Dara Shukoh

Amongst the Ahmad Sirhindis
I chose Mian Mir as my Murid

Amongst the Aurangzebs,Shujas and Murads
I chose to be the lone Dara Shukoh

Amongst the Swords and muskets of steel
I chose the ancient knowledge present in the scriptures

When everyone inscribed your name in Arabic
I chose to wear a ring with "Prabhu" inscribed on it

Amongst the many believers
I chose to be the Heretic

Amongst those counting rosary beads
I chose to seek the beloved through knowledge

Amongst the many who chose conversion and prosecution   
I chose peace and unification

Amongst the many who read prayers with hatred inside
I chose to read the Upanishads and let them in my heart reside

Amongst the many who ran aground on the rocky shores of Ego
I chose to drown where 2 great oceans merged!

-- Dedicated to a great human being and a true man of God - Dara Shukah

Duryodhana and Satyaki

One fateful day during the great Mahabharata war found Duryodhana and Satyaki with their horns locked! It was a strange sight that met the eyes of many a soldiers. Duryodhana and Satyaki with each arrow exhanged, remembered the good old days. When they were kids, learning the art of weilding wepons under the tutelage of their Guru Shree Dronacharya. "Oh Satyaki! how wonderful were the times we spent during childhood at the Gurukul! Those days will never come back. Look at us now, trying to kill each other. Indeed, my greed has led to this!" . said Duryodhana. Satyaki replied "Oh king! What is the use of remembering those days now. This is the time to fight. Gather yourself and speak with your arrows!" It was such a strange sight that Sanjaya who saw this thanks to the divine vision bestowed on him by the great Sage Vyaasa, reported this to the blind Dhritharashtra.Both felt momentarily saddened when they heard this. This was narrated by Vyaasa to his disciples as it was a very strange sight. The same was narrated by Vaishampaayana (the disciple of Sage Vyaasa) to Janmejaya, the great grandson of Arjuna, the Pandava.

What is so great about this relatively unimportant event that it was recorded in the Bhaarata? I think I realized the significance of this today morning as I was on my way to work.

What made Duryodhana in the heat of the battle to become so emotional. That too, when fighting a Yaadava warrior of great repute like Satyaki. Satyaki, at his best, broke the bow of the invincible Dronacharya multiple times. Why then did Duryodhana become so emotional and start reminiscing about his childhood days.

Today as I left home for work, the weather was quite cloudy. After months of merciless summer heat today it was cool. Huge black clouds hovered above, warning one and all of the impending and much welcome downpour. Then on the way I spotted a City Central Library, that I used to frequent as a boy. And suddenly the entire atmosphere around me was transformed. I was that little kid again, who went to an over crowded library with his friends. Looking for any copies of Asterix or Tintin that we might find in the dusty shelves. The books in the library looked like some precious age old tomes that Indiana Jones would refer to unearth the Holy Grail or the Ark of the Covenant. Coming back to the present my mind as I saw the library  conjured up an image that was surprisingly still very vivid in my memory. It was that of two infants being fed by a she-wolf. Then I remembered that  day, when I could not get hold of any Asterix or Tintin books. I had instead grabbed a book on Roman History. What attracted me initially was the pictures in the book. They looked neat, interesting and ancient. And it was in this book, that I saw a bronze statue of Remus and Romulus, who founded the Roman empire on the banks of the river Tiber. I then read their story. How their wicked uncle abandoned them in the forest and how they were reared by a She-wolf, until the parents found them and made them the rightful heirs of the kingdom that was to become one of the largest empires in the world.

All this came to my mind at that point of time, and somehow, I seemed to be in that old Bangalore. In that old Bangalore, where the weather was always cool. Where as kids we used to roam around freely. Where it did not take more than 20 minutes to reach M.G Road from my house. Where the temperature never exceeded 29 degree celcious. Where Malleshwaram was known for it's temples and not malls. But now gone are those days. That Bangalore is gone forever. That garden city is gone forever.

I came back to reality when I hit the traffic near dairy circle and the bright rays of the sun also penetrated through the dark clouds. It seemed as though the rays of the sun and the traffic brought me back to the present. It was as though I was in the heat of the battle at Kurukshetra. If you read the Mahabharata in depth, we are all fighting our own battles and we are all living in Kurukshetra. Some of us are forced into it because of Greed like Duryodhana. Some like Amba/Shikandin come here seeking revenge. But the best are those who come here like Arjuna surrendering themselves to the almighty Lord Krishna and doing their duty.

