of the brain. This article by Harold Buttram, MD, explains how the MMR and the oral polio vaccines, cultured in chick embryo tissue and monkey kidneys respectively, are highly susceptible to the process of "jumping genes," in which they may incorporate genetic material from the tissues in which they are cultured, that then is introduced into the child, setting in motion an immunologic battleground. Guylaine Lanctot, M.D., stated, "The medical authorities keep lying. Vaccination has been a disaster on the immune system. It actually causes a lot of illnesses. We are actually changing our genetic code through vaccination...100 years from now we will know that the biggest crime against humanity was vaccines."

Here are some sites with excellent informative articles that are a must-read for any parent looking to make an informed decision regarding whether or not to vaccinate their child:
"Dispelling vaccination myths" - http://www.whale.to/v/phillips.html - make sure to read the "Closing remarks" section.
http://www.saisanjeevini.org/newsvacc.htm - Includes comments on the vaccine scenario in India.
"Doctors against vaccines": http://www.vaccinetruth.org/doctors_against_vaccines.htm - this one in particlar is a must-read for those who subscribe to the doctor knows best mentality.
More research and information results for further investigation: http://search.mercola.com/Results.aspx?q=vaccination&k=vaccination

I logged onto my favourite parenting resource, Mothering magazine's mothering.com and checked its vaccinations discussion forum to see how other parents were dealing with this information - some parents were firm in their decision to keep their child completely vaccine-free, some parents wanted certain vaccines and not others, some wanted a selective or delayed vaccination schedule, some parents wanted to comply with the entire vaccination schedule. I realized I couldn't look outside of me for help in deciding what to do for my child. I had done my homework and I was aware of the latest research findings and the pros and cons of both sides of the issue. Beyond that, I had to do my own soul-searching. I talked with my father about the reasons he had decided against vaccinations for myself and my siblings. He went very deep into the spiritual aspects of the issue, being a Theosophist and all, but his basic conviction was this: The human being is the very pinnacle of evolution, a superb finely-honed instrument fit for the flowering of divine consciousness within it. When animal matter and other toxins are injected into a human body, it defiles the body, because it is a reversal of the thrust of evolution whose impulse is to always flow forwards into higher forms. The introduction of animal matter into a higher organism that is much more finely evolved is a regression, and goes against the very grain and direction of Nature. The latest research findings regarding the side-effects of vaccines support this view.

An extraordinary number of scientists and thinkers have objected to vaccination since its creation including Gandhi, George Bernard Shaw, Voltaire, Mark Twain, and, in the 20th century, Henry Ford and Thomas Edison. Gandhi said, "I am and have been for years, a confirmed anti-vaccinationist. A medical man who expresses himself against vaccination loses caste. Tremendous pecuniary interests too have grown round vaccination. I have not in the least doubt in my mind that vaccination is a filthy process, that is harmful in the end."

What underlies this whole vaccination business is a coalition of greed and fear. Greed on part of the vaccine-makers and pharmaceutical industries who keep coming up with more and more vaccines with little or no scientific rationale behind them and no long-term safety studies, and governments blindly serving corporate financial interests over public health concerns. Fear mongering happens as part of the popular social conditioning promoted by doctors, especially paediatricians whose bread and butter depends largely on administering vaccines on a regular schedule. Like someone said, it is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it!

After lots of discussions, my hubby and I decided not to give our son any more vaccinations. We stopped it completely after that unfortunate first set of shots. I know it is a big decision not to vaccinate our child when the mainstream culture is all for it, but I have made certain decisions to help protect my child as far as lies in my power:
1) Breastfeed until he weans by himself
There is amazing wisdom in this. When a breastfeeding child is exposed to any disease, he passes on the germs to the mother while nursing. The mother's body then makes antibodies for the disease, and in the next nursing session these antibodies are transferred to the child, and the child is able to fight off the disease. So, as long as the child breastfeeds, he is protected by the mother's immune system. When the child's immune system matures (usually around 2-3 yrs) the child will usually wean naturally by himself. Isn't Nature marvellous?!?
2) Cook healthy organic food.
3) Maintain a healthy non-toxic atmosphere at home, not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually.

This article has excellent advice on how to raise a healthy child with a sound immune system. There is a course of homeopathy mentioned in this article titled "Alternatives to Vaccinations" that supports and strengthens the immune system against certain diseases, for parents who are interested in other approaches.

What is sadly amiss in the present day scenario are the skewed perceptions and the lack of awareness of both sides of the vaccine story. Brave new parents of a new generation - educate yourself, do your research, do your soul-searching and then decide what to do. I'm sure the coming generations will benefit greatly from carefully deliberated informed choice on our part.

Reflections on VIP darshans

2009-02-23T23:55:00.001+05:30

Our family boasts an Uncle who, besides having occupied positions of power and influence in his heydays, is now on the management board of almost all the big pilgrimage centres in South India. Just as one would make travel reservations when embarking on a pilgrimage, it is equally the done thing in our family to notify Uncle and request him to make arrangements for our visit. He takes care of our being met at the station, escorted to well-appointed rooms, then escorted to special VIP darshan, and finally dropped back to the station - in short, a pilgrimage on a bed of roses. Of course, it is very sweet and benevolent of him to extend his special privileges to his family. We made a trip to Mantralaya this past weekend, having dutifully notified this Uncle before starting, and subsequently enjoyed the ensuing royal treatment.

