tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61942577889543662662024-03-05T10:37:49.323-08:00Unfamiliar LinesReal adventure is journeying within. In search of ancient wisdom.Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-24783356925443845792023-09-04T09:47:00.002-07:002023-09-05T00:26:45.153-07:00One Rainy August Day<p><span style="font-family: "Lucida Bright", "serif";">Rain fell in a steady drizzle. The trees and the hills beyond were the colour
of moss—dark and ancient. Some old memories stirred. Of dark monsoons days in
my childhood when rain fell incessantly and steadily, turning everything wet,
silent, and gloomy. Of days of our ancient ancestors when rain rejuvenated the
Earth for life to flourish. A pair of lapwing stood guard on top of the asbestos
roof that covered the neighbor’s terrace shrieking their heads off whenever a
myna or a bulbul came too close. I wondered if they had nested on top of the roof
instead of in the fields. They did not, however, shoo the pigeons away who sat
along with them in the rain.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Lucida Bright","serif";">The
bulbul parents were oblivious to all the shrieking around them. They would just
hop in and out grabbing at small bites here and there as the little one
fluttered around. I realized that they were not feeding the chick; instead they
were teaching the young one the tricks of their trade and how to be smart about
reaching to the food. Once in a while, a grey pied myna would fly and disappear
into one of the many holes in the dead tree that was still standing next to the
gate. It seemed like a magic show—a fleck of grey disappearing and reappearing
in the greyness of the clouds and the dead bark. While the rain kept the humans
indoor, it brought a shy and introverted black and brown coucal out of its
hiding to forage right in the middle of the puddled streets. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Lucida Bright","serif";">The rain had
slowed down and thin clouds fleeted in and out of the distant hills. </span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Bright", "serif";">Water
dripped from the huge tree in front of the house. A rain-drenched hush fell as
dusk approached. The sound of crickets and other insects grew louder. A pair of
owls hooted from top of the dead tree. Bats, replacing the black kites of day
time, soared across the dark sky. And late at night when most of the houses had
switched off their lights and its inhabitants fallen asleep, a few fireflies showed up in the big tree dancing away in the wet night.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Lucida Bright","serif";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Lucida Bright","serif";"><br /></span></p>Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-81493400339864555532022-03-04T10:06:00.009-08:002022-03-04T10:06:55.342-08:00What is Love, Anyway?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjI0ai4Z1XASQ6PBFWoplJ8U6zPkDqh7dyDg9HrrHEKRrXPnqFm1adsE_tQ8oknhmVjdnWlLrrBzhn8fvmKe1Tv48_-3xgvPjN7B42fCOB488Wm0ed7bVzICtONd_3A1CxWTqcF-BraK3s03dMtsSnQ5TtkH2aK5bB7fUiV6FbM6NGl3vPorVgrQjEr=s550" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="550" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjI0ai4Z1XASQ6PBFWoplJ8U6zPkDqh7dyDg9HrrHEKRrXPnqFm1adsE_tQ8oknhmVjdnWlLrrBzhn8fvmKe1Tv48_-3xgvPjN7B42fCOB488Wm0ed7bVzICtONd_3A1CxWTqcF-BraK3s03dMtsSnQ5TtkH2aK5bB7fUiV6FbM6NGl3vPorVgrQjEr=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">What if I say that our idea of love is conditioned
by the roles we play in our lives – a daughter, a mother, a father, a lover, a
husband, a colleague?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">What if I say that the roles we play are
conditioned by the stories and fables we have grown up with – that we are
expected to behave in certain ways if we are to be a perfect wife, a perfect
son or a perfect grandson, a good friend?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">What if I say that we limit our capacity to
love by putting it within definitions – romantic love, motherly love, love for
the dog, love for a best friend?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">What if I say that real love exists outside
these roles and definitions – because love is just simply love, anyway?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">What if I say that love is vaster than the
realm of the human world – that love pervades the land, animals, trees, Earth
and beyond?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">What if I say that we are all capable of
loving every human, every living soul - be it a tree, an insect, an animal -
with as much fierceness as the person you love the most right now?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Can we uncondition ourselves enough to know
that what we think of love is just a shadow of the real thing?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Can we uncondition ourselves enough to know
that by defining love, we are trying to encompass the universe within a tiny
box?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Do we have the courage to open our hearts
to the real Love?<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-7551364614217779072021-10-05T09:56:00.010-07:002021-10-26T04:01:57.523-07:00The Sea and I<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxd2rKJJNVuAa3JR1vunAlEk4YP0MV_VMyvtIhq-clfoqR7-O232KKelp151d_fxaPGSnwbjdKnDGmyO6jEftElXaJniQdRp4jq2hGpgcRMsD3tNKhKbZunWIvoSnuJoYhHQrVXMLPBY/s650/pic.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="487" data-original-width="650" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxd2rKJJNVuAa3JR1vunAlEk4YP0MV_VMyvtIhq-clfoqR7-O232KKelp151d_fxaPGSnwbjdKnDGmyO6jEftElXaJniQdRp4jq2hGpgcRMsD3tNKhKbZunWIvoSnuJoYhHQrVXMLPBY/w400-h300/pic.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Agatti, Lakshadweep</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">N Ikka points at the stars ahead. There are
three big ones vertically aligned. He says we need to head in the stars’ direction.
The sky is inky black, thousands of stars strewn across its vastness. The boat
jumps along with the waves as we hold on to the plank we are sitting on. The
excitement of being on a fishing boat at night dies down eventually and wonder
replaces it. Our whispered conversation ebbs, and F and I just sit there in
silence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The faintest of light appears in the
eastern sky, and slowly one by one the stars acknowledge the presence of the approaching
sun and begin to recede. In the semi-darkness, much before dawn, F nudges me
and points to the back of the boat. Under a still bright crescent moon with a
shining star above it sat a fisherman on his mat facing west, deep in prayer.
Around us is the silence of the vast ocean. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">__________________________<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The sun is high in the sky and beating down
unrelenting. The sea is indigo blue. I wonder how the fishermen can see through
the dazzle of the noon sun. I am wearing my sunglasses, yet squinting through
it. But their gaze is fixed scanning the surface of the sea for signs of tuna
shoals around. There seems to be none, as we keep going further out into the
sea. The live bait fishing early morning was full of excitement for me. It was
routine work for the 11 fishermen on the boat. Though they are not, I feel
tired and doze off under the shade near the bait fish tank. MK wakes me up with
one word – Dolphins. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">In one-tenth of a second, I am at the bow
of the boat peering down at the blue water. There, just next to our boat, on
both sides, are about twenty or thirty dolphins swimming along. So close, I
could have touched them if my arms were a little longer. Sharp and sleek bodies moving
as fast as the boat. Suddenly, they all move away together. Just as I am
thinking that the show is over, they return jumping and frolicking. I want to
jump in, touch them, feel them, swim with them, say a big thank you for being
with us humans for so long. A few minutes later, they disappear leaving me
wondering if it was all real or just magic. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">__________________________<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It’s my last day on the island. I am
standing at the edge of the eastern jetty, the deepest blue sea spread ahead of
me. There’s something different about the current today. Or so I feel. Small
eddies form below the jetty and I can see a shoal of a deepest blue fish.
There’s a stillness in the air, a rise in humidity. A sign that a thunderstorm and rains are approaching. I stand there under the afternoon sun in awareness of the ocean that is
breathing, ebbing and flowing, in a beautiful dance with the moon. This is
where life started, billions of years ago - in the womb of the Earth. I had lived
for 12 years in a coastal city, but it is here that I experience her magnanimity
and strength. I turn back, forever changed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-65745694673068500582021-08-19T09:53:00.009-07:002021-08-20T05:20:35.116-07:00The Speaking Land <div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50GOI-xPfshOMOLo0YvAryPpYfcRdPZiT6xL_n7SifqsAoQgPjQBTunAOLYFjvQQ-b7Qv3BZyatqPcW5DreHkvMIcjbZ7cgaIItvFuMM0dewxdArlRkDhoK-0ROhtcbiTf5GD0FMRHcU/s1600/IMG_3203.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50GOI-xPfshOMOLo0YvAryPpYfcRdPZiT6xL_n7SifqsAoQgPjQBTunAOLYFjvQQ-b7Qv3BZyatqPcW5DreHkvMIcjbZ7cgaIItvFuMM0dewxdArlRkDhoK-0ROhtcbiTf5GD0FMRHcU/s320/IMG_3203.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">This was an
attempt at writing prose-poetry for Alpine Fellowship Award. The idea was to try out a
different style of writing using the Award as motivation.The topic was
civilization and the wild and the post is about my experience with the last standing
virgin forests in </span></i><a href="http://unfamiliarlines.blogspot.com/2014/07/heart-broken.html"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Chhattisgarh</span></i></a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></i></p>The land spoke, the children of the land spoke. Only we could not hear, land’s
children bred of civilization. <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">She throbbed with an energy that no human
commune, today, can bring to birth. Deep and ancient, it ran through the veins
of the forest, held in the trees’ girth. The trees spoke of times when they grew
with a wild freedom, carrying with them centuries of wisdom gathered with
patience and groundedness. Were they there when our land was drifting in the
great wide oceans, I could only guess. These ancient teachers: so old that my
life, here on this land, felt just an exhalation long. So huge, their panoramic
canopy I could fathom only lying on the forest floor. So tall, I felt like a
grain of sand at the base of a Himalayan mountain. The soft winter sun filtering
down threw shadows that reminded of a time when my ancestors roamed the land on
all fours, their memories perhaps carried in our cells. It made me long, just
long, for what, my heart then couldn’t tell. </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh, you speak of a land, imaginary
and magical – you would say. Which ancient forest is left now that speak of
age-old tales? It’s no fiction, I say, for its there, still there! Right in the
heart of my country, a land of forests filled with tigers, elephants, and bears.