The ocean in the drop!

As I hold the pages of Diwan E Shams in my hand
It feels more intoxicating than a bottle of wine

The letters twirl and twist until
A whirlwind of love envolopes everything

The wine of love starts to flow in my veins
The sweet fragrance of the beloved wafts through the air

The outpourings of love burst forth from my lips
The falcon of love glides high in the clouds of ecstacy

All is enveloped by the soul of Rumi
The bliss of the ethereal Shams of Tabrezi   

I am no more a drop in the ocean
I am the ocean in the drop!

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

"He composed music at the age of 4! He composed his first symphony at the age of 6" That is how Antonio Salieri describes Mozart in the 1984 period drama film Amadeus. That was Mozart! A child prodigy, who lived young, composed his best music while he was young and died young (At the age of 32). Some believe that it was the Italian composer Antonio Salieri himself who poisoned Mozart out of jealousy. For during his own lifetime Mozart had become a legend. Another composer, Joseph Haydn wrote "posterity will not see such talent again in a hundred years". I think Hayden was slightly off the mark. We have not seen such talent again! Great composers come and great composers go. But there can only be one and only one Mozart!

I was introduced to the world of Western Classical Music through my father. He was introduced into it by my late uncle. Whenever my uncle would come from Africa, he set aside some time listening to Classical music and discussing it with my father. My uncle had attended several orchestras by famous conductors. Once, my father also accompanied my uncle to a concert in Mumbai where the famous Indian conductor Zubin Mehta performed. My uncle repeatedly used to urge me to listen to Western classical music as he said it calms one's mind and is an instant source of relaxation. My uncle was a fan of Johann Sabastian Bach (The elder Bach). My father too even now claims he likes the elder Bach best. The Bach family was full of musicians. There is a famous quote that goes "The Bernoulli family is to Maths as the Bach family is to Music". Bach's name also appears on the famous Pulitzer winning book of Dr.Douglous Hoffstadter "Godel,Escher and Bach". Dr.Hoffstadter claims that consciousness is a self loop that can spontaneously arise in certain structures like Godel's incompleteness theorem, Escher's graphic art or Bach's music. I was at that time very fond of Beethoven's 9th symphony. I think unconsciously I connected with the values of freedom, equality and liberty that Beethoven cherished the most and which inspired his best music. We had a record player at home. One of the best records we had was of the 1970s British pop group ventures,trying their hand at playing what they considered the best classical music pieces. It was a masterpiece in fusion. A pop music band, playing classical music pieces using modern day instruments. My favorite even record was Beethoven's 9th. But I also liked another piece, which was Mozart's Symphony no 40. And on one occasion, when my dad, my uncle and I were sitting at our respective chairs at an acoustically suitable distance from the old record player listening to Mozart's 40, my uncle went on to narrate the greatness of Mozart. It must have made such a great impact on my mind that I picked a record which had his caricature on the cover. I immediately proceeded to make an exact copy of the caricature in my drawing book.

My drawing of Mozart (Misspelled of course :) )

Last week while I was rummaging through some old books (which I meant to throw away to make room for new books in the cupboard), I ran into my school drawing book. And there I found several brave attempts at drawing cartoons, comic book heroes, characters from movies that had made a lot of impact on my mind. In one of the pages in this dusty old book I ran into this drawing of Mozart. While it can be described as a crude drawing at best it still made my day. I was so thrilled. I could not contain my joy. I was smiling for a long time looking at the book. It took me back to a time, when life was so easy. The only thing to worry about was homeworks. One would sit in the class, look out of the window at the clear blue skies and get lost in the clouds, day dreaming. And then the teacher would come and give you a rap on the knuckles to bring you back to earth.  Life was so simple then. If there were no friends to play cricket with, there always was a cat or her kitten to give me company and to play with me. And you know, when I remember all these pleasant memories, what background score is playing in my mind? It's Mozart and there is no doubt about it.

