The last 6 months had been more down than up.  Pneumonia slowed me down in Feb. But all those were  prelude to surreality.

We did a 4 week trip to the US for Ashwin’s graduation, and had a good time with family and friends.  Small issues were taken care of by the Juvvadi’s.  We then flew in to Barcelona on June 2^nd excited about the 4 of us being together in the same city – an impossible sighting.  We had shortened our Spanish trip by 5 days and decided not to go to Seville and Granada.   Just Barcelona and out.

“ Out’  took a different meaning.  We spent 4 days in the most wonderful city and with 2 of the dearest people you can ever meet – Christine and Elizabeth.  Walking back from dinner on June 8th, I felt something was off.   Something was not right for a few days.  A faint sometimes followed a cough.

After a good meal with Elizabeth, her friend, Amita and I were walking on the Mediterranean beach on a windy day.  When we left, I told Elizabeth and Amita that a visit to a hospital was a good idea and that we should get a blood test to rule out high potassium or sodium etc.…. That was probably why I did not feel good.   Elizabeth called her friend who was a medic, and was asked to just get it done across the road from  the hospital.   Amita and I dilly dallied, citing costs, hassle and that India was just 2 days away.   Then we casually made a decision to go in and check out the hospital procedures and costs for a blood test. We walk across, got into the elevator  into the entrance of the ER room..  The elevator door opened and I collapsed.  An impossible set of circumstances  that began a 4 minute time span to save my life.  That is all a Ventricular Fibrillation provides – 4 mts.  We don’t have a chance of survival if it happened across the street, at the restaurant, anywhere in Barcelona, certainly Bangalore. I was in a total faint.  One particular combination and permutation in a zillion possibilities led me to the ER room in Barcelona when it happened.

The clock started with 10 Spanish speaking , docs in The Del Mar hospital in downtown Barcelona.  Amita, thinking it was a stroke,  started thinking of my request that I did not want to live on tubes etc.… She said my jaws opened and staring into eternity.  I don’t remember a thing. It was a critical ventricular arrhythmia.  I wasn’t alive for a few seconds.  I have no recollection of it, but was told they did CPR and electrically shocked me back from the beyond.

I came out and was in a most surreal frame of being.  I could see about 10 people yelling at me in Spanish. First it seemed to me that the dead was watching the world.  This continued for quite some time.  Just watched them.  Did not know it was me.  Did not know if anything was happening or real or a movie.  Then a thought came to anchor me in my past form of naresh.  Then I thought it was a dream.  Then I realized it was real. As more and more thoughts came flooding back , I remembered that I was Naresh.  I was not keeping well.  I asked the doctor what happened. Was told it was a critical arrhythmia. I blew it off thinking it was a passing episode.  And became established in the known.  And the Gillette minutes in the upcoming days.

Attending to every moment unfolds its miracles – the magnificence of creation.  Seeing the most beautiful garden in a flower is good enough. This experience from the back of beyond has firmly established that the world and magnificence of creation is manufactured by our own thoughts.  The world vanishes or takes other forms in various states of Naresh.  Thoughts and hence the world happens only when we are conscious; i.e. thoughts and the world happen only in waking state or other semi states of waking like dreams, day dreams, coma etc.  It is nowhere to be found in sleep, coma or death.  But that cosmos – the impersonal energy – beyond thoughts, time and space exists in all states of being – a faint, death, sleep, dreams, day dreams, schizophrenia, waking state, vegetable state.

I am that

That, is all there IS

“I write this from hospital del mar in Barcelona.  All of us are increasingly reminded of the impossibility of me being alive. But, this is no time to celebrate.  I am writing this 3 days post incident.  I need to get home to Bangalore.  It is a complex process.  The doctors give me a fit to fly only with a para medic or a doctor besides me.  The logistics are immense.  But I have the super woman Amita, Ashok, Ashwin and Nisha to get me home.  They have flown in from various parts of the world.  The docs and nurses need visas to India.  Tickets needs to be available.  Money had to organized.

My magical doctor saint, Dr Ram Mohan Bhat, has offered to come to London and escort us from London to Bangalore.  Elizabeth has doctors in Barcelona willing to help us from Barcelona to London, since they have EU passports.  Atleast we are not going to be here forever.  We however get a surprise from British Airways.  Tickets are just not available and costs a few more zeros than it should.  While everyone is ok with me travelling with a doc and a nurse, one doctor tells us it is “Operation Suicide” without a defibrillator put in.  The costs of the defib (aka ICD) is the GDP of a small country.

But the play of the universe is endless. I am so well.  So incredibly well.  Just in awe of the understanding that the cosmic dance is all that exists.  The astonishment is that there are no dancers in this dance. Manufacturing an individual is at odds with this dance and takes us away from the beauty of everything around us.  It is happening.  Let it be.  The best part of the vacation have been these days.  Closeted in a 10Ft by 5Ft dual occupancy turns on some magical conversation between us. 

Elizabeth introduced me to Mr Billy Collins, an American poet laureate who writes the most amazing poems.  Inspired me to write two poems – one for Elizabeth and the other for Dr Bhat.

The breath across the table

Patient-ly watching Dr Bhat

Pen his notes across the paper

Like Sachin ambling for a single

The breath turns shallow
Like the politician
Seeking anticipatory bail 

Looking up
With his Zen eyes
Reassuring
The politician turns in to a dove

The dove flies
With its family
On the wings of his care and concern

And here is one for Elizabeth.  An angel in Barcelona.  She and Christine remind me of all the possibilities in life.

There is an angel in Barcelona
And it ain’t Messi
Dribbling through life
On her wheels
Spreading joy, light
Contributing

Inside clear
Outside the same
Simple in intent
Ferocious in impact
Energizing compassionate action
Flowering love
Sprouting comfort
Contributing humaneness 

Messi Nutmegged
In the field of life
The name is Elizabeth.

Ashok flew in from San Francisco. He was integral to solving this impossible puzzle of tickets, visas, medics, paramedics, doctor consent, airline consent, medicine kit bags etc… Ashwin rushed back from Madrid where he was planning to having a good time and Nisha parachuted in from London where she was visiting a friend on her way back to Chicago.  Praveen Chopra offered to fly to Barcelona.  We keep my buddy on standby.  Nisha left after a few days.  Having her with us was so energizing and seemed to take it all in stride.  Just has that presence.

Ashok and Ashwin are furious at work.  Approaching it like planning for a war.  So blessed to have this support for Amita.  I hear these marvellous stories from the hospital bed.  Manu was a petty shop owner in Barcelona.  Family in Gujarat.  He got talking to Ashwin and told Amita that he has told his brother that a family of 4 will be staying with them in the one room tenement apartment on the outskirts of Barcelona.  That’s it.  Simple.  No Fuss. He then bought a box of poha (beaten rice) for Amita to cook.

I guess that is why VFs and sickness happen. I need to fall sick for Manu to be the universe.  Untouchability needed to have existed for Gandhi to become so loved.

To remind us that the universality is where it makes meaning.  It is all there is.  Every moment is an eternal manifestation of the infinite .  it is an outpouring of the magnificence waiting to be discovered.  All else is a fleeing manifestation by and of the universe.

I write this from the hospital in Bangalore

 We got home through Dubai.  A German nurse and a Spanish doc accompanied me till Dubai.  They did not have visas to India.  They handed me over to a doc from Hyderabad, who flew in for this handover.  Aroon took the lead in Bangalore.  Other friends helped out with the logistics.  The medicine kit was from a hospital that Balaji knew in Hyderbad.  The flight was super comfortable. Thankfully without incident.  We drove from the airport directly to the hospital.  Having seen it all, Ami and I had only a smile, when we incredibly drove past our home without entering it – in an ambulance with its siren providing us the bad violin background essential in all Indian movies.  We are now in the comfort zone of known docs who care.  We are having a ICD implant done on Monday.  It will act as a police man and detect and prevent VF from happening again.  A weak heart and body has gotten weaker.  But this is no time to ponder over that.  Let the universal do whatever it has to do.  The implant procedure is a simple one with local anaesthesia.  Should go well. 

Every person who has to hear this story – pauses.  And tells us how incredibly lucky we are.  It is.  I am not sure if it is luck or ill luck.  It is and the eternal infinite emerges ever so often. That is all there is.  The VF was a good way to go – if there was ever was one.  But, I think the universe has left gas in my tank to do its will.  I look forward to most possibilities!

 I write this the day after the ICD implant

Whoof! The procedure was physically and emotionally draining.  I came out distraught.  I just about had it with this whole thing.  Screw the universe. It is just unfair.  In a few hours I got back to home base and stayed attentive and aware.  The hard part was a bloody sandbag they put over the wound to stop bleeding for 3 hours.  Local anaesthesia helps recover quick post-surgery but Man! It allows you to witness the blood bath during the surgery.

The second day has been far better.  The doctors want to get us home and take it from there.  The implant is there and non-intrusive.  I was reminded by our doctor that two of the gold medallists in the most recent Olympics wore ICDs.

In all of this, I stayed on top of my little project.  Willing it along with emails. We are going home tomorrow.  Cheers to Life.

The last two months have been a bit of a downtime.  The unexplained marginally high BP necessitated medicines.  And this is when the study of pharmacology starts to rule your life!  The first medicine to lower it caused headaches.  The second caused fluid retention and weight increase and discomfort.  The third caused extreme tiredness.  The medicines were causing more trouble than the BP.  In-between there was a bothersome infected tooth.  This necessitated a failed root canal, a filling and subsequent tooth removal.  Good Lord!  Yikes!  That was tough.   As though this was not enough, a trip during a walk caused bruises on the right side of the body.