Where jungle streams gurgle with happiness and flow with ease. Where tribes live
among them deeply caring for others, away from things plastic or life filled
with disease. </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">But young towns nearest to the forests, slowly being fed on
adrenaline that is money, were abuzz with the idea of wealth under their feet,
forgetting that abundance not wealth lay in the nurturing land and wisdom of
grandmother trees. They dreamt of a glitzy life and said rightly – how can you
have a forest if you desire a city like Mumbai and a life of ease? </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">I was
following the trail of coal, Earth’s gift but civilization’s greed. And it led
me here, India’s last wilderness untamed. Deep in the forest, peopled with
innocence, were villages unaware of what civilization had in store. For hundreds
of acres of this primeval land were marked for mining, and the rivers for dams
to clean the gouged coal. They did not know that their home and a life of peace
were being readied to be handed away to companies who termed mining – “clean and
green”. </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Did anyone ask the land, these ancient trees, the people and other
children of the forests, if they wanted their home plundered to fuel the lives
of the rich? The forests, trees, rivers, and land are all a waste if not for the
use of humans. And animals - are they really there or figment of tribal
imaginations? The tribes who ‘are so backward’ as to not even know plastic, will
be ‘compensated’ with money and given offers of manual labour to ‘improve their
livelihood’, they would preach. </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">As I stood carrying the weight of consequences,
a deep ancient grief as old and huge as the trees, welled up in me. Desperate, I
walked inside the forest and looked at the trees. And I whispered, “Sorry for
all of humanity’s misdeeds”. In that moment, the forest fell deathly silent, no
birds chirped and not a leaf stirred. In that eloquent silence, I understood,
without a doubt, that the forest knew what her future held.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">I turned away
helpless, stricken by the collective loss. But even in that loss, I returned
with a gift. For now I know that the land speaks and all children of the land
speaks - of magic and wisdom, of non-judgment and compassion, of balance and a
future shift. </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div>Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-45808540387165866432021-05-31T08:10:00.008-07:002021-06-02T04:11:47.771-07:00In the Land of the Blue-Green Sea<p> The east coast was three shades of never-seen-before
blue; the west coast a deep green that kept changing with the sun. And I was
there, somewhere in the middle, lost in nature’s grandness.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The island of Agatti, like most islands of
Lakshadweep, is small and can be covered end-to-end within half an hour, if you
are on a motorbike. Which means the sea is always with you wherever you go. The
sea’s constant presence, however, did not prevent me from being shocked to
momentary stillness every time I caught a glimpse of her colours in the month
that I was there. During one thunderstorm that I witnessed, the colours shifted
with the mood of the weather – light green, dark green, grey, light blue and
dark blue – as if the sea was playing her own grand symphony. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Placed within a unique geography, Lakshadweep
is as beautiful as the tourist brochures want you to believe. Perhaps even more
if you get to know the sea. But as life in the island started to reveal itself,
it became clear as the water that there is no other place in the country like
these islands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kAgcYyRA40Uy3FrurgW3fZQTqEuioa600OqQzM6UzN6uJ1asc7lgDzbj9hxNVFVx2T2-r7qpL2cawHaEaZJ-kp8m9S-XmGGojxc2NbFuF9r-iJMJDm19xbXU1k48eWvt3WwvXayEIVo/s2048/IMG_20210420_145302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kAgcYyRA40Uy3FrurgW3fZQTqEuioa600OqQzM6UzN6uJ1asc7lgDzbj9hxNVFVx2T2-r7qpL2cawHaEaZJ-kp8m9S-XmGGojxc2NbFuF9r-iJMJDm19xbXU1k48eWvt3WwvXayEIVo/w400-h300/IMG_20210420_145302.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Agatti: Photo - Bipasha M</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Almost the entire population follows Islam
as its religion with a floating population of ‘outsiders’ largely in Kavaratti,
its capital. Though some anthropologists have mentioned Wahabi and Sunni as the
main sects here, one can find many traces of Sufism in their rituals and
ancient healing traditions. Socio-culturally, they carry the lineage of their
Kerala ancestry. They are a matrilineal society, the only other being
Meghalaya, where the property passes from mothers to daughters. Unlike
Meghalaya, here the husbands do not stay with the wives but visit them from
time to time and have to pay money (similar to dowry) to the wives’ family during
marriage negotiations. Apart from the island of Minicoy where social mobility
of women is known to be higher, the rest of the islands have patriarchal value
system where the men take most of the family and financial decisions. As such,
participation of women in community level decision making seemed less, with them
functioning mostly in the background. Gender segregation at the society level
is high, with free interaction between girls and boys being almost
non-existent. All across the island I saw young boys and fishermen largely
occupying public spaces including tea-stalls, beaches, markets, and jetties,
while groups of women and young girls would mostly chill out at the beach
during sunset. This segregation also finds its manifestation in one of the
simplest yet most obvious aspect of island life, where girls and women don’t
know how to swim and are prone to major sea-sickness while travelling on sea. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">These aspects might make the place seem similar
to that of north India’s many highly patriarchal and aggressively ‘male’ cities
and villages. But this is where things get fascinating. These islanders are one
of the warmest, friendliest, and most hospitable communities I have ever come
across in the country. People are ready for some conversation and chai at any point
in time. Despite gender segregation, there is high level of dignity and respect
for each other, something which I find sorely missing in the plains. After I
dropped my ‘mainland’ guard, I walked, sat, cycled freely without any fear or
looks over the shoulder, even during times when electricity went off pitching
the whole island in absolute darkness. The community operates under an
invisible cloak of cooperation and collaboration even when ideologies and ideas
did not match, for they know that all are dependent on each other in the small
space that is their home. One can easily understand why crime rate is almost nil and
incidences of domestic violence limited; I did not hear any raised voice or
arguments in the month that I was there. With education a priority for all,
marriage and child bearing are much delayed with women getting married after
the age of 22 or 23 years and men after 25 years, trends that are in stark
contrast to those in the mainland. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It was sublime, the first day of Ramzan as
the island slowed down and time reversed and people hurried to the call to
prayers. In the days that followed, I would wake up early every day while the
island slept and spend a couple of hours walking from the blue sea to the green
one, observing life in the tidal pools, lying down on coconut fronds and
watching clouds glide across the blue sky, or sitting quietly listening to the
sea and the wind. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD878mdyR4LDQ8X7gYT6GhV6J_UlBOxEB07UbwEx-6jRiO2amteEmND_71ttIYzrCzBRWauA5VVt0fQ5fS55AJrBR6WlvYTmgtDs96Q7DMWO1Pq1dsig-caAZ9KNqrb8tYl5MKzytLwAQ/s2048/IMG_20210402_183654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD878mdyR4LDQ8X7gYT6GhV6J_UlBOxEB07UbwEx-6jRiO2amteEmND_71ttIYzrCzBRWauA5VVt0fQ5fS55AJrBR6WlvYTmgtDs96Q7DMWO1Pq1dsig-caAZ9KNqrb8tYl5MKzytLwAQ/w400-h300/IMG_20210402_183654.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Agatti: Photo - Bipasha M</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">I had to make a hurried exit from the
island due to the covid resurgence across the country and the tightening rules
there. As the flight made a turn towards the mainland, the island came into
full view from above. A tranquil piece of white and green against a vast
backdrop of blue appearing as if in a dream, for I couldn’t make out where the
ocean ended and the sky began.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Indigenous earth-based traditions regard
water as transformative. Living with a beautiful community in the midst of a
world of water, I came back a changed person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p>Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-18751394808016615972020-12-31T09:47:00.006-08:002020-12-31T09:47:51.120-08:00Lockdown Reflections<p> <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlyCG7TcYOXO_2aafS_A0C85gkTYP7Sz2s_ZLP3bq4opTPg45o68L2JqlOiTGFPDxo2pVDnJxuQ7FJ5yh6r-NLLzyIuyLsfuCyJjjxqIXsjM2IYpz-8Ym5LJF3spiYqtoxz1Tp2qUmmo/s600/IMG_20190301_161412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlyCG7TcYOXO_2aafS_A0C85gkTYP7Sz2s_ZLP3bq4opTPg45o68L2JqlOiTGFPDxo2pVDnJxuQ7FJ5yh6r-NLLzyIuyLsfuCyJjjxqIXsjM2IYpz-8Ym5LJF3spiYqtoxz1Tp2qUmmo/w400-h300/IMG_20190301_161412.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image by: Bipasha M</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>She comes and sits quietly at her usual
perch. Sometimes she caws loudly to let me know that she’s there. But most
often, she waits silently. I don’t know how or when our friendship started. But
one day I noticed this crow sitting a foot away from me as I kept the food on
balcony ledge. She started coming closer and would eat the food as soon as I would
keep it. Then came a time when she would wait for me to make balls of cooked
rice and place it only for her. Few days ago, she accepted food straight from
my hand. She took it very gently to ensure that she didn’t hurt me with her
beak. Unlike the bulbul, mynah, and the squirrel family, she doesn’t come every
day and that’s okay with me.</p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I started actively feeding the birds since
the lockdown. Initially, I would leave rice grains and forget about it. Slowly,
I began noticing the birds that came at different times to either eat the food
or take a dip in the water bowl. Now I have a family of mynah, a pair of
bulbuls whose little one has flown the nest, some 15 odd crows, and two
families of squirrels that I consciously leave food out for. When they allow me
near them, I feel accepted and trusted. It’s a feeling that I have never felt before
with fellow human beings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">At the end of the year, I can say without
an iota of doubt that this has been the most precious gift the year has given
me. If the year hadn’t slowed us down, I wouldn’t have known my non-human
friends so intimately or seen migratory birds fly right over my terrace or
watch an exquisite delicate turquoise damselfly hover over the orange flowers. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I like the slow pace. Of life. Of work. Of
my thoughts. And of my body. I don’t feel the regular restlessness that tends
to creep in despite being at home for three-fourth of the year. In its place I
feel a deep groundedness. My work is as much impacted as others, but I am not
anxious about the future. I am enjoying the way my body has slowed downed with
the onset of winter. I am happy when my periods coincide with either the full
moon or the new moon, as if my body is trying to realign and find its way back
to the moon. I want to play the flute, not learn how to play, because I feel
the wind wants to speak to me. I am slowly learning to extend the concepts of
consent and reciprocity to soil, land, Earth and the plants in my balcony
garden. When I grow, it’s with the consent of the seeds and soil. When I take
something, I leave a bit of my hair in return. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I do feel a different kind of restlessness
though. A restlessness of presenting myself in the new world, of stepping into
my true potential, of being my wild self, and of establishing a new narrative.
