A Companion Unique.

An unfathomed mystery he renders my life

Unannounced he arrives, armed only with a smile.

Like a waxing crescent, seamlessly he grows

Illumines the depths and soon he wanes.

An intruder he was, a companion became.

Leaving his abode faraway, mine he shares

To what end, only the Almighty knows.

He cannot fight my battles, neither my enemies face

So he brings to me his victories, a comfort and solace

That shine to be my star and melt into my armour.

I cleanse him of his errors and defeats in return,

And replace his burden with an enlightened slogan

For together we are meant to bloom and flower.

Thus,

His treasures he empties on my lonely hours,

I replenish them with enriched dreams anew.

In this mysterious exchange between the two

No gain no loss marks the deal.

Only an amused Witness sanctions the seal,

To see the strength of his spark be added to mine

And then blazes the renewed aspiring flame

With a deafening chant of the sacred Name.

Sometimes he clutches onto the precious defiant memories

That refused to annihilate at the mighty compulsion of Time.

Fiercely he guards them, scantily he shares the felicity

As if that which outlived the roll of centuries

Could cease with a touch of my vagaries.

Cautious, he strives to protect their unblemished sanctity.

Often he invites me to visit his world

But never is the veil rent

And only with enticing glimpses

Returned I am back to my realm.

Unfair the terms of our truce-

I remain content with scraps obtruse.

While he gets my All to intrude.

Sometimes my stumblings

He rushes to support.

Often, it is I at his throat.

Accountant of all his errors

Unforgiving about most.

But all contraries meet a common ground

When a Presence mystique is felt around

For the heart leaps in an instant recognition

Of an essence familiar in this vast unknown.

The fragrance of a devotion, ancient.

The incense of an adoration, ardent.

For the altar of worship may have changed

The soul that once bowed remains the same.

And the memory when kindled,

Sweeps in a defining moment

All doubts that plague and riddles that maim.

Leaving behind in its hush only a whisper

The remnants of some poignant utterance.

What was denied to him in one lifetime,

Perhaps he comes to claim in another.

From his peaks we scan greater heights

This is a sojourn from Light to Light.

All his past I own, all my future he.

Entwined forever in this path to seek and BE.

Eternally we wrestle in an embrace sublime

Together we script a Fate Divine.

Some Answers Found...

It was merely a Youtube video.

India, 1925. A village in Punjab.

A rare footage. Colourless. Grainy. Jerky.

The visuals appear to depict the daily life of a villager. A matter-of-fact narration. Mostly, an impassive, academic tone. Perhaps, it was an ‘educational’ video. The intended audience may have been curious Britishers wanting to know about the life of a ‘native’ in an Indian village. Hence, a series of mundane activities were recorded, but something else was captured. Something else altogether.

About a minute into the the movie, your fingers tap to pause the video. For something has just hit you. And hit you hard.

As you stare at the frozen screen it gradually sinks in.

Pre- Independence India- An era that we have seen on the silver screen...read in those classic pages….heard in those melodious tunes. Suddenly, without the aid of lighting or sepia filters, no costumes, no songs no contrived recreations- It appears right before your eyes. Sans the glamour. And the aesthetics.

This is the hard reality- the raw, bleeding wound.
This is misery that defies histrionics of an actor, desperation that transcends drama on stage, anguish that eludes the notes of a symphony.

That man you see on the screen...that farmer ploughing his field...that women drawing water.. They are no ordinary men and women. They are ‘subjects’. Citizens of a colonised country. There must be something radically different in the air they breathe. In the lives they live. In the dreams they see.

And suddenly, things not apparent become evident. A single word colours your thoughts-That is an ENSLAVED human being. Their very body language exudes servility. As if at any moment, they would fall on their knees. There is less of an usual hesitation on facing the camera and more of a sense of fear. And awe. And heartbreaking timidity. As if the one behind the lenses is not just a photographer, for them he is their Master. This very thought is enough to grip you with repulsion and calm rage. The suffocation is beginning to get tangible.

And then you see children on screen too. Staring right into your eyes. And you instantly feel something strange. It is not the blank stare that jerks you, it is the vacant gaze. Eyes without dreams or hopes or mischief or even a simple glint of curiosity that ought to have been evoked when seeing a new gadget. Instead, they express nothing...they question nothing…. You begin to doubt if you actually saw any LIFE at all in those eyes. Yes, you did. Stifled lives.