I think we have now settled on a medicine that seems to work.   Started walking and feeling good.  In between we made a hurried trip to Chennai for my mom’s 6th year ceremonies.  Always great to be in Chennai.  Family, friends, beaches, movies, food, familiarity all adds up!

Lots to look forward to.  Ashwin is here and we are enjoying his company.  Working on some interesting content around getFreshAir with great folks!  This is a real privilege.    Upcoming holidays and a much anticipated visit end of jan from a friend from Boston.  We have a couple of travels planned for a music festival and to Orissa.  And of course planning for Ashwin’s graduation in May.  Sounds like a lot, and will remember to take it a day at a time and do what is allowed by the universe!  Amita and Nisha are doing well.  Nisha seems to venturing into teaching in the US.  I feel she will be an amazing influence on kids.  Her native intelligence and life experiences will connect her to kids easily.    Amita is busy as hell and helping people around the world sort out their problems and find their own formula’s for life.

My continued emergence into the world is a constant waxing and waning of being the infinite and feeling sadn.  There are times when the whole creation is seen as an imagination.  The extra-ordinariness of it all emerges and it is stunningly beautiful. And then identification with the body/naresh happens. And sadness sometimes takes over.  Sadness from the memory of a vibrant body!

Sharings – Things are not the same as they seem!!

It is incredible how interesting life is.  As someone beautifully put it; Watching this movie that i call my life, I have started to think about the series of events, not as A leads to B, leads to C, leads to D, but the other way round.  For D to happen, C had to happen, for C to happen, B had to happen….

Watching life closely has its upsides.  I am alive to the nuances that universe brings to me.  The entire life under the ocean is seen.  A whole sequence of events conspired to make the following sharing happen. The sharing is unravelling a mirage. I hope some of you enjoy it as much as I did.  The cooking of this was so much fun.  The lessons from disparate masters and disciplines boggle the mind and soars the soul.

Simply put, it is starkly evident that things are not the same as it seems!   There are five evidences the universe presented to me about the deeply entrenched understanding of the illusion – called the world.  What wonder and merriment for the magician and the audience.

FIRST

I am reading Steven Pinker’s “Stuff of Thought”.  Quite a remarkable book from a pre-eminent linguist of the modern era.  It uses language as a window into Human Nature.  Enclosed are some excerpts that introduce the book.

The mind categorizes matter into discrete things (like a sausage) and continuous stuff (like meat), and it automatically categorizes time into discrete events (like to cross a street) and continuous events (like to stroll).  The cognitive zoom lens allows to zoom-in and zoom-out.  It zooms-in and sees the materials making up an object (I spilt coffee all over my shirt) or in time, when we say – “she was crossing the street”.  It allows us to see a collection of objects as aggregate (as a difference between pebble and gravel), and a collection of events in time (as in the difference between hit the nail and pound the nail).  Language also crosses between space and time – when we say we cut off the end of a string, or I am going to give the end of the lecture now. 

Language is saturated with metaphors.  Meetings get moved from 3PM to 4PM; something that never happened just moved!  A traffic light can go from green to red, And economy from bad to worse; an inanimate object just changed colors and states.  Events become objects and Time become Space.

 Metaphors are so widespread that it is hard to find an abstract idea that is not metaphorical. What does correctness for language say about human thought? Does it imply that even our wispiest concepts are represented in mind as hunks of matter that can be moved around on a mental stage?  Does stem cell research destroy a ball of cells or an incipient human? Is the military incursion into Iraq a case of invading a country or of liberating a country?  Does abortion consist of ending a pregnancy or killing a child?  Are high tax rates a way to re-distribute wealth or to confiscate earnings? Is socialized medicine a way to protect citizen’s health or expand government’s power?  Prominent linguists have advised the Republican Party to reframe the political debate – taxes as membership fees and activist judges as freedom judges!!! Does it say that rival claims about the world can never be true or false but can only be alternate metaphors that frame a situation in different ways?   

Things certainly not the way it seems!

SECOND

I finished a reading of a fantastic Buddhist book by Lama Zopa Rinpoche “How Things Exist – Teaching on Emptiness”.   It builds on a personal experience I had blogged earlier on discovering on “seeing” a chair in meditation.

Lama Rinpoche uses an example of a table.   He says “What makes a person decide to give the name “table” to this particular object and not to the steps or the chair that surround it.  The reason is the person sees a material object performs the function of supporting things, or of allowing things to be put on top of it.  This makes the person decide, among numerous labels that are at his disposal, on this particular label – table.   We decide on it because we see the aggregates and superimpose it on a collective—conditioned-understanding (CCU).  In this example, the legs, a plank of wood put together in a certain way triggers CCU and we call it a “Table”.  Other arrangements of the same aggregates, triggers the CCU and might result in us calling it a “Chair” or “debris”.

The table, according to Buddhism, it is not the concrete thing that we normally think of – it is extremely subtle.  It is also not just a mental construct but has real existence.  It exists because we can make the table, break the table, use the table, move the table etc… Lama and Buddhism do not negate the table (like Hinduism) but say it exists, but emptiness is its existence (small quibble!).  That is the Buddhist concept of emptiness. The physical structure exists in mere name, imputed by the mind. 

You can replace the table with “I” and reveal the emptiness of I.  Things certainly not the way it seems!

THIRD

My rigorous diet of Avaitic philosophy re-surfaced when I re-chanced on Atma Bodh, the pinnacle of the treatise on Maya by Shankaracharya.  Growing up, I learnt to inquire “What is reality?, when a rope is confused, in darkness, for a snake and this illusion is subsequently  destroyed when the rope is perceived in light.  Shankaracharya radiates the ultimate when he roars metaphorically – leaping from sun to clouds to gold to rice to husk to bran to the moon.

9. All the manifested world of things and beings are projected by imagination upon the substratum whose nature is Existence-Intelligence; just as the different ornaments are all made out of the same gold.

16. Through discriminative self-analysis and logical thinking one should separate the Pure self (from the apparent world) as one separates the rice from the husk, bran, etc., that are covering it.

19. The moon appears to be running when the clouds move in the sky. Likewise the Atman appears to be moving when observed through the sense organs.

http://www.shankaracharya.org/atmabodha.php

Things certainly not the way it seems!

FOURTH

I revisited one my favourite books by a modern master – Robert Irwin – called “Seeing is forgetting the name of the thing one sees”.  An incredible maverick contemporary artist from Los Angeles. In his early days, feeling that his work was getting “contaminated”, he decided to go to Ibiza/spain and did a vipassana – stripped himself of all crutches (phones, magazines, language, social contacts. And he writes

I was pulling out all plugs one by one; books, language, social contacts. And what happens when you get to the last plug, it is the Zen thing of having no ego; it becomes scary; it is like you are going to lose yourself.  But when you get all of them pulled out, a little period goes by, and it is absolutely serene, it is terrific. …. Finally I thought about less and less. Finally, I just thought about thinking.  I longer calibrated my thoughts in terms of a social reality, in terms of how I would have to square them up to the realities of the world.  There was a purification of thinking.  I arrived at pure ideas, stripped of worldly ambitions or motives.  When all layers peel away, it becomes very clear and very simple to what the ideas are; what they are what they do.  Later, when you bring back motives and aspirations and rationales, you can really see how they begin to alter ideas.

FIFTH

Finally, I also chanced on a reading from David Joseph Bohm  (December 20, 1917 – October 27, 1992) who was an American scientist and described as one of the most significant theoretical physicists of the 20th century.  He contributed to quantum theory, neuropsychology and the philosophy of mind.  His words were so striking and sounded like echoes from Shankaracharya.

Ultimately, the entire universe (with all its particles, including those constituting human beings , their laboratories, observing instrument etc..) has to be understood as a single undivided whole in which analysis into separately and independent existing parts has no fundamental status.

” Some might say: fragmentation of cities, religions, political systems, conflict in the form of wars, general violence, fracticide, etc., are the Reality. Wholeness is only an ideal, toward which we should perhaps strive. But this is not what’s being said here. Rather, what should be said is that wholeness is what is real, and that fragmentation is the response of this whole to man’s action, guided by illusory perception, which is shaped by fragmentary thought”

Things certainly not the way it seems!

These guys deserve a huge cheer and our deepest Pranams!  The ramification of living life under this truth is nothing less than a complete transformation of the self and the world.  Not believing ones thoughts and inquiring into the corollaries of thoughts – ideas,beliefs, opinions, and prejudices – transforms a world riddled with conflict into one of understanding.  Nothing will be viewed in isolation – which is conflict.  Love emerges without purpose or reason when the whole is seen.  It simply is the end of suffering.

Some terrific days happened.  Walk an hour in the morning.   Work during the day.  Play bridge at 430 and some light weight lifting at 6PM.  Then the reminder that my health is still very fragile came.  I came down with a bit if a viral, cough and increased BP.  My BP has always been rock steady through out the 5 years.  Suddenly it decided to creep up.  Living with a compromised heart and kidney means that the diagnosis for most issues is– multi factorial.  I had a good laugh with my doctors on this.  It is hard to pin down anything on a singular cause anymore.  We need to alleviate the symptoms and hope for the best.  My docs have been quite extra-ordinary.  All of them need to constantly work together and make sure that the introduction of a medicine does not compromise something else.   Different issues needs one of them to take the lead and co-ordinate based on a specific issue.