There’s a world out there where people deeply trust each other, collaborate and
cooperate, and only follow the language of the heart. I have seen glimpses of
this world and felt its breathing growing presence. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">This year taught me for certain that the only
true reality is being grounded to our beautiful home, Earth and being inherently
connected with all beings nature. That when things fall apart all around you, when
you fall apart, She is the only one, who is and will be there for you. And bring
you home. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-12611310819351119232020-09-13T07:56:00.006-07:002020-09-21T23:46:48.763-07:00Lockdown Dairies:There’s a sublime quality to the time in the hour before dawn-break. If there’s a slight breeze during that time, it has the capacity to transport you to a different realm. I tried to keep up with my routine of getting up before dawn, but have slipped back into a post dawn schedule. Autumn is right around the corner, and the nights are getting longer. Soon dawn and my waking up time will coincide once again.
<div><br /></div><div>Mornings have become a packed time for me, a time which is solely for me and my care. A time for noticing new growths in my balcony garden and working on soil and compost with my hands, feeding the birds and squirrels on the terrace and refilling their water bowls, doing my rounds of walks around the terrace bare feet, lying down on a mat, sometimes in the sun, to just look up at the vast blue skies and clouds as they pass by at their own pace, slipping into a deeply meditative space, doing yoga, meditation, going for weekly morning walks, and making breakfast. </div><div><br /></div><div>Who is my body? What role do I play as a female of the human species? As a unique person like all else, what can I offer to the world? In what ways do I connect deeper with Earth and nature within a restricted environment? These are the questions arising in me since the time of the lockdown. The world is in turmoil which has now gone beyond the pandemic, and people are suffering deeply, especially the poor. But nothing changes without a crisis. You do not transform into your best selves until you go through a test of fire, a personal or collective ‘dark night of the soul’. Each one of us has contributed in some ways to the situation we are in today, and each of us has to do our bit to steer all of us out of it in future. Like many indigenous tribes say, either we look at a crisis with joy and as an opportunity, or we get bogged down and entangled in a web of fear and mayhem. </div><div><br /></div><div>My life right now is limited to my terrace and within one kilometer radius of my neighborhood. But then it gives me a chance to observe nature that much closely. It gives me time to observe over 30 species of birds and many more that I can hear but not yet identify, numerous dragon and damsel flies, bugs, spiders, house flies, bees, and butterflies. It gives me time to watch the male koel distract the crow while the female lays her egg in the crow’s nest and over months watch the juvenile koel hop around in the sesham tree as the mother crow shrieks her head off protectively if I even glance in her ‘baby’s’ direction. It gives me time to watch butterflies and bees flock the flowering sesham and mast trees and the arrival of bats as fruits begin to appear. It gives me the time to befriend a few crows and mynahs who sit very close to me when I put food out for them, catalog the never-similar sunsets and cloudscapes as spring turned to summer and subsequently the arrival and departure of monsoon clouds, and experience intimately the joys of sudden thunderstorms, lightning strikes, light breeze, intense heat, numerous rainbows and double rainbows, heavy rain, and brilliant full moons. And it also gives me the time to learn about wild plants that grow in my pots, parks, and sidewalks and include them in my diet and life with a lot of gratitude.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmC9igXaFrSHf9fb0QcL1-7tCM6G1i06LSm837KcB1quQnvPNKT1lEDc9gIIyrtVONHSEFKGVMd5sHOyRamjes0MRsHuWJB4p_DiM3BHDNSfPL0lR6dexK9Q7wstbRKdIVEYM-mO3jttY/s400/IMG_20200402_182434.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Cloudscape from my terrace<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All my scattered energies are finally coming back into my body, helping me tune in to its own wisdom and deep-diving into its healing with food. I am trying to understand what I did to my body and spirit all this while by not accepting my periods as something intimate and wonderful but rather viewing it as a roadblock to my freedom and adventure. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>Time seems to have slowed down considerably, yet time is zipping away at a rate that seems faster than usual. While I live somewhere between these two spaces, I continue to enjoy my time with my work, books, art, long conversations with friends, and deep contemplation. For, when I finally step out into the ‘new’ world, it will be from a space of ‘I’, that is my spirit. For, there is no going back to the ways of an old fear-based world.
