Losing my Sangrinity

Enough of nostalgia in my last several posts. Sometimes the compulsion of the Present moment is so strong, it overpowers all sense of sensibility, decorum, and commonsense. In my defense, however, it was not all as it seemed, and here lies the story of how I lost my Sangrinity. 

After waking up to a sunny and sparkling New Year's day, Lisbon displayed a sullen hangover on January the 2nd. It was cold, cloudy, and overcast. All day. It was also the only day we had, to go to Belem, and we did. 

Belem offers a lot of outdoor activities. In better weather, the very things we did, would have added a different flavor to our enjoyment. I'm talking serious shopping at the outdoor markets, AND eating Pasteis de Nata with other sweet and savories, at two of the top-rated outlets that serve them, including at Pasteis de Belem, circa 1837, where the queue forms out the door because this place has purchased and uses the original secret recipe from the nuns who started the tradition of Portugal's famous, well, Pasteis de nata.

Now to the fiasco, that was my undoing. Continuing, however, in my defense, imagine being lucky enough, to get a rather last minute dinner reservation at a wildly popular, white table cloth restaurant. It is warm and welcoming inside, and after a cold, dreary day spent mostly outdoors, that in itself is a bit intoxicating because you let your guard down, or wait..was it my guard that let me down? Was it? Hmm...with deception involved, to a large degree? Yes, and it wasn't just with an apple, there was a whole lot of fruit involved. Very colorful too. Is there a Bollywood-Esqueness to this tale? Finding shelter from the rain..was it inevitable, albeit a different kind of seduction, with the loss of one's sangrinity? 

So here we were, our group was seated immediately on arrival, at the fine restaurant, while a crowd of hopefuls lingered around the entrance, within touching distance of the fine drizzle. 

Our server came immediately and one of our party, who had been here before, asked around to get a headcount for the restaurant's highly prized Sangria. Of course, yours truly, on finding out it was alcoholic, vehemently declined. 

Everything happened so quickly then. We feasted on crisp salad and complimentary house nibbles. The mains and the fruit-filled elegant decanter came almost together. The fragrant vase-like beverage holder with its easy to grasp slim neck was placed right by my side. Now, nothing comes between fresh fruit and this mama. I queerly regarded the astonished looks in my direction and paid little heed to the crestfallen faces as more and more of the delicious white liquid fell into my glass, in my earnest attempts to get the fruit to oblige and budge. It was so very good, mmmm! The deliciousness of all the fruits- the kiwis, pineapple, grapes, mango, strawberries, and everything else with it, was so much subtler, and gentler and sweeter, for being soaked in the smoothness of whatever it was. I kept dunking more and more in my glass, and the liquid was just uncontrollable!

Soon the accusatory looks cast in my direction bordered on alarm. I think I may have realized that it was the famed sangria that I was chugging down, but everyone else, unlike me, mindful of their dining etiquette, made me doubt I could be so rude. I couldn't, now...could I? Was it the alcohol, with its sweet deception, disguised in a jar laden with fruit that compelled me, on that disquieting rainy night? Or was it something more mundane, like an innocent longing for the fresh fruit? I will never really know, except on that rainy night, at a hugely popular restaurant in Lisbon, this is how I lost my sangrinity.

(From a draft waiting to be finalized, since January). 

The Gifts we can give to ourselves

For the past several weeks, the Evening star, Venus has been shining very brightly in the western sky. It has shifted positions slightly, but the intensity of its brightness has not diminished, instead it's grown, and the star looks bigger and brighter.

Today, for some reason I couldn't find it, even as many, many other less shinier stars were everywhere. I guess it's new position, from where I stand, is behind some trees? Anyway, going out into the night I did see the full moon, and gazed at it, delighting and celebrating it brightness. It also reminded me that in all fairness, it was uniting me with rest of humanity as it shone brightly all across the skies, and over the rest of the world! We were all compartmentalized by this powerful force, irrespective of gender, creed, color, size of house or political affiliation, as one species on this planet, impacted by the very moon, no matter where are. Even the oceans dance to its orchestration. The moon controls the tides of our times.

