life and buddhism

Celebrating Simon and Garfunkel

2009-12-12T07:58:00.000-08:00

Kathy's Song
------------------
One of the most beautiful love songs in the world......a song for Kathy...originally possibly an
old English folk song tune...amazing and profoundly beautiful lyrics which follow the video..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qXxPzqk4dDU

Kathy's Song

by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.

Full Moon of Visakha: Story of Sumedha.

2009-05-09T11:53:00.000-07:00

[ Introduction: Today is the Visakha Full Moon in the month of May ruled by the Zodiac sign of the
Taurus and its ruling planet the beautiful and gracious Venus. Buddhist legend has that
the historical Buddha Tathagata Gautama was born, enlightened and also died on this full moon
night. Buddhism has that the historical Buddha is only one in the lineage of infinite number of Buddhas both past present and the future including both the Buddhas who actualized as human
beings and those that are transcendental Dhyani Buddha's who symbolize the five basic wisdom
and qualities of the universal mind signified by the five colours red,yellow, green, blue and white
and the five directions of North, South, East, West and Centre named the Buddha Amitabha (red), Ratnasambhava ( yellow), Amoghasiddhi ( green), Aksobhya ( blue) and Vairocana (white) each being the genesis of a lineage of actualized Buddhas.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_Wisdom_Buddhas ]

Amongst the Buddhas who have actualized in the world of Samsara or relative existence, there was one who belonged to the BuddhaVamsa or the Buddha family, called Dipankara or the giver of light. He was the Buddha of the past many aeons ago. In the time of the Buddha Dipankara there was a city of Amara, a city of plenty, propserity, enjoyment, peace and harmony.It was a city blessed by the gods abounding with
good will wisdom and holiness. In this city of Amara lived the young man called Sumedha. A learned person from the priestly section of society, intelligent wise,accomplished and prosperous with bountiful assets in grain and coin. Sumedha had learnt all the ways and duties of the priestly class, conversant with the Vedas and all the holy texts. Yet his mind was not at rest as he thought of the phenomenal world and of the decay, death and regeneration of all phenomena in the endless cycle of Samsara, the relative existence of impermanence and change. Sumedha was struck by the repetitive nature and the cycle of suffering and pain inherent in Samsara. He sought a way for repreive from this meaningless circle of impermanence and change.A way symbolized by the freedom from the fetters and bonds of the cycle of Samsara.The path of absolute realization of the self called Nirvana through enlightenment to be a Buddha.

Sumedha realized through his contemplation the nature of all desires and acquisitions and how they were a burden on the path towards realization. He discarded all his wealth and prosperity to become an ascetic a Sraman in the far away location of Himavant in the hills of Dhammakka. There he stayed wearing a cloth of the bark of a tree eating wild fruits and sleeping beneath the trees spending his time in meditation and contemplation till he understood the universal law and recognized the path towards enlightenment. One day when he passed through the plains he saw in
a city that a great preparation was being made for some event and the joy of the people being invloved in the celebrations. Upon enquiry he learnt that the great Buddha Dipankara majetsic in his enlightenment and the realization of the self was to pass through the city. The preparation was
in the honour of this enlightened being. So Sumedha
thought that this was a great opportunity to see for himself someone who had broken through the ignorance and illusion of all relative existence of Maya and the Samsara. When Dipankara was passing there was a strech of the road still muddy with rain waters which could not be cleaned in time for his passing. Sumedha in reverence for the perfect being Dipankara refused to allow the gross mud to touch the feet of the holy being. He opened his long hair of an ascetic and laid it on the path inviting Dipankara and his disciples to cross over his body and his hair so that the mud may not touch their feet.

Dipankara with his perfect insight recognized the mind of Sumedha to be that of a Bodhisattva a being on the way towards enlightenment. Then the great Buddha of the past, the giver of light Dipankara prophesized that many years from now and after many births and lives the young Sumedha would in his last life time be born as the Siddhartha Gautama to the glorious King Suddhadhona and the beautiful Queen Maya of the Sakya tribe on a glorious Full moon night of the month of Visakha in the majestic Sal groves of the Lumbini forest. And this Prince Gautama would be the Buddha Tathagata and completely realize the self to attain liberation from Samsara in Nirvana. Further he said that this Buddha would show the path of love peace and righteous wisdom to the entire humanity. His closest disciples would be Kotila and Upassita and his closest friend will be called Ananda. Thus prophesizing the Buddha Diapnkara went on his way.

And so it happened one glorious full moon night of the month of Visakha many aeons later and many lifetimes later the young man Sumedha was reborn as the Prince Siddhartha Gautama to the Sakya king of Kapliavastu, Suddhodhona and his Queen Maya in the Sal forests of the Lumbini and thus the Buddha of the present the great Tathagata was born to show humanity the path to peace and enlightenment, the path to realization of the true reality and freedom from all bonds of desire and longing, the path to Nirvana of perfect existence.

The Song of the Journey ( Invited Contributions from Friends)

2009-02-27T21:44:00.000-08:00

(Photograph Courtesy and Copyright http://www.panhala.net/Archive/Morning%20Journey.jpg)

The Song of the Journey

- Sutanu Bhattacharya.

What is the meaning of life

If it all just ends in death

What is meaning of life

That ends in a finite breath

It’s the journey that gives it meaning

The awakening at each dawn

The people places and memories

The emotions and the songs

The love and hate felt on the way

Hope, despair, virtue and sin

In the end only happy are they

Who await a new journey to begin

The glorious note of music

The brush’s stroke sublime

The nobility of human love

And all that is divine

Speak to us of the souls

In patterns we daily see

Of those who went with grace and honor

To their newest destiny

--------------------------------------------------------------------

A Friends Response
- Bappa Dasgupta

As I read your poems
Rare though they be,
Each has slowly borne a growing tear
As the depth of your wisdom unfurls,
From the Start to The End
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edited and Scripted by Gautam Sengupta.
Script Copyright Dragnetkgp Yahoogroups.