I needed some cough and BP meds.  Hopefully it is temporary.  It threatens to derail a trip to Nainital and Jim Corbett Park next week.  But, what the hell!

Kids are ok.  And Amita is incredibly busy with her practice.  And full of life.

Musings

A soul mate took the trouble of taking me to the abode of bliss – Anandashram.  For me – a heaven on earth.  I stayed clear from the inevitability of conflict when groups of people gather for anything – and fixed myself on the incredible life of the great Swami who founded the ashram.  This is a place where songs and chants are like oxygen in the air, where cows have bliss of their own.  This is a place that does not plan for the future – no fixed deposits, no savings for a rainy day.  A place that is carried by the extreme faith of the founder(Papa).  We celebrated life there.  The exalted teaching of Papa made light of the miracles of the last 5 years.  If Universe wills then it happens. That’s it.  Not much discussion on my journey and learning and all of that.  It was fun, frolic, love, caring, serving among buddies.  Many of my wellwishers happened to be there, and some of them made the trip for me.  4 days of delight in the ordinariness of miracles.  The current head of the ashram, Swami Muktananda, is a modern day Vivekananda – full of ideas, joy, love, and concern that I feel abundantly.

My rentry to the world continues to happen.  It is quite fascinating to watch my perceptions, reactions and observations as it unfolds.   I attended a talk by one of the founders of https://www.povertyactionlab.org/ .  They do Randomized Control Trials (ACT) on non profit and government projects.   They created quite a stir 15years ago by rightfully exposing a lot of government poverty alleviation spending in South East Asia and Africa as wasteful expenditure. I tried to implement the process in my project and found it unworkable.  Now, 5 years after serving time in doctor’s cabins, I attended the talk curious to know about their progress, especially in light of my difficulties in implementing their idea.  I was struck at how stuck they were.  The brash boys of the NGO world, who made their living exposing programs, now had to come up solutions.  I realized they did not have a clue and were expounding theories on flimsy evidence – the very enemy that established their existence.  It got me thinking, and realized that a critiquing mind is so different from a creative mind.  Both are important.  A critiquing mind is fault finding, inured, talkative, closed, definitive, singularly driven by its opposition etc. This was underscored by listening to another vociferous critic immediately after the lecture.  A creative mind is open, tentative, listening, learning, thoughtful, unbiased, moment to moment driven, not a slave to any beliefs etc… Both have an important role, but a transition warrants the leaders to think very deeply about personal and organizational transformation.

This transition seems impossible.  JPAL has been promoting itself to being an impending recipient of the Nobel prize.  It has worked itself into a fervour – for 20 years – on this RCT for non-profit project idea.  Changing course, acknowledging shortcomings, after all of this! – seems impossible. But it can be done.  Premji Foundation, after 15 years of work, proclaimed to the world that their approach was not right and were going a different way.  Mr Premji, their donor, has the sagacity to support the change and the management and realize the incredible complexities and lack of answers in the social sector.  I am not sure of the effects of Wipro’s altered course, but seems like the world could do with more of this courage.

I needed a lot of Mr Premji’s courage when I was celebrated at Harvard on May 18, 2012 and then diagnosed and retired from the world with my diagnosis on June 2, 2012. Walking away was easier for me, maybe because I just did not have the physical strength to cling on to anything. But imagine having to let go despite having all the strength and everything to lose for. The Indian ethos is primed for these events. Our favourite national hero’s – Rama leaving his kingdom, Gandhi spinning wheel one day a week during the heat of the independence struggle, the Gita expanding on giving up fruits of actions etc. It seems like the Indian culture prepares an individual for the worst possible moment in life. The Western way is to not corrupt the good times and deal with the bad times when they some.  Both seem like reasonable ways to live.

I am finding most things in the world ambushed with conflict of interest.  An activist wants the identity.  A news channel anchor wants the job.  A political leader has everything to lose by not toeing the line. I did PremaVidya because it gave me recognition, meaning etc.  I worked in the corporate world because I needed the money.  I married because of my need for companionship. Most times, this pervasive conflict of interest in the world works for us.  For example, when my docs take the extra step in taking care of me or when my friends go out of the way to help. But many times, it does not.  The 5 years in doctor’s cabins, for now, has left me fascinated and alert to this fact of the world.  However, there are instances when I judge it and the world gets stale in those moments and I retreat to the infinite treasure within.

Self interest and conflict of interest that is the basis of this world leaves us with happy moments (moments when these interests are met) and sad moments – when they are not.  Our inability to handle the uncertainty of it all leaves us with the need to escape, for discourses, religion, spirituality, whatsapp groups, non profit causes, pursuits of wealth, spiritual books, need to travel, rituals and so on.  Sometimes, these pursuits work, leaving us more confused.  We assume that our efforts led us to great peace, wealth and good times etc. failing to acknowledge the incredible magic that is needed to make the simplest thing to happen.  This reminder of a greater power and its absurd incomprehensible and inscrutable ways is only around the corner after some great times.

The incredible sacred space within is constantly revealed to me by spectre of Dying.  Death has an extreme way of stripping all of the certainty and crutches.  I had an episode of irregular heart beats yesterday.  I went into a deep meditation and was keenly watching the events unfold.  I could see this easily morph into a cardiac event.  I was observing my last conversation with someone, my last sms etc. I could not remember todays date.  There was no regret on leaving this worldly body. Just a sense of acceptance. I knew the family and everything else was in terrific hands.   In that the sacred space arose; leaving only the pure consciousness – this infinite treasure – so pristine, sacred.  It is devoid of the world.  After the couple of irregular beats settled, what remained was a wonder at the conspiracy of the divine to make every moment happen.  And watch life, mostly with a wink and smile, with the universe as a co-conspirator.

As usual, an email from a friend, about the lack of my blog activity spurred this post.

Aug 8^th and 9^th were the 5^th anniversary of the stem cell transplant.  In addition, we are coming up on a year post the heart surgery.  The magic show rolls on.   The magician is still making the joker laugh.

I am well, with most parameters stable.  The kidney continues to work at 60%.  Heart seems ok.  I am able to walk briskly for an hour in the morning. No fatigue or tiredness.  Weight over 60Kgs.  Very little fluid accumulation.  My doc visits are so great!  It is like meeting old friends who were co-conspirators on a jail break.

We had a terrific show by Ms Shabnam Virmani on the 13^th Aug at my house.  She is wonderful  and answered my request for a special celebration for the 5^th anniversary of the magic show.  Suffering that ends in some celebration is often complicated.  I looked at the gathering and had a surreal thought that it could have been me in a casket. But it ain’t so and worth a lot of joy.

Ashwin was here.  He is entering his final year.  I remember asking the Lord for a year when I fell sick, to help him get into college.  It now seems like I might make it for his graduation.  Worth a lot of joy.

Amita is busy.  Like me, trying to come to terms with our new world.  Nisha is super tough and learning a lot.

So many times my dry eyes cause physical pain.  But man!  I am so glad for them.  I could have been completely dried up.  Worth a lot of joy!

Am reading lot of books.  getFreshAir is moving to the mobile.  Food is delicious.  Life is happening, often, without any desire to move it in a certain direction.

All of your best wishes created this.   May your celebrations never stop.

Musings

Post Trauma

I am having my own version of Post Trauma Syndrome.  I am finding it hard to relate to most conversations and worries of people.   These conversations are often met with silence or with a joke – seldom with engagement.  This is the opposite of being empathetic.   So many things and interactions seem so frivolous.   This does not seem to be done with arrogance, but sometimes with disdain.  Someone complaining about a headache or a pain in the knee; or engaging in an intellectual conversation is met with much dis-interest and sometimes dismissiveness.  There is a sort of emotional vacuum.  Everything is seen for what it is – a transient thing – so, why bother?  All of these lead to short conversations.  Giving advice and engagement seems difficult.

There does not seem much interest in changing any of this.  It is.  There is an understanding of the incomplete nature of my understanding –i.e. if I can meet my disdain and contempt with acceptance then why can’t I meet others frivolousness with acceptance.  For now, this wisdom is not there.  Will see.  Just wait to see how it works itself out.

This by itself is not so chaotic, but becomes chaotic when laced with a complete dis-interest in pleasing others, trying to gain peoples respect, being nice or civil.  So, my opinions seem to flow fast and furious without any filter of social niceties.  The “regulator” who tried to fit into the society, please others, do small talk, do good, become better,  etc… has been muted; leaving a rough edge to conversation.

Will See.

Meditation

Zen meditation give a glimpse of the quiet by aligning your consciousness to what-is.  For example, let us assume “eating a raisin” happens to be the what-is.  All of the properties of the raisin (its colour, texture, smell, taste , feel etc..) is observed.  The commentary of the mind is observed (taste is terrible, the texture is rough etc..) and the body in which all of this experience is housed is also observed (the posture the itching, breath, the heart beat etc…).  The forensics on these thoughts is done and the whole body and mind is seen as accumulations – accumulations of food and thoughts.

A deeper quiet and wonder awaits when this entire observation is pierced.  This is where Zen extends to Advaita.  The realization that all of this is being observed happens.  The breakthrough happens when the energy of the “something that is observing” takes over.  The mind is left behind.  The unknownable and unknown blossoms.  Zen and the Advaita is left behind.

Selective Authenticity

I found myself with a corporate CEO who was berating the inefficiencies of some of the programs of the Modi government.  I asked him if he is currently overseeing programs in his company that were in-efficient. He certainly had a lot to say about those inefficient projects and the people running them.  I questioned how could he berate the government when his house was leaking.