Nature too does not stand immune from this darkness. The breeze that blows, the trees that sway, the river that flows….all follow their customary path. All of them look normal. But none of them Free. None of them ‘ours’. And then you begin to question the very meaning of freedom. Is it an abstract concept...an idea...a narrow creed...an illusion? Can the land, the streams, the wind actually perceive political sovereignty? Then what was amiss in those visuals?.Was it a sense of joy, a sense of harmony- as if this was just not their natural state of existence. So that is it. Liberation is a state of Being. It was the absence of this Being that created that overwhelming sense of vacuum. And it is so simple. The entire mass of land throbs with just a simple CRY. The cry of emancipation. The cry of Aspiration. And this was the cry of the human Spirit. The fettered soul that recoils from this falsehood, this cowardice, this indignity and seeks to soar high. Seeks growth. Yearns for Light and Liberation.

And in one single, all encompassing moment- grand mysteries appear solved. Question that haunted for a century find their answers. You no longer struggle to comprehend the emotions of that man who smilingly went to the gallows, the man who consciously chose a life of struggle, the man who bore the burden of a failing endeavour, the man who picked up a weapon and the blemish of the blood, the man who aspired to make an offering of his entire existence. You immediately and almost spontaneously understand. You feel the source of their strength. The depth of their emotions. For you have just seen a fragment of the darkness and indignity. Seen a few minutes of the sublime horror they must have actually lived for years before deciding to stand up and resist. And then their battle does not seem so inconceivable anymore. Some remnants of the warrior still linger in you. You almost see yourself taking the grand heroic plunge too. For it is impossible to resist the call of the moment.

And in this sweeping emotion all their meanderings, all errors, all experiments, all ideologies, all philosophies, the web of all ‘isms’ everything seems acceptable. For though their visions may not have been perfect, their executions even less so- there was something that was impeccable perfect- Their ability to hear that CRY. That intoxicating cry. That insane cry. The cry that can shake the very depths of a man. The cry that can compel one to wage unimaginable battles. The cry that can sustain one to endure the war.

Then there is a deluge of revelations. You begin to experience this overwhelming feeling of love- pure and unconditional for no particular object as such- not the land or the people--it just exists. Perhaps for an entity that lies beneath or beyond the these visible manifestations. It is this Love that must have drawn out the promise from those men, made them take that pledge and kept them undeterred till the very end. And their deeds, their sacrifices, their suffering becomes comprehensible. Attainable. For in that brief, flaming moment of revelation you instantly feel that for this LOVE, you too could have given your all.

And this love comes with a sense of power. A mighty power. It is something more than conviction-more than belief. It is a certitude- and assurance. Now you begin to comprehend that last hours of those martyrs...men who have seen the edifice of revolution they nourished with their sweat and blood fall to ruins, yet depart in peace without anxiety, or regret, or despondency. For they have experienced the LIVING TRUTH of their struggle. The Truth that shaped those grand dreams of victory cherished by the wounded warriors. The Truth that made it possible for them to cling to the dream in the darkest moments. For they must have realised that triumph of Truth is inevitable. As inevitable as the dissolution of darkness at the break of the Dawn. Hence, that sublime, assured smile lights up the gallows.

By the time the video ends, you realise that this experience defies the mind and its cynicism. You no longer care whether India existed as a nation or not, whether patriotism is a provincial concept, nationalism a regressive ideology, and Independence a farcical idea. For you have just heard an entity 'that does not exist' breathe, you have felt a 'narrow' sentiment to be the most expansive emotion that ever stirred, seen an 'outdated' concept invoke the highest form of love one can experience. And everything else is inconsequential.

And thus, no matter how dim the dawn of Independence was. No matter how bleak our future looks. 15th August, 1947 was and will remain a the day of Victory. For it was a day when a mammoth struggle culminated, a massive falsehood was defeated, a magnificent ideal was born and a resplendent Force had descended. The events stand tainted, the day remains unblemished.

And then they met Bapu: A revolutionary conversation in heaven.

Once upon a time in a place far away, a realm far above, there met a few individuals. Names we have known; some still worshipped, others still abhorred. 

“ You have no idea about the jail I was in…”
“It could not have been worse than ours!”
“Excuse me, there are some go us who were dead before we could see the face of a jail..so don't complain”.

A group of young men sat beneath a tree in what appeared to be a huddle. There were occasional raised voices, some argumentative tones, some pacifying comments. But there was a distinct amicability in their demeanour -a heart warming familiarity - when they slapped each other's back or affectionately hugged their neighbours or struggled to check their laughter.


And then one day, they had an intruder. 

“Bapu!” Bismil’s voice helped break the awkward silence.