Reality and Zen Buddhism: A Lay Perspective.

2008-06-22T23:37:00.000-07:00

[Draft form, under Editing]

The basic issue in all mystic contemplation of our existence is the premise that
our mundane reality arising from our perception of the world is an illusion. It has a
dreamlike quality when viewed through the proper perspective of the truth that
indeed at every moment it is changing. Even we are changing to the effect that even in
our everyday reality there is nothing fixed or permamnent that may be defined as "we". The illusion is precisely that of an unchanging "I" or "myself". In fact there is really no unchanging "I", at best an "I" or "myself" is actualy a process which is intricately linked to the ambient existential conditions each one of us is exposed to. Neither "we" nor the conditions are "permanent".

Yet if there is no real basis to our familiar mundane reality then what is "true reality".
Most mystic world views tend to describe this true reality as completely incomprehensible
from our usual perspective. But the mystic perspective of Zen Buddhism, which originates
from the Mahayana School of Buddhist philosophy, differs in this contention. Zen Buddhism
which rejects the trappings of philosophy and the confusing thicket of concept, words, faith
dogma or scriptural knowledge relies on direct pointing at the heart of existence. Zen bases
itself on an experiential comprehension of true reality through intense contemplation and an
infinitely alert awareness of existence to intuit the essence of true reality.

Zen asserts that the great secret of true reality has never been hidden at all and far from being incomprehensible, is continualy manifested in every blade of grass and every turn of the breeze. Entire creation manifests the secret of true reality at every moment yet we do not posess the fine awareness to penetrate the mists of our delusion and directly perceive it. It is because we lack true awareness of the simplicity and directness of this truth. But Zen does not stop there but points directly at our own existential experience to distill the essence of true reality in our everyday
language. Zen Buddhism unhestitatingly asserts that we have all experienced the dazzling radiance of the shining jewel of true existential reality unknowingly many times.
Either in a moving poetry a haiku, Tanka or a Waka, in the startlingly bold brushtroke of a haiga or in the bright lights of an impressionist painting,
in the exhilaration of the spring wind, in sunbeams split by the
water, a glorious sunset, in the growing darkness of a rain cloud,
in the flowing beauty of a river, in the clear limpid eyes of a child, in the
exceptional beauty of a woman, in a moment of calm and peace with our
family, in some beautiful aspect of nature, in a moving piece of
music, in the scent of a flower or the light of a glorious moon, in
the throbbing hearbeats of our first love and many more times.

Some of these openings are brief and fleeting and others far deeper and enduring. We have felt such experience strangely tug at our heartstrings and our emotions and we have come away with a strange sense of happiness and an inexplicable bewilderness unable
to explain or conceptualize the experience. A moment of pure beauty is without
thought or conception. At that instant there is only pure experience
and awareness. The conceptualization and the framework of thoughts
follows afterwords. And in most cases the conceptualization destroys the spontaenity of
of the experience. Yet in many such instances we are unable to explain
our strange joy. Something left unspoken and unthought. Such fleeting moments of awareness
is what Zen points to and asks us to probe deeper.

Zen states that these insights actualy provides us a glimpse of that radiant suchness of true reality. Such experiences arise from that source. Our analytical mind dissolves in that instant. That suchness is the source of all creative impulse. Depending on the sensitivity and
state of the mind these experiences could go deeper and be more intense. They are called *kensho* in Zen. They are short lived but deep. Often it goes deeper in meditation or in contemplation and such deep insights of a far longer duration are called *Samadhi* or *Satori* in Zen.

Such experiences may even happen to ordinary people in moments of great happiness or
great stress when the usual conceptual ordinary mind is frozen and
unable to function. It is then that sometimes one achieves a deep
experience of that radiance. I call it radiance but its not simply
physical light but the light of true understanding. It can also happen
when one is exceptionaly calm and contemplative.

Imagine progressively deeper versions of these insights
of increasing intensity, a thousandfold, tenthousand fold, million
fold and yet it would not equal the the radiance of the true and
undifferentiated primordial reality. Nameless, faceless unqualifiable
beyond all thoughts and actions, not conceptualizable. Tibetans call it
*Rigpa* and liken it to the calm moonlit surface of an
ocean undisturbed by the winds of thought. All creation are like waves
which rise from the sea and dissapears back into it. Karma is likened
to the wind which bring forth the waves.

This is what is true reality as set forth by the core of almost all religions
starting from the pagan parctices, african mysticism, the primitive religion of american and south american indians to organized major world religions. It is enmeshed in
mystery and incomprehensibility to ordinary individuals. Yet Zen asserts that all of us have had glimpses of it. Unknowingly for an instant but the framework of the conceptualizing
ordinary everyday mind a product of Karma forced us back into
delusion. Some have these have been deeper than others depending on the state of
the minds its clariy and receptivity to that experience. Masters are able to continualy abide in the clear state of the true reality. Its not that the world ceases to exist in such a state
it does exist but with a completely different perspective and
significance.

One must remember that the great Hindu sage Sri Ramakrishna had his first Samadhi at a very young age when he saw a flight of cranes across the darkened sky of
impending monsoon. Nature is a great teacher and if one is aware and
alert such magical moments abound and may be deeply experienced. But
we are pre occupied all the time to be aware. Samsara our everday life forces all of us
deeper and deeper into the arms of the illusion of Maya. Hiding from us the true
radiance yet it shines forth everywhere blazingly but we are unable to
perceive it in our confusion and delusion.

Tibetan Buddhism says that the clear light or the rigpa rises just
after the blackness of our final extinction and death but unless it is
practised in life it passes by the mind conciousness which is confused
and perturbed with Karmic impressions. It fails to recognize the
*clear light* and the Karmic impressions forces the consciousness
stream to evolve into one more Samsaric existence through a linked
chain of cause and effect called *dependent origination*. An infinite
repetitive cycle, the wheel of Samsara called *Kalchakra* the wheel of life.

