Twenty Thirty Musings - 1

There is this ole song ‘In the year twenty five twenty five’…

The lyrics begin…

“In the year twenty five twenty five
If man is still alive
If woman can survive…”

2525 AD is a far way to go. How about some musings about 2030? That’s around the corner all right.

Shall we ‘take off’ with the musings?

Last few years in India has changed the face of air travel. Airports are simply bursting at the seams. Long queues to enter the airport, at the check-in counters, and at the security-check points are routine. And when you get past all this, into the ‘please await the boarding call’ area of the airport, the place is often so crowded that one does not find a place to sit. And the flight is usually delayed due to ATC. (A few years ago, the term ‘ATC’ meant only one thing - ‘Air Traffic Control’. Now a new phenomenon has taken over this acronym - ‘Air Traffic Congestion’).

The fact of the matter is that air traffic is now becoming mass transport. What the railways and roadways struggle with today, the airways will struggle with before day-after-tomorrow. Today, with over six hundred flights per week between Mumbai and Delhi, this route features as one of the ten busiest routes in the world. And pundits are predicting that soon, more Indian routes will figure in that bracket. Bangalore, Chennai and Hyderabad will figure right up there…

So what will it look like in 2030 and beyond?

Will airplane designs be radically different? Will a plane be able to accommodate as many passengers as, say, the Grand Trunk Express? Take the cinema theatres, for eg. Twenty five years ago, theatres were crowded places, where you sit in closely packed seats, and step out once during the interval, to smoke filled lobbies and jostle through crowds to grab a popcorn and a coke. Not any more. The theatre is a plush experience, with shopping, lounges and stuff. Will the fuselage of the future be a bigger version of what it is now, or will it transform into a new theatre altogether?

More musings…

Can we sustain such traffic with existing airport processes? How many airports will be there in each large city? Will it be one or two or will there be a new model, which has many feeder airports in different parts of the city? Will there be new technologies, and new fuels, that make cost of travel a fraction of what it is now? Will aircraft technology be ‘green’? Will small aircrafts replace the current bus systems, and even cars? Can one fly to work or to shop, from the suburb to the city center? Will there be personal aircrafts that has a relative cost about as much as what a motorcycle costs today? What do you think?

Ho Hum….

In the year Twenty - Fifty five,
What will be left of the sky?
Where, O where, will all the birds fly?

The call of Ganga - 6

And to conclude this yatra report, here are a few thousand words.

The first two thousand, are “before-and-after” pictures of my fellow yatrees, Venkat, Marwadi and Ramay.

 

Below, is a long shot of Braj Ghat, as seen from somewhere in the middle of the river.

 And heres a picture of the thatch shelters on the river bank….

****

Time was well past noon when we disembarked and clambered up the steps of Braj Ghat.

Walking back through the throng of pilgrims, our minds’ haze was being pulled down by the insistent call of hunger. None of us were too keen to try the roadside eateries. Someone had put up a tent of sorts and was conducting a ‘bhandara’ - distributing food for free…The place was quite crowded, and our minds, sanitized by city-dettol-hygiene was not quite upto accepting the ambience.

Facing the main highway were several Ashrams. One of them, had a board that said “Paramanand Dham”. Here is a picture.

 

(Pl note one of our cousins sitting on the ledge, right side, below the ‘Om’ symbol)…

Hard to notice?

Well here is the fellow, down on the ground, outside the Ashram gate.

We walked in and found that they were serving lunch…Pilgrims were welcome. So we accepted that welcome and had a sumptuous lunch of Poories, Aloo and some other veg. A Sanyasi in ochre was in charge of the place. After we had had our lunch, he enquired about us, and shared a few pleasentries. He told us that we were welcome to come there every time we came to Gharmukteshwar.

And on that note, we went back to the cab.

As the car took off down the highway, Ramay commenced chanting Sri Rudra Prashna -

“Sri Gurubhyo Nama: ! Hari: Om! Om Namo Bhagawate Rudraaya! Namaste Rudra Manyava…”

—-Concluded—

The call of Ganga - 5

Braj Ghat, Gharmukteshwar is a cluster of dwellings that sits like a bee-hive on the branch of Ganga that flows by.