When I listen to Mozart, sometimes these pleasant memories flit past my eyes as I impassively stare at them like an outsider. Mozart's music transforms our surroundings. It takes us to a place that is in the present moment bereft of the painful memories of the past or the worries of the future. I think there is a scientific reason behind this. Mozart himself composed all this music at an age when he was very innocent. Though most of his young life he spent traveling all over Austria accompanied by his father. He would enthrall people with his performance. Though life was this harsh, when he would compose/play music which came naturally to him as a gift from God, he would lose himself from the external world, turn inward and connect to the Universe. The subtle order and rhythm present in the motion of planets, stars, galaxies and sub atomic particles would beckon him to compose his masterpieces. I think that is why at a spiritual level it touches a chord within us. Our being reverberates with the harmony present in his music and would immediately become still. There we silently listen to the symphony that the universe constantly plays through Mozart.

The most beautiful child in Agra!

Once after a busy day at the court , the emperor's mind free at last began to wander and think about various topics not related to the court. His thoughts on this particular day revolved around his beloved grandson. Suddenly the emperor voiced his thoughts aloud “Prince Khurram is smart, endowed with good looks and is unmatched is his pleasing appearance. Certainly there can be no child as beautiful as he! I feel that he is the most beautiful child in Agra!” so declared emperor Akbar. The courtiers, knowing fully well how much the emperor liked his grandchild agreed in unison “Yes, Jahanpanah! Why Agra? Prince Khurram is the most beautiful child on earth!”. While Akbar looked contentedly at all his courtiers, his eyes fell on one courtier who unlike the others had remained silent. Madhao Das, stood there deep in thought. Akbar enquired “Birbal, why do you keep quiet? Do you not agree with me?”. Birbal as Madhao Das was known replied “I do not know Jahanpanah! Beauty is subjective! It is in the eye of the beholder as they say! I do not think you can quantitatively analyze beauty”. “What non-sense!” Akbar retorted! “Everyone can see a beautiful thing! All right let us hold a contest. Each  courtier will bring a child whom he thinks is beautiful. Then we shall see if there is any child who is more beautiful than my Khurram!”

The next day every courtier brought a child with him! Akbar examined each child but found some defect or the other with each one of them. To one child, he said the nose was too long. Another child he felt was too dark. Yet another had slight squint in the eyes. At the end of his analysis, he declared “There, I think we can now safely say that Khurram is far more beautiful than any of these children.What say you, Birbal?” he asked. “Jahanpanah, I have heard of this child who is supposedly the most beautiful child in Agra! I need some time to locate him! Once I do so, I will show him to Jahanpanah”. Akbar angrily agreed to Birbal’s request.

A few days later Birbal declared that he had found the child in question. He said “Jahanpanah, the mother refuses to let the child out of her sight. We have to go to the child’s dwelling in disguise and marvel at it’s beauty!”. Akbar agreed, and grudgingly accompanied Birbal and a couple of courtiers. They were all disguised as commoners. After walking a long distance, they reached a shady area of Agra. There were muddy roads, gloomy looking huts were present everywhere. Then they arrived at a drab looking shanty. In front of the hut was playing a child which was extremely dirty and hence was quite unpleasant to look at! “There Jahanpanah, is the most beautiful child in Agra” declared Birbal! Even as Akbar looked on in shock, the child stumbled and fell.The moment the mother heard it’s cry she ran outside and started caressing the child. “There, there! Who has hurt my moon so! I will punish this earth far hurting my beautiful child!”.  Akbar, who was aghast immediately blurted out “How could she caress such an ugly child!”. Unfortunately, the mother heard what was said and she flew into a rage! “Who called my child ugly? You must be either blind or quite mad to call my child ugly!Go and look all over Agra! You will not find a more beautiful child! Now get out of here, before I  decide to flog you!” . Akbar and his courtiers beat a hasty retreat! Akbar then admitted “Birbal, you were right all along! Beauty is subjective! Each child appears most beautiful to it’s parent or grandparent!”.

The moral of this funny and interesting story is, that the closer you are in relation to a person, the more beautiful you appear to that person.  But if you observe closely, it’s not just physical beauty. There is a greater trait called inner beauty, which determines the goodness of a person. Even this inner beauty is directly proportional to your relationship to that person. Allow me to explain with a few examples.

