Speed

[ Fiction ]

He arrived at the shade with the car key in clutched fist and immediately settled in the drivers seat slamming the door.

Ignition turned full on and engine fired up; screeches of backing up turning tires tore up peace of the quiet neighborhood's night. By the time he arrived at the on-ramp to the freeway his harsh breaking and equally sudden accelerations would have made his mood clear to any onlookers but they were absent and he was oblivious. His mind didn't even register the fading profanities of a pick-up trucker when he merged in front of him being too close for comfort.

Once in lane with some breathing space ahead, he started moving again.

Tick tick.. a look behind...left
Tick tick.. left
Tick tick.. left...

He was now in the fastest lane with road on slight descent; in middle of dense traffic that was moving rapidly in both directions, oncoming yellows equally matched by the reds flowing ahead. 78-85-90-92-. And he found he can't go any further. Then he started weaving between the cars where space allowed and he felt he will soon leave this cloud of traffic behind. He thought, he was discovering a new mode of driving and started feeling better.

Suddenly he saw the image of the truck ahead blow up on his windshield in silence. For the next second he was not present but here is what happened. His foot pressed on the break pedal instinctively, then lifted itself, his right hand turned the power steering for a split second and restored it back. When he woke up from this second-long dream he was surrounded by deafening silence and then suddenly the noise of the freeway came back and he found he was seeing back fender of some car roll on the road and being left behind in the rear view mirror. For few seconds he was completely blank. Then he felt the hair rise on the arms and felt his heart beating with something gushing in his arms and shoulders. He realized he was still driving and he centered his car in the lane.

At the master's feet

-----
I am sitting just 4 feet away from where Ramana Maharshi used to sit and meet people in the old hall. It is morning and my fingers are touching the black stones of the floor, in an effort to ground myself to the vibrations of the place.

I sit motionless which is very easy to do in this atmosphere. I am able to see each and every thought arising in my mind with astounding detail and detachment along with being conscious of my breath. This has never happened before. Most of my thoughts are about self-importance and communication of this to others. How I am going to brag to others what experience did I have and entering into philosophical discussions about it. I can see my communication instinct so vividly. While mind is thinking about all this, I am fully aware and I try to gather and let my thoughtless self prevail. After few moments of success, it is same again.
----

Walls are decorated with big and small pictures of Maharshi's life. Floor is made up of red square tiles layed in offseted manner. Stones of the wall are painted in light yellow and all the woodwork in bottle green. There's plenty of light and air in the room. I am sitting on floor resting my back on the wall experiencing few precious moments of silence and clarity. Coming to the ashram and seeing all these pictures and artifacts feels like being in ancestral home of some loving great grandfather whom I have forgotten from ages. Unlike other places of ashram, there is no set purpose for this room. There is absolutely nothing to do and I don't have any problem with it. Time is flowing at it's own pace taking me in it. And I have lost resistance to it.
---
I am seated below the tree outside old hall in darkness. A hot summer day at Ashram is about to close and people are singing Ramana Sadhguru Rayane in the samadhi hall in tamil. Ladies' stanza is followed by gents' and slowly it goes on and on building up atmosphere of sincerity and devotion. Their singing is so harmonious that the collective accent of their language still emerges out of it and adds to the character of the song. Their singing is urging me to let the waves of devotion run over my anxious mind and close my day.

---
It is 5pm. Maharshi's samadhi mandap and its 16 carved stone pillers are ringing with veda chants. Everyone in samadhi hall is silently marvelling at these air-piercing pronouncements on the deep mystical existence of man. Throats are getting choked and tears are building up in eyes. These ancient sounds from forefathers are moving people exactly in a way they themselves would have been moved once.
----

In the shadow of Arunachala

It is about to be nine and the activities at the ashram are slowly drawing to a close. Most of the devotees and curious travellers of the day have left or are in process of leaving. The doors of the temple of the mother are closed and the most lights are off in new hall next to it. Only one electric bulb is on in the hall and its golden incandescence is making the outline of Maharshi's statue discernible. At the large samadhi hall too lights are getting off. The bhajans of regular householder devotees have concluded and their singing has left a trace of sincere devotional closure in the atmosphere of the ashram.

On the steps climbing up to the closed doors of the dining hall there hangs an electric bulb. The dim luminance of the bulb is illuminating large area around it; the straw shade, a line of water taps, the well and the tree in front of the old hall.

In the old hall an oil lamp is burning on a brass lamp stand hanging from the ceiling. Next to it lies Maharshi's sofa and on it lies his life sized portrait. Surrounding the sofa is a wooden fence and the floor is paved with black tiles made of stones. The very stones on which Maharshi himself would have walked once.

I along with last few of the devotees are seated in this dark and peacefully silent old hall. The tick-tock of the pendulum clock on the wall to the right is giving the mind something to latch onto amidst the usual noise of thoughts. Time is passing on. Finally the clock breaks its silence striking nine blows one by one reminding everyone the need to wake up. As I am trying to get up, I am feeling water at edges of my long closed eyes and my joined lips are resisting any movement to open up.

I stand up, do pranam and take his leave carrying a certain focus and solidity in my mind. I start walking in dark in deep thoughts with a huge shadow of Arunachala on my back. As I walk I think, the old man has left us in body seventy years back but the fragrance of his great soul is ever present here and it is drawing me here again and again where he dwellt in flesh and bones for a large part of his life.

