Friday, October 13, 2017

The World and I by Ramabai C. Trikannad

My grandmother, Ramabai C. Trikannad, was only 39 when she died of consumption (tuberculosis) in October 1952. During her short period on earth, she read and wrote a lot. She read the Classics, Victorian poetry, and early to mid-20th century fiction, including Wodehouse and Christie, which inspired her to write dozens of poems, short stories, essays, and newspaper columns. She also published a collection of stories called Victory of Faith. I love the depth of emotion and perception in her poetry, as you can see from this stanza from her poem The World and I.

It calls me bad and it calls me good,
As the world may in its various mood —
Slanders me to serve its gossips' end,
Differently calls me trusty friend.
It treats me nasty, and treats me well,
Praises; my name for a pice would sell.
God made me. He made me ill or good,
According to His sweet supreme mood.
Graceful figure or ugly to view,
He made me through and through.

© Ramabai C. Trikannad

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Just Saying

Heavy deluge in Mumbai: And God said, "Let there be rain," and there was heavy rain and flood. Then man asked quietly, "So, Lord, do we get a holiday tomorrow?"

Monday, September 18, 2017

Alphabet Quotes: U is for Understanding

"A blind man knows he cannot see, and is glad to be led, though it be by a dog; but he that is blind in his understanding, which is the worst blindness of all, believes he sees as the best, and scorns a guide."
— Samuel Butler

"I want my boys to have an understanding of people's emotions, their insecurities, people's distress, and their hopes and dreams."
— Princess Diana

"So long as you live and work, you will be misunderstood; to that you must resign yourself once and for all. Be silent!"
— Johann von Goethe

"When we talk about understanding, surely it takes place only when the mind listens completely — the mind being your heart, your nerves, your ears- when you give your whole attention to it."
— Jiddu Krishnamurti

"The evil that is in the world almost always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding."
— Albert Camus

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Slowing down: Set priorities and reduce stress

Eknath Easwaran

Simplify your life so that you do not try to fill your time with more than you can do. Start by listing your activities. Then prune the list, striking out anything that is not truly necessary and anything that is not beneficial. Set priorities and reduce stress and friction caused by hurry.

In today’s speeded-up ways of working and living, slowing down is an important spiritual discipline. In the modern world we are conditioned to live faster and faster with no time for inner reflection or sensitivity to others. We are only beginning to see that speed makes our lives tense, insecure, inefficient, and superficial.

It is not enough to talk about this; we must learn to slow down the pace of our lives. To do this it is a great help to start the day early; that is how you set the pace for the day. Have your meditation as early as possible. Don’t rush through breakfast. Allow enough time to get to work without haste. At any time during the day when you catch yourself hurrying, repeat the mantram to slow down.

In order to slow down, it is necessary to gradually eliminate activities outside your job and family responsibilities which do not add to your spiritual growth. At first you may feel at a loss for what to do with your newfound extra time. What we lose in activity we gain in intensity by learning to rest content on each moment. The English poet John Donne says, “Be your own home and therein dwell.” We can find our centre of gravity within ourselves by simplifying and slowing down our lives.

It is essential not to confuse slowness with sloth, which breeds procrastination and general inefficiency. In slowing down, attend meticulously to details, giving the very best you are capable of even to the smallest undertaking.

Source: Eknath Easwaran (1910-1999) is the founder of the Blue Mountain Center of Meditation, California, and the author of 40 uplifting books on spiritual living.

Sunday, July 9, 2017

Guru Purnima

Today is Guru Purnima, the day Hindus, Buddhists and Jains pay their respects to spiritual and academic teachers, and one of the most significant days in the calendar. A Guru doesn't necessarily have to be a spiritual master: he or she can be anyone who has made a positive difference in your life; someone who has guided you on the path of wisdom, compassion and righteousness — your school teacher, your parent or your mentor at work — and helped you realise your potential to be a good human being and held a mirror to the perfection within you.

I want to share this lovely Guru Purnima message from the late Indian spiritual teacher and author, Eknath Easwaran, who established the nonprofit Blue Mountain Center of Meditation in California in 1961. It is from Easwaran's The Bhagavad Gita for Daily Living: Volume 1. I recommend all his books.

"The word guru means "one who is heavy," so heavy that he can never be shaken. A guru is a person who is so deeply established within himself that no force on earth can affect the complete love he feels for everyone. If you curse him, he will bless you; if you harm him, he will serve you; and if you exploit him, he will become your benefactor. It is good for us to remember that the guru, the spiritual teacher, is in every one of us. All that another person can do is to make us aware of the teacher within ourselves."


Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Remembering Swami Vivekananda

“We must not only tolerate others, but positively embrace them, and that truth is the basis of all religions.” 

