Roots

One Sunday morning, Mitali and I got talking over a cup of tea. Here in the North-east, if there is something that we enjoy it is our morning cuppa of Assam tea, listening to good music and chatting. That Sunday the talk drifted to the riots and disturbance which is breaking apart this beautiful country of ours. Do we need to discuss the ‘whys’? No I am sure we don’t. There is no doubt in my mind about the cause – POWER. The same power Hitler sought – the power to control people. So we left it at that.

The Mob

The next point of discussion was what can make a san, thinking adult man kill another in cold blood (women and children too). How can you live your life with the burden of someone’s life on your conscience? The only answer we could think of was that it is a mob on rampage and not necessarily an individual. The thought process of a mob need not necessarily be sane or logical. In the heat of the moment a mob can be singularly ‘mad’ while being sane, thoughtful, compassionate when split into individuals. There is no predicting what mobs are capable of; the killing fields of Orissa, the sikh riots of ’84 and a lot of other such event stand testimony to this fact.

My Identity my individuality

So that was that, or was it? In all this we started thinking about our own identity. I had been brought up in a congenial atmosphere where there were no regional or ethnic biases. Right from childhood I had been taught that we are Indians first and foremost, and then Konkanis, Kannadigas, Tamilians and Punjabis. And today, when I think back, I thank KV Kanchanbagh (where I did all my schooling) for teaching me this important and valuable lesson in national integration. We were all part of a whole. Our identity was of an Indian. We were a group of friends to whom religion, caste, home state etc had no consequence. Our enmity (of course I will not deny that we had so called enemys) was entirely based on trivial personal issues and disagreements and religion or ethnicity. As a kid we never asked a new student in our class if he was a Hindu or a Muslim or a Christian, nor if he was a Tamilian or a Gujju.

As a result of that, today, I am (appearing to be) a minority in my own country. A Konkani born in Mangalore, brought up in Hyderabad, married to a Bihari who grew up all over the country. And I think what that makes Adu? With our moving all around the country as part of my job, wonder if I am forcing Adu into becoming an ‘Indian’. Are we losing our identity as Indians? Or is that the Maharashtrians, the Tamilians, the Kannadigas and the Bengalis of this country are taking over? In that case what will happen to us ‘Indians’?

The problem with us ‘Indians’, and I refer not to the Maharashtrians, the Tamilians, the Kannadigas and the Bengalis but the Indians who also happen to be from Maharashtra or Tamilnadu or Karnataka or Bengal, is that we prefer not to get involved in this ‘jhanjhat’ (for the want of a better word). For if we did and rioted on our own then what would be the difference between ‘us’ and ‘them’? This thought process leads to inaction and that in an indirect way encourages ‘them’ to do what they do.

The Solution

What do we do about it? There are lots of ways in which we can contribute. I could think of a few which I have penned and I am sure every one of us will have his or her way of contributing preventing our extinction.
1. Voice your opinion, start speaking out. Gather support and bring more ‘neutral’ people into our fold. I am sure there are more of us out there.
2. Don’t get carried away by people who say that someone else is getting a better deal (a very difficult proposition I agree). It is just a political game plan to split us all up on any and every possible pretence. Do all of us want to end up as just vote banks or do we want to contribute to the electoral process and betterment of our country.
3. Lastly on a humorous note – let’s have Military rule!!

Going Sonic

This is one of the first articles i had written. It was written in 1998, when i had just become a fighter pilot and was young and full of creative ideas. Thoughts used to flow freely, and there was a lot of josh...

GOING SONIC

It was a long time ago that I, as a small boy, would look up to the sky and wonder how it felt like to be a bird, to look down at the earth from ‘up there’. It has been many years since and I realised my dream of becoming a pilot. That is another story.
Ever since I started flying as a cadet and heard and learnt about crossing the sound barrier and the sonic boom I had wondered what it felt like to cross the ‘sound barrier’ and leave sound behind. The same sonic barrier which had the aircraft designers of yesteryears in a soup. I had heard stories of aircraft breaking apart or going out of control in their attempts to cross this barrier, and of the legendary Chuck Yeager who was the first pilot to break the sound barrier.
After joining the Air Force my curiosity increased as I studied supersonic flight. The changes that happen as the aircraft goes supersonic were learnt and understood. I was now prepared, theoretically so to say, to break the sound barrier, to go faster than sound and leave sound behind.
It was a clear spring day, bright and sunny. There were hardly any clouds in the pristine blue sky. A day before, I had done the supersonic profile with my instructor in the twin-seating trainer, but that was with someone and not alone! Today was my day, the day I had been waiting for all these years. I was psyched up for the great event. My instructor had told me in detail as to how I was supposed to go about it ‘…climb to 10 km and then accelerate with full afterburner to 1.4 Mach (or 1.4 times the speed of sound). Carry out a couple of turns at that speed…’. Today was my day! I got airborne and proceeded with my sortie. At 10 km, flying over the Himalayas I went beyond the sound barrier. I had left sound behind. There was hardly any difference in the cockpit; all the gauges were going about showing what they were supposed to, and only the air speed indicator told me that I was now travelling at 1.4 times the speed of sound. A little disappointed of the anti climax that everything was still the same I looked outside to see if I could feel the speed. I had not bargained for what I saw. The huge, majestic and regal Himalayas all way to the horizon on the north. I felt frozen in time and space, a lone intruder in this peaceful snowclad world. Here nature showed me her raw power and immense strength in a most serene and calm picture. Up there I might have been travelling at 1200 kmph but it was as good as standing still. In that one instant nature showed me how puny we were inspite of all our scientific and technological advances. In other words she showed me that she was still the boss.
In that one moment I crossed the barrier of time!
-Hobbes
Dec 98