As I am leaving and walking towards iron gate of the Ashram, I am feeling as if entering the physical world afresh with progressively increasing noises of the city and the road. And a grocery store board across the road reads in small fonts below its name: "All things available here".

I smile within, cross the road and stand waiting for a bus that will take me home.

On the mountain face

[ Fiction ]

The highness that was installed by the lord in minds of chosen few, he was witnessing it first hand when he reached near the top. The huge mountain face stood ahead of him with mist flying off it's top in brightest possible sunshine. He was exhausted and literally standing half way between life and death in a foot deep snow. He felt he had never breathed like this before. It would be wrong to call it a breath here for it was something so intimately tied with his existence and a large part of his existence was just that. Breathing. Though it was very near, death had become an illusion to him and he wanted to rest there.

હું કોણ (નિબંધ) ના અમુક ભાવાનુવાદિત અંશો

હું કોણ (નિબંધ) ના અમુક ભાવાનુવાદિત અંશો
----

વૃક્ષ નો છાંયો સુખપ્રદ છે અને બહાર નો તાપ આકરો। તાપ માં મજૂરી કરતો માણસ વૃક્ષ નો ઠંડો છાંયો શોધે છે અને ખુશ થાય છે. થોડી વાર ત્યાં રહ્યા પછી પાછો બહાર નીકળે છે પણ આકરો તાપ સહન નથી થતો અને પાછો છાંયો શોધે છે. આ રીતે એ તાપ માંથી છાંયા માં અને છાંયા માંથી તાપ માં ફર્યા કરે છે.

ફક્ત ગાંડો માણસ આવું કરે છે, જયારે ડાહ્યો માણસ છાંયા ની ઠંડક છોડતો જ નથી. એ જ રીતે આત્મસાક્ષાત્કારી જ્ઞાની નું મન નિરપેક્ષ બ્રહ્મ થી અલગ થતું જ નથી. જયારે અજ્ઞાની નું મન ભૌતિક દુનિયા માં આંટો મારી ને દુઃખ અને વ્યથા ભોગવે છે. અને પછી થોડી વાર માટે બ્રહ્માભિમુખ થાય છે ત્યારે સુખી થાય છે. અજ્ઞાની નું મન આવું છે.

આ ભૌતિક વિશ્વ જે આજુબાજુ દેખાય છે ફક્ત એક વિચાર છે. જયારે માણસ વિચાર થી મુક્ત હોય છે ત્યારે એ દેખાતું નથી. મન શાશ્વત આત્મા ની શાંતિ નો અનુભવ કરે છે. એથી ઉલટું જયારે વિચાર દ્વારા વિશ્વ જણાય છે ત્યારે મન પીડા ને વ્યથા અનુભવે છે.

કોઈ ઈચ્છા, વિચાર કે પ્રયત્ન વિના સૂર્ય સ્વયંભૂ રીતે ઉગે છે. એના પ્રકાશ થી બિલોરી કાચ ગરમી પેદા કરે છે, કમળ ખીલે છે, પાણી વરાળ બને છે અને લોકો પોતપોતાના કાર્યો  કરે છે. ચુંબક ની નજીક માં સોય ફરે છે એવી જ રીતે બંધાયેલો જીવ સર્જન, પાલન અને વિધ્વંસ એ ઘટમાળ માં પરોવાયેલો રહે છે. કોઈ સર્વોચ્ચ સત્તા ની ઉપસ્થિતિ ને કારણે પોતાના કર્મો અનુસાર કાર્યો કરે રાખે છે અને થોભતો નથી. એની શુદ્ધ નિષ્પક્ષતા અને નિરપેક્ષતા સૂર્ય ના જેવી છે જે દુન્યવી ક્રિયા ઓ થી અસ્પૃશ્ય છે.

એકેય અપવાદ સિવાય બધા શાસ્ત્રો કહે છે કે મુક્તિ માટે મન ને શાંત કરવું જોઈએ। અને જયારે એ ખબર પડે કે મન પર નિયંત્રણ એ આપણું ધ્યેય છે તો પછી મન ના વિષે ક્યારેય ના અંત ના પામનારા અભ્યાસો કર્યા કરવા એ વ્યર્થ છે. એના બદલે પોતાની અંદર રહેલા હું ની સાચી અને ખરી પૃચ્છા અને સ્વતપાસ જરૂરી છે. આ તપાસ ફક્ત શાસ્ત્રો ના અભ્યાસ થી કઈ રીતે થઇ શકે?

આપણે જ્ઞાનદ્રષ્ટિ થી સ્વ ને પામવું જોઈએ. શું રામ ને રામ તરીકે ઓળખાવવા માટે અરીસો જોઈએ? જે હું છે એ તો પાંચ પ્રકાર ના શરીરો માં રહેલો છે. જયારે શાસ્ત્રો એની બહાર છે. એથી શાસ્ત્રો ના અભ્યાસ થી એ સ્વ જે પાંચ શરીરો માં વ્યાપ્ત છે એને પામવાનો પ્રયત્ન વ્યર્થ છે. અને ખરેખર એને પામવા માટે એ પાંચ શરીરો ને પણ ફેંકી દેવાની જરૂર છે.