</div><div><br /></div>Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-83002732916397387332020-07-06T03:00:00.003-07:002020-07-13T04:59:37.164-07:00Monsoon, The Phenomenon:<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">As temperature begins to climb after spring
is bullied out hurriedly by the approaching summer, thoughts of the monsoon
begin to stir somewhere at the recess of the mind. These thoughts are always
there, though at a very subconscious level as people go about their daily
lives. The countdown to the arrival of the rain bearing clouds begins in
earnest when the thermostat moves beyond 40 degrees C in large parts of the
country. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">India is not defined by its searing summers,
as many would think. Rather, the annual seasonal reversal of wind patterns that
bring some of the heaviest rains in the world, it’s the power of the monsoon
that leaves nobody untouched, connecting all our souls in a strangely sublime
way. Despair that it’s too strong or too weak, anguish that it didn’t arrive on
time, the jagged anticipation of the dark clouds, the visceral fear of flood or famine,
the relief, joy and effervescence, the romance and poetry, the moodiness and
constant wetness, the festivities…..the emotions around the monsoon are just as
many as the number of people in this country. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-j69TvKJPOOtJ1UZEPzLOKk_4lDYkl0CUHAWQEaXp-j80NLwlOU_ljrurug0UPDS3d2AoDJYKn-gJICD8GoEKV7anbAC4-vFG_LuCazEqgTKd1pMwHBa75-DxcJdWRT5_eGyRWmrbsQ/s550/IMG_0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="550" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-j69TvKJPOOtJ1UZEPzLOKk_4lDYkl0CUHAWQEaXp-j80NLwlOU_ljrurug0UPDS3d2AoDJYKn-gJICD8GoEKV7anbAC4-vFG_LuCazEqgTKd1pMwHBa75-DxcJdWRT5_eGyRWmrbsQ/w500-h375/IMG_0014.JPG" title="Monsoon in Mandu" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">Monsoon in Mandu: Image - Bipasha M</font><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">During my childhood in Bihar, monsoon meant
wearing shin length raincoats and plastic shoes to school which we would
deliberately take off while coming home giving us an excuse for getting wet. It
also meant wading through stagnant waters to get to the bus stand, making paper
boats, and pushing them across these waters to compete whose boat went the
farthest. It meant school holidays during days of incessant rains when we would
tuck ourselves under covers and read storybooks through the day or sit on the windowsill
and day-dream as the rain drizzled outside steadily. On days when the sky would
stay dark and rain refused to stop, worry lines would creep in on the faces of
our parents and elders. Discussions would veer towards the rising levels of Ganga,
and a time when the river breached her banks during the dark of the night
drowning people in their sleep and destroying properties.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">In the first phase of my stay in Delhi, the
crisp autumn and clear blue skies during the peak of winter held sway over my
thoughts and emotions. Oh, I did love the rains, but it was in a dramatic,
nostalgic, angst-ridden way that younger years tend to elicit, full of longing
for things hard to define, and a love for life that can be expressed only when
the world around gets washed off all its dreariness. But in all this, for me,
the monsoon remained a season which heralded the approach of autumn and winter.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Fourteen years ago, when I landed at
Mumbai’s airport, it was a typical grey day with a steady drizzle and sleek wet
roads. That was my first brush with the monsoon in the city and which continued to
define all the years of my stay there. For this is the land where I understood
the glory and the power of the phenomenon, what it means to live for four
months with grey skies and continuous wet conditions, of having walls and
clothes covered in moss, of carrying a change of clothes every time you stepped
outside, of getting totally drenched due to the force of the rain despite all
your measures to stay covered. And this is also the place where I understood
what unadulterated joy is when the first drops of rain begin to fall after
months of heart-numbing and physically-draining mugginess, when this joy is
reflected in everybody’s faces around you, when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“poush aala”</i> rings out from everywhere, when the city suddenly
comes back to life.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFGqV773pZZDb9DMBFJf4s0DnaBzRuNkH7dUit-8IRVgZdhu013FAgffjkxKFSTaYvcPHEAUnJPf1ow0Nw_X_sE9Dz7hYkI3AisA8emYzFMC8Wfs0kAHOL5PoHGaMvbJp1ZpykRKl46s/s550/P6291623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="550" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFGqV773pZZDb9DMBFJf4s0DnaBzRuNkH7dUit-8IRVgZdhu013FAgffjkxKFSTaYvcPHEAUnJPf1ow0Nw_X_sE9Dz7hYkI3AisA8emYzFMC8Wfs0kAHOL5PoHGaMvbJp1ZpykRKl46s/w500-h375/P6291623.JPG" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">Monsoon in Maharashtra coast. Image: Bipasha M</font></td></tr></tbody></table><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Some of my defining monsoon moments though
have been in places outside of Mumbai – at the sea coasts when we watched the
rains arrive on darkest clouds across the sea and cover us swiftly, within
minutes, with a force that was almost like a physical blow; or amongst the fluorescent green hills of the Western Ghats shrouded in
clouds and mist with numerous waterfalls rolling down the mossy rock face. It was
during these moments and places that I could intimately witness the magical sway the
monsoon has over this country.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Last year, the monsoon made an extremely
short and bipolar appearance in Delhi leaving us to deal with a rather sizzling
and long summer. This year, post an unprecedented thunderstorms season that
lasted most of summer, the monsoon arrived sooner than usual and then weakened.
As it continues to gathers strength, and the air here grows thick with heat and
heavy moisture, my gaze is fixed eastwards waiting impatiently for the full arrival of the monsoon clouds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-7178243271690583712020-06-01T09:02:00.003-07:002020-06-02T04:42:53.865-07:00Living in the Fear Matrix:
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTrZ-n9vu3vFbMUSI8vCCBmu8CdBdRRzT9X3TgoQtOKy1JwxSkEdkxAjxsGrdMZramvVATzZaaLkwp8XSB3E7UGxrjBKmtE9qXPc88Dd9oz9fRF06Yj56k6ZQ-PMHjugvN4agD2wIv9o/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTrZ-n9vu3vFbMUSI8vCCBmu8CdBdRRzT9X3TgoQtOKy1JwxSkEdkxAjxsGrdMZramvVATzZaaLkwp8XSB3E7UGxrjBKmtE9qXPc88Dd9oz9fRF06Yj56k6ZQ-PMHjugvN4agD2wIv9o/s320/PA292769.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span lang="EN-US"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> <span> </span><span> </span> </span><span> </span><font size="2">Photo: Bipasha M</font></span><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The realization that we all are living in a
make-believe illusionary world of our perceptions came to me in the most
unlikely of places. I had finished my work and I felt good, I had said my byes
to my colleagues and was walking down the same route towards Churchgate station
in Mumbai to catch the train home. Suddenly I felt strange, as if I was in a
bubble, and out of nowhere I got the feeling that this (my reality then) is not
true. That everything around me is fake - the buildings, the road, my career,
my goals - that the whole world as we know it is fake. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">There was nothing extraordinary about that
day. The crowd at the station, muggy weather, the chaos, all seemed as real as
the previous day. Yet, something had changed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">That was almost three years ago. And now,
during the time of Covid, I finally understood what I had felt that evening. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Yuval Noah Harari mentions in his book
Sapiens that only homo sapiens have the ability to create fictional or imagined
reality that includes politics, religion, money, human rights etc. and accept
that reality over and above the objective reality or the reality as experienced
by the natural world. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">This fictional reality we now have come to believe,
to be the only known reality. So, majority of us go through our whole lives
without doubting anything about it. Sometimes we meekly follow all the
structures put in place since thousands of years, sometimes protesting the
injustice perpetrated by these structures but still living within them with
minor shifts here and there.<span> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The chaos that ensued around the world
after the spread of the Covid-19 pandemic suddenly brought the ‘fakeness’ into
sharp focus in my heart and mind. I realized that our ‘fictional’ world, as we
live it, is based on a fear-matrix. I am not talking about the pandemic
here, though reactions to it are a virtual cherry on the fear-matrix
cake. People who have seen the movie Matrix might be able to understand this
better. Our collective psyche or consciousness is controlled by the power of fear,
the basest of all human emotions. And its fear that gives rise to other base
emotions of greed, hate, aggression, power and control, separation of the self
from self itself as well as nature, separation of the mind and heart, division
between people etc. Hence, all our societal structures, systems, hierarchies,
human relationships were created and are still being created from this space,
the lowest level of emotional evolution. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Even the love of a mother for her child –
an emotion that is said to come closest to understanding ‘unconditional’ love – has elements of fear
involved (I love her so much I won’t let anything happen to my child). </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">To understand this, do a simple exercise:
If you had no fear in your life, what would that life be? Here you can include
all the decisions that have a base in fear – the need to earn more and more
money so that you can be financially secure, the need to be seen as ‘somebody’
because you don’t want to be seen as a failure, the need to get married because
you don’t want to be alone when you are old, the need to have children because
you want to leave a lineage etc. If there was no fear, you would perhaps leave
your job and be the artist, healer, writer, story-teller that you always wanted
to be. If there was no fear, you would perhaps be happy with living for the moment
and not accumulate for future. If there was no fear, you would perhaps marry
only for love and partnership. If there was no fear, your child would perhaps be
a natural extension of you to be raised to her highest potential. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Spiritual and ancient traditions know that
to heal and shift the perspective of the world, we need only a small section of
the population to live from this ‘fearless’ state consistently for a certain
period of time. This was also proven in a <a href="https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20190513-it-only-takes-35-of-people-to-change-the-world">research
on non-violence by Erica Chenoweth</a> who found that it required only 3.5% of
the population to actively participate in order for systems and governments to
topple or for that matter change the world. <span> </span><span> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">That the world is still in the throes of
fear shows that we still haven’t reached the threshold number of people who
have successfully broken out of this state, that fear is so pervasive and deeply entrenched that
it’s difficult to even imagine any other world outside of this one. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">On one of the lockdown nights, while
walking around my terrace, I knew for sure that a joyful abundant world exists
just beyond these boundaries. I felt I could reach out and touch it even.