Nasadiya Sukta - Rig Veda

A couple of days while casually browsing the net, i found this introductory clip from Bharat ek khoj; which we as kids used to watch on Sundays. The sonorous chanting of the hymns which smoothly changed from Sanskrit to understandable Hindi (though we did study Sanskrit in school). It had left an indelible memory in mind and coming across it on the net surprised me. I immediately downloaded it and thanks to my sis (the compu genius) i also managed the mp3 of the same file. It is amazing how creative our ancestors were. The hymns (after i read the interpretation and the lyrics) are profound.
the net being another universe by itself, i thought it right that i put it up as part of me on the net. Though i may be charged with plagarism, i dont think that the original creaters of the Rig Veda would mind - after all it is propagation of their thoughts.
So here it i, and it includes everything that i found on the subject (of course everything that i found relevant)

(Sanskrit Rig Veda 10.129.1)
nāsadāsīn no sadāsīt tadānīṃ nāsīd rajo no vyomāparo yat kimāvarīvaḥ kuha kasya śarmannambhaḥ kimāsīd ghahanaṃ ghabhīram

(Hindi adaptation Rig Veda 10.129.1)
srishti se pehaley sat nahi thaa, asat bhi nahiantariksh bhi nahi, aakaash bhi nahi thaachipa tha kya, kahan, kisney dhaka thaaus pal to agam atal jal bhi kahan thaa
(Hindi adaptation Rig Veda 10.129.7)
srishti ka kaun hai karta, karta hai va akartaoonche aakaash mey rehta, sada adhyaksh bana rehtavahi such-much mey jaanta, ya nahi bhi jaantahai kisi ko nahi pata, nahi pata, nahi hai pataa, nahi hai pataa

(Sanskrit Rig Veda 10.121.1)
hiraṇyagharbhaḥ samavartatāghre bhūtasya jātaḥ patirekaāsīt sa dādhāra pṛthivīṃ dyāmutemāṃ kasmai devāyahaviṣā vidhema

(Hindi adaptation Rig Veda 10.121.1)
vah thaa Hiranyagarbh shristi sey pehley vidyamaanvahi to saarey bhuut jaat ka swami mahaanjo hai astitvamaan dharti aasmaan dhaaran karaisey kis devata ki upaasanaa karen hum havi dekar

(Hindi adaptation Rig Veda 10.121.5)
jiskey bal par taejomay hai ambarprithvi hari-bhari sthaapit-sthirswarg aur suuraj bhi sthiraisey kis devata ki upaasanaa karen hum havi dekar

(Hindi adaptation Rig Veda 10.121.7)
garbh mey apney agni dhaaran kar payda karvyaapa thaa jal idhar-udhar neechey-ooperjaga jo devoon ka ekmayv praan ban karaisey kis devata ki upaasanaa karen hum havi dekar

(Hindi adaptation Rig Veda 10.121.9)
ho.. srishti nirmaata swarg rachayta poorvaj raksha karsatya dharm palak atul jal niyaamak raksha karphaili hain dishaayen baahu jaisi uski submey subparaisey hi devata ki upaasanaa karen hum havi dekaraisey hi devata ki upaasanaa karen hum havi dekar

THE INTERPRETATION

At first was neither Being nor Nonbeing.There was not air nor yet sky beyond.What was wrapping? Where? In whose protection?Was Water there, unfathomable deep?
There was no death then, nor yet deathlessness;of night or day there was not any sign.The One breathed without breath by its own impulseOther than that was nothing at all.
Darkness was there, all wrapped around by darkness,and all was Water indiscriminate, Thenthat which was hidden by Void, that One, emerging,stirring, through power of Ardor, came to be.
In the beginning Love arose,which was primal germ cell of mind.The Seers, searching in their hearts with wisdom,discovered the connection of Being in Nonbeing.
A crosswise line cut Being from Nonbeing.What was described above it, what below?Bearers of seed there were and mighty forces,thrust from below and forward move above.
Who really knows? Who can presume to tell it?Whence was it born? Whence issued this creation?Even the Gods came after its emergence.Then who can tell from whence it came to be?
That out of which creation has arisen,whether it held it firm or it did not,He who surveys it in the highest heaven,He surely knows - or maybe He does not!