Death at Noontime

2007-05-11T23:26:00.000-07:00

The thundersquall broke suddenly just past noontime. The wild wind roared and lifted and spun the dry summer dust into a dark cloud. Then it settled into a steady moan interspersed with fierce bursts which shook the huge trees into submission and scattered their leaves and fruits. The green mangoes were stripped from their perch high up and thrown around by the periodic ferocity of the wild wind. It was an expression of anguish and frustration of nature. At that moment I knew that she was gone. The phone rang then.

It was twenty days that the lively and smiling young wife of my colleague was fighting for her life at the hospital after the delivery of twin boys. We had heard last night of the dreaded word "septicimea" a condition of internal infection that precludes a poisoning of the blood. Something even modern medicine finds hard to handle. She was critical last night but recovered. But this morning she lapsed into criticality again. I took the phone call and i could guess that it was all over. She had lost the fight to live. And amazingly the squall subsided and disappeared and it was sunny once again. What was it I wondered. Of course I rationalised that thundersqualls are always expected during the height of the north indian summers. Yet there was something strange about it. The suddeness and short span over which it stayed were uncharacteristic.

The rush to the hospital was painfuly slow but somehow we arrived. My first heart wrenching impression as I entered the ICU was an image which burnt into my mind. That of someone exhausted after a long drawn out battle and sleeping in peace. She was a lively soul in our lane and was a simple girl from a backwaters Bengal village. Always smiling, simple and full of life. My colleague too was an unassuming simple but and thoughtful individual who worked hard. They had a small daughter of 5 years. In all a lovely family with hopes and aspirations of a sweet, beautiful and a long future. They were both young with a lot of life to live for. That beautiful picture of a glowing future darkened in an instant to dismal grey with three orphans with twins just 20 days old and a small child of 5 who was
unable to grasp the sheer enormity of her tragedy. My heart ached with a
numbing sorrow to witness such complete suffering. This was LIFE a thin fabric streched between chaos and order that can break at any instant. And yet how we cling to it unknowingly in the utter ilusion of permanence.

It was time to bring her home for one last time. How she had wished to live . The
previous night she had held my wifes hand and asked her if she would ever return
home. It was a heart rending experience to witness the collective grief. Everyone liked her simplicity and liveliness. Evening found us in the local place for cremation by the holy river of Ganges ( Ganga). The great river rising out of the distant glaciers in the Himalayas now flowing placid through the vast north indian
planes. The place for cremation was deserted except for the staff. They looked unkempt but were reasonably efficient to prepare a wood pyre for the cremation.
The rituals for the dead were completed and soon we had to place her on the pyre. Soon the flames leapt up and one more story of life had ended.

A strong wind was blowing across the river and soon the pyre was blazing up
from its dark within of cinders and ashes. Growing darkness by the flat sandy banks of the river as the light from the now roaring flames played on our dark faces, all come to share her last journey. It is said that Buddhism is best
experienced under the light of a funeral pyre. The celebrated Japanese Master
Dogen Kigen Zenji was moved to Buddhism at the young age of 5 under the light of his Mothers funeral pyre. Later he became the exponent of Zen Buddhism in Japan founding the Soto and the Rinzai traditions and leaving behind a legacy of the highest level of Japanese Poetry and Buddhist art and culture and a huge
body of Buddhist insight which een now are said to be the heart of Zen the "sudden path".

The place for cremation was silent and bathed in the half darkness and shadows
streching across the huge courtyard with a temple. It is here that one needs the divine. Down below on the river bank the funeral pyre blazed and the flames danced bewitched by the strong wind. All of us were numb with sorrow for the young life. The husband now momentarily composed and resigned to the unfolding tragedy almost like a mute witness to the power of fate. The staff tells us that it will be at least a hour more for the body to be incinerated completely. More wood is added and the flames
leap up again against the backdrop of the stark darkness that slowly settles on the
river.

After an hour we are called back to the river banks. It seems that another quarter of an hour should complete the process. We stand beside the still burning pyre as the river flows on down the vast planes to the sea. The blaze is low now and the wind scatters the embers glowing like fireflies in teh dark. Seemingly most of the body is now burnt out. Little sign of the smiling 28 year old now whom I saw almsot everyday
walking past our house, calling out a greeting to my wife or stopping for a few moments of conversation. Full of life and the promise of a secure and beautiful future. Now its all in the past and the only reality is the low burning pyre.

One of the staff asks me to move away from close to the pyre. I sense his urgency
and step back. He states in the local dialect " Dont go so close sir, the body is still not burnt completely and there are strong unfulfilled desires around. You'll will not understand this. But we who wrk and stay here in this place for cremation know it only too well and this was a very young life." I am reminded of the words of the Tathagata and his exposition regarding the nature of desire ( trishna) and attachments. Her attachments to her new born babies her daughter her husband
and her jest and will to live. What happens to these. In the Tibetan Book of the Dead
of the Vajrayana tardition of Buddhism indeed such unfulfilled desires affects the afterlife in the bardo which is described as the gap between a death and the becoming ( bhava) into another life in the six realms and thirty one planes of existence in which the conciousness stream can actualize into another life based on
the Karma. In the Lotus Sutra which is described as the peak of Buddhist thought
all of existence called Samsara is likened to a burning house fanned by the unquenchable flames of our desires.

