Regardless of nationalities, languages, cultures, there is something universal about the energy that Bhangra brings in!

Chakk De Phatte: With Prasanna and Bruno

Eric, Bruno and Prasanna having a Bhangra blast

 

Lift Hands, Shake a Leg and Soar in Spirit -- Charlotte Does it on her Birthday!

I see a clear lake, almost a mirror to the oak trees that decorate its boundary. In the distance are snow-capped hills. Surprisingly on this winter day, the sun is a welcome guest. I look around at the beauty. Leaves whistling with the wind, trees swaying to the tunes, and sunrays shimmering through the waves in the lake.

Also in the reflections is my face — the only sign of human life in all that’s visible. The wind’s the only sound, the lake’s the only sight. It is strange to be within immense beauty, but all by yourself.

The trekker climbs for the peak, the researcher wants to churn out papers of discovery, the government employee wants a promotion… It is a long tunnel, one of desire. The critical part is its very end. There is nothing to seek, nothing to climb, nowhere to reach, so nowhere to go.

Like a little cloud in to a bigger one, action seems to merge with inaction. The leaf and the stone are one and the same. There isn’t even disappointment. It is simply the death of desire. Legs do not take steps anymore; they do not wish to. Here, there, somewhere, and nowhere — all seem to be the same place.

No expectations, says the scripture. No attachment to joy, relations. No dreams, no hopes. It is all an illusion.

The real and the unreal merge. Last shouts of attachment disappear in to thin air — unanswered, yet again.

I’m not among the well-equipped. Hard to act is if nothing happened. Hard to act as if what was said was not meant. Intention was not ephemeral; it was pure. And it could not be thrown in to a dump of insomnia, even as the Mayors of Illusion want it that way. They say it’s for sanity, for a sanity that I no longer feel attracted to.

Hypocrisy, I see thine laughing face everywhere. It is your arena. You own it. And I don’t want in, in the first place. I rest my case.

Vihn, Yiming, Lokman and Changhong got together to invite us for a delicious treat of Vietnamese, Chinese, and Hong-Kong food. Never knew that Coca Cola Chicken was a local delicacy in HK. The veggie spring-rolls were awesome.

Vihn

Vriksh ho bhale khade,
ho ghane ho bade,
Ek pat chhav ki
mang mat, mang mat, mang mat
Agneepath Agneepath Agneepath.

Tu na thakega kabhi,
tu na thamega kabhi,
tu na mudega kabhi,
Kar shapath, kar shapath, kar shapath,
Agneepath, Agneepath, Agneepath.

Ye mahaan drishya hai,
chal raha manushya hai,
Ashru swed raqt se
lathpath, lathpath, lathpath,
Agneepath, Agneepath, Agneepath.

– Harivansh Rai Bachchan

Translation (from here)

There may be huge, shady trees all around
Don’t even ask for the shade of a single leaf
Walk on the Path of Fire, Walk on the Path of Fire

You will not stop, You will not turn, You will not halt
Take this oath, take this oath, take this oath
The Oath of Fire, the Oath of Fire, the Oath of Fire

This is a great situation
Man Walks
Tears, Sweat and Blood
They swathe Him, they swathe Him
Walk on the Path of Fire, Walk on the Path of Fire

Test me futher,
Cosmos,
I tire not.
I tire not.

Joys put together,
Don’t buy insights.
Only trials can bring
Perspective in sight.

So test me further,
Cosmos.
I’ll tire not,
I’ll tire not…

A few days back, I posted some of my favorite poems. Now is the time to append that list with stuff suggested by others, and some that I mistakenly left out. This selection will be somewhat more spiritual and self-reflection oriented than earlier, just so you know before you tread further

I loved the Song of Six Perfections by Milarepa, which I came across through Nisheeth’s blog. Reproduced below, it is a concise, practical expression for enlightened living.

A Song on the Six Perfections, by Milarepa

For generosity, nothing to do,
Other than stop fixating on self.

For morality, nothing to do,
Other than stop being dishonest.

For patience, nothing to do,
Other than not fear what is ultimately true.

For effort, nothing to do,
Other than practice continuously.

For meditative stability, nothing to do,
Other than rest in presence.

For wisdom, nothing to do,
Other than know directly how things are.

Dhaarini was kind enough to remind me of the beautiful poem Desiderata by Max Ehrmann. It is another gem of love and wisdom, that begins with these simple lines:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

We all go in to the noise and haste, and get caught up. But to go placidly, and to remember the peace that there may be in silence… is the essence. To me, “remember” here does not mean to keep thinking about silence, but to go in to the world, with a deep-seated inner peace, and let the external stay confined to waves on the surface of a deep ocean. I could go on meditating on these lines, each one for some time, but well… Here is how the poem ends:

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

It is still a beautiful world. In the 13.7 billion years of the cosmos’s known existence, we are born in the one tiny window of time where we can comprehend, travel, witness, communicate, share, love and celebrate. Most of all, a fact that is often forgotten, we are in the best conditions that there have ever been to live.