Had my mother been alive today, she would have called to wish me, on this Buddha Purnima, my Lunar birthday, which was today, 7th May, this year. She always celebrated my birthday by doing some charitable deeds, mainly feeding the poor and giving of alms. My day was interesting, having tumbled over from midnight, as I sat awake, in those very early hours, reading, well past my bedtime.

For a while now, I had been getting this one phrase in my mind, and from that a thought. Suddenly, this picture comes into my head, along with this one sentence, which I thought had a special sweetness to it. All I wanted to do was just write that down, because later I can forget easily, as the unfolding days of our lives engulf us in the demands of what we call living. That's when the magic happened.

The words just poured out and they painted a whole scenario of events, and I was witness to it. The story unfolded faster than I could write. I remember walking up to see pen in hand poised to write, and my eyes groggy head nodding half in obedience and half in defiance. It was finally in the last paragraph when the new title of the story revealed itself, First Words. The time was 3:15 am. I was very pleased that I persevered and completed the short story in the first sitting. That was a Gift to myself, on this, my Lunar birthday.

Hopefully, it will be unveiled tomorrow.

From a Facebook memory, of April 29, 2019

Who would have thought a year later from this day described below, this fun-filled glorious evening in the company of friends, we would be observing 'social distancing', and would no longer have the pleasures of sitting together asking a stranger to take our photo. Talk about living in the moment, I think that day, all three of us, truly did. We enjoyed ourselves and very much lived the fun, the camaraderie, and the laughter, which at times grew hysterical and interspersed with unstoppable giggling!

One wonders how long it will be before we can sit together again, like this! 

Veenu Banga

April 30, 2019. 

With Susan and Madeline at Cranes Roost. We watched the sunset from this spot. This was my mum’s favourite place to walk and feed the fish and the turtles. 

We also had a nice walk, fun, laughter, and music. They play piped music in the Park, and I was telling them how I used to enjoy the Boy Bands when they were popular and one of my mum’s favorite songs, that she would sing along with (yes, Boy Band music) and good, wonderful, noble Susan said, “Which band? Are they a Christian Band?” So I played a song sung by a Christian band for her that she had never heard before. It was Sixpence None the Richer’s KISS Me! Yes, I was being naughty. And I conveniently handed her my phone to hold as we walked and talked and laughed! 

Then it was Susan’s turn to choose her song. She chose “Oakie from Muskogee”. It sure was lovely and reminded me of the country music I liked! That’s Susan, 100% gold, pure of spirit and intention. Good, Kind, caring, wonderful friend! 

Then it was time for Madeline to choose, and she’s the exact opposite of Susan, which is why we all get along so well. She speaks her mind, minces no words, the Beauty Queen 👸 part of her youth is still well and roaring inside of her, and she said something which I can’t exactly recall, but basically that I can choose a song for her! So I continued to be naughty, (I guess the naughty girl-child inside of me has resurfaced again or possibly was just hidden under loads of rubbish that accumulates with life and should not be allowed to in the first place) so I chose something that as a teenager I always thought quite scandalous. To be true to Madeline’s British roots I chose “ Where do you go to my lovely” sung by a Brit! Her reaction, “Oh yes! I like that!!”

Who says we can’t have fun at ‘our’ age?! 

"Shivoham, Shivoham": another facet of Maha Shivratri

Time has flown by so fast. Another Maha Shivratri is upon us, this one without the woman, who for me is synonymous with Maha Shivratri. Dearest, precious, beloved and most respected, dearly departed, Dr. Shailaja Nadkarni. 

For the first time since the Prana Pratishtha/ consecration of the Deity of Lord Shiva in His house at Kaivalya, Shalajaji will not be officiating the ceremony. It is painful enough to think about it, so perhaps it's just as well, that I am far away across the oceans; yet not quite removed from it. 

It was Shalajaji who swept us into the Chinmaya fold, as she did anyone so inclined and whose paths crossed with hers. Her love for and devotion to the cause of her beloved Swamiji, accelerated the significance of the Mission on the Orlando landscape. While the congregation rose in numbers, it was the spiritual rising of its members that would not have been, but for her loving guidance, persistence, and compassionate leadership. 

For so many of us, and I shamefully speak for myself, who is so far removed from organized religion, Shailajaji was an emancipator of lost souls. Like acorns we lay on the forest floor, buried underneath the debris of mindless distractions, oblivious of that shaft of life-giving sunlight beyond the canopy of the trees. Shailajaji came with her caring, and peeled away the restraints of ignorance, directing us towards the pursuit of enlightenment. 