Soon the fire burns even lower, its now mostly embers and the huge funeral pyre now burnt down flat. The staff now asks us to pour water to quench the fire. No trace remains of the young woman anymore except in memories and the smoke which is whisked away by the strong wind. This was the end in the growing darkness by the river in a place far away from her home surrounded by family friends and strangers.
How to understand this tragedy and make sense of it in the overall context of life. Nothing that we have learnt ever prepares us for the experience of Death. All the friends in the last journey must pour water in a symbolic act to quench the glowing embers and bring peace by dousing the fires of unfulfilled desires. The embers are
now quenched and all is silent in the darkness by the river except for the chanting of the priest that cuts through the sound of the strong wind which moans over the river.
We return slowly not looking back and yet another chapter in the vast book of life
closes.

Kathy's Song: Spring Rain.

2007-04-21T22:18:00.000-07:00

The scorching North Indian Summer is already here. The early days of Spring
when the last cool touch of the departing winter was still upon the breeze are
already over. Now the fierce sun has burnt out all the tender feelings of the
start of spring and I face again the stark reality of my life bared by the harsh summer sun. Yet it was wonderful to just float in those tender and soft moments of a strangely beautiful fantasy brought on by the softness of the beginning spring. For many years now that the ruthless and unforgiving demands of a life had stifled all these wonderful
feelings. Yet strange are emotions, they never die even with neglect, pain, suffering,
struggles, desperations, anguish, despair and agony. They remain muted and silent
just to find that right moment of clarity in the chaos and darkness. When suddenly a
a clear light of a beautiful dream lights up ones world.

Yet one knew with ones instincts that suffering and pain are always part of the light of true beauty. The ever undulating coils of pain and suffering lay hidden in the beautiful unreal dream. They were sure to follow and of course they did. Waves and waves of pain and loneliness swamped my mind interpersed with moments of unworldly radiance. It was a silent dream of a beautiful fantasy and it played out its
bittersweet contents. It was an impossible dream of a sweetness that would never come to pass. Yet the tender, soft and wonderful moment it inspired were precious.
The moments of the unreal light burnt into my mind.

And now its all over, the scorching sun a reminder of life and reality like the
bittersweet morning after a pleasant dream which one hopes would never arrive.
But its the universal law that the morning always arrives. Who can escape it.
The pain and loneliness knots into my mind numbed by an undefined sorrow.
Yet all around all I could see was pleasant yet hidden in all that pleasantness is
an unearthly loss. How does one define the agony of losing a beautiful dream. Yet
dont we all know that dreams are just dreams and one always loses them with the
morning sun. Yet I am wistful and pining for what I realy did not know. All my mind knew was the lingering traces of a already half forgotten beauty of an unworldly light.
My pain dissolved in "Kathy's Song", the old wistful English folk song pining for Kathy
with her softly glowing light...............

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And as a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.

And then the summer skies melted last night into soft spring rains washing away
my agonies. Like the compassion of the Buddha Avalokiteswara, the one who looked down in compassion and tears at the suffering of all existence, Samsara. Entwined
in the illusion of Maya we all are tetherd in the glittering jewel net of Indra (Indra-Jaal). From his tears was born the Buddha Maitreya the future Buddha now residing in the heavens of Tushita and will arrive to share the pain of Samsara.
The wind was wild as the spring rains cooled down the scorched earth and just
as in the song it was the memory of the radiance of the dream as I looked upon
the rain drenched streets. My pain dissolved and the wind was free again to roam like the inspiring breath of creation over all of eternity. Forever free.

Holi: Festival of Colours.

2007-03-04T00:17:00.000-08:00

Today was Holi, the Indian festival of colours heralding the coming of the glorious
Indian spring time. There are different myths of Hinduism associated with this festival. The common upshot of these myths on one hand is that Holi is a celebration of the negation of the dark powers which leave with the winter and the light giving power of the new spring is on the ascendant. On the other hand its associated with the love story of the popular deity Krishna and his consort Radha. As such this is a festival of romantic love associated with the burgeoning springtime and also about the love of the brotherhood of humankind.

The cold is yet to leave the vast Gangetic planes of North India. There is still a chill in the night air. Last night was a Lunar eclipse, although I was awake at 4:00 AM working, I did not get to see it. I heard it was very beautiful as the Moon assumed a copper-red or amber hue due to the eclipse. The photo of the copper-red moon appears at the top. The morning was sunny yet there was a chill in the air. Last few weeks have been strange for myself. Emotions and feelings long lost in time have surfaced again. I had always thought that the monotonic march of time and the suffering and pain of life has crushed these tenderness and feelings. Yet amazingly I find that they were always there, muted and silent waiting patiently for the right moment of clarity in life to surface.
I feel unfamiliar and float in a strange concoction of joy, pain, excitement and despair . The lines from one of Tagore's songs touches my mind

"The soft spring breeze plays with the flowers
And the melody of the cuckoo haunts every grove
Yet I cannot comprehend why my heart pines
With the emptiness of an unknown sorrow."

Holi is a period of joyous festivity where people sprinkle colours to welcome the spring which is also the season of romantic love. Although its a primarily Hindu festival many other communities join in too. It is customary on this day to visit friends and relations with sweets and colour. This festival also has many religio- cultural associations being linked with the romantic love of the deities Krishna and Radha. There are typical songs, dramas, dances, songs and music for Holi in almost every Indian language and culture and it varies over the regions. The morning is now streching into the day and people especialy children are out on the street or their courtyards sprinkling coloured water and powder on each other . The air is still cold but a glowing sun is slowly providing some warmth. On this day friends in groups travel from house to house singing and dancing and I see many such groups out on the streets. The coloured powders tinge the air with a reddish hue and one could almost believe that love is in the air.The atmosphere brings back memories of youth and childhood when we played Holi with a lot of fervour. Nowadays its more customary for myself to be with friends for some quality cultural time and enjoy the holiday.