It is right on the Delhi-Lucknow highway. As it was a festival day, lots and lots of vehicles were parked all along the side of the highway. Our driver found a gap, and managed to squeeze the Toyota-Innova super-cab into that. One could, theoretically, drive off the highway, down into the kuccha-road, and find a parking lot far closer to the river. But then one would have to cross the local toll collector, who would be sitting with a rope on one hand and a big stick in the other (the rope, for acting as a toll barrier, and the stick as a token of authority). And having paid the toll, one would have to struggle through the bathing-ghat crowds and shops, inch by inch, leaning on the horn, to find the parking lot. We gave that a pass, and walked across from the highway.

While the general hubbub and enthusiasm of pilgrims was quite infectious, it wasn’t easy to walk through the narrow thoroughfare. Some Tarzans in big cars and station wagons were bulldozing their way through the crowd, and they couldn’t care less if they ran over your foot. These are not the sort of people you can argue with in any case. The roadside eateries and shops were picturesque and inviting. But we just passed them by and gingerly made our way forward, and in about ten minutes we were on the ghat-steps by the river. Lots and lots of people were busy having their dips. A couple of boats were berthed there. We hired one.

The boatman and his mate started paddling. The idea was to go across to the other side, or find some other suitable place, where we can be away from the crowd. It had been raining a bit up the trail where Ganga was coming from, and so the waters had that murky-foamy look about them. The boatmen were experts, and knew how to use the upstream and downstream currents, knew which parts of the river were dangerous etc. Rowing across a river is not as simple as drawing a straight line between two points. The boatmen labored hard and skillfully, taking us in an elliptical route. Finally, when they reached a point where the depth of water was just below chest height, they stopped and dropped anchor.

Venkat and Ramay were first off the block, jumping into the river. Then I. Water was very pleasant and cool, and the flow was vigorous. Marwadi had not come prepared for the dip - perhaps he didn’t have his wife’s permission. But then seeing Ramay, Venkat and me wallowing in the waters, he decided that valor is the better part of discretion, shrugged off his reluctance, and jumped in.

The next hour or so was sheer joy. The Sun was high. Someone chanted Aditya Hrudayam, the hymn to the Sun. That is a hymn from Ramayana…At the height of the battle, sage Agastya comes to the battlefield and initiates Lord Rama into a secret mantra, Aditya-Hrudayam - ‘Heart of the Sun’. Guru Poornima Day, standing in the flowing waters of Ganga, chanting the Aditya-Hrudayam looking up at the Sun - this was sheer joy. With a part of the river wholly to ourselves, with just river birds for company, immersing oneself in the swift waters of Ganga - this was heaven.

After a nice long while - refreshed, cleansed, energized - we reluctantly clambered back into the boat, and the boatmen took us to the far side. Quite a few folks were busy on that side too. What a fascinating tradition it is that puts something as joyous as an outing to a river, right in the middle of religion! Whole families were having a ‘whoopee’ day out, and were doing all sort of little rituals. Kids were singing river-songs. Elder folks were offering libations to the departed. Ladies were making offerings to the Goddess Ganga - dress pieces, bangles, comb, coins and such. Some gave Daana (gifts) to local priests…

Rowing back turned out to be more of a challenge for the boatmen. After a real struggle, they did manage to go to the other side, but the boat had to go some distance to get back to the point of disembarkation. On the way, we passed a river-side cremation ground. Stacks and stacks of firewood. One pile was ablaze. Just a few simple rural folks, consigning someone’s last remains to the holy fire, by the banks of the Ganges. In death - dignity and deliverance.

Gharmukteshwar - literally, the ‘Abode of the Lord of Liberation’…

….To be concluded…

What weather can do…

Going down the airport road in Bangalore this morning, I was moved by the sight of a school girl, carrying her mountain-gear-school-bag, trudging down the flyover (overpass) that had no pavement meant for walking. This scene could just as well have been in Delhi, or Chennai…A reaffirmation of the sad peripheries that pedestrians have been pushed to by the metro movers and shakers.

