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THE BUT The Past the sung but unclear The knot so hard unbreakable The notes lovely not at times Still the Present does adore the steps! Rung a thousand tunes afresh The dawn anew and fragrant neo! The count never ends my dear! The spells alive loud and bold! The Present does dribble into the Past- No rather flow at times, cascade Roll trickle or ooze. Pour surge Rush gush, sweep self to the Doom! Sweet the singing sweeter than ever! O My Dear, carefree not I am! The ambiguity is the curse, yet There is the But the Rescuer!
Science is yet to arrive at a final definition of life. It still divides everything into the living and the dead. But poets of lore treated it as a continuous flow from the life of the universe to the life of the tiniest sub-atomic particle and back. They experienced it and gave expression to the experience. The Vedas and the Upanishads are collections of these expressions. The art of yoga is the way to the experience, the essence of which is the process and the product of integration of one's life with the life of the universe. Fusion is the key word. Fusion of light with darkness, hate with love, knowledge with ignorance and so on. It is highly rewarding. Art and literature are means to it. In the oriental tradition of aesthetics, beauty is the state of an appreciable standard of integration. The greater it is, the more beautiful. The most beautiful is the perfectly integrated. It is the goal of life and the unmanifest persuasion behind all variations and explorations. So poetry like any other human endeavour should aspire to achieve it. Dr. Balakrishnan's poems do exactly that. His training and experience makes him amply qualified. He is a physician, he has seen various specimens of integration or the lack of it in terms of body parts and emotional inputs. He has apparently had his holy bath in texts of yore, the essence of the teachings going into him much deeper than skin. He knows, not just by theory but by practice too. Well, what is the eternal? None else than the only factor that continues unchanged and unchangeable in us all through our lives and beyond. There is proof for the existence of such a factor. It can be discerned by four simple questions and the common-sense answers to them. Q.1: Is it or is it not right to suppose that there is an underlying force behind this vast and complicated universe? None can say it is not there. Q.2: Where can that force be residing - in a corner of the universe or everywhere in it simultaneously? Everywhere is the natural answer. Q.3: Should that force not be in us too as we too are in the universe? Of course, it should. Q.4: In that case, everything else in us being ephemeral, is it not the real us? The answer is the mahavakya 'Tat Twam Asi'. The problem is it is beyond words so all verbal effort to grasp it will come to nothing. But words can take us to its door step. This is what Dr. Balakrishnan's poetry does. And he does it beautifully. Mystic poets and Zen story tellers did the same in their own style. This poet does it in the style of our time.
In the so-called literary communities of our society perhaps extinguishing rapidly, there is bleak hope to rejuvenate the public by means of sublime literatures. What to speak of the dormant intelligentsia ideally expected to breathe life in and calcifically strengthen the polio-affected bones of the continually degenerating people, the global politics is ever striving, adversely and negatively, to bring about a jungle raj in every nook and corner! The extant society is expressly galloping backward towards the inestimable old ages where the muscles survived immortally and benedictorily, and the cannibals and vampires tamed the weak and down-trodden for their delicious foods, sexual gratifications and social dominances. Actually, the present civilization is the replica of that civilization at which we mock meaninglessly thinking that ours is a highly sophisticated world.
A Journey of Healing and Transformation An enlightening memoir of a reluctant spiritual seeker who finds much more than she bargained for when she travels to India. Sadhvi Bhagawati Saraswati, from Hollywood, California, had a privileged upbringing that hid some dark secrets. She grappled with an eating disorder and trauma from her early childhood for years. But, as a Stanford grad getting her PhD in Psychology, she felt she was successfully navigating adulthood. After getting married, when she agreed to travel to India to appease her husband, little did Sadhviji know a journey of healing and awakening awaited her. She had everything the material world could offer. Soon, she would give it all up to follow the divine path. Hollywood to the Himalayas describes Sadhviji’s odyssey towards divine enlightenment and inspiration through her extraordinary connection with her guru and renewed confidence in the pleasure and joy that life can bring. Now one of the preeminent female spiritual teachers in the world, Sadhviji recounts her journey with wit, honesty, and clarity. Along the way, she offers teachings to help us all step onto our own path of awakening and discover the truth of who we really are—embodiments of the Divine. Americanborn Sadhvi Bhagawati Saraswati, PhD, moved to India in 1996. A graduate of Stanford University, she was ordained by Pujya Swami Chidanand Saraswati, president of one of the largest interfaith institutions in India, into the tradition of sanyas and lives at the Parmarth Niketan ashram in Rishikesh, where she leads a variety of humanitarian projects, teaches meditation, gives spiritual discourses, and counsels individuals and families. Americanborn Sadhvi Bhagawati Saraswati, PhD, moved to India in 1996. A graduate of Stanford University, she was ordained by Pujya Swami Chidanand Saraswati, president of one of the largest interfaith institutions in India, into the tradition of sanyas and lives at the Parmarth Niketan ashram in Rishikesh, where she leads a variety of humanitarian projects, teaches meditation, gives spiritual discourses, and counsels individuals and families.
The arrival of the young boy in an upper middle class Bengali household triggers a gripping story of love, desire and renunciation. Set in two different cities, New Delhi and Varanasi, Across The Mystic Shore explores the entwining lives of four women forced to confront their past decisions in order to understand their present delusions and insecurities. Questions arise throughout the story and family truths are unveiled. Central to the story is a dark and shocking secret that manifests itself and demands expiation from those entangled in it, having lurked in the past for twenty years. The narratives and memories of the four women enable the characters to grow over a period of twenty years, exploring the link between childhood and growing up and the theme of motherhood. Written with humour and compassion, Across The Mystic Shore is full of the sights, sounds and scents of India and delivers both an exploration of conflicts peculiar to Indian society and a universal underlying message about the strength of love and how it can be both selfish and selfless.