Whenever we return to normal (whatever that might mean right now), I will not
be able to go back to the old ways of life and living. But how the path unfolds
to the other side of the world is yet to be seen. </span></p>
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<![endif]-->Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-76405259420078165482020-04-05T05:06:00.001-07:002020-04-13T08:18:37.585-07:00How I Shifted to an Earth-based Life:<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlie3pNahkc42-mW-VBqFJimB7DiEP5hrrUBPsqJ8uEHy03ktUkOFpV04yaHaKD55hgIRKPG53i_i019BxFrMfugjzwSjtoWPZ8E578HvFEEQ9ds-IkdgnwK3XmsFuygsGn1B7laW6mE/s1600/IMG_4150+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="600" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlie3pNahkc42-mW-VBqFJimB7DiEP5hrrUBPsqJ8uEHy03ktUkOFpV04yaHaKD55hgIRKPG53i_i019BxFrMfugjzwSjtoWPZ8E578HvFEEQ9ds-IkdgnwK3XmsFuygsGn1B7laW6mE/s400/IMG_4150+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image: Bipasha M</td></tr>
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One thing struck me while I was reading Pranay Lal’s page-turner ‘Indica’ which traces the deep natural history of India since the time Earth was formed. To me, it seemed as if Earth has been experimenting with herself and various life-forms as she journeyed from a spinning ball of molten iron to the most gorgeous of all planets in our solar system. By one explosion of a supervolcano here, and upping the temperature there, she would swipe the planet clean of the evolving life-forms and then start afresh. The current coronavirus pandemic, similarly also looks intelligently placed: only affecting the species that is causing her trouble, as a warning of what she is capable of doing if we do not pay more attention.<br />
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Like in any challenging situations or catastrophes, there will be sufferers, largely the poor, who end up bearing the brunt of something which they did not create in the first place. Keeping this societal paradox or injustice aside, I see this as a hugely opportune time to bring about far-reaching changes, to shift the tide of ‘business as usual’. Globally, it puts the spotlight on environment and our terrible disconnect with it, the lies upon lies about how nature and economy cannot go hand-in-hand, and people’s spiritual disconnect with themselves. In India, it puts the spotlight on an invisible, indispensable, yet an often discriminated against community of migrant labourers, and it gives women a huge opportunity to get men involved in household work and correct a societal order that provided undue privileges to them.<br />
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With the rise of Greta Thunberg’s ‘Fridays for Future’ movement and now the ecological concerns raised by the virus, many people have asked me as well as asking each other how to lead a more Earth conscious life. My foray into living a more conscious life was a result of yet another global challenge – the 2008 economic slowdown. I had lost my job, but it provided me an opportunity to shift from a much hated work life to something which made better sense to me. I joined an NGO which paid me 30% of what I used to earn. After a year and a half of not buying any new material stuff, I realized that I didn’t really need much material stuff in the first place. That experience started my evolution into a more earth-based living which I continued for the next ten years.<br />
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<b><i><u>1) </u></i></b><u><i><b>Getting into the circular economy:</b></i></u> This happened out of necessity. Since I did not have enough money to buy new furniture, I bought a second-hand one. When my flatmate left the city, I bought a few things from her. Post that, I made a conscious decision not to buy anything new. So for the next ten years, all things in my house were hand-me-downs – cooking stove, fridge, utensils, jars, curtains, cushion covers, bedsheets, furniture, and even clothes. Trekking and travel items and work essentials like laptop, camera, and phone are the only things mine, which I haven’t changed in many years now. But I do accept gifts!<br />
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<b><i><u>2)</u></i></b><u><i> <b>Going organic, going local:</b> </i></u>The idea here was to shift to healthy food and to our traditional food sourced locally. The spices, oil, pulses and grains were the easiest to change. I felt guilty of ordering organic vegetables only from Bigbasket (which didn’t use plastic for organic items!) as it added to emissions. So I would alternate between that, hypercity, and the tribal and east Indian bhaji walis who used to get seasonal and local green leafy vegetables early in the mornings. I also removed many MNC-produced processed food from my kitchen and added a whole lot of millets, barley, and rice products, basically food that were Indian. It helped that I was in the social sector – my travels would lead me to places and NGOs that would sell real honey, organically grown local grains, pulses, spices etc. which I never failed to pick up. A lot many NGOs also deliver online albeit a bit slow.<br />
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<b><i><u>3) Choosing herbal over chemical:</u></i></b> All products marked ‘natural’ or ‘herbal’ are not necessarily environmentally friendly. In India, it’s difficult to differentiate too well. However, there were two reasons for this shift: a) herbal/natural is any day better than chemical; b) there are numerous locally manufactured good products that are way better than the mass produced large company products. So, my house cleaning items, shampoos, soaps, lotions, cosmetics have all turned natural. Except detergent powder as I have not yet found a good substitute. And I use this minimally anyway; you don’t really need as much as ads say you need!<br />
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<b><i><u>4) Castile soaps and vegan or responsibly sourced products:</u></i></b> I came to know about castile soaps <a href="https://www.greenlivingtips.com/buy-castile-soap/">here</a> and was happily surprised that they are available in India and that too at a fairly affordable price (for me). This has been my most recent shift. The other recent shift has been towards products which don’t add palm oil or source them responsibly, which is still a bit tricky to find out. I once wrote to Fabindia to check where they source their palm oil from, to which they said it’s responsibly sourced within India without actually mentioning the source. I have taken them at face value and use their products sometime. Products that use animal-testing have been off my list for a long time now.<br />
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<u><i><b>5) Saying No to plastic:</b></i></u> Clearly this needs a lot of work, because plastic is everywhere especially in the packaging. But the least I could do was carry my cloth bag at all times, reusing the same plastic pouches again and again at hypercity (sometimes fighting with the sales people who would eventually acquiesce), carrying my metal water bottle everywhere, using biodegradable (corn starch) dustbin liners, never ordering in unless absolutely necessary, carrying my own boxes to buy idlis, upma, or any other breakfast items, asking for glass tumblers at the tapri chai stalls, refraining from buying tetrapacks, using bamboo toothbrush, etc. I stored all the plastics from packaged items to give away to recyclers. Much later, I came to know that there are small enterprises in and around Mumbai/Thane who collect these plastics to make fuel from them. I also recycled even the smallest of the tetrapacks (if I ended up buying any) at Sahakari Bhandar even if it meant traveling from Malad to Fort for that.<br />
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<b><i><u>6) Being aware of the source:</u></i></b> The source of all materials that we use - from plastic, glass, fossil fuel, electricity, clothes etc. – is Earth. It’s easy to say no to plastic and fossil fuel and pick up any other alternate material available. But one has to do a bit of analysis to see if the alternate picked up is better or worse than what you previously used. For example aluminum that is extracted often at the cost of vast stretches of forests and tribal land. Electric cars are good but have you wondered where the electricity comes from in India? We are still dependent on coal which is mined in open-pits making it environmentally destructive. In India, where companies do not use sustainable business practices and hence we do not much choice unlike Germany (where people can choose renewable energy over others), we can still be more aware while making decisions. I have not thrown away the plastic bottles in my kitchen yet because I am trying to find something sustainable and earth-friendly like earthenware which seems readily available these days. To know more about the source of all our products, watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GorqroigqM">this</a>.<br />
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<b><i><u>7) Using less water: </u></i></b>Small changes can lead to big savings like fixing a water saving device to all taps, using the shower at half the speed, and only half flushing the toilet when you pee. If it’s your own house, you can also add a rainwater harvesting system.<br />
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<b><i><u>8) Segregating waste:</u></i></b> This has thankfully become a mandate now but I have been segregating waste since the past ten years, much to the amusement of my friends. Though I knew that it would all land up in the same landfill, the only reason was that it became a bit easier for the kachrawalas to pick up stuff for recycling and earning money. Now that I have a terrace vegetable garden, I use some of the kitchen waste for composting.<br />
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<b><i><u>9) Using environmentally friendly non-stick cookwares:</u></i></b> I used the regular non-stickware for the longest time without knowing how toxic they are both from the health as well as environment perspective. Now I have shifted to environmentally-friendly ones and yes, it’s available here! Though they are not as good as the ones available in <a href="https://www.healthiest.io/blog/the-10-best-nonstick-amp-eco-friendly-cookware-pots-pans-and-sets">Europe and elsewhere</a>.<br />
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<b><i><u>10) Recycle and responsible disposing:</u></i></b> When I was leaving Mumbai, I had tons of newspapers, plastics, e-waste, clothes etc. that I had to dispose off. My electric and electronic items were all given away to an e-waste company, newspapers and plastics I sold to an enterprise that used the money to support various NGOs, clothes and utensils I gave to my domestic help and also to Goonj (an NGO who reuses, upcycles used clothes).<br />
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<b><i><u>11) Saying No to companies that promote profit at all cost:</u></i></b> Two companies which tops this list are Reliance and Adani. I refuse to buy any of their products or use any of their services including mutual funds. This is not 100% foolproof because I am not fully aware of their subsidiary companies or associated or sub sub associated companies. But by moving to NGO products and products made by small enterprises, I have been able to reduce their intrusion in my life much. However, I had to use energy from Reliance as well as the metro system in Mumbai, and now I am paying my electricity bills to Adani in Delhi!<br />
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<u><i><b>12) Using natural fibers:</b></i></u> I wear largely cotton or khadi clothes. Even at weddings or parties. I have not been able to switch kitchen wipes (which uses micro-fibers) to clothe yet. And I also use fleece jackets during winter (which is polyester and micro-fibers or basically plastic) since I can’t afford the expensive woolen jackets yet. However, to assuage my guilt, I use jackets made from recycled fleece! Now, I want to try out clothes made from hemp! <br />
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<b><i><u>13) Using local travel: </u></i></b>Mumbai is good that way, and now also Delhi with its excellent metro connectivity. In Mumbai, I often used to offer lifts to people going the same way as me. In Delhi, I haven’t done that yet! I like to travel by trains and buses as much as I can but I do take flights depending on the distance and time at my disposal.<br />
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<b><i><u>14) Switching to bamboo-based sanitary napkins:</u></i></b> Finally! For years, I felt awful about not being able to switch to menstrual cups and using toxic regular pads. But now, with easy availability of bamboo-based sanitary pads and liners, I am finally guilt free. Now I am trying to figure out if there are any home incinerators that I can use to burn them instead of throwing them in the dustbin.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image: Bipasha M</td></tr>