Bapu smiled and asked-“Can I join you guys? I have been hearing your banter for sometime and just felt like joining in. You see, it's a bit lonely at my place.”

“You will join US?” Rajguru asked with a tinge of disbelief.

“Yes, just for a talk?” Bapu asked.

The boys looked at each other. And then in a firm voice Bhagat Singh spoke up-

“Why not. I think we have a lot to discuss” 

The glint in his eyes persuaded everyone to agree.

Prafulla Chaki hastily procured a chair for Bapu to sit. The revolutionaries sat around him in a circle. There was a slight feel of tension in the air. After all the two parties here were not really the best of friends at any point in time.

Bapu: So what were you discussing today?

Sukhdev: We were comparing jails and jailers.

Bagha Jatin: And rifles and grenades
Bhagat Singh: And Lenin and Mussolini.

Bapu looked visibly uncomfortable. 
Azad: (trying to put him at ease) And we were also talking of ..eh..Ahimsa and Satyagraha.

There was a giggle which was instantly muffled following a glare from Azad.
Bapu: Oh I am glad you have finally understood those principles. I knew you would one day. 

Bhagat Singh: We had understood them long ago!

Rajguru: (whispering) And thus rejected them also long ago.

*suppressed laughter*

Bapu: Sorry, did I miss something?

Barindra Ghosh: Nothing worthwhile.

Bapu: Anyway, there is something I always wanted to ask you, but never had the opportunity. How did you think killing a few individuals would get us freedom? Didn't you know you were bound to fail- we had neither the means nor the..?

Barindra: Bapu, if I see my mother being killed right before me, I would not be conducting psychological experiments then. I would not even take a moment to ponder whether the assailant is stronger than me or whether I am equipped to tackle him. I would just take the plunge irrespective of its futility.

Bapu: But how did you all manage to sleep in the night after shooting a man? With you hands stained in blood?

There was a grave silence. The revolutionaries looked at each other. The conversation was going to take a confrontational turn and they just wanted to make sure that everyone was in it together.

Bhagat Singh: Bapu, since we are discussing insomnia, we would like to bring to your notice that we had greater trouble sleeping in the night with pens and begging bowls, when we knew that our nation demanded blood. Ours and the enemy’s. So we decided to give the enemy some sleepless nights.

Bapu: But taking up arms is not true courage. True courage is walking unarmed into your enemy’s abode and challenging him with the might of your conviction. True courage is in resilience.

Barindra: Bapu, I agree with your definition of courage. But please allow us to present ours. (sharing a long stare with Bagha Jatin). 

True courage is walking into your enemy’s abode - with arms that you know are insufficient to protect but enough to provoke. True courage lies in firing that last shot without turning your back and then looking at the enemy in his eyes, seeing hatred, vengeance and triumph in there and yet smiling. For you die, rest assured that he killed you out of necessity and not mercy. That each drop of your blood was a sacred offering to the land.

There were a few moist eyes. Bapu looked moved but perhaps unconvinced. He preferred to keep quiet.

Jatin Das: Bapu, can we ask you a question too?

He nodded.
Jatin Das: We all know what we were labelled as after our deaths. You have been very uncharitable too in you remarks. But we do not hold it against you. You were the chosen leader and we are sure you acted responsibly. But we have been very curious to know what exactly did you think of us? A group of deluded patriots who went on a killing spree for cheap thrills? Like, really?

Bapu: No, you are misunderstanding me. I always respected your sentiment, your patriotism. But I knew your methods were going to harm the nation in the long run. Anarchy is not a suitable substitute for imperialism. Achieving freedom is not the ultimate goal - a peaceful, united nation was my dream.

Sukhdev: Irony O’ Irony! We all know what happened to the map of India in 1947.

Rajguru:. That reminds me, I wish our hanging was at Delhi instead of Lahore! For now, it looks like the ground where we lay our lives for the freedom of ‘our’ nation is no longer ‘ours’. It is a queer situation!

*laughter*

B.K Dutt: And another irony is that you had all the insight to look beyond achieving independence but could not look beyond the weapons in our hands? Did it never occur to you that men who sacrificed as much as we had were compelled by something deeper do so?


Bismil: (breaking into a song) 
We too could have remained in the comforts of home,
With love and care, nurtured were we too.
Yet we walked out without a parting word,
Nothing to console those abandoned eyes.

Pain and suffering, inscribed in our destiny since eternity.
But dire and despair could deter us not,
And as we tread into the valley of doom,
Musings of our Motherland, our sole companions.

