My Dear Friend Dr KG Nayar -- A Requiem

Dr. K.G Nayar is no more. He has left us for good. "achan marichu', these words dripped like hot oil into my ear over the cell phone. Satya was sobbing, but remarkably strong and in control. I was in a class expounding on the virtues of non-attachment. I struggled in vain to control the tsunami of surging emotions in my heart. My listeners sensed that something was amiss. Satya mercifully didn't stay long on the phone. My voice cracked, but soon I regained control and continued my talk, though at the back of mind I was seeing Padma, Shobha and Satya against the pale shadows of Amma and Dr. K.G.

It all happened in a blink, before any one had time to react. The starting the institute, shifting to the new apartment, Amma's death, the inconsolable grief and suddenly from the blue with out any rhyme or reason, K.G took ill. The denouement of the tragic was relentless. Today he was hale and healthy and the following day he was in the ICU. I was following achan's daily health bulletins with abated breath. I assured Shobha and Padma every time they called that K.G will come out of this travail unscathed, that he is a fighter, that he has so much to do, that he is so strong to succumb to a dumb bacterium, and so on and so forth. But little did I know that I was only saying what Padma wanted to hear and what I wanted to happen. Karma was slowly and silently but mercilessly working on its agenda. It is not what we piously wish but what the universe wants that will happen. K.G had already switched sides and joined forces with the indomitable law of karma. He was packing up silently while we were chanting and praying and wishing not noticing the fading smile on his dry lips and tired eyes. I had no clue about K.G's pact with Yama. Padma and Shobha believed my oracle that K.G will survive and go back to work and that all will be OK.

For the last fifteen years Dr. K.G was my good friend, partner and guide. He was a man of few words, but for when he gives a presentation or teaching. He could be very eloquent, forceful and passionate when he discourses on a subject that is close to his heart. He never pushed himself. He intuitively knew that ultimately his view will prevail. He was a pragmatic visionary. Not that he didn't have his moments of doubts and depression. He was moody and often spoke under his breath. I rarely seen him raise his voice. I often felt that under the veneer of his detached calm he was a dreamy romantic. Always helpful, ready to shoulder responsibilities and making things happen. With Dr. K.G on my side I felt bold to take on any risky venture. He thought through complicated issues and brought to the table his vast experience as a marketing executive, journalist and professor. He had a large circle of close friends, admirers and adoring students. What distinguishes KG is his versatility, honesty, sincerity and dedication to work. Not only did he make things happen but also made them look aesthetically pleasing. He thought in prose but acted poetically.

Padma was worried about his smoking. Since ten years she has been requesting me to advice or even admonish him about this self destructive habit. We tried various stratagems to ween him away from it. But I didn't have the heart to directly confront him and remind him about something for which he had a fond weakness. He was so gentle and dignified, so vulnerable and self critical that an advice seemed to me superficial, hurting and infringing. He was a rose with its due share of thorns. One day I mustered enough courage and broached the subject to him. 'Could he ever think of or rather had he ever thought of giving up smoking for the sake of his daughters, grand children and well wishers who loved and adored him?' I was in my persuasive and diplomatic best. He cringed under my unexpected question, took a deep breath, then smiled a sad smile, and said, 'Swamiji, I will die if I give up smoking, I have been smoking and I think I will die smoking". Suddenly it dawned on me that the quintessential romantic that he was had fallen in love with smoking, and enjoyed looking through the curls of the smoke as it mingled with the morning mist. He was burning from both ends, he risked playing hide and seek with fate, he dared death.

Dr. K.G basked in the love of Ammumma. When she was in the hospital K.G was beside her. When Ammumma passed away K.G's will broke. He cried. He saw that one leg of the tripod collapsed. His spirit lost its balance. K.G's restless soul fluttered precariously, undecided, between Padma and Ammumma, lost its tenuous grip, and fell into the bottomless depth of the other world. May his good karma take the from of golden winged angels and lead his soul to his rightful place in the Surya Loka.

My heart aches to think that I will not see Dr. KG when I next visit Ernakulam. I will not see him sitting at the last row of the Ygna Sala in front of the book counter. Nor will I ever see him introducing the distinguished keynote speaker of the Mamman Mappillai Memorial lecture. I will not see my friend Dr. KG enlivening our trust meetings with his wit and wisdom. I will not see Dr. KG taking the devil's side with his dark humour in his arguments with Professor Sreedharan Nair. I often felt that Dr. KG's presence filled an audience and gave authenticity to a gathering. I will badly miss him, my dear friend.

I don't know how to console Padma, who went through all this with stoic calm. Padma is wise and strong. She had her moments of break down. But she showed remarkable resilience and dignity under stress. We can not ask more from her. She is a role model for all of us. May God and Guru give her enough strength to weather through this personal crisis and come out with deeper wisdom and purpose to dedicate the rest of her to the service of society. I also pray that Shobha and Satya be able to take this double blow with humility and understanding and grow in spiritual wisdom and maturity. One day we all will die, the earth will disintegrate and the sun will become charcoal and the universe will shrink into nothingness. Therefore, advises Lord Krishna to Arjuna, "na-tvam shochitum arhati, you shall not grieve".

Source:

Email sent on Sunday, 13/11/2011

Obituary for Sri Ramachar, Bangalore who passed away on 11th December, 2010

Ramachar died!

Sangeetha's sad whisper fell on my ears like an orange autumn leaf
drifting into a cool puddle.

I was expecting it.
Ramachar was suffering from colon cancer.
He was 93 years old.

Today is Sunday, December 12, 2010.

My flight to Chicago from San Jose got cancelled. It was snowing heavily and fierce winds howled in the wintry city, I was told. I got up 4.00 AM for my 7.30 AM flight, and after a harrowing futile wait in a long winding queue the attendant rescheduled me for an early morning Monday flight. I returned philosophically from the airport, read emails, ate lunch and slept and went for my evening walk.

I was walking fast, winter darkness had set in, the road that skirted around a monastery was deserted. The screeching of crickets hung in the background like a prickly swaying web. Souls confabulated in the burial ground of the musty smelling monastery, behind the high walls that hid in overhanging creepers.

The cold breeze lifted a stray creeper here and there creating an eerie conspiratorial stir in the shadow of faint street lights.

I quickened my steps.

Ramachar died, I whispered to myself.

I loved Ramachar. I adored him. I enjoyed his company.
He was a veritable shrine for me.

Ramachar was a symbol of eternal youth. He embodied immortality. He walked straight, flaunting all his six feet three inches frame. He had a classic chiseled body. Square face, lush mop of hair, bushy eye brows, sharp small eyes, large prominent ears, the edges bristling with hair, long hands and longer legs, his chest wide and strong, he looked an Olympian god.

He was often mischievous, playful, romantic and shy. His was a life dedicated to music and he did nothing else except singing, dancing and falling in love with beautiful things. He was an incorrigible lover. He lived Radha's love for Krishna. He sang Radha's love in the highest octave, his voice drawn deep from the depth of his being and that almost pierced the roof of the sky and reached the highest heaven at the feet of Radha. His whole being throbbed with Radha's love. He was more in love with Radha than with Krishna. In fact he was jealous of Krishna for winning Radha's love.

I often felt that Ramachar was an incarnation of Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. He imitated the prattling cuddling teeny weeny style of the Bengali Baul singers. And in that lascivious mood he was irresistible.