Chennai was hot when we landed. Drive was smooth till we reached the Kathipara junction, where a major flyover is under construction. This junction is a mess in terms of traffic. Like rivers coming from five directions to form a confluence, vehicles stream in from several roads and by some management and some magic, get through the jam and onto the next stretch of interest.

Traffic is simply exploding in Indian roads. And it is no cakewalk for pedestrians. The other day in Chennai, I was walking down Lloyds Road, or perhaps I should say that I was trying to walk, for it was no easy task. Tourist cabs were parked on one side of the road. What remained of the road, had to take two-way traffic and more. By mistake, I lifted my elbow sideways for some reason, and a biker in speed hit my arm, paused and looked to see if I was hurt, and finding me ok, just sped away.

Or for eg, Kennedy Street, a narrow arterial lane of Mylapore, where speeding motorcycles have thrown a real scare into the folks who live and walk there.

Add to this mayhem, the muck that finds natural residence on the roads. Old houses are being brought down and flats and commercial buildings are coming up all over…This means that a whole lot of rubble and building material spills onto the roads. And then there is the garbage bin plus ten meters stretch on every road, which becomes an open stink-yard. Except for the acclimatized veterans, no one can walk past that stretch with open nostrils, or eyes.

As I was ruminating on such murky thoughts, the Chennai sky changed color at midday. Dark clouds quickly took over the whole of the sky. Gentle thunder cleared the sky’s throat. Birds dashed off from their perches, ‘speeding their joyous cries from beak to beak’. The mood on the road became much cooler. All wars seem to be off. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a car stop to let a pedestrian pass. There is fragrance in the metro.

Good weather can do such magic.

From over seventy years ago…

My grandfather, Dr K Vaidyanathan, was a teacher by profession, and a poet at heart. He used to be very devoted to Mundagakkanni Amman, and so was very much in my thoughts these last few days. I was leafing through some of his poetry and reliving his thoughts. Here is one, from his book, ‘Smiles and Tears’, published in 1936.

A Reverie

When a riotous wind about me play’d
When reason fled and rhyme delay’d,
Ere Muse form forth her bower came,
To join free my hearty game,
Ere passion stirr’d my sleeping thoughts
And songs awoke in each other’s hearts
When lip to lip the whisper sped
Of the joy of moon’s peeping head
My pen began a worthless ditty,
O, what shall I say - ’tis a pity!

**

He would have sure loved the Web 2.0 world!

The lotus face

The post of Mundagakanni Amman temple (’Fifth Friday of Aadi’) drew a response from Srini, who asked what ‘mundaga’ meant. I thought it meant ‘head’. He said that it meant ‘lotus’. Guru google throws up a news story from Hindu newspaper, which says that mundaga-kanni means “lotus eyed Goddess”.

Mundaga also means ‘forehead’ or ‘head’. And if you see the pictures of Mundaga-kanni amman, you will see just a ‘head’ - no body. The idol mounted on ceremonial-chariot that was outside the temple was just that - ‘the face of the Goddess’.

As the temple is dedicated to Renuka Devi, I felt that the name alluded to that too. Renuka Devi is depicted as the “head”. As per legend, Renuka is wife of Jamadagni, the sage. She is kidnapped by Kaartaveerya, a Hyhaya King. Her husband, Rshi Jamadagni gives his powers to his son, Parasurama and asks him to rescue her. Parasurama kills the Hyhayas and rescues his mother. However, Jamadagni believes that her holiness has been tainted. So he asks Parasurama to severe her head, which he does. But the head continues to live. Parasurama then prays to Jamadagni to restore Renuka, which he consents. That’s the story in brief.

In this story, the King symbolises ignorance, ‘body identification’ and sense enjoyment; ergo, ego. ‘Renuka‘ is radiance in the individual, which gets deluded by the ego. Jamadagni is Iswara. Parasurama is Knowledge, which destroys ego, beheads the ‘body identification’. With the beheading of individuality, Renuka merges with Iswara, and that then is the radiant Kingdom of the Self-abidance.

So it is that Renuka Devi is depicted as the ‘head’ that is divinity-alive.

