Archive for August, 2014


One day as I was coming down the road on my way home, after my classes in the college were over, I heard loud wailing of a woman. Usually no adults in this part of the world wailed so loudly. If someone had to wail she normally stifled or at least muffled her sound of crying fearing what people were to comment or think of her. But that day was not a usual day for that woman. She had no such considerations or restraints in her. It was a loud heart wrenching cry. I stopped in my track to investigate the reasons of such commotions and crying. So I left my path and proceeded in the direction from which the sound was coming.

The house from which the sound came was nearby. As I neared the house I saw her. She was sitting on the floor of the house which…

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Some times you strike a chord within your readers unknowingly and unanticipatedly. The response overwhelms you. You get to know more and learn more as you go on writing.


Yesterday my wife, with a bowl of hair dye in her hand, approached and requested me to dye her hair. I said,”you know, I don’t like dying hairs myself, so I have let them be as they are. If yours are getting white you also let them be that way. Moreover, I am 55 and you are 51; we are no longer young, so why hide it, show them in their true colors.”
She said,”You are saying that because yours are still mostly black. But mine are all white. You don’t know, once you have started dying then you can’t quit it, as dying itself turns all your hairs white.”
I said, not without a little bit of mischief,”I have never seen your head in its silvery white as you always dyed them black. Do show me your white hair just once to know how you look in them. So…

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Fading Veiling


Humans are almost always not satisfied with what IS. This dissatisfaction can fluctuate on a spectrum from mild discomfort to full blown suffering, and can be artificially divided into two categories.

Probably the most unbearable sufferings can come from self-referencing beliefs, which are the building blocks of ‘our’ seeming self-image or identity with a core belief in ‘my’ incompleteness, unworthiness, unlovingness, guiltiness or whatever it might be – because deep down most of us ‘feel’ we are somehow not good enough, not complete; something is missing. But is this really the case? Is it really true? Where is this apparently deficient self? Where?

The other type of suffering is much more subtle; it is a constant arguing with what IS. No matter what is in this moment, but one thing is sure: ‘I do not want it’. Either I want the previous moment back or the next moment…

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Everybody loves a good joke. The surest way to a man’s heart (woman’s included, I hope) is through telling him a good joke. It removes all his preoccupations, addictions, obsessions, worries and anxieties for a moment and loosens himself up and makes him receptive to different viewpoints and perceptions. The laughter engendered by a good joke is akin to a good sneeze, it opens up all blocks in our minds and perceptions . It relaxes us. Freud wrote a whole book on it named Jokes and Their Relations to the Unconscious. Previously kings and emperors used to employ court jesters whose job was to make the king and courtiers laugh by telling intelligent and good jokes. To create a good joke is nothing short of an art. People who are proficient in it are always in demand at parties, functions and social meetings and gatherings. Many interviewees and job seekers…

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Have you ever heard about the Nobel Prize mania ? I had been a victim of it for the greater part of my life. The patient/victim at first collects and reads all the books of all the Nobel Laureates. To this passion he loses his childhood, youth and the greater part of his adult life. Unknown to him all this while he begins to harbor a strong notion that what really matters in life is the Nobel Prize and he has no other calling except getting one himself. Life will be meaningful only if he gets one.

To cut a long story short I had this desire since childhood. My obsession was for the prize for Literature. I spent my life reading. Each time I thought of writing some thing I would defer the idea by saying let me finish the next Laureate and then surely. And that promise was never kept.

After a lot of guilt and soul searching I concluded that probably I was born to be a reader not a writer. When I look around I find people are doing fine without having to write great literature or winning a Nobel. They suffer no sense of lack on that count. It was clinching evidence that all the while I was under the thrall of a mental concept only. That is freedom.

Freedom is what you are born with. You lose it on the way believing some belief or concept and suffer consequently. The suffering forces you to reexamine and put those unexamined beliefs and concepts under microscope. You regain your freedom and joy.

Now I am free of Nobel Prize mania. I no longer crave for one. I no more rush towards book shop for buying the latest Laureate’s. Strangely I have lost the taste also. I find I like the non laureates like Eckhert Tolle, Wayne Dyer, Byron Katie, Mooji, Papaji, Raman Maharshi, Nisargadatt Maharaj etc. more relevant. They also are great freers of my mind. I no more like to fantasize or romantisize the life of a laureate. I have begun to like being on my own shoes.