"હું કોણ છું જે બંધન માં છે?" એમ પૂછવું અને પોતાની જાત ને ઓળખવી એ જ મુક્તિ છે. મન ને સતત અંતરભિમુખ અને સ્વ માં સ્થિત રાખવું એનું નામ જ આત્મવિચાર (અંતઃપૃચ્છા) છે, જયારે ધ્યાન માં સ્વ ના સચ્ચિદાનંદ્દ સ્વરૂપ નો ઊંડો વિચાર કરવાનો હોય છે. ખરેખર, ક્યારેક તો જેણે  જ બધું શીખ્યું હોય તે ભૂલી જવું પડશે।

1000 Rs man

A man is seated in front of me in jam packed local to  Karjat. It is about 11pm and the city is about to catch a breather. It is a time where younger ones and young adults with clear minds usually go to sleep. And for anxious hawks, the night starts wearing on from that point until whatever time their cluttered psyches allow their fractured existence to hibernate.

An outstation train running parallelly is gaining momentum as it is entering a platform paved with smooth kotastones. All the dust of the day on the platform is being blown away by this entrance. In blue and bright interiors of sleeper coaches relaxed passengers are seen playing cards and leaving this crazy city. A circle of men is discussing something in a large vacant area of a coach with plastic containers and bags as their seats.

In my local, it's not so bright and airy. Tired and sweaty bodies wish to pop out of this tight box, but only at right station.

I can't stop observing the man who is one of the most ordinary grave-faced anonymous lower middle class city dwellers. He is so easy to forget. There is nothing flashy about him. Fiftyish, dark, thin and short with cheap but working shirt and pant and plastic slippers. Small dirty nails on toes and fingers. His head is full of coarse, dry and grayed hair which are well combed. Most striking feature of his personality is the grave eyes that are small and set deep inside. One could almost feel the cheekbones and sinking cheeks. One look at his serious face and eyes tells everything that man has went through. Yet he is so calm and agnostic that I feel a surge of pity and tears building up in me as I keep watching him.

How am I going to explain his existence to myself? Why is he living? What is his life? What is he living for? If he dies here and now there is nothing that can fetch more than 1000 Rs. A 1000 Rs packet of a man. What is the meaning of his life? I almost feel ashamed of my ambitions, extravagance and my ideals.

A day in life of a flinging window shutter

[ Fiction ]

Someone forgot to latch me before leaving home long long time back. They haven't come back in years and I am afraid myself and this entire home is abandoned. My young thought then was that they are going for a long vacation; now I think who has time for their rusty roofs and old windows in their country home?

The stopper is down, preventing me to fit in my place by chance either. Flinging between the outer wall and my own frame has been the only certainty of life ever since they've gone. Crying hinges, joint-loosening smacks and shakeups in merciless winds is my new existence. Dust and dirt make their way through me into their home and unsavory eyes and intensions glimpse through me onto the desolate floor of their home.

Someone watches me from the opposite balcony in every summer vacation. That is the only solace of silent summer afternoons while getting baked and seeing my paint layers curve and peel off.

But today...it is that time of year again. There is electricity in the atmosphere. The air has gotten wet and confused. After an afternoon of directionless weak turbulences, I am calling for a downpour full of conviction.

And it seems to have begun. The drops that started their journey from high above are caught in cunning surprise mid-air by opportunistic gusts of wind hijacking them for a wild ride down to earth. I see myself and the ground below smiling at this play. People are out in their balconies and evening plans are changing in homes around me.

The next morning:

Last few drops are running off my corner from the last night's rain. The dust has settled; there's mud on the house floor and I am calm. The air is steady and the star has risen and is on its way to midheaven making today what promises to be a glorious day with bright clouds floating in the sky.

Get-together

Sun seems to be rising fast today behind that abandoned house across the street. The morning is alive with anticipation. It is a new year day and soon the house will fill with loved ones, aunts, uncles, cousins and those who you don't know much about but they seem to know you very well. I am enjoying last few minutes of entire swing to myself and grandmother is preparing tea in a big vessel. Grandfather seems to be in good mood outside in drawing room; he is talking with someone in English and his forceful interjections are very new and awe-inspiring to my little ears.

Soon the house will ring with harmonious laughters and frolics of shared ancestry. Similar faces and exquisite cloths. Why that aunt cuddles me so hard? Why that uncle always scares me first and why that cousin fights with me all the time? I don't know, but I like them all. I like each and everyone of them in unique ways and they all love me very much.

Deutsche Bahn

Deutsche Bahn is sliding through green Bavarian countryside on a fall afternoon. On a large glass window scenes of idyllic German villages and towns are passing by in breathtaking speed and quietness. The Sun is playing hide and seek among clouds and when it comes out fully, everything outside livens up -- the gentle slopes of fields on the horizon and toy like farmhouses. When it goes out the same scene looks so drab and gray.

There's no sound in coach except the chatter of countryside housewives sitting across the isle and an occasional holler from a beverage hawker pacing that isle. There is a strong sense of being carried along.