A round of applause.

Ashwaqullah Khan: That was much needed, Ram. Brilliant.

Bapu: That was indeed beautiful. And I understand you very well. I know you sacrificed your youth, your dreams - some of you spent your lives suffering in confinement…and of course I can imagine..…

Bhagat Singh: No Bapu, you cannot imagine. Not all of it, for sure. You cannot imagine what it is like to wake up every morning in a prison and stare at those rails. To fight a hopeless battle everyday. To convince yourself that what you did was right. To struggle to stay strong for the sake of those who you lead.
Do you know what it feels like to stare into the eyes of your comrade-turned-approver- to see your friend, who till a moment ago shared the same ideal as you buckle under pressure. And you cannot hate him for you dread that you could have been in his place too - in his failure lay the possibility of your defeat.
Do you know what it is like to come to terms with the fact that all what we did might go in vain. That we would never live to see the dawn of independence if ever it does come.… (Azad stretched out a restraining hand on his shoulder).

Surya Sen: (with a faraway gaze) And yet we chose this life..this path.

Barindra: Or were chosen perhaps.

Azad: Thats enough friends. Let bygones be bygones. We have all done what we were supposed to do. And we owe no one any explanation, nor expect any from others.

Barindra: Bapu, we do not know about history, but as far as we are concerned- we hold nothing against you. And as my brother always said-a man’s value does not depend on what he does, but on what he is and inwardly becomes.

Everyone fell into a contemplative silence. Bapu looked grim. Finally the youngest of them all spoke up to break the solemnity.

Khudiram Bose: Bapu, you were so lucky. You saw the morning of 15th August. I cannot imagine what it must have felt like…

Bagha Jatin: (affectionately ruffling his hairs) So you want to exchange your life with his?

Bapu looked pensive amidst the laughter. And then he said with a sigh-

“Not sure about the life, but I think I would like to exchange my death with any of yours.” 

He slowly rose and walked away.

The boys looked at him with empathy, perhaps for the first time.

But it was not long before their revelry was back. The air reverberated with their carefree laughter and pure joy. And no one could snatch this away from them. Neither ridicule not accusations, neither history nor their countrymen.

For this was the celebration of martyrdom. And it lasted for an eternity and beyond.

An Evening Talk

A Sri Krishna-Arjuna conversation.

It was the evening before it all ended. Our last one spent together. 

The breeze blowing was somber, the waves splashing were foreboding. The feeling of being washed away was slowly gripping me. Strangely, it felt good. One after the other, each wave carried with it a memory of my life. Some I cherished, some I gladly let go. All my hopes  and desires, triumphs and tragedies, virtues and sins, everything was finally leaving the shores to merge with unbound vastness. The Infinite.

"Madhav?" 

I tentatively murmured. He was resting on the bark of a tree, his head slightly tilted towards me, his eyes lightly closed.

He uttered an inquisitive 'hmm?' without opening his eyes.

I paused for a while as I realised that I had not yet assigned words to my question . I hesitatingly said-"I was thinking....."

I saw his lips curl into an indulgent smile."What now Parth?"

I could not help break into a smile too. He had put me at ease. Once again.

"Is this the end Madhav?"

He gently open His eyes and looked at me. 

"Yes, it is."

Silence was all I could hear. I felt the sand slipping from my clutch. But my eyes refused to give way. Still affixed I continued-

"What did it all mean then?"

He turned towards the sea. I was anticipating an answer but I knew it was not in the near sight for I recognised that twinkle in His eyes very well now. 

"Parth, do you think the wave comes to the shore looking for meaning?"

"No, it comes only to return."

Without pondering, almost instantly and a bit impatiently I blurted.

He turned towards with me with an approving smile. I realised my answer implied much more than I meant. I persisted-

"But there has to be a purpose else everything is in vain?"

"Hmm..purpose..!"He mocked in jest. 

"Let history discover it, why should we do all the talking, fighting and then deciphering too! Give others a chance dear Parth!"

I couldn't help smiling. Nor could I ignore the turbulence in my heart. I wanted to hear something reassuring to be able to withstand what the dawn would offer me.  For I knew I was to witness a loss unimaginable for any man on earth.

He knew it too. Else He would not have borrowed this precious solitude for us.

 My questions were proving futile so I decided to keep silent. 

After a while, on His account He began with a faraway look-

"We had fun, didn't we Parth?"

That we did. My mind raced along the banks of my memory and snatched the remnants of the moments spent together. Sheer bliss defined them. This I was not ready to let go.