Swami Vivekananda was only 39 when he died on July 4, 1902, at Belur in West Bengal. But in that short period of his life, Narendra Nath Datta, by birth, accomplished more than most people struggle to achieve with twice his lifespan.

At the young age of 30, Vivekananda captivated the hearts of men and women in the United States with his soul-stirring speech at the Parliament of World's Religions in Chicago, on September 11, 1893 — a speech that he, quite unexpectedly, began with the words “Sisters and Brothers of America.” It was to become a household doctrine for the universality of races and religions everywhere.

French writer and philosopher Romain Rolland was so enthralled by the speech that he remarked, “The thought of this warrior prophet of India left a deep mark upon the United States... I cannot touch these sayings of his...without giving a thrill through my body like an electric shock. And what shocks, what transports, must have been produced when in burning words they issued from the lips of the hero!”

Overnight, Vivekananda, the foremost disciple of 19th-century Indian mystic Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, catapulted from a relatively unknown monk to a world-renowned seer. He was, beyond a shadow of doubt, one of the greatest social thinkers, reformers and teachers to walk the earth. He was instrumental in taking Indian spiritual culture and philosophical thought to a global audience, propagating harmony and mutual respect among people of different religious faiths, reviving Hinduism in India and making it stand among the pantheon of world religions, and raising the voice of nationalism against colonial rule.

Swami Vivekananda at the Parliament of Religions in Chicago.

Swami Vivekananda was so far ahead of his time and thought that he galvanised an entire generation, a whole nation, to be fearless and steadfast in faith, live for an ideal, and rest not till the goal was reached. In thought, word and action, the yogi was a revolutionary who believed that we were masters of our own destinies, responsible for what we are and what we wish to be, and that the power to scale the Everest of success was in our own hands. 

“Take up one idea. Make that one idea your life think of it, dream of it, live on that idea. Let the brain, muscles, nerves, every part of your body, be full of that idea, and just leave every other idea alone. This is the way to success.”

Today, 115 years after his death, Swami Vivekananda continues to inspire and motivate, and his teachings — rooted in spiritual regeneration — are as relevant today as they were in his time. Perhaps, more so. These are extracts from that rousing speech he gave over a century ago, their message of universal tolerance holding a mirror to the troubled times we live in.

I am proud to belong to a religion which has taught the world both tolerance and universal acceptance. We believe not only in universal toleration, but we accept all religions as true. I am proud to belong to a nation which has sheltered the persecuted and the refugees of all religions and all nations of the earth. I am proud to tell you that we have gathered in our bosom the purest remnant of the Israelites, who came to Southern India and took refuge with us in the very year in which their holy temple was shattered to pieces by Roman tyranny. I am proud to belong to the religion which has sheltered and is still fostering the remnant of the grand Zoroastrian nation.

I will quote to you, brethren, a few lines from a hymn which I remember to have repeated from my earliest boyhood, which is every day repeated by millions of human beings: “As the different streams having their sources in different places all mingle their water in the sea, so, O Lord, the different paths which men take through different tendencies, various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee.”

If there is ever to be a universal religion, it must be one which will have no location in place or time; which will be infinite like the God it will preach, and whose sun will shine upon the followers of Krishna and of Christ, on saints and sinners alike; which will not be Brahminic or Buddhistic, Christian or Mohammedan, but the sum total of all these, and still have infinite space for development; which in its catholicity will embrace in its infinite arms, and find a place for, every human being, from the lowest grovelling savage not far removed from the brute, to the highest man towering by the virtues of his head and heart almost above humanity, making society stand in awe of him and doubt his human nature. It will be a religion which will have no place for persecution or intolerance in its polity, which will recognise divinity in every man and woman, and whose whole scope, whose whole force, will be created in aiding humanity to realise its own true, divine nature.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

It Might Have Been by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

We will be what we could be. Do not say,
"It might have been, had not this, or that, or this."
No fate can keep us from the chosen way;
He only might who is.

We will do what we could do. Do not dream
Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve.
I hold, all men are greatly what they seem;
He does, who could achieve.

We will climb where we could climb. Tell me not
Of adverse storms that kept thee from the height.
What eagle ever missed the peak he sought?
He always climbs who might.

I do not like the phrase "It might have been!"
It lacks force, and life's best truths perverts:
For I believe we have, and reach, and win,
Whatever our deserts.