Gibran’s Prophet is another favorite. It is a poem with chapters on topics like work, love, self-knowledge and more. In one of the chapters, Gibran shares brilliant insights on Good and Evil:

You are good when you are one with yourself.
Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to the bottom.

I have not read much of Rumi, but here are the verses that I found very close to my own reflections on cosmic unity.

A stone I died and rose again a plant;
A plant I died and rose an animal;
I died an animal and was born a man.
Why should I fear? What have I lost by death?

I begin to digress, but the work below is another testament to the genius of Rumi — from a poem on love: Like This

If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.

Like this. Like this.

Update(s)

Kabir’s couplets bring the esoteric to the confines of our comprehension. Brief and subtle, they have a haiku-like feel, their essence somewhere far beyond the words. I’ll reproduce two of them here (translations from Rajender Krishan):

Bura Jo Dekhan Main Chala, Bura Naa Milya Koye
Jo Munn Khoja Apnaa, To Mujhse Bura Naa Koye

Translation:
I searched for the crooked, met not a single one
When searched myself, “I” found the crooked one

Chinta Aisee Dakini, Kat Kaleja Khaye
Vaid Bichara Kya Kare, Kahan Tak Dawa Lagaye

Translation:
Worry is the bandit that eats into one’s heart
What the doctor can do, what remedy to impart?

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evening breeze –
my soul is lifted,
carried on a wave.

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Moon in the Clouds, by utnapistim

…

Oh, moon!
could you keep my ego
a little longer?

A few more moments,
let me be you.
Let me be the wind,
the clouds, stars, and space,

before the strings of concern
pull me back
to the illusion
of a “real world”.

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As a kid, I remember thinking “I wish I had a teacher whom I could ask anything. How did the universe begin? How did living things come in to being? I wish my teacher was a friend, a mentor.” I was in a very good school, the best in my city. Little did I know that so many of Indian children do not even have access to a school, let alone a good teacher; that over half the students drop out by upper middle school. Getting answers was not their biggest problem; most had not even learned to ask.

Some of the best times of my life have come while teaching at my own school. There are few things greater than the sense of fulfillment upon sharing your knowledge with young, creative minds.

It is to align this sense of purpose with education inequity in India, that Teach for India has stepped in. Their model is very similar to that of Teach for America: recruit brilliant, young minds as teachers, and help them connect with students who need them the most. They provide leadership and mentoring for their teachers, while making significant difference in the lives of young students.

Only in their nascent stage yet, TFI has already acquired a good batch of teachers from some of the best colleges and companies, all of whom have had enriching experiences. The program is looking for talented individuals, and provides generous financial income and housing support as per Indian living standards.

Below is a peek in to India, its children, the education system, and Teach for India. Get motivated. Make a difference!

This post is just an effort to put some of my favorite poems at one place. I will list some lines from the first two poems and leave links for other poems so that everyone can take a look.

1. Robert Frost’s memorable lines “… miles to go before I sleep“ from Stopping… have always inspired me. These lines have a message of hope, enthusiasm and vitality. The natural imagery, description of sounds and the rhythm create an almost magical effect.

Frost’s Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening:

…
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

2. Another all-time favorite is Rudyard Kipling’s If. Although Kipling’s opinions and overall legacy are a matter of debate, there is no denying the beauty of precious wisdom that he managed to convey through If.

If – Rudyard Kipling

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
…..

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
…..
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
….
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

Other poems that I’ve liked a lot include:

3. The Road Not Taken — Robert Frost

4. I’m Nobody. Who Are You? — Emily Dickinson

5. Hope — Emily Dickinson

6. If You Forget Me — Pablo Neruda

7. Haiku (Frog) — Basho

8. Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines — Pablo Neruda

9. Risk — Anais Nin

10. Auguries of Innocence — William Blake

When it comes to humour, one must take a look at the works of Ogden Nash and Spike Milligan. Milligan has also written some cute, mushy verses like this one:

If I could write words
Like leaves on an autumn forest floor,
What a bonfire my letters would make.

If I could speak words of water,
You would drown when I said
“I love you.”

—

Are there any writers that you especially like? Which poems are your favorites?
P.S. — To conclude, below is the first stanza of hope:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all…

– Emily Dickinson

P.P.S — Recommended by Vidya: Poems of Margaret Atwood

Recommended by Dhaarini: Desiderata
http://www.fleurdelis.com/desiderata.htm &
Considering the Snail
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/considering-the-snail/

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a ray of light
stops right in front
of my eye.

the planets are still.

a tide freezes
at the edge
of a still-born ocean.

silent cosmos –
no sound
of a ticking clock.

God died today.

a heart,
in a parallel universe,
was broken.

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