There are 3 courtyard layers around the brindavana - and the general public is allowed only upto the second. The innermost courtyard right around the brindavana can be penetrated only by priests and VIPs. After the darshan, I asked my mother and hubby if they felt any unease about receiving special treatment in front of God when the rest of the people were packed like sheep in the next courtyard, craning their necks trying their best to catch a good glimpse of the brindavana and offer their prayers. My mother subscribes to the argument that it is our own good merit accumulated from past births that allows us to get closer to the shrine, so there's nothing wrong in using it, since we have "earned" it. My hubby assauges his conscience by thinking that since God has extended a privilege to us by granting closer darshan, it is our responsibility to translate that gift into being better people and a greater force for good in this world. I happen to be currently reading Eknath Easwaran's presentation of the Bhagavad Gita and the insights I have been gaining from there do not let me dismiss the issue so easily. The whole war scenario that the Gita is set in is a reference to the battle within, between the forces of selfishness and the forces of selflessness. Right after the darshan, I opened my book for a blessed afternoon reading interlude when my toddler is out of the way napping, and this is what I read:

"Anything we can do to subordinate our profit, our pleasure, and our prestige to the welfare of those around us naturally results in the reduction of I-consciousness, ahamkara, which is the Sanskrit word used for separateness and selfishness."

It struck me that we had been doing just the opposite, however indirectly. We had been using our clout and power and prestige to muscle our way into the best darshan spot available, unheeding of the welfare of those around us. Baba says in His inimitable style, "Love is selflessness and self is lovelessness." We had been trying to get closer to the Lord of Love through our lovelessness. Can it ever be? We might have got physically closer to the shrine but I'm sure we were very far from God in ways that really count. What an irony!

In an effort to identify himself with the lot of the comman man in our country, and to express his solidarity, Gandhi took to wearing a homespun loincloth and travelling only in third class. He saw himself in all and refused to put himself apart or make himself special in any way. We might not be able to imitate the moving example of the Mahatma but we can at least learn from our experience and avoid doing things that make our conscience uneasy. You will not catch me in a VIP darshan again!

Why I left Facebook

2009-02-09T00:38:00.002+05:30

For a long time now, ever since I have got on Facebook and had many people mostly from my past, friends or not, send me "friend" requests, I have been feeling a vague distaste for this whole social networking culture. That still small voice has been nagging away at the back of my consciousness and I'm finally starting to sit up and take notice. Why does Facebook creep me out? Here is a start:

My friends list is basically a graveyard of people I have had some intereraction with in the past, some memorable, some wholly forgettable. And after they request to add me as a "friend", there is no further interaction forthcoming from them, even ON Facebook! So this whole adding-as-friend business seems to me to be a subtle kind of mutual voyeurism agreement - you peek into my social world and I'll peek into yours, with a still more subtle connotation of "and then let's see who is cooler". Everything you join, do or say reflects on the newsfeed that all the "friends" get to see - so everything that you say or do or join, you do with an eye for how it will look, how it will affect my "cool factor". Quite a Danse Macabre of the ego.

In a recent discourse to His students, Baba said, "I wish that you all be very careful in your contacts and relations with others. If possible, dump your cell phones in a well. You will be happy and peaceful. Better you don’t acquire them at all! Even if you acquire one, establish contact and connection with only those with whom it is desirable. Do not develop unnecessary and undesirable contacts with others. By developing such contacts, you gather news from all and sundry and pass it on to others. Ultimately, you will end up as Narada, poking your nose in all sorts of things. You will not only spoil your mind with unwanted things but spoil the minds of others too! Why all this unpleasantness? Is it not because of your unwanted and undesirable telephonic contacts? Hence, be careful and earn a good name for yourself, your parents, and the institution in which you are studying."
He's talking about cellphones, but He has also described Facebook to a T! The message here is more than clear. In a nutshell, Facebook turns you into a Narada of the worst kind!

Eckhart Tolle once said in an interview - "Transcending the world does not mean to withdraw from the world, to no longer take action, or to stop interacting with people. Transcendence of the world is to act and interact without any self-seeking. In other words, it means to act without seeking to enhance one's sense of self through one's actions or one's interaction with people."
Now we're doing precisely that in Facebook - seeking to enhance one's sense of self through one's actions (like joining groups after seeking what you want to identify with out there) or one's interactions with people (commenting, peeking into profiles, writing on walls, relentlessly acquiring "friends")!!

Someone once said that your past is the ultimate delusion, and Facebook keeps one nicely anchored in that delusion. And it's so insidious that you don't realize it at first. On the surface it is most innocent, hail-fellow-well-met and all that, just keeping in touch with people, what can be nicer? But underneath, your ego is just feasting off the whole thing, revelling in self-preoccupation, muddying your mind with an explosion of unnecessary thoughts and emotions, and taking you far away from the Here and Now. When Here and Now is where life is.

Social networking for the sake of social networking is an ego prop I no longer want to burden myself with.