© Encyclopedia Britannica
Second Take: “No fate can keep us from the chosen way.” In my opinion, this one line perfectly sums up American author and poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s 1917 poem It Might Have Been. Many of us spend our lives dreaming about the things we want to do and the goals we want to achieve. And when we can’t — or choose not to — pursue our dreams, we spend the rest of our lives in regret and feeling sorry for ourselves. We blame our luck or the lack of it; we bemoan our fate for what isn't and what should have been. The truth is we have no one to blame but ourselves. When people with serious difficulties in life can swim against raging currents and climb hostile mountains and taste sweet victory, why can’t the rest of us climb a few rungs of the ladder to reach our destinations? The only way to change It might have been to I made it! is by substituting the proverbial “Impossible” with “I-am-possible”. Then we shall win, and have our deserts too.

Saturday, June 17, 2017


© Prashant C. Trikannad
“You want that bone you buried in Rottweiler territory on the other side of the road, you’re going to have to go through us first. Step over that line, mister, and you’re dead meat. Got it?”

I captured these pack of mean-looking, flesh-eating watchdogs, one summer afternoon, as I was taking a post-lunch stroll. And then I ran as fast as I could.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

The weight of the water

It was a pleasant Sunday evening. I was sitting at the kitchen table, having tea and conversation with my wife. I was relaxed and feeling good about nothing in particular. That is, until I got up to rinse my cup at the sink and found there was no water in the tap.

I panicked. “There’s no water!” Mentally, I said to myself, we’ve had it.

My wife said, “Maybe, the watchman shut off the main. I’m sure it’ll be back soon.”

Then I ruined the rest of the evening. For the next half hour or so, I checked the tap several times to see if water had started flowing again. It hadn’t. I rushed down and confronted the watchman.

“There’s no water in the kitchen tap for more than half an hour. Did you shut off the main valve?”

“Yes, I did.”


He pointed to a door on the first floor. “They asked me to, for about five minutes, said the plumber was fixing something in their house. I have already reopened the valve.”

“Oh, good,” I said, and went home. “It’s back,” I told the family, relieved that all was going to be well.

Only it wasn’t. Everyone in the building, except us, seemed to be getting water, even the people who had carried out the plumbing work. I smelled a conspiracy. We had been singled out.

I left the tap on in the hope that water would reappear magically. Minutes ticked by, a whole hour passed, and still no sign of water, not even a drop. I grew more restless. “We’re the only ones who are not getting water. This happens every time those idiots shut off and reopen the valve. Maybe there’s silt in the pipes or an air bubble. What are we going to do?” I muttered aloud, already worrying about Monday morning and the race to get out of the house. It wasn't as if I bathed in the sink.

My wife calmly picked up the phone and called the plumber, who came at once and annoyed me even more with his opening line. “If everyone’s getting water, then so should you. But, don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

The hell we should, I thought.

Then he did exactly what he had done on previous visits. He proceeded to open the faucet and clean it. No sooner he unscrewed the regulator and the cap at the mouth of the swivel tap, there was a sudden discharge of water into the sink and a sudden spring in my step. Few things in life make me happier than the sight of the Niagara flowing through our taps.

The plumber washed off the dirt that had collected in the regulator and the cap, and screwed them back on. “See, all you had to do was open the cap and clean it just like I did.” I nodded dumbly.

After he left, my wife gently rubbed it in: “That’s the first thing my dad would have done.

I wasn’t too happy to hear that either. But it was only because I had failed to figure out the problem myself. I probably would’ve if I hadn’t overreacted and instead thought it out calmly over a second cup of tea. If the problem was in front of me, so was the solution. I didn’t see it because I was blinded by my adrenaline-charged, nerve-wracking, stress-induced response to what was actually a no-issue.

We often act impulsively out of fear and nervousness because we believe it eases the situation, and also because we’re in denial about the reality of life, that sometimes things can go wrong. But they can also be set right with patience and fortitude, and a little thought for others. There’s no call for turning every event into a life-challenging moment and pretend as if it’s the end of the world.

The next time someone cuts off the water, I’m going to think twice before reacting and not allow the weight of the water to pull me down.

Saturday, May 6, 2017

The old banana seller

Come heat or rain, the old man sits sullenly in a plastic chair by the roadside and sells bananas from morning till night. He is unshaven, grim-faced, and wears a soiled kurta and dhoti. A vegetable vendor and flower seller keep him company on either side. 

I see the old man every day and wonder what motivates him to sit like that for ten hours and more. He has a tired and frowning look on his face. Maybe, it's not motivation; maybe it's compulsion born out of a necessity, to feed his family. Then again, maybe, his family wants him out of the house because he has become a burden, or, he has worked hard all his life and wants to remain active till the end.

One night, I saw the banana seller hand over money to a man on a bike. I realised he was paying commission on the bananas he sold. He owned neither the place he occupied nor the bananas he managed to sell. His net earnings must be meagre, just enough to see him through the next day's meal.

When he has no customers, the old man watches people walk past or nods off, his chin resting on his chest. What must his life be like? For a perspective, I have no right to crib about mine.