While I was reminiscing,I suddenly noticed that He was staring at me with a look so tender and loving that I could cease to exist at that very moment.

Thus, I lowered my gaze and realised my face was wet. And this was not the spray of the ocean.

I turned my thoughts towards Him, instead, wondering if He felt the same as I did. Of course he did not. He would not indulge in the ignorance I was willingly wallowing in. And our union was beyond parting, this He would more than just know.

But then I was sure I saw His eyes glimmer. Was it a tear of the compassion that he felt upon seeing me unnecessarily suffer. Or was it disappointment that I had in me still a lot of things unconquered.

I could no longer betray myself so I asked the question which had been haunting me-

"Madhav, we shall surely meet again.... right?"

"With certitude."

I felt a surge of relief embracing me. I cannot imagine what I would have done had His answer been otherwise.

He continued- "But that's not what I was thinking about...."

"Then?"

He paused and and with a tinge of pang said-

"It's the time in between."

"Parth...it will take quite a while to have such an evening again."

I felt being pricked but I was strangely unshaken. As if finally something within had taken charge and put an end to the overwhelming drama I was engaged in. Not just did I sit still, I actually attained an unmoving poise. I could feeI the depths of me aspiring to envelop their thoughts with words. Finally I uttered- 

I shall wait.

And then I heard a soft but profound- 

Me too.

There was no more scope for words. This would sustain me for eternity and beyond.

He slowly took out His flute and poured into it music which stirred the innermost fibre of by being.

I noticed the moon which had just arrived on time to hear the celestial notes filling the night.

I drew a long breath and wondered about the number of centuries, ages, lifetimes that would pass before the moon would grace our next rendezvous on a similar evening...

It was a bittersweet parting.

Arjuna -The Final Act

I know even now Your gaze lingers on me.
For You might have to ensure
The final act too is just as it ought to be.

Here I am, at the edge of the cliff
Frozen I lie, mute I see
My loved ones, all scattered in this valley.
In turns they left me, with memories and pain.
And my entire life  plays before me
In silence I reel.

Hate and strife,
Oppression and fear,
Loss and cries,
Smiles and tears,
Battles and enemies,
Defeats and victories
All pay the customary last visit.
But the heart hardly throbs,
Impassive even to such stirring emotions.

Save one smile which curled up my lips
When I remembered our first meeting
And one tear when our last.
And one sigh when that bow slipped out of my hands,
As if all my glory was a thing of the past.

Then I felt that familiar sinking,muscles all tense
I knew yet another breakdown was on its way.
But I indulged in it with a secret joy
For by now I had understood this well
My folly invokes Your presence more than my sense.

Thus, You came and intervened
Cleared my vision, blurred the triviality
Then all what remained was a path to Infinity
And just You and me walking on it.

Sometimes You were behind me,
I was hardly aware of Your hand propelling me.
Sometimes You were ahead of me
By my hand leading me.
Sometimes or rather often I stopped dead in my tracks,
Those moments extracted Your knowing smile
And patiently you held me in Your embrace
Till I was ready again to be worthy of your grace.

You dealt as only You could.
Sometimes You explained, at others revealed
Sometimes You cajoled, at others rebuked
Some times You suggested, at others instructed
But above and beyond all, you LOVED.
You loved as only You could.

And my entire being exalts when it recalls those eyes.
Those tender eyes which kept my fragile self affixed.
Now soaked I am yet again in its shower
I feel the known rhyme of Your breath
As it blows away my failures and woes
All that remains is just Bliss.
And Love.


Love in the joy of Union
Love in the pang of separation.
Thus,there was peace on my face,
Contentment in my heart.
Gratitude in my soul
And no sorrow or sense of loss.

Instead I broke into a laughter
And the entire valley echoed with it.
It looked like you joined in too,
For this sudden advent of music 
Surely finds it's origin in you.

We laughed and laughed so loud
That it sounded like a thundering clap
Befitting it was, since the curtains of the Divine Play
Had just come down.

So finally I took the plunge
Closed my eyes, yet Light is all I see.
And I ascend and ascend higher
While I look over my shoulder
To see our empty stage left behind
With stories, legends and myths 
Giving it company.
For the Truth...
That I carry along with me.

And finally we meet again.
The part becomes whole
As the illusion of separation melts.
Tasks all done, roles all lived
Fulfilled in You at last I cease.

Though this eternal play shall continue
We shall return, perhaps new roles assume.
And I know and accept Your will as Supreme
But I cannot help but make this plea,
The next time You tread on earth,
By Your side again, reserve my birth.