Suddenly a flash of the colour of flame and a radiantly beautiful face crosses my vision amidst the clouds of red colours. It triggers all the strange and long unfamiliar feelings to surface again. My mind is distracted and diffuse with these unfamilar sensations, tossing in the sea of my emotions. My whole world is instantly tinged with the colour of flame and the afterflash of that radiance. The day assumes a brighter hue and there seems to be a ethereal joy in the air and yet my heart aches with a sense of unknown loss and an indescribable sadness. It is strange for me as I pride myself in the hard control that I normaly exercise on my mind. But maybe I have held myself back for too long and its time to let all the feelings flow naturally.

Its late in the day now almost afternoon and the time for the main festival is almost over. There are fewer people on the street and its time to wash off the colours. In some communities there are also cultural meets in the evening and in others it streches to almost a week. The morning is over and I return home my heart floating in a strange mixture of an unknown pain and yet I feel a clear joy and a mixed feeling that simply cannot be described.

Makar Sankranti

2007-01-15T03:32:00.000-08:00

A bitterly cold winter dawn is yet to break. Icy winds from the
Himalayas have been sweeping down all through last week to the vast Gangetic plane. North India is in the throes of a biting cold wave as the sun
prepares for its zodiacal transition from the Sagittarius to the Capricorn ( Makar Sankranti) and starts to travel northwards ( Uttarayan) in the winter solstice. The Makar Sankranti is like a turning point in time marking the ebb of winter and is the first harbinger of the glorious Indian spring. Its a journeys end and
in the cyclic nature of all existence every end is a new beginning.
As the sun prepares for a new journey northwards its new beginnings and
the time for new hopes and inspiration.

Its 5 AM in the morning and I have been working throughout the night and the first tinge of dawn is almost about to break in the eastern horizon. I switch on the television for a tea break and watch a live telecast of the Hindu religious fair the Ardh Kumbh. The Makar Sankranti ( end of suns stay in the zodiac of the Capricorn constellation) is a time for a great show of faith as its an auspicious confluence for Hindus. I am not religious in the conventional senes of the word and although born a
Hindu I have found my own way and my own faith. Yet such a concerted show of faith
is a moving experience and I have always been interested in philosophies.

A sea of humanity have converged on the flat sand bars of the gangetic plains at the confluence ( sangam) of the rivers Ganga and Yamuna and the mythical river Saraswati. Three rivers two real, and one mythical or real is not known as an old river could have died out during the passage of history, meets in an ancient confluence of the different disciplines of one of the oldest human faith. Crystal clear cold drifts over the flowing river as thousands of devotees prepare for the dawn and the holy dip in the holiest river. It says that the river Ganges washes away the Karma of many births. Dew pours from the dark skies yet the devotees brave the bitter cold in a universal show of faith. A fine cold mist settles over the sand banks of the confluence shimmering with the lights of one of the oldest religious fairs the Ardh Kumbh held every six years. It is believed that a dip in the holy waters of the river Ganges flowing down from the freezing Himalayan glaciers at Gomukh to the plains, would relieve the burden of Karmic actions from many births and rebirths. Rebirth is a strong component of the Hindu mystic philosophy.

In the distance the decorated ceremonial boats on the river resplendent in their
dazzling lights gently sway in the current in a joyous dance to welcome the first
light of dawn. Cool mists drift over the darkly flowing river and the dancing lights of the boats creates a wonderful beauty and harmony with the outpouring of faith from
the throng of devotees. The strange half-light which arrives just before the dawn
touches the eastern skies. Its a beautiful light, half dark yet not half light and exists
only for a very short time. The first tinges of a glorious winter dawn breaks against
the dark skies as the red of the rising sun colours the eastern skies. The mist and the
light the dance of the boats and the eternaly flowing dark water of the river tey all become one in a etherealy beautiful atmosphere. The devotees are ready and as the
holy hour approaches they move into the water to cleanse themslves of the sins of many millions of births and rebirths. Breath catches with so much beauty to know that it is not permanent but will change very soon. Nothing exists eternaly and if there
is one essence of our existence it is a continuous change. Yet we hold on to things as if they would be there forever. Yet everything is in cycles and everything rises and decays according to the immutable laws which govern all of our existence. What better
time to think of this as the sun leaves finaly its long movement southwards and leaves
the Capricorn constellation to move northwards to the constellation of the Aquarius.
Cyclic processes of continual change is life itself.

Friend from Varanasi.

2006-09-11T09:57:00.000-07:00

One more summer night past sleepless, outside the residential campus
of the institute I work in and teach is still and silent
awash with the strange shadow pre dawn light which exists momentarily. Half
shadow and not yet half light. In the texts of Tibetan Buddhism this
shadow light just before dawn is compared to the clear light which arises just after
the final blackness of death from the consciousness stream of which every being is said to be a manifestation. It is said that this clear light is the key to
all of true reality. Dark shadows cross the pre dawn sky as sleepless
and feverish after the long night of work, I wonder about
the deepest mystery of the clear light which is stated to be synonymous with
enlightenment. It is said that the clear light is the matrix from
which all creation unfolds in our mind. What is it, no way of knowing yet.

As I watch the light clears and the first tinge of a summer dawn
lights up the sky. Last night was nice as an old time friend dropped by from
Varanasi. Long chat of old times deep into
the night, long past emotions and feelings remembered once more.
Then it was back to work throughout the night. Our first article in a new exciting
area of research now almost into its final shape. One month and 16 nights of exciting
pleasure and last 6 months of study into a new exciting understanding. My
excitement heightened and focussed with the mental journey into the
realm of an yet unknown physical reality. The glimmer of a structure
emergent from the matrix of unknowing darkness. What pure beauty. We
are deep into this now, one part of my mind quite cut off and
continualy residing in some undefinable dimensions of this novel perspective.

A tea break. Its wonderful to brew the red orange pekoe of the lopchu
estate. Probably the best tea in the world.
I brew it strong the leaves swirling with the vortex
and the wild aroma wafts and envelops my
senses. Wonderful tea and a great morning and I
feel happy and contented without sleep. Full of the flush of the past
night and the rush of lasting excitement of a new creation.