In his 93 year old body, Ramachar looked growing young. When he opened his mouth wide, singing loud, it was difficult to say whether he had teeth or not. His gums were so strong that they looked like teeth. His cheeks were full and skin shiny. His eyes were misty and dreamy. It seemed that he did not have enough of his youth. He arrested old age on its track and willed youth hood for himself.

When a loved one dies you are sad and inconsolable. You may even feel devastated. But your grief remains private. You keep your dignity and reserve in the public.

But Ramachar's death is a class apart. It is a matter of public grief. It is the end of an era, the extinction of a rare species, and the disappearance of an archetype. Such death becomes a cosmic event, a paradigm shift, a public loss and reason for genuine lament.

I knew Ramachar for the last ten years. I remember him as a singing skylark. He was in his full form when I saw him in February 2010 in my ashram in Doddhaballapura near Bangalore. He sang his soul out. He mimicked famous singers and their idiosyncrasies and body languages. He claimed that he was doing research on humor in music and the humorous ways of musicians. He was the center of attention on that day, as he was always in such gatherings. Then I didn't suspect he was ill, that cancer was slowly clawing into him. Nor, perhaps was he aware of his illness.

I saw Ramachar last in July, this year, in the company of Mr. Chattopadhyay and Prof. Sangeetha Menon. By this time cancer had overpowered him. Old age had started taking vengeance on this tired emaciated lion. But the moment we sat down the lion started roaring, the smile was not that bright, it was just an afterglow of the sun set. Then for a brief moment he became romantic, a mystic lover, and his heart aching for the touch of an unknown unseen beloved.

His cooing echoing back without response.

I cried silently feeling a wrench in the inner chambers of my heart, unable to see this lover dying unfulfilled, his lips trembling with the unsung last line of his love song.

Then I knew Ramachar was dying.
But can death snatch his love for the unknown beloved?
Can death dry up his insatiable thirst for love?
Can death smother the flame of his blazing youth?

I doubt.

Ramachar will live ever as an archetype of mystic love.

Swami Bodhananda
San Jose, CA.
12 December, 2010

Hindu Dharma for the 21st century Seminar overview

Hindu Dharma For the 21^st Century
October 1-4, 2009
Sambodh Centre for Human Excellence
Kalamazoo, MI

Overview

There were several Dharma Seminars, but no Hindu Dharma Seminar with focus on American Hindu Youth ever taken place in the United States.

The first 'Hindu Dharma for the 21^st Century' Seminar organized by Sambodh Society Inc. at Sambodh Center for Human Excellence, Kalamazoo MI, was an eye opener for many participants. The presentations and discussions were objective, rigorous and useful. The fusion of Western and Indian thought processes and perspectives was a delightful experience. In their mutual proximity East-West perspectives revealed thought dimensions that were unknown before.

The purpose of the Seminar was to deliberate on the salient features of Hindu Dharma and then to create pedagogic strategies to disseminate that corpus of wisdom among the Hindu youth growing up in the United States. Eight themes were identified for special attention and discussion (Please see notes below).

The main speakers, Prof. Nancy Falk, Cybelle Shattuck, Pof. Arvind Sharma, Dr. Gopal Sigh, Renu Malhotra and Shashi Karve, brought a rare analytical rigor to the whole project. The other prominent speakers were Dr. Sunder Hattangadi, Dr. C.A Reddy, Dr. Sudhakar Kulkarni and Dr. Sripada Raju who brought scholarship, wisdom and authenticity to the deliberations. As chair persons Vivek Subramanian was sheer delight and fun; Lakshmi Subramanian was a cool, calm graceful presence, Dr. Ruth Harring was deep and thorough; Dr. Chitra Akkoor and Ravi Akkoor dazzled in their roles as panelists. Prof. Nancy Falk's valedictory address was a rare display of scholarship, incisive logic, objectivity and wisdom born of lifelong teaching experience. Dr. Arvind Sharma was mind boggling in his sweep and subtlety.

The phrases from the Seminar that ring in my mind are: ' green puja'; ' ritam-ic capitalism' and ' what is is God'; ' that 'Interfaith = spiritualism' and that interfaith will be the ‘faith of 21 Century'. Hats off to Gopal Singh for coining those prophetic concepts!

Nancy Falk saw three red flags rising (during the four day deliberations) and then disappearing to her great relief. Those red flags were: (1) the tendency for essentialism -- to distill the essential Hinduism, ignoring the particularities that make Hinduism unique and vibrant (2) the impulse to convert Unity (in Diversity) into uniformity and homogeneity, ignoring the irreducible diversity of Hinduism (3) the tendency to take partial shots of the humongous behemoth that Hinduism is and to claim that that particular shot is all what Hinduism is about. Prof. Falk warned the participants to keep clear of such temptations and easy solutions.

Arvind Sharma defined Hinduism an all inclusive universal vision beyond the danger of sublation by alternate, competing and contradicting visions and world views. The inclusive Hindu vision includes its own contradictions and negations. Prof. Sharma painted a picture of Hinduism that can absorb differing world views while retaining its character. Prof. Sharma's presentation was like a soaring symphony.

Cybelle Shattuck's was a presentation that attracted attention for its simplicity, clarity and directness. Ashrams and temples complement each other. The second generation Hindus considers knowledge of Hindu Dharma more important than simply worshipping in temples. In her chair speech for the session on 'Hindu Frame Work for Interfaith and Inter Disciplinary Dialogue', Cybelle hinted about four motives that bring people to interfaith sessions. They are (1) to convince the other about the superiority of one's Faith and seek converts (2) Appropriate others’ faiths and accept them as one among many lesser paths that will eventually lead to the protagonist's superior faith. (3) appreciate others faiths and learn from them to broaden the appeal of one's faith (4) to understand each other's faith, to share, learn and enhance one's overall spiritual experience.

A quick overview of the discussions

1) Sanatana Dharma is the core of Hindu faith. Dharma is the principle that holds things and beings together in a dynamic web and connects them to the eternal source of everything. Dharma is also called Isvara.

2) Varnashrama dharma is the duty of an individual determined by his/her guna or varna (combination of satva, rajas and tamas in the psychic make up) and chronological age. People are categorized into four varnas (brahmana, kshatriya, vaisya and sudra), in four ashramas (brahmacharya, garhastya, vanaprasta and sanyasa) and pursues four goals ( knowledge, power, wealth and pleasures).

3) Karma Siddhanta and Rebirth: Individuals are responsible for their choices and all their actions are moral choices producing painful or pleasurable results that they will reap in several births. By gaining self knowledge souls get out of this cycle of birth and death.

4) Murti Puja and Temple Worship: This is an integral part of Hindu Dharma and Practice -- Worshipping Gods in their images with elaborate courtesies. Houses for Gods where worship takes place are known as temples.

5) Gurus Ashrams and Teaching: Another central pillar of Hinduism. Whereas temples are for mass worship, Ashrams are for pursuing knowledge of Gods, relaxation and meditation. Persons dedicated to knowledge and self-discipline live in Ashrams with Gurus who are repositories of wisdom and of exemplary character.

6) Scriptures and their Interpretation: Scriptures define the fundamentals of faith and culture and contain revealed wisdom. They are eternal, but require periodic interpretations to suit the needs of the time and temperaments of people. This task is done by scholarly sages.