Duryodhana was wicked, and yet Drutharaashtra was partial to him. Though he was fond of his brother Pandu’s sons, yet his love for Duryodhana was much greater. So angry was he, that he infact set out to crush Bhima feigning to hug him affectionately. His rage was so great at that instant that he destroyed the iron statue that was placed before him instead of Bhima by Lord Krishna. Gandhari forgot all about the fact that it was Duryodhana’s fault that had caused the great Mahabharata war and inturn the death of all the Kauravas and countless other warriors! When she the corpses of her sons, unable to bear the grief, she blamed Lord Krishna for this terrible war and she cursed him and his entire race. She cursed that the entire Yaadava race would be destroyed in another 36 years. And so it came to be. The glorious Yaadava race where the supreme Lord himself was born along with the fabulous island paradise of Dwaraka was destroyed.

Because Bimbisaara felt Ajathashatru was filled with inner beauty, he failed to see the wicked ambition that his son possessed.  One failed attempt at trying to usurp the throne also did not change his opinion of Ajathashatru. Ultimately Bimbisaara was imprisoned by Ajathashatru, and died in prison!

When I say relationship, it need not necessarily mean kinship. It could also be that, if you are in love with a person, you fail to see any of their faults. Too often have we heard stories of a person committing crime under the influence of someone he/she loves! To see plenty of such fictional examples you could read Agatha Christie.

What Birbal showed here is yet another of those eternal truths. It cannot be avoided. Only a few rare, noble souls are around, who would rise above this distinction of you and me and would treat all alike. I am glad to say that in my journey called life, I have met several such people, who have accepted me for who I am, who believe in me and who have treated me as one of their own. I verily consider it the blessing of Samartha Sadguru Sainath that I have made the acquaintance of such great souls. They have stood by me in the best of times and in the worst of times! Thank you all my friends :)

The legend of Naalebaa

I have a fascination for the Paranormal. Ever since I was a boy, I ran into books on ghosts,UFOs,ancient astronauts,telepathy, psychics, monsters etc. Many people have asked me whether I believe in all this stuff.Having a Masters Degree in Computer Science, the politically correct answer should be a firm "no". The answer however is a candid "I do not know". That means to say, I do not know whether such phenomenon exists or not. I have personally never encountered any spooks or UFOs myself. Everything that I have heard about this phenomenon comes from whatever I have read, TV shows like Destination Truth, movies and the occasional stories that make it to some corner of the local newspaper. I have also heard some eyewitness accounts of such paranormal phenomenon which lend credence to such stories. The reason being, the eyewitnesses happen to be very close to me and I place my utmost trust in them. Another theory could be misidentification, although that cannot quite account for certain experiences of the people involved.

Most kids hear about ghosts, banshees or other monsters from their elder brothers,sisters,cousins, uncle,aunt or sometimes even from their parents. They usually describe a fearsome ghost or monster who will gobble kids if they do not behave/eat food properly/ or sleep on time. That is how it presumably started in my case. I must have heard the story from my cousins or from my nanny. But a curious incident took place when I was about 10 or 12 years old. An entire city seemed to be gripped in fear of a ghost popularly called "Naalebaa".


One day as I was walking to my school I met a couple of friends along the way. They seemed to be having an exciting conversation. I was pretty sure the reason for the excitement was not the mid term exams that were coming up or the unusually lengthy homework that we were given. And it turned out that I was right. They were discussing about a terrifying spook that seemed to be making rounds of the entire city. The ghost it seems, would randomly pick a victim and pay his house a visit. He would knock on the door and once the door was opened he would kill the unsuspecting and sleepy victim in a matter of seconds. Once he gained entry he would likewise kill all the inmates of the house. I asked my friends what this ghost looked like, to which they all replied, nobody who has met him has lived to tell the tale (How then did everyone know about this spook I always thought). But it turned out that they were wrong. For it appeared that one of the kids woke up in the middle of the night for a drink of water and casually peeped out of a window overlooking the street. What he saw made him shiver uncontrollably. For there was a hooded figure walking in the streets with a bent gait. The fingers were like razor sharp talons, and in the moon light my friend supposedly saw very large canine teeth in a horrid face. He was so scared that he went back to bed and hid himself under his bedsheets. He was so scared to wake up even that his mother had to drag him out of bed and send him to school. So out of nowhere many rumours had started each giving a different dimension to this specter.When I went home that day even my maid started narrating her own version of the ghost story of Naalebaa. Thus it was official! The entire city was supposedly haunted by "Naalebaa".