I find that when I am fully authentic, I don’t have anything to say.   I can’t engage. The converse is also true. When I have a lot to opine, I have chosen to be selectively authentic.   When I am authentic, I can’t call someone corrupt; I have been corrupt.  I can’t condemn someone who killed someone; I have indulged in many killings.  I can’t be angry at inefficiency; I have been inefficient.

Of course, it brings up the question of “Whether true authenticity leads to ennui, lethargy, non activism, dis engagement with the world etc…”.  I often feel the only answer to this is to allow ourselves to do whatever you felt like but do it knowing fully well that you are not being authentic.   So, berate the government’s inefficiency but do so in the knowledge that I am complicit in that. This triggers a new style of interaction, communication and wisdom.

Becoming

Without the structures of religion, words, knowledge, sin, God , beliefs, proofs, desires – we become.  The becoming is the state of: Not knowing that includes all, The state of “not wanting to know” that has space for all, and “No one to know” that has time for everything.  Quiet observation dominates conversations.

But sometimes, I cringe and winced my way through a discussion. For example, I had an interesting experience with a group of people who were lovers of the great Indian poet – kabir.  I went there expecting to hear kabirs songs, but found myself in the middle of parroting scriptures, philosophers and poets.  I was yearning for this group to contextualize his talk with their own personally authentic struggles and successes. I found myself subscribing to the wondrous saying – “When the Tao is forgotten , goodness and piety appears”.  This was no quiet observation.

Sharing

I wanted to do a review of the Fall by Steven Taylor, but this post is already a tad long.  So will get to it sometime later. I am sharing a terrific piece of writing by Einstein.

“I am deeply religious non-believer.  I have never imputed to Nature a purpose or a goal, or anything that could be understood as anthropomorphic (Naresh: I had to google this .. this means having human characteristics!  Glad I robbed google of a few searches!).   What I see in Nature is a magnificent structure that we can comprehend only very imperfectly, and that must fill a thinking person with a feeling of humility.  This is a genuinely religious feeling that has nothing to do with mysticism. “

15^th June 2017

June 2^nd came and went.  It was diagnosis day – 5 years back.  Different world now.  Am walking, lots of energy.  Helping where I can.  Laughing a lot.  Anniversaries also bring forth lots of difficult memories.  I need to continue to invest in the right thoughts.   Last two weeks –  two of my friends  were diagnosed with cancer and 1 with MS.   My tears well up.  It is bloody hard, but it is possible.   Being vigilant with ones thoughts is so important when in recovery.  You leave yourself with some runway for your body to heal.  I pray all of you struggling with this stuff have rainbows like I did.  Mine were my docs, family and well wishers..  Latch onto anything!  There are no guarantees but it gives us a chance.

Life took me to rural Karnataka for a couple of days.   I hiked an hour up in the forest.  Walked up a small hill without much discomfort.  I was struggling to do 100 yards of flat walking not too long ago.  Life is incredible.  What next, hospital bed or Mount Everest?  Do whatever you want! just give me whatever I need to accept whatever life dishes next.

I had my first re-immunization shots.  I keep telling everyone that I am getting younger.  I worryingly ask Amita whether she is developing any psychological issues watching me get younger.  She assures me that she is ok!  A couple of days of feverishness followed the first shots.  No big deal.  Here we are – Me and a one year old getting dished the same stuff.

I will save my thanks for the next post.  But, Thanks.  June 26^th 2012 was remission.  I tearup for those who did not make it.  Marvel at the miracles that keep us all alive.

Musing

Fully attending to whatever is in our consciousness is a beautiful practice.  Recently, I sat for 4-5 hours, mostly closing my eyes and doing nothing but observing my thoughts.  After a few minutes, gaps emerged between sensory input and the commentaries.  A base-drone-sound happens, triggers interpretation and a plane arises in our consciousness.  Fading-Shuffling-sounds happen, then interpretation happens, my maid appears in my consciousness with the additional interpretation that she is walking away from me.  Drip-Drip-Squeeze sounds happens, then interpretation, and a squeezee mop appears in my consciousness.  Absence of sound is also interpreted.  Suddenly whirring-sound-disappears, database query! happens, and the event of the maid switching off the fan appears in consciousness.    Life gets stripped down to the barest elements.  Just Be. And you will no doubt see the still background under whose jurisdiction the world is animated and created.

I tried to repeat the experiment with my eyes open.   The gap plays very hard to get when the sensation is “sight” driven.  Interpretation happens with such rapidity.  The distance between light/color and its interpretation is too fast. But I kept at it.  The attention while seeing seems to offer a different dimension.  Pausing and fully attending on an object reveals the illusion (maya) of synthesis.  Attending to my spectacles revealed the silicon, the glass, the stick of plastic, the stem of the specs, the silicone that has become the nose pad etc…  All of these are synthesized and a spectacle arises in my consciousness.  It simply isn’t reality.  The specs is a concept.

Then it became more psychological.  It was fascinating to observe how interpretation of “my specs ” happens.  My specs was placed side by side with Ashwin’s new one that we bought recently. How do I know the one on the left is mine?   Like how the silence reveals the fan to the mind; lack of a dispute convinces me that something is mine.  How did the specs on the right that was in the shop yesterday become Ashwin’s specs?.  The same specs that was not Ashwin’s yesterday, is now his!  It seems to happen because the shopkeeper is not contesting it, and no contest from me, his friends and others .  This whole “mine” concept would be in a spin if any one contested this “assumption”.  The only reality is a “shared idea” of ownership.

Taking this further, I asked myself to prove that “what I am seeing is a table”.  Jeez, that is complicated isn’t it?  I bang myself against it and say it hurts and hence it exists .  Well it does not prove that it is a table since I can do the same with a wall.  I say that I can place a coffee cup on it, and hence it is a table.  Same problem since it could be the kitchen counter.  I then realize that everyone I know agrees it is a table and hence I have arrived at the fact that this is a table.  My certainty now becomes an uneasy truce.  It is a table because much of us agree to it.  Another culture might call this a Ghost and it is truth for them.  That’s is no proof.  There are no experiments to prove existence.  Only consensus of an idea, it seems.

Applying the same to the idea of ‘naresh’ is stunning.  Naresh is a just an idea shared by many.  I cannot prove I am Naresh.  This is just a shared idea without proof.    I claim I am a Hindu because I am told so.  It becomes interesting if this is contested (especially by my parents!).   My passport , others referring to me as naresh and numerous other reinforcements etc.. are the pillars of an ever building identity.  Swimming against that and even questioning it is a gift to a very few.  The death knell sounded when we identified ourselves with what others called , saw , told and wanted us to be.  We lost our fullness.

Is everything we know an idea shared by many?  What an engaging question?  Language which is the most fundamental building block of our world is a shared idea!  No wonder, the ancient Indian sages called Om as the origin of the Universe They called it the essence of breath, life, everything that exists.

Seeing the unreality of all identity and concepts brought me to an interesting space.

It took a massive amount of energy to ask a question wherein any attempt to answer takes you away from the answer.  To make it a little more trickier; the question does not have an answer.  Such is the question ‘ who am I’.  This reality awaits us after some quick inferences to convince ourselves that we are not what we think we are.  The I, it, is always there – untouched, un stained, without  description , always approachable , never changing.  It dissolves all conflicts, merges all opposites , subsumes all desires, combines every plurality.  It is here.  More real than anything we know .  Nearer than my name.  There is a space where no government can tax, has no work for an undertaker, no money can corrupt, no sound can disturb, no thought can describe. Utter ordinariness is realisation.  Stripped of all concepts, transcending all religions and words – it loses all its extra-ordinariness.  No immaculate conception, no father in heaven, no Shakti, no destroyer, no creator.  no gopis, no jihad, no judas, no nothing.  Everyone of these bow down to this space – that is you.

I then spent sometime living with without any prioritization – life having already done it.  In the immortal words of Mooji – “If ‘I’ – the feeling ‘I’ – is identified with the body and the person, then it will be the person’s responsibility to look after their own life. But if the ‘I’ is identified as consciousness, then it will be consciousness and the Universe that looks after the body. This is the joy of the surrendered Ones.”.  This is incredibly convenient, and perhaps even a smart way to go about things after the burst of youth is over and the invincibility recedes into the history of life.   But the wise ones know this even at their peak of their lives.

Sharing

The Fall by Steven Taylor is an incredible book.  I was tempted to review it in this post but have saved it for the next.  A master piece about the origin, history of the Ego.  Brilliantly researched along with its compelling hypothesis makes this a must read.  Will get to it in the next post since I am trying to keep this post short after the last two lengthy ones!

The ups and downs of life were at it again.  We went to Tiruvannamalai ( a temple town in Tamil Nadu, home of one of the greatest saints in India – Ramana Maharishi) for a few days.  It felt like we were called to be celebrated.  We stayed in a special place, had an incredible visit to the Temple – treated like royalty without request.  The town has a 15 Km walk around a hill that has been a pilgrimage for 100’s of years.  We started at 11PM.  I had no intention of walking any distance.  It was meant to happen till it happened.   But an extra-ordinary wellness took over me.  I walked, walked and walked.  3.5 hours later – stopped after 15Km.

11PM

No boundaries on what should happen
No responsibility for anything
Conserving every bit of energy
Step by step
Body and mind in unison
Without goals
No cares about finishing or stopping
One with the movement
Every breath enjoyed
Every breath deepened
Beautiful breathing
Mindful
Uncluttered mind
Perfect rhythm
No loss of energy
No construct of time
Body and Earth together
Mind and energy in symphony
All outcomes surrendered
Every sense enjoyed
Dry eyes killing me
No imagination of God, Spirits, higher power
Flowing
Moving
Every thought passes on by
Left leg.  Right Leg.