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I am happy that for ten years in Mumbai, I managed to stick more or less fully to these choices. Things are not the same after I shifted back with my parents. Rise in expenses sometimes don’t leave you with much choice. Also I realized that it’s very difficult to change habits of people when they are old. For example, my father keeps getting polythene bags leading to much mental trauma for me and many fights with him. However, I have made my peace by continuing to do what is possible for me do within the restrictions.<br />
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If the pandemic with its physical isolation, more self-analysis time, and images of nature reclaiming its space inspires people enough to shift to a more conscious earth-based life, then I hope this list will make that journey a little bit easier. <br />
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Oh by the way, I still buy books!<br />
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Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-43939062161431494172020-02-18T08:49:00.003-08:002020-02-19T03:07:47.475-08:00What Buddhist Philosophy Taught Me:<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Disclaimer:
This post is about what I gained from studying Buddhist Philosophy (from Tibet
House) for a year. The topic is vast, deep, simple yet complex. If anyone wants
to understand more on the subject, s/he would need to either enroll for the
same or longer course or read original books written by ancient Buddhist scholars
and masters.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Be kind to yourself. Be wisely kind to
yourself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This was the main ground or precept which
formed the basis of Geshe La’s teachings - how to be kind, and then wisely kind
to yourself. Buddhist philosophy and practices are meant to unravel part by
part, thread by thread, the working of our psyche. Here psyche means the mind
which is different from soul or consciousness. The mind, which creates layers
and layers of illusions that we cling to so desperately, sometimes for lifetimes,
in order to seek the elusive ‘happiness’. The step by step practices,
therefore, help remove these layers of illusions and perceptions, by which we
live, think, believe, and act, till the time we find the pure essence or the Buddha
in ourselves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Difficult, you would say. Actually its not.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvZM4ZOXSFq-8nZLWSc_U-FHBMeuVWwSjCbkhyphenhyphenK1C98kOJeWDIcurIXUm7w71o2rZ9AaJAiwIotL7rrpCHpFVjPejmutLUF0222M2S2QAUMr7GnbNvLekQarjRRYGJP5dq61T_NXogYCM/s1600/IMG_20191031_133912+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="600" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvZM4ZOXSFq-8nZLWSc_U-FHBMeuVWwSjCbkhyphenhyphenK1C98kOJeWDIcurIXUm7w71o2rZ9AaJAiwIotL7rrpCHpFVjPejmutLUF0222M2S2QAUMr7GnbNvLekQarjRRYGJP5dq61T_NXogYCM/s400/IMG_20191031_133912+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reality Vs Perception</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take for example these mundane conversations:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A: Is the pancake stiff?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">B: I liked it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">_______<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A1: Have
you been to Ladakh?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">B1: Three times. Last time I stayed there
for two months. It was awesome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">_______<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A2: Yaar, I don’t want to continue with
this corporate work anymore. I want to do something for the society, create an
impact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">_______<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In the first two, the answers are not in
sync with the questions at all. Yet, most of our routine conversations are exactly
like these. We don’t realize that the way we answer or have conversations can
lead to different perceptions, which again add layers of further misconceptions
as you go along in life. The third, though well meaning, is steeped in the ‘self’
– ‘I’ want to change the society. All three are rooted in the ‘Self’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Buddhist philosophy has taught me how to recognize
these ‘self-grasping’ and ‘self-centred’ attitudes which are based on ego and
fear largely, understand why they are there in me and how they underline all
aspects and relationships in my life, how to break these illusions that I have
created around me, and seek true freedom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">All the answers that you seek lie in
understanding the ‘Self’. The more you are rid of these self-aggrandizing
illusions, the more your reality changes. Like Shamanic traditions, Buddhist
philosophy reiterates that we pause; listen and listen well; notice our
reactions and actions; seek wisdom rather than just knowledge, from the right
sources and our own lived experiences; practice and more practice and then some
more; live mindfully and act rightly with love and compassion for all sentient
and non-sentient beings; and live from your heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">By focusing on understanding that our
current reality is merely made up of layers and layers of perceptions created
by us, we can break out of the cycles of “I will be happy if I can build a
house in the mountains; I will be happy if I am commissioned by Nat Geo to do a
story for them; I will be happy if I can get her to say yes; I will be happy if I
can travel to 44 countries before I turn 44 etc.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span>And that’s where true happiness lies. In
being Free. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZcz8kzDljkodAXIpvw309yaLmS0rv6MDtulIhzXaaWTcYVwPcukXGrTCTT5BVRZEdoce_0qnGva6-YKHRxYvXOMr_-we2nX7VsmXpIJirA64jCkd_fevPkU0aMxDv5WT5vR6go45eCw/s1600/IMG-20180916-WA0000+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="600" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZcz8kzDljkodAXIpvw309yaLmS0rv6MDtulIhzXaaWTcYVwPcukXGrTCTT5BVRZEdoce_0qnGva6-YKHRxYvXOMr_-we2nX7VsmXpIJirA64jCkd_fevPkU0aMxDv5WT5vR6go45eCw/s320/IMG-20180916-WA0000+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-36422957633234786682020-01-13T09:16:00.004-08:002020-01-13T09:17:26.687-08:00What is wrong with our men??!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Me: I
am travelling in the hinterlands of UP.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Guy:
That can be exciting too :-). You get cat calls there? :-D<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Me:
Next you will say rape is super exciting for us?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This whatsapp conversation happened just a
few days after yet another gangrape victim was killed with impunity by her
perpetrators in Unnao and protests by women across urban India were still going
on. I was traveling in UP meeting
grassroot women working in various sectors. Keeping aside their success
stories, a single thread ran across the lives of these women – being subjected
to abject and horrendous levels of violence. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Violence was the underlying story of
majority of the women in the state. This is the underlying story of majority of
the women in our country. Forms of violence which have been normalized pervade
the fabric of our society. It does not matter if you are rich or poor, educated
or uneducated. It’s so deep rooted and seeped into all layers, that I find it
difficult to believe that change can happen in my lifetime. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Hyderabad gangrape and murder; Unnao rape
and murder by burning; Nirbhaya gangrape in the capital city; Kathua gangrape
of a minor girl in a Devi-temple by men who came all the way from UP to
participate; Rajasthan gangrape where a young girl ran naked for 1 km before
she found help; hanging of Dalit girls by upper-caste men, gruesome sexual
assault on adivasi woman by police so much so that her uterus is rejected by
her body; beating a wife till she becomes unconscious or her skin falls off;
kicking a pregnant woman in womb so she loses her child every time she becomes
pregnant; pushing a daughter-in-law down the stairs for carrying a girl-child;
forcing a wife to have sex because she has to submit to his needs by the virtue
of marriage; burnt for not providing the money which was not theirs in the
first place; asking for dowry from a would-be IAS daughter in-law for an IAS
son just because he is a son; a father negotiating for money over the dead body
his daughter, threatening the husband with an FIR, where a woman is reduced to
mere money to be haggled over; child pregnancy because she is assaulted by
upper-caste men and boys in her village; sexually abused by fathers, uncles,
brothers, in-laws and others; adding the nine months of life in the womb to her
actual age, so that she can be married off as early as possible; thrashed
senseless because she dared to say that she wanted to complete her school
education; threats of getting raped if she raised her voice in the community – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tum</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">janti
nahin ho main kya kar sakta hoon</i>; not being able to go to college because
the neighbourhood boys make lewd gestures and cat calls. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">These are the real life stories of many
women across the country, their every day lived reality. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Even if you move away from gender-based
violence, and look at any other form of violence (and there is so much out
there), the one underlying thread across all forms of violence is that it’s
perpetrated by Men. Men are violent towards women. Men are violent towards
children. Men are violent towards men. Men are violent towards other nations
and communities. Men are violent towards nature. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s time our Men realize this and do a
collective introspection on why violence has become their essence, almost running
in their DNA. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Until then, we will remain a sick society,
a very very sick society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Until then, all men will remain guilty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-35431442475251090972019-11-18T06:50:00.003-08:002019-11-21T02:23:04.754-08:00Sillage (n.):<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOa1xL99skT7gvcQ0wOU275HFb2KdS5tSjC8f4OYhvXIJTCpwoktmTczSFsfeQ8PZ_138C1J3F4KkjEPUXQUEV8YPjk38oke_8xhXjO8IF859ZsG81XZE0NrEHR9neXeQr-I8jImjNkD4/s1600/IMG_4745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOa1xL99skT7gvcQ0wOU275HFb2KdS5tSjC8f4OYhvXIJTCpwoktmTczSFsfeQ8PZ_138C1J3F4KkjEPUXQUEV8YPjk38oke_8xhXjO8IF859ZsG81XZE0NrEHR9neXeQr-I8jImjNkD4/s400/IMG_4745.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A brilliant day in Sikles, Annapurna Conservation Area. Photo: Bipasha M</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">The
scent that lingers in the air, the trail left in the water, the impression made
in space after something or someone has been and gone, the trace of someone’s
perfume. (French)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The bus was packed – all seats occupied,
spaces near the seats filled with luggage, jute sacks, cardboard boxes, gas
cylinders and more luggage. I was about to get down when a woman in the seat
next to the driver’s called out to me and shifted making a bit of a space for
me. I squeezed in. There was a cardboard box kept below, so I put my feet on it
and tried to make myself comfortable. Both the woman next to me and the man
sitting behind the driver started saying something in Nepali. The urgency in
their voice suggested I should not keep my feet on the cardboard box. The next
ten minutes were spent by these two people trying to help me find a place to
keep my feet, which finally was on somebody’s luggage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The driver (<i>guruji)</i> finally started the bus. A few things moved and resettled
including my leg position. Through hand gestures, actions and broken Hindi, we
communicated. The box contained chickens which were being sent by somebody in
Pokhara to their family in Sikles, a Gurung village high in the mountains. Both
these un-related fellow travellers kept an eye out for the chickens during the
journey up. Everybody was talking to everybody else as if they all knew each
other. I was also pulled into their conversations even though I barely
understood the language. Soon, they all knew that I was a ‘very brave’ woman
travelling on my own from Pokhara to Sikles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A few kilometers into the mountain and the
bus came to a dead stop. There were two road-rollers ahead working on widening
the narrow mountain roads. Stones and rocks fell as the machines gouged out the
earth from the mountain sides. It meant a delay of one and a half hour or more.