Few moments

I am sitting among crowd at a side of the Gateway of India and admiring its stillness carved in sandstone. Sun is setting behind me near the edge of a famous building. Gusts of cool wind are hitting my torso and pushing it back and forth. People are engrossed in taking pictures and holding the Gateway by their fingers or the Sun in their palm. Behind me at the sea, there is a party of elites disembarking from their boat on to the stone ramp. Hands are extended, palms are meeting and the feet are climbing over the edge on to the shore, in the fashion and courtsey that they are accustomed to. What do rich people think? How they enjoy all that leisure and luxury? Were they staying at the famous building? I turn my head from it and the wind returns. I gather my mind and start walking back towards station in dusk.

A girl of my country

It is a September day and mild coolness of last few days' rain is fast evaporating. Usual humidity and sweat of the city are getting their hold on the atmosphere back. I am waiting on my two-wheeler at a busy traffic signal to take my right turn under the flyover. Thin and depleted leaves of the tree branches overhang the left of the road providing a semblance of a shadow.

Vehicles are accumulating around me and the red signal starts counting down from 160 seconds. Road is filled with smoke and idling noises of all kind of creatures producing that smoke. From fine purrs of the cars of the rich to thin crackling sounds of auto-rickshaws of the middle class and ugly whirrs of state transport busses and trucks of the poor as they vomit more black smoke.

As 160 seconds showed up, lot of traffic started turning their engines off and there is a perceptible reduction in noise. Amidst all of this, I saw a girl studying under the flyover right next to the road. She is sitting on ground in dirty frock resting her back on dusty zebra colored concrete slab. She is around 8 or 9 and seems to be doing her homework or preparing for exam, as she is quickly turning used rounded pages of her large notebook in her small hands. She is lost in her work and she is oblivious of her clothes or heat, dust and smoke around her. Big hoardings of culturally appealing beautiful ladies showing off silk sarees stand on top of her.

As I prepare to move on, I am silently admiring the resilience of that girl, which I am sure she is not aware of.

A girl of my country--my sister--is studying under a smokey flyover in traffic inhaling all that dirt in seemlingly aloof harmony, surrendered to just one thing, her studies. I salute you sister and many more like you. This great country is your inheritance.

Watching the morning happen

Left half of the bedroom curtain was half-open and the Sun was rising from the beautiful concrete jungle outside. It looked like as if someone was pouring glowing liquid Gold and filling up the space between towers. Cool air was entering the room along with two pigeons' gentle cooes sitting outside my window. On the green granite windowsill, a tea cup of fine china with steam coming out of it was waiting and the invitation to drink it was literally in the air.

Dear ones were still sleeping, and seeing them I knew that they are at least as peaceful as I am this morning. Leisure seemed limitless.

Happy Diwali

A small golden flare was rising up in the far, seeming to glow brighter and brighter before halting at one point and exploding as an umbrella of colors in high skies, leaving a small cloud of white smoke that started traveling in upper wind as soon as it formed, followed by a thunderous deep bang resounding in late night sky.

Happy Diwali and oncoming New Year!

Some impressions of New York City

I first saw New York from a plane arriving from San Francisco. It was a late afternoon of winter and clear skies. The destination was JFK and the plane entered from south and went on to take a big roundup over long island before turning back and coming closer to Manhattan. My first impression is that of seeing an array of beautiful homes with their square and triangular bodies lined up next to a road next to a beach on long island. When plane turned, I saw Manhattan head on for few moments and could recognize one world trade center and the Brooklyn bridge. Manhattan seemed monolithic to me, as if carved out of one substrate. Definitely New York evokes feeling of bigness or of a giant monolith. This is the same impression I got when I saw Manhattan skyline from observation deck in the Empire State building, this time the view was from midtown to downtown but the same feeling. The same feeling was evoked again when seeing the mid-rises lined up on both sides of any of the major avenues looking towards downtown. Manhattan/New York is one giant monolith carved out in one piece. One could also feel a certain crude alpha masculine energy eminating from the city, which most of the time seems at rest and static due to it's bigness, but certainly capable of dynamism.

Times Square is arguably the most important place on the earth and the cultural heart of the universe (until we find other civilizations and if they have something better). The mundane physicality of the place takes form of the theaters, pretzel sellers, hot dog stalls, large electronic billboards, etc, etc. However, the energy of the place is what counts. First of all there's no time at Times square. There's uniform density of people around it no matter what time it is and it just feels like any day or night or month or season, shows just different but identically rich intensity of the human life. It was so natural to walk past midnight on 7th avenue, towards Times Square, in temperature just above freezing, with my family, in anticipation of some great spectacle. On the way something bad happened and my mood turned sour. Though the matter was small and insignificant, it is hard to dislodge me at such occasions out of the unpleasantness. Not until the unhappiness burns itself out slowly, along with some part of myself. But voila! As we were approaching the square I felt upbeat emotions almost overpowering the state of my mind and it was almost euphoric. The feeling that I got was that the Times Square's vibe just bent my iron rod of the bad mood and threw it away...almost whispering to me "you are here, now see this, experience this!"

(To be continued..)

An evening outside village

[ A little piece of fiction ]

The last bullockcart full of his dear ones has passed and the dust is now finally settling on the road next to the cremation ground. His pire has reduced to ambers and a few dying flames. A soothing darkness is ensuing after a long, hot day of summer. All that's left there is: two dogs on the ground and two eagles hovering above.

The hands that lifted the load of the world till yesterday, quietly burnt away this afternoon. The brain that held so many beautiful thoughts, just evaporated this afternoon. The heart that beat so strongly, and bathed in waves of emotions his entire life, turned into mere charcoal this afternoon.