2:30PM
Cot
Stretch.
Sleep.

The extra-ordinary health and walk at Tiruvannamalai was quickly followed by 2 weeks of a wicked flu.  All the energy was gone.  Life was dominated by drugged sleep and fatigue induced by anti-biotics and the fever.

No concentration.
No alertness.
Just marking time.
Trying to remember life lessons.
Drowning in physical discomfort.
Mindfulness – my foot.

I am now well.  Looking back and paying close attention to these ups and downs renders one emotionless.  You know the cycle; you expect opposites follow.  You know this will pass –  then why get involved.

Been doing my regular check ups.  No change in any of the vitals.  All seem stable.  We are touching distance away from 5 years since remission.  It is time for some immunization shots.  All the shots I received as a kid were nullified when I underwent a stem cell transplant.  I am not too sure what it entails, excepting that my butt better get used to some poking.  It is 8 months since the bypass.  Time is relentless – beautifully so.

We are caught up a bit in our house renovation.  I am mostly enjoying it.  It is a privilege to remodel a home and be with art, decoration, colours etc..

Ashwin comes in for a few weeks during the summer.  He is interning in Boston.  It is lovely to see him connect with my buddies in Boston.  Them years were among the very best in my life.  Nisha is engrossed in non-profit work in Chicago. Mostly it is great to see her find herself. Sometimes, I have to resist the temptation to short circuit her learning’s.  Amita is swallowed by the endemic inefficiencies of India trying to get the house renovation done.  There are not many better showpieces for the un-professionalism that is the bane of our culture than a house renovation project.  But it is nice to see her engaged about something other than plotting my recovery.

Musings

What comprises Me has never been clearer.

There seems to be a physical, biological vehicle – a body and a mind.   It is born, thinks, produces thinks, breathes, heart beats, creates and destroys cells, has a genetic footprint, dies and much more that we do not understand.  For simplicity, let us call this the BodyMindRiver.  The river of life.

A veneer of thoughts, using memory, over a lifetime, is created in the BodyMindRiver. Let us call this the TheDam  (sometimes called the Intellect).  Like all great dams in the world, it tries to control, governs, critiques, guide, define, judges etc… the flow of water.   It has beautiful waterfalls, spectacular sounds, magnificent views, dangerous rapids, debilitating currents and life threatening situations.  These conditioned thoughts define the individual “Naresh” and establishes him as a doer, owner and enjoyer.  It creates beliefs such as; I am separate, I am an Indian, I am a Hindu, I am the body, I determine my future etc..

The source and destination of both of this, like all rivers, is the universe.  The universe is always there, giving birth to numerous rivers and dams.   The universe is the sky, sun, evaporation, rains, photosynthesis, wind, bees, breath etc…The river and the dam don’t exist without any of this. This is the eternal truth.  Let us call this UniversalConsciousness.  It transcends space (encompasses all concepts … individuals, living species, planetary etc..) and time (exists before and after creation, birth, death etc..)

These do not explain a person – me – which is born, dies, spends days in waking, dream or deep sleep.  There is a consistency of thoughts and body during a day and for a personal lifetime.  We can this power the MeConsciousness that is a reflection of the UniversalConsciousness that shines in the waking state and dream state but recedes in deep sleep.

When does joy and suffering happen

The BodyMindRiver flows and derives all its energy from the UniversalConsciousness.  It is an incessant, unrelenting, infinite flow of energy. The magic of breath, cells, disease, sight, thoughts, digestion is derived from the UniversalConsciousness. Things happen in the BodyMindRiver.  When this happening matches with the desires emanating from the TheDam , enjoyment happens. The reverse means suffering.  The matchmaking is random.

There has not been one instance where I have been able to prove to myself that doing X guarantees “a match”.  Match making is complex and dependent on an inter-connected forest of cause and effects.  he results of an interview, happening of our next breath, getting a promotion, death, success of relationships, our finances etc.. all depend on the internet of the infinite.

The Gita makes a game changing assertion – that peace is found when the fruits of an action is surrendered (matchmaking is not expected).  This is the most logical, rational, practical thing to do given that that none of it is in our control.  Just do our best and learn to let it go.

When do they exist

The BodyMindRiver exists in waking, dream and deep sleep, while the TheDam exists only in waking and dream.  It does not exist in deep sleep.  The UniversalConsciousness exists during waking, dream and deep sleep.  It is also there before birth and after death, which can be observed when others die.  It permanently energized the cosmos.

Two States

I seem to be spending enormous time just sitting and watching.  In those observations, I find myself vacillating between two states.

1. InTheRiver

The TheDam  has latched onto a thought that is flowing in the BodyMindRiver, merges with it, makes it Naresh’s, tries to steer it a particular way and creates a world out of it.  It drowns in a world of recall, association and imagination – triggered by that thought association.

2. OnTheBank

After minutes of this (in real life it can be hours and a lifetime) there is attention, awareness and subsequent dis-association with the thought.  TheDam quietens. The whole world that was created vanishes.  There is nothing but the incessant flow of energy, thoughts and sensation through the BodyMindRiver.  No interference or quarrels from TheDam.  Silence happens for a long period of time.  Thoughts come in through the front door and leave through the back door.  They are not served tea. The flow of the universe UniversalConsciousness  is the only reality.

A life viewed from the banks of the river is peace. Energy.  Effortless.  Natural.  Free. Spontaneous.  Without regrets.  Without anticipation.

Mesmerizing views from the banks of the river

Settling in the banks of the river has given rise to un-imaginably delightful queries in day to day life.  Seemingly irreconcilable questions.  I crave no resolution and delight in the extra-ordinariness of the happenings. My attitude to these is best articulated by this delightful paragraph by Victoria Erickson.

Half of me is filled with bursting words and half of me is painfully shy. I crave solitude yet also crave people. I want to pour life and love into everything yet also nurture my self-care and go gently. I want to live within the rush of primal, intuitive decision, yet also wish to sit and contemplate. This is the messiness of life – that we all carry multitudes, so must sit with the shifts. We are complicated creatures, and ultimately, the balance comes from this understanding. Be water. Flowing, flexible and soft. Subtly powerful and open. Wild and serene. Able to accept all changes, yet still led by the pull of steady tides. It is enough.  Victoria Erickson

A life viewed from the banks of the river is not driven by purpose, desires, change, valour, closure.  It creates no problems, has no personal agenda, takes humour very seriously, is spontaneous, has very little desires, and is mostly silent.

Life on the banks of the river is not driven by purpose.  Purpose, a thought driven by personal agendas does not exist. Personal agendas and purpose has melted in the truth that the BodyMindRiver, TheDam , the MeConsciousness owe their existence to the UniversalConsciousness and the incredible inter connectedness in the world. Life happens because of nature, plants, animals, chemicals, ancestors, planets, every life form and so on.  This lack of purpose cannot be mistaken for fatalism and defeatism since there is so much fullness in this lack of purpose.   I started a small project and have no purpose for it.  I am willing to let it evolve.  This attitude finds no takers, no meaning, no resonance in a world where goals, purpose, vision, passion rules.  It is an opera with heavy metal sitar.

Life on the banks on the river means a lot of conversations are met with silence because the whole is seen.  If a conversation is about a wonderful day; my participation is muted because I can see the opposite coming – in this case, a day that does not go that well.  This leaves conversations delicately on the edge – the expectant response tantalizingly unforthcoming.  Stammering in silence.

Life on the banks has meant feeling full – needing nothing.  No desires.  Desires are seen as the rock, the hard place, the devil and the deep blue sea. It has danger and no-entry signs written all over it.  Desires are seen with all the baggage that comes with the fulfilment. Fire and Ice.  Both can’t exist.

Life on the banks is spontaneous.  My spontaneity includes passing judgements with more abandon.   Previously, there was a judge (TheDam) that acted as an editor for these judgements.  The quiet Dam of today is a non-participant. The guy is on a holiday.  There is no one to tell me “judging is wrong”.  There is no one to tell me that I have an image of a spiritual person, being consistent or that others reactions are important to maintain.  The dance between spontaneity, lack of ownership and need for consistency is ketchup on lemon tart.  Well, the red on yellow looks beautiful!

I seem to be laughing more.  I don’t seem to be able to take things seriously anymore.  In the immortal words of Osho, the only thing I take seriously is my humour.  It is very hard anymore to relate with anything but humour to someone who is serious, passionate, has strong views etc.. The Me of today is co-starring a movie starring the Me of Yesterday.  This would be pretty funny if it weren’t so complicated!

There seems to be less and less biography.  Someone told me that her relative who was sick considered me a role model.  I was genuinely confused.  Took me a while to understand and remember that I had leukaemia and a heart attack and now I seem to be well and makes me a good candidate to be a role model!  I am most dis-interested in being one.  There is no personal story at all in this.  It came. Maybe it went.  I had nothing to do with any of these.  The clash of the warmth from eager expectations and the coolness of disinterest mesmerizes.

The death of the intellect also has meant most commentaries have stopped.  An interesting corollary of a quiet Dam with no commentaries is that no problems are created.  I am able to see the remarkable ability of human beings to create problems.  Someone came to me who reminded me so much of me 20 years ago.  She was in a terrific job, great family, lots of money, 2 great children but restless because of wanting something else!! I was aghast at our collective ability to create problems.  The world runs on problems to solve, things to worry about, opportunities that exist because of an imagined lacunae.  Sitting on the banks means there are no problems in the world.  Everything is perfect.  Perfection and Defects.  The Fast and the Furious.