My Nepali <i>saathi</i> had warned me – the first
thing to learn in Nepal is patience. I ate the apple I had bought and then went
off to sleep. After almost one and a half hours, the bus re-started. Everybody settled
back into their respective seats, each looking out for the person next to them.
It was once again like a big happy
family traveling together. Children sat holding onto the arms of strangers
while parents sat elsewhere knowing they will be looked after. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The bus shook and rattled; roads rose,
dipped and fell; my bones felt as if they will come out of their sockets.
People got down, more people got up. Parcels for unknown people were picked up
and dropped. Messages were passed. Beautiful picture perfect villages set against
the backdrop of snow mountains came and went. In five hours, we reached Sikles.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">An elderly fellow passenger in the bus
offered me his lovely home to stay. He spoke a bit of English and Hindi and
addressed me as “daughter”. I shifted between calling him “dadju” and “father”.
He took me to the viewpoint early
morning next day from where we could see the <i>himal</i> up close. He treated me to evening snacks of roasted maize
and boiled soy beans all the days I stayed there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">His joyful wife could barely speak Hindi,
so most of our conversations were based on simple words and actions. Other
times, it was intuitive. We joked and laughed a lot also. She told me about her
youngest son who doesn’t live with them anymore. The father and the son had a
fight. She is one of the last few women in the village who still weave sheep
wool into blankets on a traditional handloom. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Their daughter and grand-daughter lived
with them as her husband worked in a foreign land like most young Nepali men. The
daughter was reserved and had striking features. We slowly got speaking and
created a space for ourselves. I helped in the kitchen while she cooked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This Buddhist Gurung family prayed to Shiva
and their own ancestors. Every time a meal was cooked, it was first offered to
them before given to others. The kitchen leftovers were fed to an old stray cow
with no teeth. The bones were fed to a village dog. Nothing was wasted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In their own non-intrusive ways, they
looked after me in the short while that I was there. They left me alone to stare
at the mountains and read my book, frequently brining me steaming cups of <i>kalo</i> sugared <i>chiya</i>. It was Tihar, the day I left. The three of us hugged each
other – mother, daughter and I. We held each other long, not a word was spoken,
a silent acknowledgment to the kinship and bond that can exist only between
women. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
I took the jeep this time instead of the
bus. My “father” came to drop me to the jeep. He told the other travellers that
I was from India. We all started speaking with each other including the driver
in limited Hindi and Nepali. The old woman sitting next to me kept her hand protectively on my legs and went off to sleep. It was again one big happy family travelling
together. The morning autumn sun was beautiful. I looked out at the mountains,
layered in mist and ever so mystical.<br />
<br />
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-11484297801083619332019-09-19T01:04:00.001-07:002019-10-03T08:20:10.657-07:00Living the Sacred, Daily:<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZXcG93ID45a3qkvdzyayRVVpYRbSb2Y8d1A5elgxFtEbjWltB-vksoF8WjPEJwMJI58Y96w60SCDr_uZRATbWeMIN_h4zt1Aq3Ofy5m5XiKhK9BMCytK5gig4pHZuSzPy8tN1cPgJbs/s1600/IMG_20190315_161225+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="479" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZXcG93ID45a3qkvdzyayRVVpYRbSb2Y8d1A5elgxFtEbjWltB-vksoF8WjPEJwMJI58Y96w60SCDr_uZRATbWeMIN_h4zt1Aq3Ofy5m5XiKhK9BMCytK5gig4pHZuSzPy8tN1cPgJbs/s400/IMG_20190315_161225+%25282%2529.jpg" width="345" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Words, that form languages, are inherently violent
and often corrupts. Language is rigid and structured and doesn’t allow the exploration
of the vastness and depth of thoughts and emotions that we feel or can express.
We say things we don’t mean. We don’t know how to say things we really mean. We
interpret what others say by perceiving it from our understanding of those
words.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I have been guilty of all these a million
times in the past. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Words, therefore, restrict me from
expressing fully what sacredness means to me. I have struggled in my head to
describe its essence but have failed repeatedly. I know what it’s not:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Sacredness is not about finding ‘divinity’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s not about rituals and prayers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s not about energies and vibes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s also not about being blessed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">And I know how finding the sacred is changing how I live my life:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Sacredness is in having conscious conversations<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s in deep listening – to yourself and to everything around you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s in trusting life and the map of your soul<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s in understanding the inherent-ness in everything<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s in seemingly serendipitous events and connections<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s in being ‘conscious’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s also in unshackling yourself and letting go <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Perhaps, the closest explanation of this
can be what the Shaman master once told me – “the more individual you become,
the more universal you become". When you find your intrinsic self, you find
your universal self. And when you find your universal self, everything around
you become sacred.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Living the sacred daily is not just limited
to the few things I mentioned above. There’s more, much more. But I am unable
to find any more words to express. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-8353620918968102752019-08-01T10:32:00.001-07:002019-08-01T10:32:04.185-07:00By the Ganga:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We had found our perfect spot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A silent and hidden man-made outcrop covered
by a young Peepal tree under which somebody had placed a stone ‘Shiva-linga’
and a Nandi close by. The grey Ganga flowed quietly in front spreading herself
out on the other bank, which was empty of humans and human activities. The
monsoon clouds flitted in and out across the distant hills. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The stones of the outcrop were cool and
inviting. I lay down and was soon lost in the movement of the leaves as they
danced about to their own mad tune. The sound of the wind amongst the leaves
was lulling, captivating, broken only by the mild screeches of the grey
hornbills. My friend was lost in her own world. I was lost in mine. And Ganga
was lost in her own wanderings. Along with us was silence. The silence of nature
and the silence of our minds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3fOKird8f1ZcvHGxBiuo9-Ll48gKw21eujbGL13VFWo0JMYLYMhsBzG7fnFtljuC-JU9tc-lE3rjj4_wdbC18XD27p68iEcS0iMdfN0UISJ3sJsu2YNFkY8JpmNKqdIdDaAFwFtlf3k/s1600/IMG_20190717_113104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="550" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3fOKird8f1ZcvHGxBiuo9-Ll48gKw21eujbGL13VFWo0JMYLYMhsBzG7fnFtljuC-JU9tc-lE3rjj4_wdbC18XD27p68iEcS0iMdfN0UISJ3sJsu2YNFkY8JpmNKqdIdDaAFwFtlf3k/s400/IMG_20190717_113104.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By the Ganga - image: Bipasha M</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I had never thought Haridwar could be so
comforting. During my earlier travels, I had almost always bypassed the city,
as I could not stand the chaos and confusion that I had always associated with
the place. This is a place where religion is business, and it’s everywhere.
On-the-face everywhere – something which I abhorred earlier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This time also, I was more keen to go to
Rishikesh and spend a day sitting on the white sand banks of the Ganga,
surrounded by green hills. I have fond memories of Rishikesh – my first rafting
trip way back in the late 90s when Ganga was free, wild, and ferocious; my
first jumps from a cliff into her cold cold water - despite my fear of water;
my first ‘weed’ high – a beautiful high, you can only get while sitting by the
Ganga at dusk. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This time, traffic jams on the highway to
Rishikesh due to the upcoming ‘Kawariyas’ mela led us to this perfect spot
instead of Rishikesh. We explored the city later in the evening – lanes and
bylanes of the market filled with stuff related to religion and catering to the
needs of the pilgrims. We visited temples, something which I would never have
done earlier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The day ended with a brilliant full moon shining
over the distant hills and washing everything clean. The city had gone silent
at night. From the top of the terrace of my friend’s ashram, I thought I could
hear a faint murmuring – of Ganga still lost in her wanderings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-30344971680526476672019-06-13T10:26:00.004-07:002019-06-15T11:10:01.684-07:00The ‘New’ Delhi Days:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">The feeling was strange. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">The sudden shift in the weather wasn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">It was a perfect summer afternoon thunderstorm – sudden darkening of
clouds, flashes of lightning, following thunder, and then the downpour. When
the showers stopped, outside the library, had collected small puddles strewn with
fuchsia bougainvillea and yellow laburnum flowers that had fallen from the trees.