This afternoon, the death oblirated his entire life, along with the dreams of his and his loved ones. In matter of few fast hours everything was destroyed so ruthlessly that nobody had time to feel the pain or caress their wounds. All they could do is to just curiously stare at the gaping ugly holes that were left behind in their hearts and minds.

Meanwhile the silent cart was disappearing in the dark searching for the lights of the village. In the cart, what started as a small wrinkle on his son's lips has become an involuntary trembling of his entire mouth. There's unvoiced despair building up in his breath and the throat is getting chocked. Tears are desperately holding on to his lower eyelids, but any moment now they are going to slide out.

Every mind in the cart seems desperate for seeing signs of life, soon. Some confirmation for their primordial urge to belong to their own bodies and minds. They could not take any more blows from death tonight, not this evening...

Three forms of thought

It seems there are three forms of thoughts. We can also call them states of mind. Air, liquid and solid.

Most common form is air. Thoughts appear and go and move randomly. Also by nature they are chaotic. Mind is at its impressionable best during this time. However, each thought carries with it a small physical response in the body according to the quality and the nature of the thought.

In liquid thoughts, they are like a flow in certain direction, they are still chaotic but they are channelized on one matter or subject. In worldly sense, when we talk about 'concentration', they are liquid thoughts/mind.

The third state of mind is solid, where thoughts are few and far in between and much less chaotic. This accompanies with usual perception or sensation of solidifying/heaviness in brain. This state can be experienced most commonly just before falling asleep or just after waking up. If one is perceptive enough, they can literally see solid mind melting away and then going to liquid or air which we call normal waking state.

Solidifying thoughts and mind can also be observed while in Meditation or under the vibrations of a spiritual place/environment. I believe, if you hold on to the solid state of mind for long enough, there are exciting possibilities of watching the mind/thoughts disappear or vanish or reduce greatly in intensity.

Neuperlach Süd

He had just returned from Marienplatz from a day well spent with friends and colleagues. While coming back he was already planning to go again that evening at the same place; this time alone and with no shopping bags. He was prone to these tentative escapades in new environments, seemingly poorly planned and without any definite agenda.

So, when they reached their hotel, he told his colleague-friend, that he won't be able to join him today for pizza dinner at the shop next to the hotel as he wanted to go visit the the city again.

"Now?!" He took the colleauge by surprise, who didn't know him well enough. So, instead of  convincing him passionately in couple of sentences with his disarming smile, he gulped that bit of awkwardness, right there by replying a cold but sensitive "Yes, I will be back soon".

It was a late November evening, which was rapidly turning cold and dark. Chilling winds from the Alps and screeching fall leaves at their mercy were ruling the streets of south Munich. Either it is an empty city or most people are already at home, he wondered as he walked.

He arrived at the Neuperlach Süd train station. He had no phone connectivity and he was on his memory, the map and good grace of English speaking people.

There was no wait at the station. The Deutche Bahn for the city arrived soon, with two headlights on engine car piearcing the darkness of the elevated station enclosure. The sky outside the station was slightly more bright and colorful.

Before he knew, he was inside the train car with brushed metal and woody interior that looked pleasingly foreign to him. The standing area had a lot of people forming what he called a "comfortable rush". People were mostly dressed in formals, in pristine black overalls. There were overcoats, furcoats and hats; lots of leather too in various shades of brown, coffee and chocolate. In front of him, there was a flood of beautiful and big eyes; hazel eyes, brown eyes and greyish blue eyes. For few moments, he stared right into the stillness of those eyes. And the hair. Golden blond hair, whitish blond hair, mixture of blond and dark hair, thin, straight and sliding hair, dark black maskara on eyelashes, etc, etc. Everything was so new, so fresh and so foreign, except that thrust of the train as it started leaving the platform.

Some experiences at the Grand Canyon

The canyon is so overwhelming to the senses and the psyche as a whole. I think, the fact that this feature was slowly created over millions of years has ingrained some psychic quality to it. And when you experience it, that thing reflects in the timeless part of you at some deeper level. It feels as if, you and what you are experiencing are the same phenomenon.

When you first see the canyon, there is a feeling of being in front of a giant picture. You almost become part of that picture. The scene has somewhat timeless and transcendental quality to it.

When you stand at the edge and look down in the mile deep abyss, you are left speechless by these giant naturally carved out platforms, mansions and layers of rock...piled one upon another in step-like fashion descending deep into the canyon. It evokes stillness and thoughtlessness in you, for a moment.

હું કોણ છું?

ભગવાન શ્રી રમણ મહર્ષિ ની પ્રસિદ્ધ પુસ્તિકા Who Am I? (મૂળ તમિલ પુસ્તક - નાન યાર) નો ભાવાત્મક અનુવાદ.

હું કોણ છું?

બધી જીવંત વસ્તુઓ ને હંમેશા ખુશ રહેવાની અને દુઃખ થી દૂર રહેવાની ઈચ્છા હોય છે. બધામાં પોતાની જાત પ્રત્યે સર્વોચ્ચ પ્રેમ હોય છે. અને આ જે ખુશી છે એ જ આ સ્વ-પ્રેમ નું કારણ છે. તેથી આ આનંદ, જે દરેક નો મૂળ સ્વભાવ છે, અને જે ઊંડી ઊંઘ માં, જયારે કોઈ મન કે વિચાર હોતાં નથી, ત્યારે અનુભવાય છે, તે પ્રાપ્ત કરવા માટે પોતે સ્વ ને જાણવાનો પ્રયત્ન કરવો જોઈએ. આ માટે નો મુખ્ય રસ્તો, પોતાની જાત ને   "હું કોણ છું", પ્રશ્ન કરવો, એ છે.