It is a life with muted celebration and mourning.  Someone died. Someone died.  A wonderful thing happened.  It happened.  There is a deep understanding that most things in life are a gross simplification of the truth.  Hence an understanding that there is too much I don’t know.  Does water boil at 100 degrees Celsius?  Maybe, Maybe not, isn’t it?.  Water boils at a different temperature in a pressure cooker or up on a mountain (physics will tell us the boiling point depends on the atmospheric pressure).   Mesmerizing to watch knowledge cannibalize itself, even it is just eating its fingernails!.

There is no desire for change.  Change is seen as dis-satisfaction, a quarrel, a desire.  The world whose pillars of existence are driving to a better future because of an imperfect present has to contend with a mind that views the “present” as perfect.  The view is akin to a simultaneous sunrise and a sunset. Glorious!

The chest beating of the world is seen and observed.  So many Whatsapp and Facebook videos extol the endless possibilities and resilience of Mankind.  I saw a lovely picture of a beautiful girl, delicately dressed.  She was without arms and legs – lost to a disease.  The whole story was her incredible strength and that anything is possible! Most videos carry this message.  If anything is possible because of me, then why am I without arms and legs?  To someone sitting on the banks of the river, there is only one story –  It happened.  There is no personal story.  No Valour. A personal story that takes the credit (the recovery) and not the debit (the disease) is not entertained.  The universe conspired to create the disease, enable the recovery and summon the attitude.  That is it.  Best left alone.

Sometimes it feels the entire cosmos has stopped to celebrate itself.  No questions no answers.  Just is.

Sharing

I have been working on a wellness self-help website with my nephew, Teju, called www.getFreshAir.org.  I would greatly appreciate if you could check it out and send me an email with your discoveries.

It works only on a desktop. We are looking to get into a mobile post this Beta.  Best way to give specific feedback (general also welcome) is to screen capture, paste into word, save as pdf and annotate the PDF.  Comments will be in context. www.getgreenshot.com has a great tool to screen capture and annotate pictures.

Thank you much.

11^th March 2017

I am doing well.  All the current medical parameters in the radar- Creatinine, haemoglobin, stiffness in my limbs, Ejection Factor of my heart, Liver parameters, remain status quo.  There are huge improvements in energy levels.  Thankfully sleep, eating etc.. are sound.  My weight has crept up to 60Kgs – quite a distance from my measly 51Kgs.  Sporting a delicate paunch.  Legs and shoulders are ahead of the curve.  Hands and shoulders still look like they need some buffing.

I feel the nature of these noodles are changing slightly.  There is, thankfully, a lot less to write about my health, and more about just “stuff” – often inquiries and observations of life.  I feel reasonable about continuing this noodles as this is still a post “pulled” and read by a few and is not a “push” to many.  I claim no credit for any of these inquiries or observations – they are often inspired by incredible music, poets, thinkers, monks, books, movies, theatre and so on.

This is a longer than usual post. Just completed a month celebrating life; in contrast to recent hermetic 5 years.  It started with a trip to the Kerala backwaters celebrating our 26 years together.  Followed by a trip to Kochi Biennale,– an extra ordinary celebration of contemporary art.  And then, Varanasi, Bodh Gaya and Patna.  I have taken the liberty of layering the post, allowing for more pick and choose.

Musings

Every time I mention that there was no fight, no fight, no heroism, no goals during my illness,  just acceptance; it is usually dismissed and I am eulogized as a superman that fought terrible odds.  Some indulge me in a conversation that inevitably leads to the fear that “acceptance” will lead to “lethargy” “fatalism” “in action” and “ennui”.  After trying to explain for years, I have concluded that there is no answer for this. The only thing we can do is to analyse an action, and see how much time was spent executing that action and how much time spent in anticipation, un necessary preparation, vacuous discussions, unnecessary what-if scenarios, celebration upon success, mourning/jealousy in adversity, advertising on social media etc…

In that razor thin line separating bliss and fatalism;

There are no desires but such fulfilment.
There are no goals but such purpose.
Such uncertainty but so stable.
There is such disdain but so much love.
Such longing but such disinterest.
Such presence in the void.
So alone but no loneliness.
So fragile yet strong.
Such lethargy in such action.

In the lap of the infinite, language fails and the most sublime seem eerily like the idiotic.  There is no differentiating a sage from the intellectually challenged.

————————————————————–

I was having a conversation with someone.  It drifted into a great question that was asked “who do you spend most time with?”.  The answer was, after a couple of false starts, of course , ME.  With this fact, nothing becomes more important than having no quarrels with oneself, isn’t it?.  If I got angry – I got angry.  That’s it.  I don’t have to be “not angry”.  In that stillness, love flowers.  But, how do we answer the question, “Then then then, what you are saying is that I can do anything with this philosophy? I can kill and accept. etc…”

———————————————————-

Was reading an article about Martin Crowe, one of New Zealand’s greatest cricketers.  He was diagnosed with blood related cancer in 2004 and died last year.  His timeline paralleled mine and we were the same age.   I remember posting an article from Martin Crowe on this blog a few years back.  The peace that he obtained during his illness was something else.   He said “My Illness cured me. It made me swap ego for love”.  He will continue to spread his wisdom.

Sharing – Kochi & The Biennale

Our month started with a trip to Allepey – The Kerala backwaters.   A resort owned by a friend gave us 2 days of great tranquillity.  Some friends joined us for the fun.  We then visited Kochi mostly for The Biennale – a worldwide celebration of contemporary art.  Oh, the importance of art!! Stripped of all knowledge, art became a teacher, a lover and a mirror.  No commentaries, just echoes of our thoughts.

Many of the exhibits were breath taking. I could write a lot about those, but one was extraordinary and intense. The five-year-old brother of Alan Kurdi, the toddler whose prone body found set against the Mediterranean Sea in September 2015 remains the definitive image of the Syrian refugee crisis.

http://www.gulte.com/news/41934/Heartbreaking-Pictures-of-a-kid/4

For Zurita, a Chilean poet, taking part in the third edition of Kochi-Muziris Biennale, “I am not his father, but Galip Kurdi is my son,” reads Raúl Zurita’s poignant eulogy to Galip Kurdi, the five year brother of Alan who died without a trace looking to save Alan.  Galip is the victim the world overlooked – “There are no photographs of Galip Kurdi, he can’t hear, he can’t see, he can’t feel. He is a representative of the other faceless forgotten in other crises and conflicts around the world,” the poet says.

Zurita makes us walk in the “Sea of Pain”, a room filled with shallow seawater where canvases on the walls pose questions. Taking our shoes off and wade in the seawater to admit our collective failure for living in a system that is inhuman.    “Don’t you listen? Don’t you look? Don’t you hear me? Don’t you see me? Don’t you feel me? In the Sea of Pain,” Zurita asks rhetorically, making repeated calls to action.

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1L-LMZ6RbVZ-IBe4n7KjLNSFT2GbQC5cmaA

is a video shot by Amita during the walk

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1Yz2WheTv8gkazTMaIr7kdY1fotK8d8wFBg

is the writing at the end of the walk through the water

I cried for 5 minutes, sorry for my and our collective obsession with ourselves.

Sharing – Varanasi

And then we went to Varanasi.  Oh! Varanasi. Oh! Varanasi.  I fell in love with it.  And it loved me right back.  The medieval chaotic cauldron of high scholastic, faith and arts.  It entices, horrifies, inspires in the same moment.  Breath taking moments compete with each other for moments of life awards.

“Bhoomiji”, a boatman who refused Bollywood contracts but sings some of the most moving songs on The Ganga, as he paddles his customers.   A deserted lonely Kabir mutt, home to the greatest saint in modern India – Kabir Das.  A barren home where Tulsi Das wrote Ram Charit Manas.  A hotel clerk casually telling me that if I did not have the cash, I could wire transfer 30000Rs when I get home.   Dead bodies burning in the Ghats, juxtaposed and celebrating life with some of the most beautiful Hindusthani music nearby.   One of the most revered temples in India – The Kashi Vishwanath temple with its approach road that is maybe slightly bigger than the pathway connecting my living room and family room, yet, fully adorned in its un assuming chaos and simplicity.   Westerners, probably hours from taking a holy dip in the Ganges and listening to bhajans on their ipod.  A T stall owner who summarily requests you to find another place for tea in case you are too busy for his elaborate tea making ceremony. BTW; he shows up when it happens.   The by lanes of Varanasi with revving motorcycles inches away from an orthopaedic calamity, seemingly a provocation away from a riot – exuding safety and warmth at 11PM.

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1QaE2Ai43SHsaaueCWisNSDCAy5PaETbUhg

is a video of the boatman “bhoomiji” singing his heart out for Mother Ganga

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1W6-3_tUaTgT1MkxnuHJ12GE9SnGcPg2kcw

is a beautiful bhajan by a visitor at the Tulsidas shrine

No wonder this ancient city is home to Pandit Ravi Shankar, Bismillah Khan, Channulal Mishra, Kabir Das, Premchand, Tulsidas, Rani of Jhansi and so on.  There is none greater than Kabir Das from Varanasi.  It would probably not be wrong to credit him for the harmony that exists between faiths in Varanasi.  It is wonderful that he achieved harmony by not seeking a middle ground but by rejecting both!  Kabir rejected the hypocrisy and misguided rituals evident in various religious practices of his day, including those in Islam and Hinduism.