Beyond the chanting, and beyond the fasting, beyond the rituals, lies a deeply embedded truth about the nature of the true and holy relationship of our souls with Shiva, and which we consistently overlook. It is expressed in Adi Shankaracharya's Nirvana Shatakam. Before we can celebrate anyone or anything, should we not know who we are, and strive to live that truth? 

We each have to read it, sing it and meditate upon it, for our enrichment. This is my way of celebrating Maha Shivratri this year. Striving to be worthy of reciting, "Shivoham, Shivoham."

Resources:

1) According to the website, Mahakatha.com, (https://mahakatha.com/nirvana-shatakam-mantra/) "Adi Shankaracharya's Nirvana Shatakam is an ode to Lord Shiva." The transliterated lyrics with explanations are available at the link. 

2) There is another version here: (http://stotrarathna.blogspot.com/2009/07/adhi-shankaras-nirvana-shatkam.html) which I find more endearing. More endearing because the story behind it is more challenging, the kind that will make us grow. It is from PR Ramachander's translation, who writes, "There is a story that one of his disciples started saying Shivoham like the Acharya without understanding its significance. The Acharya visited the black smith’s house and happily drank one tumbler of molten iron and ordered the disciple to do so. Naturally he was not able to it. The Acharya told him that as for himself the molten iron or ice cold water are not different because he has realized that he is no different from Lord Shiva, and till the disciple attains that state, there is no point in his repeating Shivoham i.e “I am Shiva”

Mano budhya ahankara chithaa ninaham,

Na cha srothra jihwe na cha graana nethrer,

Na cha vyoma bhoomir na thejo na vayu,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 1

Neither am I mind, nor intelligence ,

Nor ego, nor thought,

Nor am I ears or the tongue or the nose or the eyes,

Nor am I earth or sky or air or the light,

But I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva.

Na cha praana samgno na vai pancha vaayur,

Na vaa saptha dhathur na va pancha kosa,

Na vak pani padam na chopa stha payu,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 2

Neither am I the movement due to life,

Nor am I the five airs, nor am I the seven elements,

Nor am I the five internal organs,

Nor am I voice or hands or feet or other organs,

But I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Na me dwesha raghou na me lobha mohou,

Madho naiva me naiva matsarya bhava,

Na dharmo na cha artha na kamo na moksha,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 3

I never do have enmity or friendship,

Neither do I have vigour nor feeling of competition,

Neither do I have assets, or money or passion or salvation,

But I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Na punyam na paapam na soukhyam na dukham,

Na manthro na theertham na veda na yagna,

Aham bhojanam naiva bhojyam na bhoktha,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 4

Never do I have good deeds or sins or pleasure or sorrow,

Neither do I have holy chants or holy water or holy books or fire sacrifice,

I am neither food or the consumer who consumes food,

As I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Na mruthyur na sankha na me jathi bhedha,

Pitha naiva me naiva matha na janma,

Na bhandhur na mithram gurur naiva sishya,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 5

I do not have death or doubts or distinction of caste,

I do not have either father or mother or even birth,

And I do not have relations or friends or teacher or students,

As I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Aham nirvi kalpi nirakara roopi,

Vibhuthwascha sarvathra sarvendriyanaam,

Na cha sangatham naiva mukthir na meya

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 6

I am one without doubts , I am without form,

Due to knowledge I do not have any relation with my organs,

And I am always redeemed,

And I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Posted by Raja Thatha at 5:35 PM  

My Grandfather's boats

It was a short walk to the boats. Down the hill, around the bend and the river would rise to meet the eye. The rest of the way was ours to traverse. Sometimes we did, often we did not. But contact was made every time, every time we walked to the river, there was conversation.

Often we sat together on the sloping hillside, watching the river carry away the boats. Holding hands sometimes to steady myself on the incline I would let go of his secure grasp only after we had sat down. Then he would do what he did best, put his hand across my shoulder and talk to me. It was a feeling I have since wanted to recreate. I never wondered where they went.

We all go down the river of life, on our own adventures. We carry our memories with us, as fuel and for sustenance.