1.  હું કોણ છું?

આ ભૌતિક શરીર, જે સાત ધાતુ ઓ નું બનેલું છે -- હું એ નથી.
આ પાંચ ઇન્દ્રિયો (શબ્દ, સ્પર્શ, દૃષ્ટિ, સ્વાદ, ગંધ) અને તે દરેક ની સંલગ્ન ભૌતિક વસ્તુઓ અને ક્રિયાઓ -- હું આ નથી.
હું પાંચ પ્રકાર ના પ્રાણ,  જેવા કે શ્વાસ, ઉચ્છવાસ, એ પણ નથી.
હું આ મન પણ નથી, જે વિચારે છે.
અને હું અચેતન મન પણ નથી, જેમાં ધ્યાન બહાર રહેલા પદાર્થો અને અને અનુભવો ની છાપ સંગ્રહિત થાય છે.

2. જો હું આ કશું ના હોઉં, તો હું કોણ છું?

ઉપર ની બધી વસ્તુઓ ને, 'આ નથી', 'આ નથી',  એમ નકાર્યા પછી, બાકી માં, જે જાગૃતિ માત્ર રહે છે -- એ હું છું.

3. આ જાગૃતિ નું સ્વરૂપ શું છે?

આ જાગૃતિ અસ્તિત્વ-ચેતન-આનંદ સ્વરૂપી છે. (સત-ચિત-આનંદ)

4. ક્યારે સ્વ ને પામી શકાશે? (ક્યારે આત્મ-સાક્ષાત્કાર થશે?)

જયારે આ દુનિયા, જેવી એ દેખાય છે, એ ખસસે, દૂર થશે, ત્યારે સ્વ નું ભાન થશે, જે આ જોનાર છે.

5. આ દુનિયા જેવી દેખાય છે એવી સાચી લાગે, તો સ્વ-સાક્ષાત્કાર નહીં થાય?

નહીં થાય.

6. કેમ?

જોનાર અને દેખાતી વસ્તુ, એ દોરડું અને સાપ જેવા છે. ત્યાં સુધી દોરડા ના અસ્તિત્વ (આધારભૂત સત્ય) નું ભાન નહીં થાય, જ્યાં સુધી ખોટા સાપ ની ભ્રમણા દૂર નહીં થાય. એવી જ રીતે,  જ્યાં સુધી આ દુનિયા, જેવી દેખાય છે એ ખરી છે, એ ભ્રમણા દૂર નહીં થાય, ત્યાં સુધી જે જોનાર છે, જે આધાર છે, એનું ભાન નહીં થાય.

7. ક્યારે દુનિયા જેવી દેખાય છે એ દૂર થશે?

જયારે મન, જે બઘી અનુભૂતિઓ અને કર્મો નું કારણ છે, એ નિષ્ક્રિય થશે ત્યારે દુનિયા જેવી દેખાય છે - એ બંધ થશે.

8.  મન નું સ્વરૂપ શું છે?

જેને મન કહે છે એ સ્વ માં રહેલી અદ્ભૂત  શક્તિ છે. મન થી બધા વિચારો ઉત્પન્ન થાય છે. વિચારો થી અલગ, મન નથી. તેથી વિચાર એ મન નું સ્વરૂપ છે. અને વિચારો સિવાય, દુનિયા નું કોઈ સ્વતંત્ર અસ્તિત્વ નથી. ઊંડી ઊંઘ માં જયારે વિચારો નથી હોતા, ત્યારે દુનિયા નથી હોતી. જાગ્રત અને સ્વપ્ન અવસ્થા માં વિચારો હોય છે અને દુનિયા પણ હોય છે. જે  રીતે કરોળિયો જાળા  નો તાર, પોતાના માંથી જ બહાર કાઢે છે અને પોતાનામાં જ સંકેલે છે, એવી રીતે મન વિશ્વ ને પોતાની બહાર પ્રક્ષેપિત કરે છે અને પોતાના માં જ સમાવી લે છે. જયારે મન સ્વ ની બહાર હોય છે ત્યારે વિશ્વ દેખાય/ઉભું થાય છે. તેથી જયારે વિશ્વ દેખાય છે (સાચું લાગે છે), ત્યારે સ્વ દેખાતું નથી. અને જયારે સ્વ દેખાય છે (ઝળકે છે) ત્યારે વિશ્વ દેખાતું નથી.જયારે કોઈ લગાતાર મન ના સ્વરૂપ વિષે અંતઃપૃચ્છા કરે છે, ત્યારે મન સ્વ ની બહાર આવવાનું બંધ કરે છે. આ જેને સ્વ કહીએ છીએ એ આત્મા જ છે. મન હંમેશા કોઈ ભૌતિક વસ્તુ પર અવલંબે છે. એ સ્વતંત્ર એકલું રહી ના શકે. આ મન ને જ સૂક્ષ્મ શરીર (જીવ) કહે છે.