Some of his classics;

    Reading book after book the whole world died,

    and none ever became learned !

— Kabir Granthavali, XXXIII.3

    Saints I’ve seen both ways.

    Hindus and Muslims don’t want discipline, they want tasty food.

    The Hindu keeps the eleventh-day fast, eating chestnuts and milk.

    He curbs his grain but not his brain, and breaks his fast with meat.

    The Turk [Muslim] prays daily, fasts once a year, and crows “God!, God!” like a cock.

    What heaven is reserved for people who kill chickens in the dark?

    Instead of kindness and compassion, they’ve cast out all desire.

    One kills with a chop, one lets the blood drop, in both houses burns the same fire.

    Turks and Hindus have one way, the guru’s made it clear.

    Don’t say Ram, don’t say Khuda [Allah], so says Kabir.

— Kabir, Śabda 10,

Sharing – Bodh Gaya  – Land of The Buddha

We stayed in a Buddhist monastery/institute for an immersion experience.  And that we were blessed.  The extraordinary Maha Bodhi temple, charged with the chants of 1000’s of monks was stunning.  Describing the Maha Bodhi tree, the same spot where Buddha meditated and received enlightenment cannot be justified in any language.  There is a bit of a stampede for leaves that fall off the Bodhi tree, and we were presented with one.

The immersion got me in touch with some Buddhist monks, books places and discussions.

While Buddha always inspired me, Buddhism has constantly under whelmed me.  Growing up in a Hindustic household, I always felt there was nothing terribly new in Buddhism.  It tried to do away with rituals, symbols and images of Gods and formed “Renunciation”, “compassion to all sentient beings” and “emptiness” as its basic tenets.  That doesn’t seem terribly different from Hindu thought.  Buddhism seems riddled with the normal rote discourses, disjointed arguments, authoritative speak and confusing contradictions that mark all traditional religions.  The Mahayana (Greater Vehicle of the Law) and the Hirayana way (lesser vehicle, conveniently contemptuously baptised by the Mahayana guys!) form the two main branches of Buddhism.  While they agree on most Buddhist principles of craving to possess being the cause of all suffering, Karuna or compassion, karma and rebirth etc.. They quibble on Buddha’s silence on the question of the self.  Hinayana takes this to mean “no self” while Mahayana propounds a real self is realized when the false one is renounced.  Whatever!

The freedom came, to me, from Kabir, Byron Katie, a bit of Osho, J Krishnamurthy and the advaitic Hindu tradition (Ramesh Balsekhar,  Nisaragadutta Maharaj) that rose above these.  The last few years added Zen Buddhism to this exotic mix.  I seem to have found a very happy mix of a Zen approach to daily life, while clinging on to an Advaitic notion of “That” or the “Universe” as a reality.  Life is an impossible conundrum – there was nothing but a prayer and a mantra when I was on a gurney to the operating table.

To me, Zen is the shining star in all of Buddhism. It is original, refreshing, irreverent and beautiful.   It holds a peculiar fascination for minds, who are weary of conventional religion and philosophy. Zen dispenses with all forms of theorization, instruction and formality.   Zen is an extra ordinary attempt to come into direct contact with the truth itself without allowing theories and symbols and symbols to stand between the knower and the known.  It preserved the Buddhist concepts of annihilating “Prophets”, “Brahman” , “Holy Ghost”, “Krishna” etc.. and urges to find the truth it daily life – cooking, dusting, a stone etc..

The whole technique of Zen was to stun people out their comfort zones of symbols.  The masters asked ambiguous, awkward and un answerable questions.  We have;

Master Hsuan-chien saying “Nirvana and Bodhi are dead stumps to tie your donkey”

Master Tung-shan fabulous answer “Three pounds of flax” when asked “What is the Buddha”?”. 

The secret of Zen humour is that they never took the objective world too seriously.  They constantly made fun of all intellectual intellect, conventionality and pomposity.  Their pictures are never pretty – mostly caricatures or fat or little men.  Monks refer to themselves as “Old rice bags”.

Zen stories are many and simultaneously boggles and stills the mind.  A master asks his disciples “what is this pitcher”. One of them says “I cannot call this a piece of wood”. He is summarily dismissed.  Another comes and pushes the pitcher over, and voila, he is anointed as the successor!!!  There is satori (the sudden turning over of the mind) and Koan (a problem based on actions and sayings of masters).  Typically these have no logical conclusions.   A sample of a  koan is “A sound is made by the clapping of two hands.  What sound is made by the clapping of one hand?!”

My friend just sent this to me .. and this could certainly qualify as a modern day Koan –

Humans are odd.

They think order and chaos

are somehow opposites

and try to control what won’t be!

– A dialogue from The Avengers

A great Zen parable probably sums it all up.   To those who know nothing of Zen, a mountain is a mountain, trees are just trees and men are just men.  After one has studied Zen for a little time, the emptiness and transience of all forms is perceived, and mountains are no longer mountains, trees are no longer trees, and men no longer men  The parable concludes, to him who has a full understanding of Zen, mountains are once again mountains, trees are trees, and men are men.

What Fun!!!  It leaves us to enjoy music without intellectual reactions to a symphony, without analysing the construction of a chord or to linger over a particular phrase. The flow of notes come into being and go, and in its passing is utter peace and joy.  No interruption of the symphony of life – just reality.  A bird is enjoyed without naming it.  Amazing stuff !!!

So much of this Zen section is learnt from so many books and people – Shunryu Suzuki, DT Suzuki, Alan Watts and others.    Nothing is original.

Sharing – In Patna

Three years ago, I had mentioned in my blog – Manish – who was taking care of his mom who was admitted in an adjacent room.  His devotion and determination stood out.  Unfortunately his mother passed away.  We had much to share as she battled exactly the same diagnosis and treatment.  Our relationship has blossomed and I promised him that I will visit him.  It was a moving moment for me to represent his mom and stay at his home for 3 days.  He and his family are more than all of the above saints, to me.

Underwent a 4 month check up after the bypass.  Docs gave me a thumbs up and most parameters are better.  Kidneys and heart are improving.  Liver is stable.  Most numbers seem ok.  Haemoglobin is a low and needs some meds. Eyes and skin are still dry and need attention.  This is because of chronic graft versus host interactions.  There are long term implications that can be ameliorated with some tablets now.

I now trudge 5-6 kms a day.  It is so cherished. The freedom of walking is exhilarating.   I come back tired as hell, but after experiencing many a Mandela moment.  Naresh eating noodles with Nelson.

Couple of dances at a wedding suggested that a muscle grew somewhere.  A couple more moves at Amitas 50th birthday told me the sighting was not phantom.  And I let it rip at the new years .  Rocked the retro dance floor.  Good enuf to get a few compliments.  The mightiness of the universe in all its glory.  This cripple danced.

Have (re) started enjoying beer and wine. Beer explodes in my mouth; every bubble kissing my pallet.  A sip of red wine makes me to close my eyes, almost like I do not want anyone to share this moment with me, and allow my throat to be pampered. Who said deprivation is no good.

My energy levels are good.  Often I find myself just doing something (walking briskly to open the door, rising with conviction to answer a phone call, talking on the phone and walking etc…) and looking back and acknowledging the milestone.

My gramma died at the age of 99.  It was not that difficult to accept her death – after all she had outlived most of her contemporaries. She was a frail opinionated feisty character.  Extremely knowledgeable and very unemotional.  She suffered in the oppressive times of the 1900’s for them types of women.  Am sure she will be back in modern times and kick some fanny.  It was touching to hear that her eyes were donated .. remarkable lady who played by her rules.

Amita had her 50^th birthday.  Was terrific with the kids around.  It is tough to get used to having a 50 year old wife!  With my pants fitting, a upscaled wardrobe and dance moves, I get a lot of compliments now from lovely girls.  I reassured Amita that I will stick with her.  Her response was disappointing to say the least – she was not exactly bubbling with gratefulness!!!

Here is a good joke that I received on whatsapp;

If you don’t like your husband, Why don’t you just leave him and Go!!!!!

Answer from the wife “I don’t like doing anything that will make him happy…!!!

Musings

I was processing the plane crash that took away the lives of so many young footballers in South America.  I cried when I read that one of the survivors, the goalkeeper, who died in the hospital today , had this to say – ‘ Jesus, Look after my family.  Take my breath away.  My friends in heaven need a goalkeeper’.   I have had many an interesting conversation with Ashwin and how he managed my illness.  He has gone from rejecting God, then being angry with God to being open to the possibility that a super natural power exists.  I used an interesting experience I had after the above incident to further this conversation with him.  I told Ashwin that soon after becoming emotional about the plane crash; I found myself swatting a fly and nailing it.  Looking at the dead mosquito, I realized that I never asked whether the mosquito had a family or was she a goal keeper.  The world was great from my standpoint, but a devastating moment for the mosquito and her family.  Maybe, sometimes, the mosquito is the question and the answer.

Someone asked me again how I spend my time and the right words finally came out. I spend lots of time in wonder.  In awe of the magnificence of the universal power.  Observing the tricks, the magic, the rationality and the irrationality, the conundrums and the benevolence , the grace and the curses.

Maybe this is what the great Indian poet Kabir meant when he wrote

Brother I have seen some astonishing sights;
A lion keeping watch over pasturing cows;
A guru prostrated before his disciple;
Fish Spawning on rooftops;
A cat carrying away a dog;
A gunny sack driving a bullock cart;
A buffalo going out to graze sitting on a horse;
A tree with its branches in the earth, its roots in the sky;
A tree with flowering roots.