7) Caste system and the problem of Conversion: The institution of caste though helped Hindu society withstand successive foreign rule, it has outlived its usefulness in an egalitarian, democratic society that Hindus are developing now. Social stratification based on birth is harmful to social cohesion and denies equal opportunities to citizens and hence outlawed in the Republican constitution of India. Another bane of caste discrimination is the disaffection it creates among the Dalits forcing them to seek self respect in other proselytizing religions like Christianity. The evil of conversion finds its soul mate in the evil of caste discrimination.

8) Interfaith and Science-Spirituality Dialogues: Faith in the global context is interfaith and science is trying to find its ethical mooring in spirituality. Interfaith, peaceful dialogues and co-existence are the heart of spirituality.

Savita and Ramesh Garg from Freemont, CA; Savita and Sharat Joshi with their little daughter from Santa Clara, CA; Savita Wilder from Santa Rosa, CA: Margaret Kumar from Troy MI were among the 50 plus delegates who attended the seminar unfailingly all the four days. Attendees also came from Grand Rapids, Detroit and Indiana.

This Seminar owes a lot for its success to Anil Patel who cheerfully and silently managed the logistics and flow of programs; and his adorable wife Kumud Behan who was the wish-fulfilling annapurna for the participants. The food was warm, tasty, simple and healthy. My salutations to this ideal couple! No seminar could fly without the long hours put in by back room volunteers. Dr. Pradeep Sagdeo, Anil Patel and Aradhana Gupta were great help working quietly on the sidelines in putting together the data base for the seminar.

Sri Vivek Subramanian and Smt Lakshmi Subramanian, Prof. Sangeetha Menon (NIAS, Bangalore), Dr. Gopal Singh, Dr. Ruth Harring and Sri Anil Patel constituted the firm foundation on which the success of the Seminar was built. Dr. Rajiv Rangaras brought in a new vigor and freshness not only to the seminar deliberations, but also in taking the seminar message to the community. Sri Loknath Verma, as always, wholeheartedly blessed our work and stood with us through thick and thin. Balaji Somasundaram was a vital helping hand in the Detroit area.

Brij and Deepti Bhargava, and Ramesh and Mati Patel hosted our guests from California and East Lancing, true to the Indian hospitality tradition. This is one way of creating a pan-American Hindu community. In future seminars too we will try to accommodate maximum delegates in local Hindu homes, instead of in hotels.

Frank Jaimson, Paul Janson and Mark were our state-of-the art, dream electronic team who managed the audio, video and photography work. We expect to bring out a DVD and CD of the entire Seminar proceedings followed by two books: (1) 'Hindu Dharma for the 21^st Century' -- collection of all main presentations and (2) Hindu Dharma--Q&A-Samvada.

I must also mention names of Doctors Suresh and Sarala Puri and Girish and Rashmi Juneja along with Sobha and Prasad Reddy from Grand Rapids for their unstinted support and encouragement. Girish lifted a huge burden off my chest when he told, as he, Rashmi and their lovely teen daughter were taking leave after the Seminar, that he will be there to chip in if need arises.

Nigol Koulajian, NY, an abiding well-wisher of Sambodh, in his uniquely unselfish way contributed to the grand success of the Seminar.

When the curtain came down on this unique Hindu Dharma Seminar on the evening of Sunday 4^th October, there was only one question in the blissful minds of the participants: ‘when will the next Hindu Dharma Seminar be’?

An Ode to Dr Richard Harring
Dr Richard Harring, Kalamazoo, Michigan passed away at 5.30am on Wednesday, 20 May 2009. Sambodh Foundation India, The Sambodh Society Inc. USA and Sambodh Centre for Human Excellence, Michigan expresses deep condolences on the bereavement of our dear friend and close associate. Below is the note that HH Swami Bodhananda-Ji wrote for the service ceremony of Richard Harring. Our Pranams to Dr Richard Harring.
Remembering you forever,
Friends of Sambodh India and Sambodh US.

---------------------------------------------------------------------
An Ode to Richard
by
Swami Bodhananda
20 May 2009
Kalamazoo, Michigan

Richard is no more. But that is only physically. His memories live on. So too does his memorabilia. Richard continues to live in all of us. We may call it the everlasting presence of the Spirit or the Soul. He lives in my brain cells, in your brain cells. When we are gone and our gray matter become mud he will live in the grains of the earth, in the sap of the trees, in the wild foliage, in flowers and fruits.

Richard lived amidst books. His intellectual interests were varied and wholesome. There was nothing and no issue, be it political, economic, social, religious, spiritual or ethical or environmental, that escaped his attention. I always enjoyed my conversations with him. He had strong views and he expressed them forcefully and backed his observations and comments with the latest available data. He lived in the present, with his feet firmly on the ground. But I could often see stars twinkling in his eyes, though his ironic smile betrayed his inner pain.

I always felt that he wanted to stretch and pluck the moon, but some strange concern pressed him down. That was a private secret that he kept close to his heart. Not even his close friends, who were far and few, knew what was aching him. But he continued to smile and shed sunshine where ever he went and whomever he met.

He was a loyal and ardent devotee of his Guru. He couldn't complete even one sentence without remembering his Guru who passed away long ago. He was dear to me; was my good friend, counselor and concerned critique. He stood by me and Ruth through thick and thin, counseling and cautioning us, but always ready to shoulder any responsibility that he felt will ease our burden. He never grumbled or mumbled even when he had to do things which he was not passionate about, but thought would make others happy.

Sambodh Centre for Human Excellence would not have been possible without his good wishes, whole-hearted support, prayers and blessings. Richard will live as long as Sambodh Center for Human Excellence lives.

Above all Richard was a good man. My definition of a good man is one who is good to others, often setting aside his own needs. He had a special knack of sensing other's thoughts. He was there with his hurried gait, halting warbled speech and ready wit and winsome smile to enquire about your needs and comforts. I had the privilege of being his quest for more than ten years, and never ever did he give the feeling that I was not special. He considered his guest as God's messenger.

Richard was a perfect host. Anybody who has enjoyed his hospitality will vouchsafe for that. That merit alone will entitle him for the highest place in heaven.
Richard was a good husband, good father, good friend and a good grand-father. He read all the Harry Potters, a boring enterprise for a man of his intellectual depth, just to be in the good books of his grand-son, Adam. He was a loving and loyal husband and was fortunate to have a wife who shared his interests and passions. Richard and Ruth were ideal couple, epitomizing the Vedic dictum- Sahadharmam Charathah, walking together the path of Dharma.

Finally I can say without any hesitation that here was a man who lived his life fully, who lived his life righteously, who lived his life spiritually, with full of awareness, who gave more than he took, laughed more than he wept, hoped more than he despaired and left the world richer than he found it. I salute him from the bottom of my heart.

Four days ago I was with Richard, in a restaurant, eating, which happened to be our last supper - we were five: Richard, Ruth, Nancy, her friend Marc and me. While leaving he held my hand tight and whispered, "I want to study Shiva Sutras, the 67 mystic statements on Shiva and Sakti, from you". I gave him time for 20th, Wednesday, 11.30 AM.

The Shiva Sutras describe spiritual disciplines to be practiced by a devotee for ultimate union with Shiva, the supreme Universal Spirit. Richard was up on that day at 5.00 AM and was at his table at 5.30 and I am sure that what was then uppermost in his mind was Shiva, the dancing God of creation and destruction. He must have been so intent on Shiva that time-space evaporated, the bonds of the heart cut asunder, the body dropped and his soul ascended to Shiva Loka, the abode of Shiva, in Mount Kailash. His whole life, Richard chanted OM Nama Shivaya. Today He has become Shiva Himself - Shivohum, Shivohum, Shivohum.