9. મન ના સ્વરૂપ ને સમજવા માટે અંતઃપૃચ્છા નો માર્ગ શું છે?

જે આ શરીર માં 'હું' તરીકે ઉભું થાય છે, એ મન છે. જો કોઈ તપાસ કરશે કે, આ 'હું' શરીર માં ક્યાં થી આવે છે,  તો ખબર પડશે કે એ હૃદય માં ઉભો થાય છે. એ એનું ઉદ્દગમસ્થાન છે. જો કોઈ સતત 'હું-હું' વિચાર્યા કરે તો પણ, એ જ સ્થાન તરફ દોરાશે. મન માં જે વિચારો ઉદ્ભવે છે એમાં 'હું'-વિચાર સૌથી પહેલો છે. એ ઉદ્ભવ્યા પછી જ બીજા વિચારો ઉત્પન્ન થાય છે. હું પછી જ, તું અને તેઓ ઉદ્ભવે છે. પ્રથમ વ્યક્તિગત સર્વનામ વગર દ્વિતીય અને તૃતીય સર્વનામ નથી.

10. મન કેવી રીતે નિષ્ક્રિય થશે?

'હું કોણ છું?', એમ પૂછવાથી. જે રીતે ચિતા ને સળગાવવા અને સરખી કરવા માટે ની લાકડી પણ અંત માં બળી ને ખાખ થઇ જાય છે, એ રીતે, 'હું કોણ છું?' વિચાર, એ બીજા બધા વિચારો નો અંત કરી ને, પોતે પણ અંત પામશે. પછી, સ્વ-સાક્ષાત્કાર થશે.

11. કેવી રીતે 'હું કોણ છું?' એ વિચાર ને પકડી રાખી શકાય?

જયારે વિચારો આવે, ત્યારે એના મય થવાના બદલે એવું પૂછવું જોઈએ: 'આ વિચાર કોને આવ્યો?'. ભલે ગમે તેટલા વિચારો આવે, દરેક વખતે, જેવો વિચાર ઉદ્ભવે તેવો જ આ પ્રશ્ન પૂછો: 'કોને આ વિચાર ઉદ્ભવ્યો?'. અંદર થી જવાબ આવશે, 'મને'. હવે પૂછો: 'હું કોણ છું?', મન એના મૂળ (સ્વ) તરફ દોરાશે અને જે વિચાર આવ્યો તે નિષ્ક્રિય થઇ જશે. આવી રીતે વારંવાર ના અભ્યાસ થી, મન એના મૂળ માં જ રહેવાની કુશળતા પ્રાપ્ત કરી લેશે. જયારે મન, જે સૂક્ષ્મ છે, મગજ અને ઇન્દ્રિયો માં થી બહાર આવે છે (પસાર થાય છે), સ્થૂળ અને ભૌતિક વસ્તુઓ અને સ્વરૂપો ઉભા થાય છે.  જયારે તે હૃદય માં રહે છે, ત્યારે ભૌતિક નામ સ્વરૂપો અદ્રશ્ય થઇ જાય છે. મન ને હૃદય માં જ રાખવું અને તેને બહાર ના જવા દેવું, એને અંતર્મુખતા કહે છે. મન ને હૃદય ની બહાર જવા દેવું, એને બહિર્મુખતા કહે છે. આવી રીતે, જયારે મન જયારે હૃદય માં રહે છે, ત્યારે 'હું'-વિચાર, જે બધા વિચારો નું મૂળ છે એ જતો રહેશે અને સ્વ, જેનું કાયમી અસ્તિત્વ છે, એ ઝળકશે. કોઈ ગમે તે કાર્ય કરે, એ  અહ્મભાવ વગર કરવું જોઈએ. એ રીતે, બધું શિવ (ભગવાન) સ્વરૂપ  લાગશે.

12.  મન ને નિષ્ક્રિય કરવાના બીજા કોઈ ઉપાય નથી?

અંત:પૃચ્છા સિવાય, બીજા કોઈ ઉપાયો પૂરતા નથી.  બીજી કોઈ રીતે મન ને વશ કરવામાં આવે તો મન વશ થઇ ગયેલું લાગશે, પણ પછી એ ફરી થી છૂટી જશે. શ્વાસ નિયમન (પ્રાણાયામ) થી પણ મન શાંત થશે. પણ એ શાંત ત્યાં સુધી જ રહેશે જ્યાં સુધી શ્વાસ નું નિયમન રહેશે. પછી જયારે શ્વાસ ફરી શરુ થશે, ત્યારે મન ફરી થી પહેલા ની સ્મૃતિ અને છાપો માં ભટકવા લાગશે. મન અને શ્વાસ બંને નું ઉદ્દગમ એક જ છે. વિચાર, ખરેખર મન નું સ્વરૂપ છે. 'હું'-વિચાર આ મન નો પ્રથમ વિચાર છે, અને તે અહ્મ છે. જ્યાંથી અહ્મ ઉદ્ભવે છે ત્યાં થી જ શ્વાસ ઉદ્ભવે છે.  તેથી, જયારે મન નિષ્ક્રિય થાય છે ત્યારે, શ્વાસ નું નિયમન થાય છે, અને જયારે શ્વાસ નું નિયમન કરો ત્યારે મન નિષ્ક્રિય થાય છે. પણ ઊંડી ઊંઘ માં જયારે મન નિષ્ક્રિય હોય છે, ત્યારે પણ શ્વાસ થંભતો નથી. આ ભગવાન ની ઈચ્છા છે, જેથી શરીર જીવતું રહે અને બીજા લોકો ને એમ ના લાગે કે એ મરી ગયું છે. જાગતાં અને સમાધિ માં જયારે મન નિષ્ક્રિય થાય છે, ત્યારે શ્વાસ નું નિયમન થાય છે. શ્વાસ એ મન નું સ્થૂળ સ્વરૂપ છે. મૃત્યુ ના સમય સુધી મન શ્વાસ ને શરીર માં રાખે/ચલાવે છે, અને જયારે શરીર મૃત્યુ પામે છે, ત્યારે મન એની સાથે શ્વાસ ને પણ લઇ જાય છે. તેથી, શ્વાસ સંયમ ની ક્રિયા એ મન ને સંયમિત (મનોનિગ્રહ) કરવા માટે ઉપયોગી છે પણ એ મન નો નાશ નહીં કરે.