Outside the morning is bathed with an yellow light which comes just before
rains and the sky is overcast with the pre monsoon
greyscale. Its cool in my garden as the wisps of a early morning smoke
lazily disappear into the moist air. The slight coolness of pre
monsson moisture envelops my brows, still feverish from the excitement
of the night just past. The garden is full of fast ripening mangoes
with a total of four trees bowing under their weight like long green tresses.
The early morining birds have gone wild with the feast of mangoes as they gorge
and their shrill calls cuts open the morning. The world is slowly waking
up as a cloudy morning breaks. The melody of Simon and Garfunkel and
"Cloudy" invades my memory

Cloudy
The sky is gray and white and cloudy,
Sometimes I think it's hanging down on me.
And it's a hitchhike a hundred miles.
I'm a rag-a-muffin child.
Pointed finger-painted smile.
I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while.

Cloudy
My thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy,
They have no borders, no boundaries.
They echo and they swell
From Tolstoy to Tinker Bell.
Down from Berkeley to Carmel.
Got some pictures in my pocket and a lot of time to kill.

Hey sunshine
I haven't seen you in a long time.
Why don't you show your face and bend my mind?
These clouds stick to the sky
Like floating questions, why?
And they linger there to die.
They don't know where they are going, and, my friend, neither do I.

Cloudy,
Cloudy.

The Unborn and the Undying: Buddhist Commentary

2006-09-03T15:26:00.000-07:00

In one of my earliest memories from childhood I have the image of myself on a hospital bed ( was afflicted with diptheria), quarantined, alone and in painful suffering. It was evening and my Parents were outside the hospital window .
It was an isolation ward and they could not come inside. I still remember the pain
and my anguish. I was just 18 months old.
I simply remember this image due to the
exceptional pain which I had suffered and its not a normal memory.

Much later when I was recovered I have the memory of waking to a new house
half ready with water puddles on the floor, still dark with no electricity and an oil lamp burning and the image of my mother cooking a little far away. Many such striking moments abound in my memory from childhood, adolosence, youth and later maturity. Yet when I thought about these it was absolutely clear to me that there was an unchanging awareness which was witness to all these memories. Over all these years although there has definitely been immeasurable changes in myself
that crystal clear pristine awareness remains exactly the same, constant unchanging. Even right now as I type in these words its that same unchanging constant awareness that is like a steady flame that burns eternaly. I have thought about this many times but without any further understanding or comprehension.

Few nights back I was reading the central Mahayana text of the
Shurangama Sutra. The sutra describes the teachings of the Buddha in the city of Shravasti where the King Prasenajit holds a feast to honour the Tathagata. The Shurangama Sutra forms the core of Mahayana Buddhism and I was amazed when in Volume II of the sutra I came upon this conversation between the King and the Tathagata. I found the answer to what has intrigued myself for very long.

In the sutra the King Prasenajit requests the Buddha to explain the ground of the original mind that which is never born and never dies. The Buddha asks the King since he
is not dead how does he realize that he will ever die. The King explains that since his childhood through his youth and now in his maturity he has witnessed the changes in himself which signifies decay. The changes are ceaseless and continuous and this is how he is certain that these ceaseless changes must lead him finaly to Death.

The Buddha told the Great King, "By watching the ceaseless changes of these transformations, you awaken and know of your perishing, but do you also know that at the time of perishing there is something in your body which does not become extinct?"

King Prasenajit put his palms together and said to the Buddha, "I really do not know." The Buddha said, "I will now show you the nature which is neither produced and nor extinguished.

"Great King, how old were you when you saw the waters of the Ganges?” The King said, "When I was three years old my compassionate mother led me to visit the goddess Jiva. We passed a river, and at the time I knew it was the waters of the Ganges." The Buddha said, "Great King, you have said that when you were twenty you had deteriorated from when you were ten. Day by day, month-by-month, year by year until you reached sixty, in thought after thought there has been change. Yet when you saw the Ganges River at the age of three, how was it different from when you were thirteen?"

The King said, "It was no different from when I was three, and even now when I am sixty-two it is still no different." The Buddha said, "Now you are mournful that your hair is white and your face wrinkled. In the same way that your face is definitely more wrinkled then it was in your youth, has the seeing with which you look at the Ganges aged, so that it is old now but was young when you looked at the river as a child in the past?"

The King said, "No, World Honored One."

The Buddha said, "Great King, your face is wrinkled, but the essential nature of your seeing will never wrinkle. What wrinkles is subject to change. What does not wrinkle does not change.

"What changes will perish, but what does not change is fundamentally free of production and extinction. How could it be subject to your birth and death?

When I read this passage from the sutra I was amazed because this was what I
have always thought about. The crystal clear constant unchanging awareness
with which I have witnessed the striking images of childhood adolosence youth and maturity and even now that same awareness. Over many summers winters and autumns I have changed ceaselessly yet that same crystal clear awareness
is still bright shining and pristine. Not touched by pain misery suffering happiness grief hope or futility. Untouched unsullied changeless the ground of the
original mind. How can it ever die that which never changes, how can it ever be born. It must be the unborn and the undying.

And I felt very peaceful and reassured with the profound wisdom of the Tathagata and remembered his beautiful poem about the ephemeral nature of our reality;

"And so he should regard the ego's temporal world -
'As a falling star or Venus chastened by the dawn,
A bubble in a stream, a phantom dream,
A candle-flame that flickers and is gone.'"

Summer Musings.

2006-05-30T22:04:00.000-07:00













It has been a mild summer by North Indian standards,
almost cool.
There was a fierce half week of forty five degree
centigrade burning noons
which dissolved into cool duststorms,
thundershowers and
flash summer rains
late in the week.
The campus where we live is lush green and
exploding in a riot of summer colours. It is
a wooded area actualy belonging to an earlier forest
which covered
most of the city in the long past.
Yellows and reds dominate
over the
landscape, the Amaltas trees common in these regions
resplendent in
their golden yellow flowers matched by the Red of the
KrishnaChuras
GulMohars and the yellow of RadhaChura.
The campus is quiet and silent
without the usual hustle and bustle.
Its summer vacations and although
the institute functions teaching is suspended.