It pains me to think that I shall never again see him in the form that I am used to. I may even unconsciously reach for the phone when I am faced with a problem. But soon I will get accustomed to the permanence of his physical absence and learn experientially the Gita teaching that the born shall die. Salutations to you once again Richard, our good friend!

Towards An Indian Management Style
Swami Bodhananda
(written on 14 September 2004, Los Angeles
Source: bodhini.com )
Management being a culturally determined discipline exhibits flavours peculiar to the genius of the people, inspite of its universal scientific structure. Thus we have American Management, European Management, Japanese Management etc. The overall concern of management is creating value for stakeholder's money and time. And of them customer is the king. This requires technology and design innovations on an ongoing basis. Worker motivation also is important. There has to be an investment-capital friendly entrpreneurial environment.

India, as it is poised on the high road to economic boom, has to learn to integrate the modern management values and practices with its ageold intgral worldviews and human objectives. Environment, family, spirituality, ethics and social justice are important survival values that humanity pursues and management science cannot and shoud not ignore those values in its wealth creating activities. Indian Management is in the crossroads. It can remain rooted in its present orthodox paternalistic mode, breeding corruption and inefficiency, and perpetuating poverty or take bold steps to open the economy to market competition, individual enterprise and to the challenges of global standards. No doubt it will be a painful process.

Growing up is always a painful experience. This does not mean that government has to go passive and remain a moot observer. The state must play critical role in ensuring infrastrucure building, social justice, law and order, individual freedom and above all reaching every citizen with food, health care and education. What is required is a partnership between government and private initiative. Sixty percent of Indians are abjectly poor, living below the poverty line, whose daily income will be less than fifty rupees. Another thirty percent may be called the middle class, with a percapita monthly income of 5000-7000 rupees. The rest ten percent of Indians are super rich. Goverment's focus should be on the bottom sixty percent poor. Government must ensure that the disposable income of the middle class grows and that the rich finds it profitabe to invest in India. This requires broad tripartisan class consensus in India's political culture and economic thinking. Individual thinkers, think tanks, media and grass root workers have to join hands to create such a dialoguing and focussed society. This is what is meant by the phrase 'Towards An Indian Management Style'.

Swami Bodhananda
14 September 2004,
Los Angeles

China Diary -- Visit in September 2007

SPIRITUALITY IN CHINA
Swami Bodhananda
(on His visit to China in September 2007)
Part 1

The Dragon wants a make over to the Panda image on the eve of the Olympics in Beijing, 2008. Dragon is a fiery, fork-tongued, scale covered, bulge- eyed, crocodile like, and huge reptile. It is mythical and reminds of the extinct dinosaur. It moves like the thunderbolt the weapon of Indra, the Hindu king of gods. The exclusive symbol of Chinese emperors, dragon represents power. Chinese palaces install two dragons as gate keepers- one holding a ball, symbol of male-yang-power; the other caressing a cub, symbol of female-yin- loving care. Panda is an endangered animal, exclusively seen in China. They look a smaller version of black bears, with white strips around the neck and belly. The total population of Pandas is only three thousand and the Chinese government has patency rights over all Pandas in the world zoos. I visited a Panda sanctuary in Chengdu, south central China, in 200 hectares of bamboo reserve exclusively for Pandas. Pandas are veracious eaters (a telling symbol for the consumerist culture that China want develop). They eat ceaselessly and then fall asleep. They consume 40 KG of bamboo shoots in a day. But they digest only one third of what they gobble up and the rest is excreted. The Panda excreta have great medicinal value in Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM). They use it in beds and pillows, for curing headaches and joint pains. They are cute cuddly harmless carefree animals.

China wants to be like Pandas, not dragons and evoke fear in others. They no more talk about people's wars and nuclear attacks. They talk about getting rich fast, about cell phones, blue jeans, global trade, foreign exchange reserves, tourism, English language, high ways, toll roads, super power status, national pride, the inevitability of inequality, the rich and the poor, the lazy and the smart and finally the need for pragmatism, and the creation of a peaceful harmonious society.

China is one of the oldest unique living civilizations of the world along with India. But unlike India they had an uninterrupted imperial rule up to 1911 AD when Nationalist leader Sun Yat Sen overthrew the last Chin Emperor and established the first Chinese republic. The Mongols (Ghenghis Khan and Kublai Khan) and Manchus who ruled China got fully assimilated to Chinese culture and language. 93 percent of Chinese are the Han race (ref. Han Dynasty 206 BC to AD 211), small built feature less, hairless, lean people, who flourished in the Yangtze and yellow river valleys.

China got its name from the Chin dynasty – 221-206 BC. They called their empire the Middle Kingdom (Zhong Quo). Chiang Kaishek who was over thrown by Mao Tse Thung whose communist party established the People’s Republic of China in 1949 succeeded SunYat Sen.

I saw the boat shaped fortress gate of the Forbidden City, from the ramparts of which Chairman Mao proclaimed the new republic after trouncing the Nationalist forces. In front is the vast Tienenman Square, three times larger the Red Square in Moscow. It is here in 1985 the Chinese tanks mercilessly rolled over and mowed down protesting Chinese students who wanted democracy and installed a statue of Liberty. Li Pen was the Prime Minister and Theng Hiaso Ping the paramount leader of China at that time.

On the south side of Tianenmen Square is Mao's Mausoleum, where the corpse of modern China's architect is kept embalmed. Russians started the practice by embalming Lenin; Vietnamese has kept Ho Chi Min's dead body and North Koreans that of Kim 1. I am sure Cubans will embalm Castro's body, thus continuing the superstitious practice of the Egyptians by atheistic communists. We in Goa have kept the corpse of the 16th century Franciscan saint Francis in his Church.

I was disappointed that I couldn't see Mao's embalmed dead body, as the Mausoleum was not open. I did see Lenin's body lying in state in the Red Square in Moscow. On both sides of the Tianenmen Square are the House of Peoples' Congress (meets only in five year intervals to rubber stamp politbureau decisions) and the Beijing Opera House.

I reached Beijing 10.30 local time on 21 September 2007. After 12 hours flight from Los Angeles, three hours wait in Norita, Tokyo and another four hours flight to Beijing. I spend my flying time reading a book on Chinese culture and history. I prefer window seats for my flights and get to see a bird's eye pre-view of the city that I visit. Beijing from the sky looked non-descript. But the ground reality was totally different and mind-boggling.

The airport was a swanky, marbled showpiece; but lacked finesse. Immigration and customs officials asked no questions and cleared me in a second. I had the same pleasant experience while leaving China from Shanghai. I was alone, (my party was to leave 8 hours later) and had two huge bags, but the young lady at the customs were so reverential that she helped me out of her way. Chinese instinctively respect saints and old people. Chinese, like Indians, talk loud, crowd around and couldn't care for personal space. The airport lounge was full of people waiting to receive their friends and relatives. Out side it was like New Delhi International Airport, so so.

The travel agent was there to receive me with his broken English, trained mannerisms and innocent, eager but phony hospitality. Chinese Universities give two-year courses in Tourism and related subjects and Spoken English. These trainees, mainly smart young women, know just enough history and local facts to satisfy the idle curiosity of tired tourists. They are prone to exaggerate and feed all the fads and notions of their customers. W had four male and five female tourist guides helping us in different cities. Male guides were sedate and eager to get work done, where female guides went out of their way to please us and exceptionally smart. Beijing was awash in smog. The van that took us to the Jade Palace Hotel on third ring road (Beijing has six ring roads encircling the city, where as Delhi has only two and Bangalore just one) was dirty and jerky. The guide crooned a Korean love song.