She it is, who is revered as Mariamman across South India. And as Mundaga-kanni Amman in Mylapore.

(Afternote: The symbolism that is suggested here is from purely non-dual view point. A more appropriate and better explanation on the symbolism, from the ‘human’, ‘here and now’ viewpoint, is given in the comments  below by Smitha…)

The Fifth Friday of ‘Aadi’

Today is the last Friday of the Tamil month ‘Aadi’. And like all Fridays of this month, this day is considered sacred - especially for worship of the “Energy” aspect of God, the feminine aspect of the Supreme, Amman…

I took a chance and visited Mundaga-kanni amman temple at Mylapore. Sure knew that it would be super crowded, but the morning air seemed to have a whiff of optimism, so I decided to chance it, have a distant ‘darshan’ if possible. It has been raining whole of last night, and so the narrow street that leads to the temple would surely not be the most inviting of pathways. And on such festival days, the traffic police would block the road just opposite the temple as well. But I was trusting the whiff. Somehow the gravity of Karma made it look easy, and after getting off a short distance away from the temple, I jumped across a few puddles, waded through a few more, and there I was, in front of the temple. Managed to jostle through the crowd and buy a nice garland of roses.

The temple was packed choc-a-bloc with devotees. It looked quite impossible to enter. The ceremonial-procession-chariot of the Goddess was parked outside, ready to roll. The ambience at the temple was incredible. It was a furnace of energy, ‘shakti’. Women devotees by the hundreds, in bright-fiery dresses, were assembled all over the small temple…hundreds of ‘kudams’ (‘kalasha’ - metal pots of water) were lined up on the corridor around the sanctum, and devotees were sitting around. It is scarcely possible to describe the tremendous vibrancy …

By some miracle, I managed to get a ticket and enter the sanctum-sanctorum. The idol of the Goddess was daubed with sandalwood paste. Managed to mumble a few prayers and offer archana. Got nice ‘prasaad’ of flowers, tamboolam, turmeric paste, consecrated water, vibhooti, kumkuma.

Coming out, I wanted to circumambulate the sanctum. But there were people parked everywhere. Could hardly find any place to walk. But then I saw a group of devotees mowing their way through and I just followed. At the back of the temple, scores of ladies were preparing hot food offerings, over makeshift firewood stoves. The drum-beats of the folks music orchestra was setting up a passionate pitch, sending all minds’ molecules into dance mode. Devotees with some special prayers, had pierced their cheeks etc, and were seen balancing long-sharp instruments across their face and mouth, circumambulating the shrine. “Om Shakti’, and other chants resounded in the temple…

How is one to describe the feeling?

As I stepped out of the temple, it felt as if I had entered a special celestial volcano, and had come out charged and blessed…Oh, the wonder that is India!

Swatantrata Divas - Sarvajit year…

Its that date again. August 15th. India’s independence day. Sixtieth anniversery.

Shashti-abda-poorthi…

The year of name Sarvajit. The same year that India won independence, as per the Indian sixty-year calendar cycle.

And on this occasion, I attempt a free translation of that great patriotic song sung by Lata Mangeshkar…The one that brought tears to Pandit Nehru’s eyes…

 ai mere vatan ke logo.n
 tum khuub lagaa lo naaraa
 ye shubh din hai ham sab kaa
 laharaa lo tira.ngaa pyaaraa
 par mat bhuulo siimaa par
 viiro.n ne hai praaN ga.Nvaae
 kuchh yaad unhe.n bhii kar lo (2)
 jo lauT ke ghar naa aaye (2)

Oh people of my motherland
Proclaim aloud your slogans grand
Unfurl the beloved of colors three
For this day for us is (indeed) holy!