If I told this true crime story in Kanupriya's words, I would have spent my entire life writing it without being able to complete it. Some stories are never completed. Kanupriya has forgotten her hunger and dignity. How did house no. 627 turned her into Babu Ma’am? A lot has been left in this crime fiction book, but I have tried to cover a lot. In exactly the same way as Kanupriya still asks Ganga Maa at the Ganga ghat today, what was her fault? Along with her tears, the waves of the Ganges rise and fall and a musical voice is heard, "Kanupriya come in my water and drain everything." Kanupriya descends into the water and drains all those names with filling water in both hands; Both souls and bodies will dance in these waves of Ganga, Expansion as well as summary of life lies here, Karma and fate both are dancing together, Still the mind is in the bond of the ramparts. She bubbles these lines and then bends in water to say something to Ganga. Sitting in wet clothes on the ghat, she watches the waves of the Ganga fall and rise with wet eyes and this sequence of Kanupriya continues even today.
Starting with the Greek Megasthenes who noticed the Indiansworshipping the Ganga in 302 B.C. and ending with the NewZealander Sir Edmund Hillary who led a jet boat expedition up theriver in 1977, travellers of different nationalities and religions haveleft absorbing accounts of life along the Ganga through the ages.By the end of the 18th century, a number of accomplished Britishlandscape artists also appeared on the scene and made charmingsketches while sailing up and down the Ganga. Many of thesedrawings were subsequently worked up either into beautiful oilpaintings and watercolours or into coloured aquatints, lithographsand engravings to illustrate their engrossing descriptions of theriver scene.Most of this material is being published here for the first time,encompassing the essence of the enchantment and excitement of thetravellers of their passage along the Ganga through the centuries.
Why is it so rare? Because the perfect tuning of oneself with the universe is rare. It is not to be designed; it has to happen, as flowers come to the tree. Spring in real terms is when this happens. To get lost in one's surroundings is rather easy, most of us manage to at least occasionally when we are fortunate to be in a beautiful landscape of quiet ambience of the dissolving kind. We are elated, dreaming while being awake lost though firm on the ground, happy despite all our woes and pains. But even in this state, WE are very much there between the experience and the object providing it the bliss of being depends upon the state of being. However, real bliss is when even this intermediary existence dissolves out and only the experience of bliss remains. This is when the senses are not needed to gather the experience, the mind is not measuring it and the intellect is not qualifying and quantifying it. This is at the point where time and space not only coalesce but vanish!
Om! Having bowed down to Narayana and Nara, the most exalted male being, and also to the goddess Saraswati, must the word Jaya be uttered. Ugrasrava, the son of Lomaharshana, surnamed Sauti, well-versed in the Puranas, bending with humility, one day approached the great sages of rigid vows, sitting at their ease, who had attended the twelve years’ sacrifice of Saunaka, surnamed Kulapati, in the forest of Naimisha. Those ascetics, wishing to hear his wonderful narrations, presently began to address him who had thus arrived at that recluse abode of the inhabitants of the forest of Naimisha. Having been entertained with due respect by those holy men, he saluted those Munis (sages) with joined palms, even all of them, and inquired about the progress of their asceticism. Then all the ascetics being again seated, the son of Lomaharshana humbly occupied the seat that was assigned to him. Seeing that he was comfortably seated, and recovered from fatigue, one of the Rishis beginning the conversation, asked him, ‘Whence comest thou, O lotus-eyed Sauti, and where hast thou spent the time? Tell me, who ask thee, in detail.’ Accomplished in speech, Sauti, thus questioned, gave in the midst of that big assemblage of contemplative Munis a full and proper answer in words consonant with their mode of life. “Sauti said, ‘Having heard the diverse sacred and wonderful stories which were composed in his Mahabharata by Krishna-Dwaipayana, and which were recited in full by Vaisampayana at the Snake-sacrifice of the high-souled royal sage Janamejaya and in the presence also of that chief of Princes, the son of Parikshit, and having wandered about, visiting many sacred waters and holy shrines, I journeyed to the country venerated by the Dwijas (twice-born) and called Samantapanchaka where formerly was fought the battle between the children of Kuru and Pandu, and all the chiefs of the land ranged on either side. Thence, anxious to see you, I am come into your presence. Ye reverend sages, all of whom are to me as Brahma; ye greatly blessed who shine in this place of sacrifice with the splendour of the solar fire: ye who have concluded the silent meditations and have fed the holy fire; and yet who are sitting—without care, what, O ye Dwijas (twice-born), shall I repeat, shall I recount the sacred stories collected in the Puranas containing precepts of religious duty and of worldly profit, or the acts of illustrious saints and sovereigns of mankind?” “The Rishi replied, ‘The Purana, first promulgated by the great Rishi Dwaipayana, and which after having been heard both by the gods and the Brahmarshis was highly esteemed, being the most eminent narrative that exists, diversified both in diction and division, possessing subtile meanings logically combined, and gleaned from the Vedas, is a sacred work. Composed in elegant language, it includeth the subjects of other books. It is elucidated by other Shastras, and comprehendeth the sense of the four Vedas. We are desirous of hearing that history also called Bharata, the holy composition of the wonderful Vyasa, which dispelleth the fear of evil, just as it was cheerfully recited by the Rishi Vaisampayana, under the direction of Dwaipayana himself, at the snake-sacrifice of Raja Janamejaya?’