There are certain things that are emblematic of China- the ancient Silk Route connecting old Chinese capital Xian to imperial Rome; the Jade road connecting Beijing to Tibet; the great wall built by the Ming Emperors in the 14th century. The Chinese discovered the gunpowder, the compass and printing. Chinese don't use gold, instead they wear jade- rings, bangles and pendants and rosaries. This is contrast to Indians who will die for gold; we are the biggest consumers of gold in the world. We Akhilesh and me walked up the Great Wall north of China. It was difficult, the steps were three feet thick and I had to literally lift my foot with my hands. Mountains on three sides except on the south surround Beijing.

The Great Wall came to its present gargantuan size (5000 KM) over many emperors' time. It was to keep the northern hordes away from the imperial capital. The Wall connects several mountains. I chanted the whole Bhagavad Gita (700 verses) sitting on the Wall. The Wall is one of the Seven Wonders of the World, but not as high as to be seen from the moon. In Beijing we visited the Forbidden City, the seat of Imperial Power, the Emperor's Summer Palace and The Temple of Heaven, where the Emperor worshipped annually. The Forbidden City was inaccessible to commoners in the imperial times. Common people were also not allowed to use the symbols of the emperor – the dragon, number 9 and color yellow. The forbidden city, spread in 72 hectares of land and surrounded by high walls and broad deep moats, is a cluster of places- all plain, square shaped, with boat roofs and painted in bright colours. The palace complex has 9999 rooms- again number 9, all painted yellow. The complex has no trees, because the Fengshui, the ancient Chinese concept of architecture, proscribes enclosing trees by buildings. Women were not allowed to be seen, their feet were put in iron castes from child hood to make the feet small and prevent women from running away. The emperor kept an army of eunuchs to keep watch on his harem of wives concubines and male lovers. But the queen was allowed to listen to conversations from behind a curtain and intervene and counsel the emperor when needed. Nobles of the city practiced the same custom. Water in huge brass jars (ancient China was very advanced in bronze casting) was kept at different points to douse fire catches the wooden structures).

Another interesting tidbit of the imperial times was that the emperor had no voice in selecting his concubines. The queen selects them and she must have made sure that the ugliest ones were selected unless she herself had lesbian interests. Civil service examinations took place in the palace complex and topper was rewarded with plum job and matrimony with emperor's daughter. The present Chinese leaders don't stay here; they think that the city is jinxed. The summer Palace (built during the Ming dynasty1368-1644 AD) sits on an enormous man made lake. Behind on the north is a hill. This is according to the Fengshui tradition.

The northern hill hinders the cold winds blowing from the Siberian Iceland’s, and the lake keeps the habitat warm- a balance of yin and yang and the awakening of Che. The front building of the summer palace has in the courtyard statues of dragons, peacocks, roosters- representing power, peace and prosperity. The stone garden was exquisite. A particular type of stone, may be sand stone, is used in this art: they cut the sides to look it like a buxom lady for balance, then cut several holes in it for movement of energy, then carve wrinkles to make it look wise ad then deposit the piece in the bottom of lakes. After fifteen years of curing they lift the stone, which become rounded and smooth implying harmony. These stone gardens are Chinese masterpieces.

The summer palace has a very long winding corridor hugging the lake, perhaps for the emperor and his entourage to enjoy cool evenings. What is striking about the palace is its unobtrusive plainness and flow of spaces. The Temple of Heaven, Peace and Harmony, where the emperor worshipped annually for rain and good harvest is an imposing but open structure – An enormous square wall enclosing a round platform. The square wall, which has 12 gates three on each side, represents earth and the round platform heaven- symbolizing the Universal Parents. The platform has stairs of nine steps on all four sides and a central altar for sacrificing animals, the altar ringed by nine concentric layers of stone tiles (note the recurrence of number nine). White and red bulls were sacrificed and then the meat was cooked in huge vessels, which will be shared among participants. Jade and wine were also used in worship.

There was another building to the east as you walk down. The main deity here is again Heaven- a tablet with calligraphy on the altar, nine steps leading to it. On both sides of the central altar there were nine other tablets each. Outside two buildings on both sides housing further tablets representing the Sun, the Moon and other planets. What come across these structures and altars are simplicity, openness and subtle suggestiveness. The temple gates had cloud embossing suggesting that Heaven is beyond the horizon. In the evening we went to visit a traditional Chinese street, "Hutong" some thing like an Indian 'galli' or' Mohalla'. I felt as though I was in Pahadganj, New Delhi. Narrow winding streets, houses with central courtyards; women, teens and old people living in separate segments; kitchens a mess of modern and old vessels and gadgets; old men patting round bellies and picking tooth idling on wooden benches; hungry dirty children playing in mud; dogs, pigs and chicken running helter-skelter; garbage heaped in street corners; young men speeding on motorbikes and two wheelers -- it was like any third world over crowded city street, a century away from the Beijing I saw in the morning.

At the end of the day we saw a spectacular Kung Fu show presented by Kung Fu Martial Arts. The whole show was threaded around the story of a young boy reluctantly leaving his mother and coming to a master. He masters all the skills in record time, excels all, but falls in for arrogance and feminine temptations and loses his focus and the affection of the master, but later regrets, undergoes severe penances and discipline and regains his mastery and attention of the master, later enlightenment and the abbotship of the monastery. His training and later rigorous penances are the meat of the show. I kept my breath still during the entire show, my mouth open, my eyes wide and glued, my body stiff on its toes -- I have never experienced in my entire life such magic and thrill: gliding through rings, somersaulting, climbing on ropes and bamboo poles, swinging from one pole to the other, juggling several hats, lying on the point of a sword- it was an amazing display of power, speed, stamina and physical mastery and mind control. I mentally saluted the real Chinese people.

2 Nov 2007 13:08:30
Kalamazoo

SPIRITUALITY IN CHINA
Part 2

I thoroughly felt at home in China, though I did not understand a single word that they spoke. I liked tofu, eggplant, bitter gourd, and with peanuts I could manage to stay well fed. My favorite Soya milk tasted bitter in China. Surprisingly, Chinese don't drink milk. I hardly saw any cow, buffalo or goat in China. The joke is that the 1.2 billion hungry Chinese have eaten up long back all that moves and breaths. They get their protein from Soya.

India is the largest milk producer in the world (something to be proud of) and Indians love milk. The fat free protein could be the secret of the lean sturdy physique of the Chinese. Chinese do eat pickled snakes, frogs and moths. But I did not see them eating snakes in hotels. Pork is their staple meat. They put pork pieces in every thing and soups are invariably meat based. Chinese eat from small bowls using chopsticks. They mix every thing in the bowl, bring it close and pick pieces of vegetable or meat and rice with chopsticks and push into the mouth. Then sip the soup. Rice soup is popular.

I also learnt to use chopstick and pick peanuts successfully. The Chinese language is unique in comparison to the Semitic and Indo-European family of languages. It is highly nasal and the same word changes meaning as the tonal emphasis changes. Chinese language has no script as ours, the characters being clusters of pictorial representations. An average literate person masters 3000, while a scholar has mastery over 10,000 characters. I was told that all these characters are combinations of five types of strokes. The language is not phonetic and hence though the characters are the same spoken dialects vary from region to region -- like Mandarin, Cantonese etc. Mandarin is the official language of China. It is the language spoken by more people than even English and one of the five official languages of the UN. I could pick up only four words- 'Sheshe/thank you', 'Nihai/how are you', 'Maidan/bill’, and 'Fo/ enlightened’.