Another full night out, of playing with the arcane
mathematical symbols of
theoretical physics which are supposed
to represent the
reality of existence.
Its unlikely that these mere symbols can
grasp the jewel of
existence but they are beautiful in their own way.
Just another
element of the unreal we call reality,
but a beautiful one nonetheless.
Early dawn somke wisps blow away into the cool wind.
It had rained
last night and the earth of my garden is dried yet
cool to the touch.
Family is asleep in their warm security.
What calls in my mind and I
am distraught and lonely. Long cycle ride
down winding avenues of trees.
Morning suns first rays touch the yellow of
the Amaltas and
explode into an
ethereal golden half light.
Breath catches with so much
beauty to know
that all of life is impermanent.
Last year was pain and
suffering some
old Karma. Everything went wrong
starting with a loss
of a dear one.
Nothing worked not even of what
was absolutely certain.
Such is life
and it was a learning experience
to add to the wisdom.

Yet things change, just like that
in the new year it
has been a blast,
an explosion of feverish excited
activity covering
a beautiful and new
research area of hot excitement.
The excitement keeps me
awake night
after night. Its connected to a new
idea we have in our
research area
and now after several months of work
we can just see a
glimmer of an
exciting structure slowly emerging.
The excitement of chasing
these structures is just too much
and I am distraught and
restless with it.

Last six months all through the
preceding semester
it has been enormous effort from
three of us.
Although we were unable to realy
exploit the full significance of our idea
for the first simple system
where we applied it, we have some
interesting results.
We are now trying out a second system
in which we believe
we would be able to explore
our idea in a much better way.
So its wonderful now.
Mostly all that I
had lost last year has come back
doubled except the
pain of the loss.
Life is again like this,
ever changing like the flowers
that bloom everyday in my garden
and fall.
Mornings are relaxed in the study
of a wonderful thermodynamics book by a
Hungarian called Laszlo Tisza interrupted
by occasional
chats with friends over email.

Long afternoons surprisingly cool,
post lunch a small
chat with friends
and then with my son teaching.
Exasperation and impatience with
Samsara. I snap at him and then remember
to keep my patience.
Evenings in the swimming pool right
at the edge of the campus.
All around are vast open spaces
and the limitless evening
sky already darkening and
shimmering in the watery depths.
Fluorescent haze of
overhead lights and the water and
the sky are one.
Water is not a good
medium for myself, a Gemini which is
an air sign.
I feel light unstable and often
awkward in my balance. Slowly getting
to grip the basics
of the water.
Children and laughter all around.
Samsara in full flow.
How pathetic
that all these too are passing yet
how real also.
Beauty is in the
ethereal impermanence of all forms
physical and mental.

Late evening we return starved from
swimming, the
night air cool and fragrant.
Temple bells in the distance brings
the night to attention.
Then its back to
the office till midnight. Excited
discussions with
my research students steal a moment
for tea, snacks and a
chat with friends.
Midnight moon hangs clear in the night sky,
as late night
smoke diffuses
into the cool air in the cycle ride back home.
Campus is silent and the halogen lamps
are weary sentinels
of the night. Breeze blows the
fragrance of some half forgotten flower.
Suddenly on the
path a brown rabbit, common in these areas.
Both of us are startled,
its eyes shining in the light.
I stop and it bounds away to freedom.
Often when
returning in the night I am
confronted with NilGais
a member of the deer
family steel blue in colour and
very shy.
The males are dangerous in their
mating season when they are in rut.
They are big animals with horns and will
charge in their enraged mating states and
may cause serious injuries.

Its back home, shower and a TV Dinner.
Family is fast asleep
and still my excitement shows no signs of abating.
Many ideas jostle for attention
in my tired mind. Yet another night, I dont now.
All unreal in an impermanent universe.
Who am I ? Finally sleep ends all the questions.

Film : Bhalo Theko (Stay well).

2006-03-26T22:39:00.000-08:00

Last night I watched the Bengali film Bhalo Theko ( Take Care) directed by a young Director Gautam Halder and starring the debutant and sensuously beautiful young actress Vidya Balan. The film portrays the uncertain years of 1968-1971 in West Bengal India amidst a growing Maoist Naxalite extremist movement involving a lot of young students. The backdrop is a picturesque village on the banks of the river Hooghly. The river and its proximity to the bustling Calcutta port serves as crucial symbolisms in the film. The huge cargo barges on the river passing to and fro and the deep thunderous din of its engines marking the passage of time.

The story is centered around the character of Anandi (the joyous female), the young idealistic daughter of a cultured and politicaly concious conservative Bengali family with strong connections to nature poetry and classical music. The film portrays the interactions of the idealistic, poeticaly sensitive spiritualy conscious character of Anandi with her Uncle, Parents, a loving brother steeped in Marxist extremism, a crassly materialistic sister and a lover who finaly cheats her in his search for materialistic successes.

Through the silent conflicts and the mental burdens thrust upon her by her family Anandi realizes herself as the loving caring spiritualy and poeticaly conscious eternal woman. Her essential innocence, idealism, selfless love and humanity and her deep connection to nature provides her a spiritual conciousness and strength to rise above the selfish materialism which pervades her surroundings. Her strength is her simplicity spontaenity poeticism selfless love and her deep connection to nature traditions and simple humanism.

In sharp contrast with her sister who is glitteringly beutiful yet shallow
and dishonest and Anandis young lover Babua who deserts her when confronted with loneliness and depression abraod where he had travelled under Anandis urging to establish his career . Anandis beauty is her strength, innocence, simplicity, proximity with nature which provides her with an ethereal appeal
an icon of what may be called spiritualy beautiful.

