I am not the do-er

For a tiny place called 'home'

For some time now, I have been helping a neighbor search for another apartment as the one he currently lives in had become dark and dismal after a builder decided to erect a multi-storeyed building adjoining his house, blocking air and sunlight which otherwise streamed through the windows.

Real estate prices are skyrocketing in Bangalore. It is, after all, India's IT city, reputed to have a salubrious climate despite global warming. Not really quake prone, although one personally quakes every now and then with alarming traffic snarls.

So there we were, shopping for an affordable aparment which is not necessarily a long haul from the office, the mall, the movie theater or the fruit market. Large enough to hold a small family, small enough to maintain. Good approach roads. The works. This went on for days.

Then yesterday, he suddenly stopped in his tracks on the pavement, looked at me and said "I need to rethink this idea of buying another flat. What if I die before I pay up the loan?"

I must admit, death is something that we all think of, every now and then. But we never even doubt that we would be picking up the morning milk packet lying at the doorstep the next day. We take it for granted that when it happens, it won't be so soon.

I did not say much yesterday during our conversation. But I did go home and take out a large blue diary. I began reading my notes on the Ashtavakra Gita.

Gurudev Sri Sri Ravishankar has called the Ashtavakra Gita "the most unique conversation that has taken place on this planet". The Ashtavakra Gita documents the unveiling of the highest knowledge from a saint to a wise king many thousands of years ago.

Through a series of taped lectures Sri Sri Guruji shows how, step-by-step, King Janaka is taken to deeper levels of understanding and how we can apply this knowledge to our own lives.

The lectures were originally held in 1991, in Bangalore Ashram. Guruji had a group of devoted followers who attended his talks.

I had taken notes from these tape which were recently aired at a nearby school. Every day for 30 days, I would walk in the frosty morning hours, armed with a pen and an exercise book, eagerly waiting to see Guruji's glowing face as he so beautifully articulated the message.

I read a page from the book. We feel we have it all. We feel that everything is in our control. Which is why we fear. Because we are afraid of losing control. But clearly spiritual scriptures indicate that we are not the 'do-ers'. And yet it takes great effort to 'let go'.

Even surrender has a way and a method. Every page of my notes on the Ashtavakra Gita had a lesson and surprisingly enough, I experience each lesson day by day. I am truly amazed.

I had a lesson to learn from my friend's alarming words yesterday. I closed my book and smiled at him and told him not to worry. About life, about death, and least of all, about an elusive apartment in a place called Bangalore...

The stamp album

We've been planning for this for every day since the past couple of weeks. We just had to go and pick up a stamp album together. It was to be a gift for her dad, and my daughter wanted to fill the album with all my husband's stamps before presenting it to him. Two weeks after his birthday.


But hey, our family lives in the Timeless zone. Which is why the owner of the nearby Dry cleaner's gets a shock when we turn up a week late to pick up the clothes. By then, he could easily have changed the name of his shop. Or remarried. But we always got our clothes back.

It's the same with intended places of travel. We intend, for a long time. We shuffle our feet as we watch our favorite TV program. Then my husband tentatively opens his mumble behind long beard: "Um, we should go to XYZ place. Well, his mathematically inclined mind tends to spurt short alphabets (and even signs) every now and then, by way of communication.

Like 'Hey, U'.

Hmm...

Oh, yes, that stamp album. We had globe-trotted in Bangalore (possible, coz' the world is flat any way- according to Friedmanian logic). Nope, no sign of stamp albums. It clearly showed that folks weren't into writing letters and licking stamps any more. Nor did they seem to find time to buy albums. Who leafs through albums anyway, now that we have Picasas and Youtubes?

But we were looking forward to picking out from the zillions of stamps stashed away in envelops and lovingly pasting them in a nice album. And presenting it to daddy dearest.

So like every other day for the past couple of weeks, we carefully planned our shopping. Today, my daughter even invited Vaibhavi (aka Vaibs), her best friend, to help choose the album.