It is impossible to travel in China with out a Chinese guide. Travel in China is restricted unlike in India. Tourists are required to visit government emporiums and stalls. There they will swarm you and pester you to buy silk products, jade, jewelry, paintings, (we bought some pieces from an artist who paints with his mouth, he is born with out both hands, but is married to a beautiful wife) embroidery, ceramics, antiques, pearl and host of other items.

We are not allowed to stray and talk to strangers nor will they answer inconvenient political questions. All my questions about village poverty, the jobless and homeless, freedom, democracy, Tianenmen massacre, etc. were stone walled by our guide. Chinese TV is boring to watch and nothing in English. Chinese society is still hierarchical – men wield power and elders are respected and parents are revered.

Burial grounds are considered sacred. Chinese believe that dead parents live in heaven and that they dead will join them. Atheist Mao consoled himself thinking that he will join Karl Marx, Frederick Angels Lenin and Stalin in Heaven. Such is the hold of ancestors in the Chinese imagination. Burial of dead parent is a solemn elaborate ritual. The Fengshui master will be consulted immediately after death to determine the time and place of burial. The master after consulting astrological calendars determines the proper time for burial. He also chooses the right place according to Fungshui principles. Fungshui is based on the dialectics of Yin and yang and energy of Che and the equilibrium of Ming. It also accepts the five elements as the foundation of the visible universe. The five elements are - Earth, Water, Fire, Wood and Metal. According to the Chinese these elements are independent principles/ energies/ vibrations constituting the subtle and gross worlds, including body and mind affecting health and ill heath. These five elements further groups into Yin and Yang and balance determine the appearance Che, the energy and the Ming the material outcome. Yin and Yang in their extremities morphs into each other and in their balance contains each other. The Fengshui master selects a burial place where Yin and Yang balances, like between a hill on the north and lake or pond in the south. The burial ceremony includes invoking the spirit of the dead parent on to a wood tablet which will be worshipped daily at home. For the Chinese deceased parents in Heaven are gods.

The Chinese are very artistic people. They love calligraphy and painting, write pithy ironic poems. They build their houses to synchronizing with the rhythm of the seasons- summer, autumn, inter and spring. The noble's house that we visited in Shanghai was built according to Fengshui, between water body and a hill and also to enjoy the season. The house was plain and open hugging the pond to reflect the beauty of seasons.

Xian – the old Charming city: We left Beijing by flight for city of Xian on 8th September, reaching about 12 AM and checked into Grand New World Hotel. Xian is 700 miles south west of Beijing. The city is an hour’s drive from the airport. It is a brand new facility, gleaming steal and glass structure. The four-line road drive to the city was traffic light free. The city of Xian on the yellow River, with a population of 8 million, was the capital of Imperial China for about 1200 years during the Chou (1112 to 221 BC), Chin (221 to 206 BC) and Han (206 BC to AD 221) dynasties. The present Chinese national and ethnic identities are known these dynasties. The capital was later moved to Nanjing and later to Beijing. The city of Xian is relatively sedate; six lane tree lines roads were deserted in the day, but became crowded by evening.

After lunch we visited a 1200-year-old temple dedicated to Confucius. The temple built in the boat like style had a collection of 3000 tablets depicting Confucian teachings. On these stone manuscripts paper was pressed then ink was applied to make more copies. This practice was the genesis of printing press. These stone tablets could be any size between 2' x 3' to 5' 7'. After visiting the Confucian temple we watched a traditional Chinese music and dance program. Chinese theatres are very advanced in settings and lighting and very punctual. One young artist could excel in producing all kinds of bird sounds.

The instruments used were -- drums, cymbals, violin, variety of mouth organs, bells, flutes etc. The girl dancers wore extra long sleeves they could swing any which way creating an impression of birds of long plume in-flight, or bamboos swaying in wind or waves in ocean or clouds floating in the sky. The Terra Cotta museum was one-hour drive to the east of the city. Seven thousand soldiers, horses, chariots and other animals were dug out from an emperor's tomb. It was spectacular. Back in city we walked on the city wall, 8 km circumference, the only ancient city wall in the whole of China. The Ming Big Bell in the walled city center was another attraction. The 7 story Buddhist Wild Goose Pagoda, built in Indian style in 652 AD, established by Xuanzang (596-664 AD) who visited India and translated 1000 volumes of Buddhist literature into Chinese was elevating experience. His journey to India was immortalized and lampooned in Wu Chengen's novel ' Journey to the West' (Xi Yu Fi). Xuanzang's statue recently installed in front of the Pagoda shows a tall, hefty, moon faced, determined regal monk, holding a staff, with head shaven. Xian was exceptionally green, and gentle.

The Panda Land -- Chengdu: One hour's flight from Xian, Chengdu is the capital of Siachuan province and the largest city in the bowl like valley of Siachuan. China is largely mountainous. Only 13 percent of the total land area is arable, compared to India's 53 percent. Land available for cultivation is the same in both India and China in spite of China being three times as large as India. The Indo-Gangetic plain is one of the largest and fertile real estate in the world comparable to the Mississippi Valley in America. Chengdu was bigger and the airport was larger than Xian. 14 million people lived in the city and suburbs. Roads were wide, hedges lush green, tree lined avenues, clean side walks and cycle lanes, highways with flyovers, fabulous lighting in buildings and street lights, and breathtaking greenery. The first thing we did was to visit the Panda sanctuary. There were fifty of them. After the Pandas we visited an ancient Dao temple, the Dao Tse Chin. The venerable sage Lao Tsu and other eight immortals are worshipped here. Incense and candles were burned as offerings. The deities were fearsome, with raised eyebrows, wild black beards and large protruding eyes. Daoism is a living practice, we saw some male and female monks engaged in serious discussion.

Leshan and Emei Shan: We drove out of Chengdu to Leshan, about two hours away. Leshan, a town of 2300 years of history, (though presently it looked every inch modern, one site read" city of Future") sits on the confluence of three rivers – Min Jiang, Chang Jiang, Qingyi Jian. It was raining and cold. It was our first drive along a highway cutting through villages. Houses were one-two story two room sets with courtyard. I was told most of the house holds raised pigs in their toilets, which were generally ten yards away from houses. Occasionally we could see old people sitting around in chairs. But no children playing, may be the result of one child policy. The fields were ill kept, and farming was not modernized. The most important sight in Leshan is the huge stone statue of Buddha (Da Fo) standing 300 feet high carved on the side of a mountain overlooking the river Min Jian. WE gazed at the peaceful statue straining our necks from a boat. It is amazing that the monks took all the trouble to carve this statue hanging precariously from the cliff. Power of Buddhist concentration, or is it faith?

At Emei Shan we checked in Tian Fu Sunshine Hotel. It was cold and raining. The mountain ranges were spectacular. The following morning we went up the mountain to the Golden Buddha Summit- first three hours drive, then half an hour walk, then five minutes cable car. The three Buddha statues- Manjushree, Avalokitesvara and Sakya Muni seated on lotus surrounded by elephants on four directions on top of the pagoda and a standing Buddha inside was humongous. The cloudy mountain scenery around was fabulous.