This verse says Kabir,
Is your key to the universe.

He goes on …
How do you?, asks the chief of police.
Patrol a city where the butcher shops are guarded by vultures
Where bulls are pregnant, cows are barren and the calves give milk thrice a day
Where frogs keep snakes as watchdogs
And Jackals go after lions
Does anyone know
What I am talking about
Says Kabir

Sharing

“How to sit” is a beautiful book by Thich Nhat Hanh.  The book had me with the title.  I did not even have to read the book.  The title – in its colossal simplicity – had me hooked completely.

Here is an excerpt;

When we sit, we bring joy and nourishment to ourselves and to others.  Everytime we sit, we can sit in a way that the world can profit from our sitting.  We are solid.  We are relaxed.  We are calm. We are happy while sitting.  We sit as if we are sitting on a lotus flower, not on a heap of burning charcoal.
Another book worth a read is “My Gita” by Devdutt Patnaik.  A scholarly attempt at making Gita relevant to the modern day world. Great piece of work.

PostOp was 2 months of pain, pain and more pain. I had a cough that seemed to rip open my sternum. No one told me that this was so tough. Pain in my shoulders and in my sutures.   Complete inability to concentrate on anything. The saving grace was so much tiredness that I slept over 12-13 hours a day.   Painkillers gave me temporary relief. Appetite was low with the painkillers numbing the taste buds. Hospital visits were great – mostly thumbs up from the docs and it was almost like going back to another family. We had built great friendships during the admission time.

Then just around the 9 week mark, the clouds started to lift. I am now in a great place. The heart seems to have improved. Am able to walk 4-5 Kms a day. Lots of energy. Some muscle sightings. Fluid levels under control albeit with some medicines. Creatinine levels acceptable. No pain.

I had gone to Chennai for Diwali. Was a lot of fun. It was my nephews first Diwali as a married man. Lots of social events. There was also a marriage of a colleague that was so much fun. It was great to see a marriage that combined loads of fun with lots of tradition. I thoroughly enjoyed the 2 days of it.

Nisha and Ashwin come on Dec 14^th. Have some vacations planned and lots of family time to look forward to. It is one of life’s greatest blessings to see them take their steps to adulthood.

Musings

While thoughts cannot exist without awareness, there is no proof of validity of a thought but another thought.  Not believing the commentaries that goes on in the mind is a powerful state.  Nothing is perfect, nothing is not-perfect, nothing is beautiful or ugly etc.. It just is.  The issness is all there is. Looking at a diamond through the mind of a dog is freedom.  The dog has no stories about the diamond.  Our view of the diamond is filled with commentaries of possession, appreciation, envy, fear etc… the dog is free of the diamond and we are entrapped.  The issness of the diamond and the dog is worth living for.

When we embrace issness or reality, there is no mismatch in color, no misalignment or disproportions.  This is at terrible odds with the world which operates on rejection of reality and striving for a better tomorrow – a more efficient or safer or prosperous tomorrow. I find myself quiet during many conversations when I am with the Isssness.  A vast majority of social conversations revolve around justifying an opinion, that often pains one side vigorously, while ignoring the other side.  I find myself often seeing the two sides as the same; leading me to having no point of view.  Very boring in a societal context!!  Often I find myself thinking ’I don’t know’ and don’t seem to engage in conversations.  I don’t know if trump presidency is good or bad ( A few years of divisiveness may bring a longer lasting racial equality/healing etc..), I don’t know if the de-monetization is good or bad. It seems too complex to take a stand. I do not know whether my sickness was good or bad.

I am not sure the complete freedom that came with embracing death during the heart surgery exists now. I might be getting used to the good life now and might be losing the freedom. I find myself looking forward to Dec and Jan when the kids are here and our impending vacations. It is what it is.

The days after the surgery were also very revealing. Coming out of a surgery that could have done me in, that could have put me on dialysis; I should have been the happiest person in the world. But, none of that happened. That happiness was elusive. It deeply internalized my understanding that this body mind cannot be eternally happy. What we want (lasting happiness is out of reach). Just let it run its course. Dropping this idea that the mind body (conditioned to be a unique individual – me) is capable of lasting happiness has been very liberating. There is no enlightenment for an individual. At one level the body mind is incapable of sustaining anything. At another level, the individual is a shadow, an imagination.

Sharing

A friend of mine suggested “A thousand names for Joy” by Byron Katie. Quite a remarkable book. Superbly written by Stephen Mitchell (celebrated Author of Tao Te Ting, An illustrated book Lao Tsu). It has been keeping my great company for a month.

I also want to plug a quick fire read by my friend Aroon Raman “SkyFire”. A fast paced adventure thriller. A good read for a couple of hours.

My trips (am far from declaring it a vacation!) to the edges of existence continues. I underwent a bypass (coronary artery bypass graft) on Aug 29^th.

During my last admission, there were lots of views on risks versus benefits of doing the operation. My zen master nephrologist Dr Rammohan Bhat took charge and wrote the following.  I am reproducing it verbatim. This was the preamble to the decision to go with the bypass and the current admission.

Following discussions with Dr Sanjay Mehrotra and Naresh + Wife, my views and suggestions are as follows;

• Naresh and wife have realistic expectations from the proposed CABG and understanding mortality and un recoverable renal failure risk. They are willing to take it on as long as we all work as a team to support them.
• Naresh understands that dialysis post op is almost inevitable but there is a possibility of kidney function improving such that he can come off dialysis as long cardiac EF improves. Naresh is prepared for a life on dialysis if Kidneys don’t improve.
• Given that Naresh has had GI upset and looks very dry, I want to stick to 20Mg Lasix everyday for now and no aldactone. I would not recommend that we operate on him for the next week or so. We could discharge him – monitor closely and readmit next week – plan surgery 2^nd half next week.
• Kindly involve me in any decisions regarding changes to his medicines. I would specifically want any changes in fluid allowance and dierutics to be communicated to me.

Pressing forward, bringing people together while not subjecting anyone to unreasonable expectations are powerful synonyms for leadership.  I can’t think of better words to capture the situation and put forth a powerful case forward for action.

The pre op was complicated the balance between increased diuretics and creatine levels was hard to achieve. Psychologically, I have never been in a better state.   Accepting all possible outcomes, knowing deeply that this is going to unfold the way it is meant to; provided me incredible strength. The way to recognize and deal with the onslaught of nature, for me, was to acknowledge, accept and maybe be curious about it.

Most of the times, what was happening did matter.  But, interspersed were steady glimpses of the infinite coming from a place of don’t know, don’t want to know, who cares , can’t know, no need to know, not possible to know and nothing to know ( thanks Byron Katie for some of these beautiful words). There was no individual doer.  It is crystal clear that imagination has constructed me, my world.  Once I understood, reality was never far.   I stop believing in my thoughts and the edges of existence merge with death.  Thoughts became shadows.  There was no fear of death. The source for all is the same. The complete acceptance of death is deathlessness.
My dream team (Dr Sanjay, Dr Sharat, Dr Seshadiri and Dr Bhat) worked together .  They went in knowing this was complex and it was.  My meds had caused its own effects on the heart which had to be cleared.  My veins were not in great shape for the graft.  But I woke up a day later and came off the ventillator- a milestone for me.  4 days in the ICU with the amazing nurses and I slowly came of the catheter , iv  drugs, peripheral IV line etc.. A friend of mine was joking with me about making sure that I do not give any sermon in the ICU , and avoid getting my  attender to a meditative state and causing her to forget performing her role as an attender.  Luckily none of the happened.
I have been told that I should not obsess and worry about the heart now.  And live life.  The kidney is holding without any need for dialysis. The impact on my general weakness , fluid retention etc.. will unravel in the next few months. I am currently prone to exhaustion, lots of pain in the suture, shoulder and legs. The sternum seems to be the least of the problem. Coughing to bringing up the sputum is important and painful. I am trying to be on a strict exercise regime. Walking, simple stretches, improving lung function by blowing etc… occupies my time. Rest of the time, I tend to rest or keep still.

My prayer before my operation was ….

Please do whatever you think I need.  If you decide I have to do some work for you in the world; then please make sure I always remember you in every second, every act every person. If you decide my time is up; then please keep an eye out for Nisha, Ashwin , Amita, Dad.   I know you always do, but …..

 Yours

One of my favourite places in the world “Anandashram” had a special prayer for me. I was a man daring to see what life has in store for me after this.

Amita and I had a lovely acknowledgement the day before surgery. That we have together grown immensely in the harshest of climates.  It is abundantly clear to everyone that her balance, attention to details, energy, willingness to forego her career and priorities has been the pivot to my continued existence.  I have always questioned what is worldly love; but this sounds like a pretty good definition.

Amita’s mom and dad took over the house sending critical delicious home cooking.  Ashok flew in from San Jose .  I felt it was important for Amita to be with someone during my ICU days.  He was magnificent quiet and strong.

We had many many well wishers send their constant prayers and encouragement.  Those were critical for us as we struggled to remain in touch with the known.

As we stumble ahead, I am in awe of India’s health care system for the rich.  I cannot imagine it being better anywhere.  Maybe better equipment, but nothing like a nurse from Kerala and the docs here.  The skill level is amazing because of the volume of work being done here .  All done at a tenth of the cost. Of course , India’s health care system for the poor is worse that the worst in the world.

I am also in awe of the transformation power of love, prayers and well wishes.

Thank You.