Selected Quotes from Paulo Coelho's " The Fifth Mountain"

A long time ago I read this book, and was touched by it. An amazing book which touches everyday life in simple quotes which we tend to overlook in this rat race of life. In the absence of any creative juices flowing, I thought i would borrow some quotes from Paulo Coelho and keep the continuity of the blog.


Not always does his plan agree with what we are or what we feel, but rest assured that he has a reason for all of this.

Human beings are divided into two groups, those who took joy in and those who complained about, what they did.

a man must go through various stages before he can fulfill his destiny.

when we delay harvest, the fruit rots; when we delay resloving problems they continue to grow.

At this moment, many people have stopped living. They do not become angry, nor cry out; they merely wait for time to pass. they didnot accept the challenges of life, so life no longer challenges them. You are running the same risk; react, face life but do not stop living.

The greatest wisdom is blinded by the glare of vanity.

The meaning of life is whatever you want it to be.

A child can teach an adult three things :
- to be happy for no reason.
- to always be busy with something.
- to know how to demand with all his might that which he desires

Khajuraho / Panna

Panna / Khajuraho

The long drive –
Starting at 5 in the morning
Anticipation of how things will be
Will we see a tiger?
how do the statues of khajuraho
Look in real life?
Enroute the road is bumpy,
There are people collecting
some golden flower on the roads
after many many kilometres of
the same we decide to stop
and ask what they are collecting.
Mauha we are told, a flower
which has a sweet rotting smell
used to make liquor
we are told.
Kali remembers poems from school
where the poet yearns of his hometown
and the sweet smell of Mauha.
Not for us we decide. The smell of
a few flowers picked by us lingers in
the car as we drive on.

Finally at Panna,
The non descript looking
Tourist hut, with the nagging doubts
creeping into our minds
will the kids be comfortable
in the heat?
Maybe that is where it all started,
And what made it worse was
the lack of water.
And I wanted them to
rough it out !!
Then the watermelon cheered us up some,
And the thought of cooling at the waterfall
Cheered us some more.

Raneh Falls –
The road to which was more of a
dust track and less of a road,
the car caked in mud
bones rattled by the potholes in
the road that never was.
And all of a sudden we were there.
The big stretch of crevasses
Which were dry due to the
Drought of last year.
But the falls were breath taking
In their ruggedness
The stones in their dry weathered look
400 million years old is what the guide
told us; another 400 million they will survive,
watching time flow.
A year of drought and another of flood
The flow of time continues
And the rocks stand firm.

Panna Safari –
Wake up wake up
We need to start early
for the safari, else the heat
will get us and the animals will
hide under the shade.
First ones to enter the Park we were,
The cool wind, the open jeep,
And above all the anticipation
Of spotting a Tiger !
A cup of coffee and we were ready to go.
The Jungle trail, eyes peeled for
Spotting the Tiger, and STOP says the guide
There if you look, you will see a Peacock,
And he gets ‘oh just a Peacock…’ and we tell
him we are from Gwalior where Peacocks
dance on our rooftops and gardens.
The jeep continues, and chotu spots the
first spotted deer. We pause,
the driver shuts down the engine,
we hear the mating calls of the spotted deer
and the happy call of the monkeys
the sounds of the forest
so different from the thundering sounds
of ‘first take off’ at the break of dawn.
There is an odd sort of serenity
to the picture; the calm hides
the harsh life of the forest.
Yet, for us people,
people from cities and towns,
it is the calm which is far from
the noise, crowd and rat race
of our everyday lives.
The sun starts bearing down on us
and the kids are the first to accept
that is is becoming hot.
Adu decides it is time to sleep,
and we parents decide it is time to head back.
The guide is still positive
that we may spot a Tiger,
but by now the heat has made us
realists and we decide to get back home.
The guides Optimism seems
funny to us, especially after
he says that the last spotting
was more than a month ago.
Deep down I wonder,
Is Panna going the Sariska way?
On the way back we ponder
If it is better for the Tiger
to be in a Zoo, safe and secure,
assured of its next meal; and
more important – assured
that it wont hang
on some maniacs wall?
Or, is Freedom more important
than the fact that its meal
is not assured, it has to earn it
the hard way; and even though
it is the king of the jungle,
it is never too far away from
the greedy eyes of a poacher?
Important philosophy of life
If you see it,
Applicable to all of us,
Life is all about choices
And there are no black or white
choices, only shades of grey.
freedom or life? Which would I Chose?