We came back to Chengdu the same day.
Saturday, 3 Nov 2007
19:50:04
Kalamazoo

Hariom,
I have posted three stories- two are adaptations from Mahabharata and one from the Zen tradition. The key ideas that filter through the stories are - Life and death is a play act of the immortal self and hence flow with it; Minimize attachment as you roller coaster along the ups and downs of relational life; Spiritual life is more than repeting what others have said or done, it is always a new path, you make it as you walk it.
Enjoy.
Swami Bodhananda.

I am Swami Bodhananda. I love to teach Vedanta and its advaita interpretation in the light of modern thoughts and human problems. I also teach meditation as a corollary to my teachings. Another field that I explore is Management and leadership in problem solving.
I would write my musings periodically and request you write your thoughts and comments.
Love,
Swami Bodhananda.

Story 03 -- Who Cares?

Brahmachari Visvabandhu, after long years of service in the ashram, approached his Guru Prabuddapada and asked for the supreme knowledge, knowing which there will be nothing more to be known.The Guru taught every mantra that is in the scriptures and asked him to meditate and realize the Truth for himself.Brahmachari Visvabandhu retired to the forest and contemplated for twelve years and came back and reported to the Guru." Guruji, I realized the effulgent immortal self in me, beyond the five sheaths, transcending the three bodies, the witness of waking, dream, and deep sleep and of the nature of sat-chit-ananda."" That is all after twelve years of meditation, go and do it again" said the Guru.Brahmachari Visvabandhu went into the forest again to practice stricter form of meditation. Twelve years passed. There was a glow on is face when he returned to report to the Guru. " I realized the all pervading effulgent self of my heart shining equally in all beings, there is only one Self, the self of all." said the excited Brahmachari to his Guru."Go away, these things you can read in the books" rebuked the Guru, unimpressed.Undeterred Visvabandhu retired once again to the seclusion of the forest. He meditated, practiced severe forms of pranayama, chanted difficult mantras, stood on his head for long hours in rain, lived on dry leaves and water and finally the realization dawned on him and he came back and announced." Param Pujya Guruji, I realized to my consternation and wonder that the Self that shine in me, in you and in all is the same Self that manifest as this visible panoramic world of names and forms, of flora and fauna- the mountains, rivers, forests, stars, babies, bats and baboons. There is only One, not many"The old wise Guru looked at the overwhelmed disciple quizzically and said, " this what you said even a third rate poet knows and write about. Go and dig deep".Brahmachari Visvabandhu was at his wit's end. He somehow dragged himself to the wild forest to continue his meditation, for he knew not nothing better.This time he wandered in the deep forest thinking nothing, feeling nothing, doing nothing, being nothing, knowing nothing, wanting nothing... he just floated with the rhythm of the breeze. After a long long time he came to his Guru. This time he had a hallow, and he spoke in riddles."Revered Guruji, he paused and continued. I am enlightened. There is nothing- no self, no world, no me, no you, no mind, no mindlessness, no ego , no beyond ego, no bon adage, no liberation, no cause, no effect, no karma, no doer, no enjoyer, no destination, no destiny, no silence. And the formless void is form and form is formless void"Hearing Vasubanndhu's declaration the Guru roared in laughter and said in mock anger, " you stupid why waste my time, these I have heard umpteen times from Buddha the Gautama onwards. With out wasting my time any further go and meditate."The emaciated, and weak from long and arduous austerities, Brahmachari Visvabandhu staggered back and disappeared into the twilight of the forest. Years after years elapsed. Seasons came and went. The Brahmachari did not return. The Guru grew restless and anxious. One day the old Guru decided himself to go to the forest and enquire the well being of his dear disciple. After a long search he found Visvabandhu sitting on a lake feeding ducks. The Guru approached him with overflowing love and asked, " How are you, dear! Did you find what you searched for?".While brushing off drops of water on the duck's back, Brahmachari Visvabandhu indifferently said, " WHO CARES!"Those words echoed and re-echoed through the wilderness of the forest.

Swami Bodhananda.

Story 02 -- Death wish of the Deathless

Death Wish of the Deathless: An old lady lived on the outskirts of the
village. Beyond was endless forest. The lady as her support had only
one son. Everyday he would go to the forest to dig roots, pluck fruits
and collect fire wood. Some times he hunted small game. The old lady
thanked God daily for giving her such a good son. She had nothing to
complain, though she was leading a meg re subsistence life. Hard life has taught her to be satisfied with minimal needs.
One day, out of the blue, ill-luck struck her hard. She was sweeping
the front yard of her hut after her son left for the forest. Then she
heard a rustle in the woods and a shadow loomed over her bent frame. She
looked up to see to her utter horror a hunter standing in front of
her. The hunter over his shoulder had her son slouched and a snake
swishing on the tip of his arrow, with his bow hanging on the other
shoulder. The hunter conveyed the terrible sad news of the death of her only
son by snake bite.
The old lady was crest fallen and inconsolable. The hunter was furious.
He wanted to deal the severest punishment to the evil, cruel snake. He
said consoling the old lady that he intends to extract justice from
the snake and mete out a fitting retribution.
"Tell me, old lady", hollered the hunter, " what kind of punishment you
want me to give this wicked snake?"
The hunter breathed fire, " should I cut this wily slitherer into pie
aces, or crush it under a heavy stone or yet throw this cold blodded
viper into burning fire?"
The old lady looked at the hunter pathetically and whispered in her
feeble voice " son, will I get my dead son back by killing this snake?"
" Definitely not " said the perplexed hunter.
" Then what is the point in killing this stupid snake " sighed the old
woman looking into the other direction.
By the time the hunter laid the dead body on the ground and sat on the
trunk of a fallen tree, pinning the snake down to the ground, saying, "
my dear old lady, you are naive, you don't punish to correct an
injustice, you punish to take revenge and get even with the criminal. More
over how you don't know that this snake will not bite another innocent
child? To prevent such an terrible incident atleat, should you not kill
instantly this killer snake?
The old lady said in between sobs, " my child, what makes you presume
that this snake will again bite another unsuspecting victim?. May be
after seeing my sorrow he has felt remorseful and has vowed not to hurt
even a fly". " Don't you think that every sinner has a future and every
saint a past?"
While they were thus discussing and debating, the snake in its week
voice, to the surprise of the hunter and the old lady, opened its mouth,
put out its forked tongue and talked. " Friends you are barking at the
wrong tree. I am not the one responsible for the death of this boy. I am
only a junior orderly who just carries out orders under threat of
punishment for disobedience".
"Then if you are not responsible, tell us who is responsible for the
untimely tragic death of this boy', demanded the hunter in his harsh
voice. The old lady perked her ears to listen to the revelation of the
snake.
" It is Lord Yama who ordered the death of this boy. I just carried
out his orders, do I have a choice in the first place! Would you punish
an instrument, for example a sword, which cuts and kills? Or would you
punish the wielder of the sword? I am innocent , a helpless cog in a
cosmic machine, please leave me alone", while saying this the snake's
shiny eyes floated in unshed tears"
This time the old lady became furious. " How could Lord Yama, Dharma
Raja, the upholder of Dharma cause to kill my son; I don't believe this
boloney; I need justice; I want my son back" shouted the lady
hysterically.
The hunter shivered in fear at the mention of Lord Yama and cast
restless, furtive glances all around.
At that time Lord Yama himself appeared. He walked towards the old lady
in sure, steady steps, took her frail forearm in his big firm hand and
said in a calm, deep voice, " Mother don't blame me for the death of
your son. I may be the one who signed his death warrant, but I am only
an officer in a cosmic hierarchy, who just carries out orders
efficiently and conscientiously. My choices are nil. In Dharma there are no
choices, but only duties. People say justice is blind, but mother I keep my
eyes and ears open with out sleep or rest. Pardon me mother, would you
want me to be influenced by partiality, sentiments, likes and dislikes
in dispensing my duty? I just carry out orders!
"Whose orders?" This time both the hunter and the old lady shouted
simultaneously. For they have no more fear of Lord Death knowing that he is
only a glorified functionary.
"I take my orders from Lord kala/Time. Blame Kala if you should",
saying thus Lord Death vanished in a trail of smoke.
Neither the hunter nor the old lady had any clue who Lord Time was.
Their minds raced back and forth to the abysmal past and the endless
future, like a pair of birds caught in a dark tunnel.
Then there was a welcome breeze and a white shaft of light crashed in
front of them. From it emerged Lord of Time wearing a dhoti with black
and white boarders.
Lord Kala spoke in measured tones, "Lady, people accuse for every thing
good and bad. But let me tell you, listen carefully, it is not me the
direct cause of this boy's death. Actually, you won't believe, it is
his own karma that visited him in the form of death. We are all punished
or rewarded by our karma for our karma. We are our own tormentors as
well as benefactors. So relax. This boy just balanced his karmic account,
that is all! Relax!
Post script: On the way Kala meets karma who confronts kala.
" See you were telling the old lady that karma was the ultimate cause
of her son's death. Seriously, it is not me, but his own desire that
commanded me to cause his death".
Kala couldn't believe that outrageous statement." How can one desire
ones own death?" Kala asked in utter exasperation.
Karma said", because he is immortal, just as we all are immortal! The
immortal, for a change, just for the heck of it, like a child's play,
desires the pleasure of mortality. Only the deathless have the leisure
and comfort to play act death, the most creative act of the ever
existing. What else the deathless wish but death to express and enjoy
deathlessness?