 શ્વાસ નિયમન (પ્રાણાયામ) ની જેમ, ઈશ્વર ના વિવિધ રૂપો નું ધ્યાન કરવું, મંત્ર જાપ, ઉપવાસ વગેરે ફક્ત મન પર સંયમ લાવવા માટે અને એને નિષ્ક્રિયતા તરફ દોરી જવા ના ઉપાયો છે.

ઈશ્વર ના સ્વરૂપો ના ધ્યાન અને મંત્રજાપ થી, મન એકાગ્ર (એકદિશ) બને છે. મન નો સ્વભાવ હંમેશા ભટકતા રહેવાનો છે. પણ જેવી રીતે હાથી ની સૂંઢ ને સાંકળ પકડવા આપ્યા પછી, એ એમાં જ પરોવાયેલો રહેશે અને બીજું કઈ નહિ પકડે, એ રીતે જયારે મન ફક્ત એક નામ, કે વિચાર પર વ્યસ્ત હશે તો એ એને જ પકડશે.  જયારે મન બહુ બધા વિચારો માં ચડી ને ફૂલે છે, ત્યારે દરેક વિચાર નબળો પડી જાય છે. પણ જો બહુ વિચારો શમે અને એકદિશ બને તો મન પણ એકાગ્ર અને મજબૂત બને છે. આવા મજબૂત મન માટે અંત:પૃચ્છા અને આત્મ-વિચાર સહેલા છે. બધા સંયમ ને લગતા નિયમો માં, જરૂરી માત્રા માં સાત્વિક આહાર નો નિયમ ઉત્તમ છે. આ નિયમ નું પાલન કરવાથી, મન ની સાત્વિકતા વધશે અને તે અંત:પૃચ્છા માં મદદરૂપ થશે.

13. ભૌતિક વિચારો અને સ્મૃતિઓ જાણે સમુદ્ર ના મોજા ની જેમ અનંત લાગે છે. ક્યારે એ બધા નાશ પામશે?

જેમ જેમ, સ્વ પર ધ્યાન આગળ અને આગળ વધશે, એમ એમ વિચારો નાશ પામશે.

A blade of grass

[ A little piece of fiction ]

I am a blade of grass growing in a crevasse between two concrete slabs on a road. As I stand just outside the drivable part of the road, I have been enjoying my existence since few months now.

It is a small drive in an insignificant part of the town. The drive is usually lonely and sparse. It looks as new and unused. One can even see the coarse small stones on the surface, in the molten tar. Anyway, there are not many people in USA to use all the roads in all parts of town.

From outside, there is nothing exciting in my life. I just watch weather, watch people's tyres who drive by and watch their cars and sometimes I watch them. I am pretty certain nobody watches me. Or maybe someone does once in a while.

Despite my unnoticed existence, I carry a world within me. I know what is it like to be alone standing on a cold night, a chilly and windy night, a night with slight drizzle or the following day with dull gray skies. Or a full moon night of spring, where there seems to be anticipatory liveliness, or a dark night of terrible winter and I get covered by snow. Snow saves me from more snow and water. It also saves me from seeing the plight of humans or machines clearing it to keep the road open.

Oh ya, I know about days too. Gorgeous clean days of post-winter, with sun's rays with all colors nourishing my face. An occasional passionate car passes by with blowout hiphop music or even a babyboomer lets loose with rock songs of the 70s.

Long and active days of summer seem so repetitive yet full of human activity. Short and cloudy days of winter where nothing much is happening outside and the sun seems repenting that he rose on that day in the first place. In winter, entire existence seem to be yearning for the night. The cold, cool, or a frosty night. A drizzely, calm, snowy or stormy night. In winter, humans seems to have nothing to do, and have much time to themselves. Ah, Christmas, Thanksgiving, the food, gifts, love, family, friends, shopping, chocolates. Hmm, winter here seems to have all the ingredients of the good life.

The good life. Isn't all about that? The good life; or is it about something else? Anyway, when I get so deep in thinking, an occasional splash of air or water wakes me up. I don't have to worry about anything, I am just a blade of thick grass and might even be called weed.

Nobody watched me coming and nobody will watch me going. Nobody watches me living, existing. But I do live, I do exist and my life probably has some meaning.