But forget not the border strife
Where many a hero has lost his life
Do spend a moment, remembering them too
Who came not home after fighting for me and you

 ai mere vatan ke logo.n
 zaraa aa.Nkh me.n bhar lo paanii
 jo shahiid hue hai.n unakii
 zaraa yaad karo qurabaanii

Oh people of my motherland
Let your eyes have a tryst with your tear gland
Remember the sacrifice, oh so great
Of all the martyrs of our nation state.

 jab ghaayal huaa himaalay
 khatare me.n pa.Dii aazaadii
 jab tak thii saa.Ns la.De vo
 phir apanii laash bichhaa dii
 sa.ngiin pe dhar kar maathaa
 so gaye amar balidaanii 

When Himalayas was attacked and hurt
When our freedom was under red alert,
These soldiers fought till their very last breath
And then laid their bodies into the arms of death
With their heads resting on bayonet edge
They sleep forever having kept the highest pledge.

 jab desh me.n thii dIvaalii
 vo khel rahe the holI
 jab ham baiThe the gharo.n me.n
 vo jhel rahe the golii
 kyaa log the vo dIvaane
 kyaa log the vo abhimaanii

When the nation was enjoying Diwali
They were spraying red, playing Holi,
When we were at home, comfy and safe
They faced bullets and aerial strafe
What madness was it they had
With what pride indeed were they clad?

 koii sikh koI jaaT maraaThaa
 koii gurakhaa koI madaraasii
 sarahad pe maranevaalaa
 har viir thaa bhaaratavaasii
 jo khuun giraa parvat par
 vo khuun thaa hi.ndustaanii

Maybe a sikh, a jaat, a maraathaa
A Gurkhaa, or a Tamizh Veeraa
He who fell a prey to the enemy’s gun
Each was a hero, Indian, each one,
That blood that was spilled on the mountain
That blood was ours, ‘twas Indian.

 thii khuun se lath-path kaayaa
 phir bhii banduuk uThaake
 das-das ko ek ne maaraa
 phir gir gaye hosh ga.Nvaa ke
 jab ant\-samay aayaa to
 kah gaye ke ab marate hai.n
 khush rahanaa desh ke pyaaro.n
 ab ham to safar karate hai.n
 the dhanya javaan vo aapane
 thii dhanya vo unakii javaanii 

Even when injured, with a blood bathed body,
He lifted his weapon, fired volley after volley,
Each soldier killed ten-ten of enemy
Then fell, having done the highest duty;

And when the final moment was nigh,
He said, “Time has come for me to die,
Live happily, O loved ones of my land,
I need to go now, to a higher command!”

Oh, blessed were those soldiers of our country,
Blessed their life, their great gallantry…

 jay hind, jay hind kii senaa (2)
 jay hind, jay hind, jay hind 

*****

This is Sarvajit year. Sarvajit means “all conquering”. Jai Hind!

The call of Ganga - 4

We had arrived at Braj ghat, the bathing centre that is just short of the main town of Garhmukteshwar.

Garhmukteshwar is a very ancient place of pilgrimage. This is a part of the Hastinapura region, the Kaurava capital of Mahabharata. Local lore has it that this is the place where Goddess Ganga met Shantanu, the great grandfather of Pandavas and Kauravas.

Remember the story?

A King of name Mahabhishak had a momentary lapse of poise when he saw Ganga in the court of the celestials. And so was cursed to be reborn as a mortal on earth and marry Ganga, who too would manifest on earth in human form. Meanwhile, the eight Vasus (deities representing elemental aspects of nature) are cursed by sage Vasishta to be born as mortals on earth, for a misdemeanor that they had committed. The Vasus have no choice but to fall from heaven, but decide that they would like to be done with earth life as soon as they are born. And because they are celestials, Goddess Ganga decides to bear them as her children and deliver them from the curse of earth. And so it is that Mahabhishak is born as King Shantanu. And he meets and falls in love with Ganga - at Garhmukteshwar.

Ganga agrees to his proposal of marriage subject to his agreeing to her conditions. The first condition is that he never utter anything that would displease her. The second condition is that he should never question anything she ever does. (Fair conditions, which any sensible girl would like to demand from her suitor). And she adds that if he fails to live up to this promise, she would leave him forthwith..(and they talk of women’s lib now!)… Shantanu, being carried away by his Karmic tsunami, agrees…   

And so it is that Shantanu and Ganga live a life of great joy. And a son is born to them, the first of the Vasus. Ganga takes the child and casts the newborn child into her river form - the Ganga river. She just drowns the baby. Shantanu is aghast, but is bound by the conditions of his promise. He can neither complain nor question. Thus, one after another, seven of the Vasus are born, and meet the same fate. When the eighth child is born, and Ganga again proceeds to the river, King Shantanu can bear it no more, and breaks his promise. He vents his woe and questions her as to why she was repeatedly committing such a cruel act. That’s it. She spares the life of that child, but true to her condition, she leaves Shantanu.  