Khajuraho –
We decide to move on
from the heat of Panna
and find some more luxurious
accommodation in Khajuraho
our plans of roughing it out
have been vetoed by the
discomfort of our children.
An air conditioned accommodation
And after a short nap all of us feel better
And more of a fool for trying
To rough it out in the Madhya Pradesh heat !
The Southern and Eastern group of temples
is the plan for the evening.
The guide is called and we move
through some dusty by lanes,
wondering why the tourism department
does not spend the money it gets
in building up the infrastructure
and promote more tourism.
The roads are dusty and
we crawl through khajuraho
to get to our first temple.
The temple is beautiful,
the sculptures exquisite,
and the setting sun makes it
really worthwhile as the shadows
make the sculptures come alive.
The Guide gives us the basic hint,
that all the provocative sculptures
are above the mythical lions sculpture.
We are unlucky to be stuck with
a guide, who thinks people
are only interested in the
sexual poses of the sculptures.
He leaves us alone, which
is good for us, for we don’t need
his crass thought to spoil
the magnificence of the sculptures.
We move from temple to temple
awestruck by the beauty of the
temples; amazed by the fine
artistry and architecture.
How did they build such fine
buildings without the technological
assistance that today’s architects have?
And they did it in quick time,
for, as per the books, the temples
took 3-4 years to build.
Today I don’t think they could make
a road in that region
in less than a decade.
To survive for more than
thousand years….
What I would give to live
through and see how life was
in the golden days of these temples.
How did they look then?
What did people feel about them?
I wish….
To end, I remember what was said in
The light and sound show,
As to why these temples,
places of worship, had
such provocative images on them.
“Life has various stages,
and we have to pass through all of them,
but when we enter gods domain,
the temple
we must leave all those behind
and go in with nothing
but the thought of god in our minds;
which is why the outsides depict
day to day lives, including scenes
depicting sexual acts.
Difficult proposition, but if you
think about it, it makes sense,
in a poetic kind of way.

LIFE

Every now and then when
we take life for granted
something happens which
makes us realise the fragility
of what we call life.

A life gone today
forgotten tomorrow.
Is life so cheapthat we don’t care?
Or is it that life is such
that it does not allow us
to spend time or thought
more than in slight regret
or pity lest we get sucked
into the quagmire of grief.

Does bereavement cause
grief to any but the close family?
Do we really care?
If we do,
then why does it happen
again and again
with almost planned certainty?

Who is to blame?
The one who
isn’t with us anymore?
Or we who led him to it?
Or do we blame it
all on fate?
Other than play
the blame game
what do we do
so that another
will not grieve
the loss of a dear one.

- Sun Tzu (25 Jan 07)

For my wife

Lucky to have you,
I remember the first day I met you,
Green jeans, wet hair…
what struck me were the beautiful eyes,
eyes which I am still madly in love with;
The trip to Mc Donald’s,
a place I wouldn’t have visited but for you
The long talks about Richard Bach and Calvin and Hobbes

Those long chats on the net
discussing books and music
the time we finally decided
when we think so alike
why not spend our lives together.
The meeting with your dad
I was impressed that he didn’t show any immediate anger
or forbid us from meeting or talking
which now in hind sight I think prevented us from doing something in haste.

The engagement and the anticipation of the marriage
the shopping for wedding dress
where I saw you bubbling with enthusiasm
while I preferred planning for the home
we were about to set up.
And finally the wedding day
with the Konkani ceremony in the morning
and your very long bihari ceremony in the night
All my folks wrapped in razai
is what is the second picture I get when I think of that day
The first being a beautiful girl in maroon walking down the steps, You.
Your friends pulling your leg
and your aunts telling you to be shy and demure
and you just wanting to get to the mandap
after all the dress and the jewellery were weighing you down
not to mention the excitement or apprehension
of getting married


Our honeymoon, was one beautiful
whirlwind trip to paradise
driving around the wind swept
roads along the sea
and through the forests.
You holding on to me
I felt not a care in the world
wishing the time would go on and on
You me and the beauty of nature around us.
The snorkelling, the emerald blue waters
the soft silken sand
holding your hand
walking down the deserted beaches
or were they deserted?
I don’t think I noticed nor cared.

How time flies,
many winters and summers have passed
we now have a little one of our own
who has made us realise
the love and sacrifice our parents made.
Somehow our lives did not change
as much after marriage
as after Adu came.
Has he made us more responsible?
Can we do as good a job as our parents?

Now, when I am alone
without you, I miss you
and realise how much I take for granted
all that you do
to run our home smoothly
manage naughty Adu
and bring balance to my life.

I may not do enough
to show how much I love you;
I have not told you
I love you, enough.
Yet in my heart
I know I cannot do without you.
Yes, I am so lucky to have you.