"Do we have lunch first and then shop around?" This came from my daughter.

"I think donuts would be great for a pre-shopping brunch." This came from Vaibs.

"What do I wear? It's 12. noon so maybe a tee shirt would do well." Came from daughter.

"I'd add a sweater for good measure", I added, going all motherly and all.

"Hey did you know 'Hannibal' is running in packed houses?" asked Vaibs, almost in rhetoric. I began to wonder how good young Dr Vaibs was getting at doing post-mortems.

On our way out, Vaibs picked up her guitar as well. Who knows, she said. It might come in handy at the donut shop to add to the funky decor. Or to pick up a few pennies from a nearby hat. Or to bop the head of any geek who couldn't understand our love for earthly stamp albums.

Maybe we'll find one, maybe we won't. There is still tomorrow. And the day after. And the day...

Jelly donuts to just let go!

Yep, that's what I realized today, as I bit into a jelly donut. Blueberry? Strawberry? Not quite sure, but boy, did it taste good!

These days I'm sitting at home, and it was enforced, not by choice. I had to let go of my last job, and now I am waiting for another offer which seems be in the offing.

But my break is actually turning out to be just right.

It's hard to let go of both fond memories as well as rough ones- in sum, it's hard to let go of an office which you kind of made your home.

I started my job in this company all of one and a half years ago. I liked the desk they gave me, I liked the cupboard space and I liked the rack that stood loftily above the computer.

At first I brought in official books and stored them neatly in my cupboard. Then after a while, when I felt more at home, I brought in some papers and 'stuff' to read. I reckoned that I could bring my cup of tea to my seat and take a break while reading these papers. Then I felt more at home, even as my neighbors asked me about my family. So I brought in some photographs, a few pictures of my favorite God and Guru.

It's when you start lining your pictures on the shelf that you somehow sense that you are really taking the place for granted. A nice feeling actually- a kind of second home.

Then one day my manager called me into a cabin and broke the news. That soon I could be without a job. I took the news with some disappointment, some sadness. A flurry of memories began to rush through my mind and some even got stuck like a needle of a gramophone in a groove of an old record.

I knew that I really had to let go. Now that is hard because you often wonder: why me? What did I do? Am I really fit for such kind of jobs? Any job? Self-doubt, low morale were creeping in on me.

Okay, so I decided that instead of moping around, I would call it quits in this office even before the D-Day. Coz 'then I could start doing all the stuff I always wanted to do. I mean, if I'm going to worry and fret over when my last paycheck was going to come by, I would see no real meaning to life. Instead, I would only be losing out on precious time.

So I sent off my resignation letter and brought out a white sheet of paper. I wrote down all the things that I really wanted to do.

The very first on my list was to do another advanced meditation course- I had to do this to work my way to become a teacher for the Art of Living Foundation. I enrolled for the earliest date and had a wonderful time at the ashram. My chattering mind seemed to grow more quiet.

Gurudev Sri Sri Ravishankar at the ashram

Once I finished that, I started learning some Indian classical music. Just a few of my favorite songs.

And then I started reading all the books whose titles intrigued me. One among them was 'The other side of Belief' written by Mukunda Rao. It was a detailed description of UG Krishnamurti's philosophy.

I read with interest, sometimes nodding in assent, sometimes aghast by UG's opinions, and sometimes simply stunned by his experiences. He scoffed God and Gurus alike. Here I was trying to climb the ladder of spirituality to look at the world beyond. He said it was a futile effort. He said meditation was evil. But to me, meditation was an ethereal experience touching the core of my very existence. Well, UG was entitled to his own opinions, I opined, before moving on to Deepak Chopra's own rendition of how to know God.

Now I have beside me a couple of Agatha Christies, and a book on Yogavasishta. What next? Spirituality or suspense? I will have to make a choice, and I look forward to that!

I guess letting go isn't that hard after all. It's all in the mind. And I don't mind having a few good books and a couple of jelly donuts as well...