But in the end everyone realizes her for the eternal wellspring of a deep spiritual strength that she was. Her crass and materialistic sister realizes the emptiness of her own life and turns to her for strength and support. Her lover returns to the country after a long and difficult illness and recounts how in his semi comatose mental state of his acute illness the simple yet beautiful face of Anandi burned like a fire in his mind and brings him back from the brink of death. He is now married to another woman but simply says to Anandi that he knew that Anandi would be still waiting for him in the same way and he has come to set her free. And Anandi is ever forgiving and lovable. Her poetic nature can never harbour ill will only a muted sorrow for her loss but with selfless good wishes for both her sister and her deceiving lover.

The film freezes in the end sequence with Anandi beside the flowering and tall KrishnaChura tree resplendent in its red-orange blossoms, a memory of her brother lost and probably dead in his pursuit of Marxist extremism,
reciting a poetry which simply says Bhalo Theko ( Take Care...Stay well)

Stay well grass
The wind and sky
Stay well earth
The river and clouds
Stay Well

Stay well dewdrops
the flowers and bees
Stay well rain
The earth and trees
Stay well

Anandi returns to the source of her eternal spiritual strength; Nature, and in a collective expression of goodwill and selfless love, forgiveness and care for all that is close to her rises above life itself like a beautiful muted and ethereal song of nature, of rain and the leaves of flower and the wind.

The film is wonderful in its poignance, beauty and sensitive humanism. The portrayal of the
eternal woman interpersed with the strong sense of temporal evolution and
the strains of bengali classical music and the Tappas (a genre of bengali songs)
sang by the famous singer Ram Kumar Chattopadhay makes this one a must see.

Film: Utsab ( Festival)

2006-03-18T13:23:00.000-08:00

Last nite we sat up with friends to watch a Bengali movie called "Utsab" ( festival) directed by a young director called Rituparno Ghosh. On the right is a still of the actress Arpita Pal from the film. Here is a link to one of the film websites.
http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif
Utsab

The movie depicts a complex family drama which slowly develops and unwinds during a major festival. It was a complex theme and I was struck with many issues about life which the movie pointed to. Many of my thoughts about the movie relatd to Buddhism which is finaly about life itself.

The first was the cyclic aspect of life and everything in nature. The movie starts with the depiction of a video shoot of the various members of the family. The actual video is shown only at the end and it was the depiction of a passed cycle. Some kind of circular portrayal of time. Yet its not the same as the original time. Something had changed inexorably for good or for bad. Again and again I was reminded of Master Dogen and the Shobogenzo where he speaks of Uji or "being time". In the film I was struck with the last words "construction, deconstruction, construction, deconstruction......." which could be replaced very easily by "generation,death, regeneration, death.......". I was reminded of the Buddhas words "Sabbe Sankhara Anicca". Nothing is permanent but a constant flux of of the cycle of generation'life,death and regeneration. Everything decays, everything regenerates. Like every day flowers bloom in my garden everyday they fall.

The second issue which struck me was that our perceptions of life are inherently dependent on our being able to access only an instantaneous slice of time. In the film the complex family drama develops over time. Pain, grief, joy, anger, frustrations, hopelessness, pining, moods, making up, love and hate. The drama build up and reaches a climax and then slowly unwinds. Every individual is caught up in the net of their instantaneous times, instantaneous existence. Globaly in time the drama is most trivial as everything finaly resolves. Yet it is not the same. Somethings have changed irrevocably.

The third issue which occupied me was that life was essentialy a tapestry built out of what I have named "strands or strings of our individual times". They are continuously winding and unwinding to generate cyclicaly an infinite variety of
schemes constantly changing. This is what we call life. But it is so trivial from a
global temporal perspective. Completely unreal yet so strongly real in our individual perceptions.

Poetry and buddhism

2006-03-10T22:53:00.000-08:00

I have been fascinated with poetry for long. As such I look upon Poetry as the

language of mysticism. This is most evident in Haikus which are traditional short Japanese poems of 17 syllables which communicates a pristine insight into true reality. Haikus are rooted in Japanese Zen Buddhism and traditional Japanese culture. A haiku is realy a painting in words and the captivating beauty, clarity and spontaenity of their vision have been a compelling prelude to my attraction towards Buddhist philosophy.

Amongst all the Haiku poets I have found Matsuo Basho one of the classic exponents of this medium as one of my favourites followed by the deep communications of the celebrated Japanese Zen master Dogen Zenji. Amongst more modern Haiku poets I have found the beauty of the Haiku of Soen Nakagawa Roshi, another Japanese Zen master who has been the driving force behind the introduction of zen buddhism in the west, captivating in its pristine beauty. I am able to easily identify with the thoughts and visions of these masters.

Another modern Zen teacher whose teachings may be best described as being like "the cool summer rain on the parched earth" is Master Thich Naht Hahn, a Zen monk from Vietnam a peace activist poet and buddhist teacher. His wonderful prose and the soft beauty of his verse acclaiming pece and brotherhood of all human beings have touched my senses repeatedly.

Master Dogen's writings move the intellect and beyond, Master Soen Roshi's
haiku is a bridge from mundane reality to the true experience and Master Thay
(Thich Naht Hahns) teachings touces the heart and opens the moonlight path
within to true experience through compassion.

Poetry is indeed the language of mysticism.

First post

2006-03-10T00:09:00.000-08:00

Have been looking at blogs related to my profession for quite some time now.
Today I felt the urge to set up a blog to detail my thoughts feelings aabout life cinema and arts and philosophy especialy the
random forrays for the last twenty years in the subject of buddhism especialy Mahayana, Zen and Tibetan buddhism.

There will be more later. This is the first post. Have to get used to this.