Swami Bodhananda.

Story 01 -- Whose body is it anyway?

King Shrutakirti of Avanti had hundred wives. All of them were from
noble families, well trained in philosophy and arts, well behaved and they served their husband king with devotion and respect. The kingdom was prosperous, with no threat to its internal or external security and the subjects were industrious, law abiding and happy. But there was onecause of sorrow. The king had no son and that bothered the king to noend. What will happen to his kingdom after he is gone. King Shrutakirtispent long nights tossing and sighing in the bed with out a wink of sleepworrying about the future.

One day the great sage Kashyapa visited the palace. The king received
the sage with full honors and washed the sage's feet and spring led the
holy water on his head as well the heads of his devoted wives. After a
delicious meal of fruits, cooked vegetables, dry fruits and sweets
served with scented drinks the great sage sat for satsang with the king and his wives. The king fell at Kashyapa's feet sobbing and said that hewas in great grief with out a progeny to take over the reigns after him.Sage Kashyapa told the brooding king that there are two types ofsuffering regarding progeny- one not having children and the other all ofthem turning out unruly and disrespectful. Hence why don’t think ofadopting a child or training a worthy young man for royal duties? The kingwould have none of it. He wanted his own biological children. Kashyapadid not insist and initiated the king into "Ourasa Mantra" for thebenefit of having a son. After the satsang and rest Sage kashyapa left forhis ashram in the woods.

The king religiously chanted the mantra and his favorite queen
Bhadravati conceived. The news spread fast and every one was in a celebratory festive mood The king was over joyous. Queen Bhadravati shown like fullmoon. Duly she delivered a beautiful healthy baby boy on first fullmoon day of the month of ashadha. The kingdom burst into jubilation.The king and all his lovely wives dotted on the baby prince todistraction. They hovered around the baby like bees around a fresh bloom. There was nothing more that the king could ask for.

The boy mastered all the arts and philosophy- Vedas, dharma sastras,
archery, danda neeti, magic and sorcery, grammar, composition and
rhetoric, dance and martial arts- in no time. Now he was sixteen. The king was ready to hand over the kingdom to the young prince.

Then was hell let loose. The step mothers, ninety nine of them, became
jealous of the good fortune of queen Bahadravati. She will be the queen
mother and they couldn't take the very thought of it. They secretly
plotted and poisoned the prince who died excruciatingly.

Now the whole world lay in ruins all around the king. When misfortune
opens the flood gates it comes in like unstoppable Mongolian hordes.
The king became a mental wreck The wives who plotted the heinous murder were all put in prison, which added fuel to the hapless king's mental torture.

Then appeared Sage Kashyapa, like a welcome shower to sun parched
fields. The king was inconsolable and begged kashyapa to do some magic to bring the dead prince back to life. Kashyapa's consolations and advise to the king that dead people never come back nor was it desirable to callthem back were not convincing to the king.Finally Kashyapa said to the king, " alright, I will establish contactwith the boy through my magical powers and you can talk with him, andif he is willing we can bring him back. The disembodied soul is drivenpurely by the power of thought and are embedded in mind."

Then Sage Kashyapa drew a deep shaft of air, sat in samadhi, commanded he power of samyama and pressed the king's forehead with his left thump, his right toe jabbing the king's navel. The rest of Kashyapa's leftfingers spread gently on the king's head. The king felt a powerfulcurrent of energy passing over his body and fell into deep trance. " Seewith your inner eye" commanded the sage, and " talk to your son".King Shrutakirti saw his son, playing with a group of boys andbeautiful girls and the material body that he wore in his human embodiment still hang around him like an odor. So the king could barely recognize hisbeloved son for whom his parental heart pined. "Abhirama" for the first time he called his son by name. Other wise he called him only byhonyed adjectives- rojapooo, thenkudam, kanne, karale ....etc. Hearing a vaguely familiar voice the boy looked up and shouted back,"
I am busy playing, can't you see, who are you?"
I am your father, King Shrutakirti, my lad, have you forgotten us, me-
your father and your mother and the whole country is waiting for you,
why did you leave my child, we will not live if you don't come back-
saying this the king cried aloud.

The boy was amused and unconcerned and the whole thing was embarrassing for him and so he shouted back, " Who are you? father! whose father? I have played those roles of sons and fathers in many episodic birthsthat I have lost count. Tell me in which edisode did you play my father'srole? Saying that the boy continued to play.

King Shrutakirti was shocked to death to hear this cool, heartless
words of the boy. His tears burst out uncontrollably and he pleaded, " son, don't you remember your father? Please call me father at least onceand stop talking like that; I implore come back and take up yourresponsibilities, and be beside your father and mother in their old age.

Don't be thankless, remember we gave you birth, educated you and made youwhat you are today. Don't forget that and don't be ungrateful. The boy stopped playing, " this is real nuisance " he whispered andshouted back, "OK, Ok, you gave me birth, my physical embodiment, my material garb in one life. though I don't remember, but I take you for your word. But look here old man, don't bother me further, I have cast away that costume when the play ended, didn't I return the body cloak that I borrowed from you when I left the stage? Look carefully around your vicinity, you will find them, thank you for calling, but don't botheragain.
Bye.

[ The physical body which houses the mind- memory chip is born of
parents chromosomes]

The confused and exasperated king looked around listlessly.
Sage Kashyapa had already left unnoticed.

Nobody dies, nobody is born, it is all a big joke, whispered the kiang
unbelievingly as he shuffled out of his seat.

Swami Bodhananda.