That child grows up to be Bhishma Pitamaha, the anchor of the great-great epic, Mahabharata.

Garhmukteshwar is thus quite a fulcrum point of our ancient world.

This town has around a hundred temples. Famous among them is the Mukteshwar temple, after which the town is named, said to have been built by King Shivi, a benchmark among Kings, noble ancestor of Lord Rama. The Mukteshwar Siva Linga is said to have been worshipped by sage Parasurama. There is an even more ancient Mukteshwar temple, where Ravana is said to have offered worship. There are several temples of Goddess Ganga. There is a place called Meerabai-ki-reti, associated with Meera Bai. One sure feels a timeless hum of faith as one enters environs such as this…

In India, you don’t just travel in space…you travel in time…you travel into forgotten lanes of your own heart and mind…

                                                                                         …To be contd…

The call of Ganga - 3

The left nostril of the highway was completely choked.

Cars, trucks, as far as eye could see. No way any vehicle could go forward or reverse or turn.

So our driver decided to breathe the car in through the right nostril, carefully, keeping away from exhalations from opposite direction. Driving on the wrong side of the highway? Right.

This fellow was a hardy Hindu from Punjab. And lived by his own rules. For eg, the music. He insisted on playing his Punjabi rap songs in the car stereo. We tried all four means of convincing - Sama, dana, bheda, danda (persuasion, bribe, divide-and-rule, punishment). But to no avail. He wanted his mundeya-kudiye music in full blast, all the time. Ramay suggested that all the songs sounded the same. But the fellow pooh-poohed it saying - “woh ‘aapko’ lagta hoga” (”maybe thats the way ‘you’ feel”).

After driving down the wrong side of the highway for a few minutes, he just parked the car and stepped out. Considering that there was no traffic coming from the opposite direction, it was clear that there was a major bottleneck up ahead somewhere. Ramay too stepped out. They spent some time out there, breathing the highway air, chatting with some local villagers, solidifying some speculations, and floating them as rumors (‘seems that the traffic jam extends for the next fifteen kilometers…all the way upto Garhmuketshwar….’…’fifty thousand pilgrims have descended there’…etc). Not all passengers in the vehicle pile-up were humans. Some trucks were carrying herds of buffaloes too…Patient creatures…

Soon the build-up from behind forced a move on. Like troops marching across the whole breadth of the land, vehicles moved forward from this side, taking over both sides of the road. No way could anyone now drive down from the opposite side. But big snarling trucks from the other side were trying to do just that. And soon, as can be expected, there was some major halla-gulla. Choudharies were coming out of vehicles and there was a free exchange of expletives. The swear-words of this part of the land come from a few thousand years of specialization, and no translation can do justice to the “its all in the family” exchanges. Full grown men were willing to slap each other and even box the bonnet of cars and lorries. ‘Oye, neechey utar oye!”…Jai Mata Dee!

Well, somehow, some sense prevailed, and it was just a bird-bird-beak-beak kind of wordy fight, and the crowds that milled around lost interest and trudged away to settle down on their haunches and light beedies. 

We had no option but to drive off the highway, which we did. Into a small brick road that ran right into the agricultural land that was by the side of the road. Kept driving, till we crossed a small bridge that was built over a barrage, some canal that came from the Ganga. And we came across other such kuccha roads, and kept at it in the general direction of interest. After half an hour or so of driving all along the canal, we found another bridge, re-crossed the stream, and ‘lo and behold’, we returned to the highway, having completely bypassed the traffic jam!

Soon, we saw signboard proclaiming the land of Ganga - Garhmukteshwar! Time was around 9 AM. We had arrived!