Now let's get down to the name of the ghost itself! One wonders why it was called "Naalebaa". Naalebaa in Kannada means "Come tomorrow". This was also the only solution to get rid of this ghost. For though almost everyone had a different version of "Nalebaa" story they all agreed on the one solution to get rid of it. All one had to do, was to take a piece of chalk and write on the front door "Naalebaa". This supposedly fearsome ghost was also apparently very obliging. For the moment he saw the writing on the door, he would think "Oh darn! They want me to come tomorrow! I will come back tomorrow then!". Thinking thus, he would go away. And according to everyone who believed in this spook, as long as the writing is on the door, the spook will keep going away and this would go on and on until the end of the world! When I told the same story to my parents, they dismissed it as utter non sense and I became somewhat skeptical about the ghost. However that did not necessarily allay my fears during night time when the ghost was supposed to wander the streets looking for his next victim.

The rumours lasted for some time, and probably during that time one could see "Naalebaa" scrawled on the front doors of those who were gullible enough to believe in this ghost! I only hope no unsuspecting guests were caught in this infinite loop. I always wondered what would have happened if a guest dropped into the house and would see the sign. He would probably be at a loss as to what to do! And unlike the ghost he may take it as a personal affront and never visit the house again.

During this time an interesting event happened to a cousin of mine. Being younger than me, he had taken this ghost story quite seriously and dreaded the time between sunset and sunrise. One night while my cousin was sitting at home watching an interesting show on TV, he heard someone rapping at the door. He was greatly petrified and he caught hold of his mother, who had risen to open the door! He pleaded to his parents to not open the door as that would allow the ghost to enter the house and do unimaginable things to them. The parents somehow calmed him and went to their front door and peeped out of the key hole to see who it was. While my cousin was trembling all over, his mother opened the door with a smile on her face. My cousin who was expecting a ghastly apparition on the other side of the door found his uncle standing there instead. His uncle had missed the last bus home and had come to my cousin's house which was nearby to crash there for the night. From that day onwards, my cousin stopped believing in ghosts I presume. My skepticism in Naalebaa only grew after hearing this incident.

The rumors lasted for some time, but they died down pretty soon. And now my friends also were probably bored of concocting stories about naalebaa. Now the topics of discussions were only the latest exploits of Sachin Tendulkar and Yokozuna's unexpected victory in a casket match against the Undertaker.

I still remember this incident with a smile on my face. I can only describe this event as mass hysteria. According to me there was absolutely no paranormal phenomenon whatsoever.

The fanatic

He lived life with great zeal

Religion was for him a big deal

His preachers praised many a fighters
Destroyers of temples and idolators

His mind imbibed the great big idea
That if he converted everyone the world would be utopia

Forgotten was kindness, compassion and equality
It was meant for people belonging to his religion only

Some of his brethren fought the idolators
With bombs, grenades and machine guns

Some incited debates with twisted logic
And converted many dullards as if by magic

He was infuriated with people who refused his founder
And he was incensed with those who continued to wander

His faith was the only faith
His god was the only god

Another preacher promised Paradise
For those who performed the ultimate sacrifice

He therefore went to the country in the west
For believers it was the ultimate nest

He was trained by many of his brethren
They thought him to kill without concern

He headed of to the country of the heathen
Full of anticipation of reaching heaven

With the support of the local brethren
He went to explode many a pagan

He blew himself up in an instant
Attacks like this on peaceful denizens had become constant

His subtle body left with two fearsome guards
He left in lustful anticipation for his supposed rewards

They poked and scared him  into fainting
He finally arose scared and sweating

He saw in the distance dark reeking fumes
He was wading next in a river of blood and pus

He went in front of a dark lord who
Recounted every one of his sins anew

The slayer of the idolators now suffered
Intolerable miseries a hundredfold

After innumerable and unbearable tortures
He was born again and again as several insects

In each and every birth he was stomped on
By the very idolator he wanted to trod upon!

After many such intolerable sufferings
As an animal he came upon a sage with noble bearings

The sage saw that the animal had suffered enough
Blessed him to be born as a human again

But the laws of God are just
What goes around, comes around

He was born in the family of a religion
Who had rejected the founder of his religion

He went once to a cafe for a drink
One of his 'brethren' blew him up in a brink!

Let this be a lesson to all believers of any religion
Live a life filled with love and compassion

If hate and enmity fuel your life
You will rot in hell for all your strife