Water dripped from the magnificent old trees in the lawn, peacocks screeched
loudly sitting atop the museum building, and birds chirped everywhere. Interspersed
between these sounds of nature, was silence, and a perfect wet stillness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBFcDGWkP_naXc-nyf6niIcfe-O6Q2Lo0LBGLAC1O5TTR0xqLIr_9NQ9hqrcQhksjhUr79ye5STP560BuN9ikXxYk8mvd0KpMWczPkVezvoYje6cYyNmgfATLIH8Jc-wzRDFHiIWou3s/s1600/IMG_20190517_171642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="412" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBFcDGWkP_naXc-nyf6niIcfe-O6Q2Lo0LBGLAC1O5TTR0xqLIr_9NQ9hqrcQhksjhUr79ye5STP560BuN9ikXxYk8mvd0KpMWczPkVezvoYje6cYyNmgfATLIH8Jc-wzRDFHiIWou3s/s400/IMG_20190517_171642.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">When I left the Nehru (Teen Murti) library, one of my favourite haunts
here, it was already evening. The sidewalks of the road were littered with
leaves, a heady smell of wet neem and jamun trees permeated the area, and when
I looked up, I saw a brilliantly sparkling full moon rising out of the tree
line. What I felt then was pure happiness coupled with tinges of nostalgia; for
I had forgotten just how beautiful Delhi is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I was happy because I was walking down empty sidewalks to the metro
station, two kilometers away, in approaching darkness without fear. I was not
looking over my shoulders to see if I was being followed or at the oncoming
traffic wary of cars that might slow down near you; I was looking at the bright
moon because I just couldn’t take my eyes off the sky.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJpkEy44k0rzW7iCz-WuunXqXgibHusGtdtdypF6ZFB5gw8XnsYZed1PjWEW14tIIkMEmdnP73uCZ1Z9qHb_2NTfPuYgRlq_CC-TAQ9pfq7EvLywkfGFEztrzp07dNrhXpyi2prIvLrE/s1600/IMG_20190517_172646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="412" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJpkEy44k0rzW7iCz-WuunXqXgibHusGtdtdypF6ZFB5gw8XnsYZed1PjWEW14tIIkMEmdnP73uCZ1Z9qHb_2NTfPuYgRlq_CC-TAQ9pfq7EvLywkfGFEztrzp07dNrhXpyi2prIvLrE/s400/IMG_20190517_172646.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">That feeling I later realized was strange, given that I was back in
a city which was crazily unsafe for girls even a decade ago. Something
definitely has shifted within the collective conscience of the people of the city,
and I can feel that the city is finally coming to her own after years of being
trodden and used. Delhi is now at her most vibrant self, with numerous things
happening at all corners – what Bombay used to be once upon a time. Public
spaces are now being occupied more and more by women making it safer than
before – city forests, public parks, renovated archeological monuments, city
lakes, gardens, outdoor national and international cultural shows, which have
been made more accessible to people. The kind of on-the-face aggression that
used to exist way back in the 90s and early 2000s, is not there anymore.
Moreover, and more importantly, I haven’t come across people talking to your
boobs or looking you up and down before answering your question – something which
was very common during those days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">To me, from an observational perspective, a couple of key events might have led to this much needed change. The metro system – which has opened up
public travel especially for women like never before; the Nirbhaya incident –
which has made the larger community more aware and sensitive to women and
others (her death was not in vain); activities, access to activities and
technology – there are so many things to do now and with smartphones etc.,
people are rather gainfully occupied; and then there is the younger generation –
they are a breed apart: gutsy, intelligent, well-informed, risk-taking, and
sensitive, and they are here in Delhi from all corners of India overshadowing
the typical Delhi boys and girls. I also feel the current Delhi government has brought
in much required fresh energy which might not reflect overtly but rather in these
subtle shifts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A lot still needs to change – especially in
the professional front where babugiri rules and the way people are so stuck up.
However, I am not going to complain. For I am beginning to really like this ‘New’
Delhi. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-44143527845033930052019-05-02T04:20:00.001-07:002019-05-05T11:07:26.435-07:00Fly Free:<br />
<div style="border-bottom: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Bipasha, imagine yourself standing at the edge of a
cliff. When you heal yourself completely, you will feel so light and free that
you will want to fly. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">My body had
felt dense in those days. For years I had been ruthless and focused on owning
up to and facing my mental demons, that I did not realize my physical body
needed attention as well. While accurately pinpointing the physical areas of my
body that needed healing, the shaman master gave me a prognosis of being just 67%
healthy. And this after a decade of either playing tennis, running, cycling, or
walking as my weekly dose of exercise!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">In due course,
I realized that even though you think you are healthy – both mentally and
physically - you are not healthy in the real sense. Even though you face up to
your mental demons and do your daily meditations, you are still not Really over
your mental demons. And just exercising your body, ofcourse, is never enough.
You are free only when you have stripped and cleansed every cell in your body,
and mentally and emotionally so true to yourself that the outer, external
realities cease to matter. Only and only then you can feel light and be Free. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">I have also
realized that we put a lot of effort in eating right and exercising well, but
we are nowhere connected to our bodies. I have also realized that we are way
too attached to our past, we cling onto our hurts, grief, injustice or notions
of injustice etc. like the veritable last straw – the pain or hurt by now such
a familiar space that its difficult stepping out into the unknown. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
Imagine then, how experiences keep adding
layers to your body and mind as you age, making your energy dense and heavy.
Now imagine, over 90% of 7 billion people on Earth living in similar
conditions. The millions of ‘like’ that one can see for hundreds of poignant
stories on just one page of ‘Humans of New York’ are an attestation of that.
What a dense base-level world we are living in!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
Well, life can be unrelenting. And add to
that the omnipresence of toxicity. We owe ourselves and our bodies a chance to
do what they are supposed to do. Here are a few things I do now, and hence can
suggest the same to others:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>C<span style="text-indent: -18pt;">onnect with your body. Your
body will tell you what you need to eat and what you need to avoid. For
regular, small ailments like cold, cough, upset tummy etc. practice home
remedies as a start. The body is an amazing healer; allow it to do its work. </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">Let loose. We are very rigid
when it comes to thoughts, opinions, ways of work, and even how we move our
bodies. Dance, do yoga, or headstands – anything to get rid of that rigidity.<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">Keep your body active. Walk
that 500 meters rather than hailing a cab or auto. </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">Eat only when you are hungry,
and eat just as much as required. Ideally we should go back to what our
ancestors followed – t wo meals a day, last meal around sundown. Give your
stomach some rest. </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">Be aware of what you are
eating. Be mindful of the water you are drinking. Show your gratitude. </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">Develop your daily morning or
evening routine, a time just for yourself. You can exercise, meditate, do your
art, say your mantras, or whatever brings you back to yourself! </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">Go and heal yourself of all
your chronic ailments. There are hundreds of alternative therapies – pick one
and stay the full course. Most ailments are inter-connected, so just trying to
resolve one and not the others might not work. </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">R</span><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">esolve your mental and
emotional demons. It’s difficult but doable. Again there are various forms of
therapy, keep at it until you break your patterns. Each experience – bad or
good – has something to teach you. Learn from them, show your gratitude, and
let them go.</span></li>
<li><br /></li>
<li>De-clutter and clear your space
regularly. There are many ways to clear spaces; I use mostly rock salt in
‘pocha’ water. It might sound mumbo-jumbo, but trust me, it works. But always
over a period of time. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
I am still a case in progress, and I have a
long way to go. But I have glimpsed that lightness of being when I released one
of my chronic problems. Then I had felt I could run up twenty flights of
stairs. Now I am waiting to fly - light and free.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 31.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-14175613907147126782019-04-03T03:15:00.003-07:002019-04-03T23:36:56.012-07:00My Journey into Shamanism:<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In the last week of March, 2018, under the
influence of a brilliant full moon, my world as I knew it shifted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In the couple of weeks preceding the full
moon, and a couple of weeks post that, I experienced things that I never knew
existed. Ofcourse I had read about similar experiences, but largely discarded
them as something not meant for ordinary people like me. In the magical,
inter-connected ways of life, I was led to experience Himalayan Shamanism
because in my tumultuous journey as a truth-seeker, I had long rejected religions
and ritualistic practices as mere eye-wash. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Shamanism is a term given by modern
anthropologists and ethnographers to describe a way of living and belief
systems followed by ancient tribes across the world. Evidence of such practices
has been recorded which is atleast 20,000-year-old, and anthropologists believe
that such practices could be much older. In ancient communities, a Shaman was a
very important person who not only cured people of illnesses, but also led the
community to food, shelter, and away from harm’s way. He/She had the ability to
communicate with spirits of nature, and find cure for illnesses, taking not
even a leaf more than was required. Even today, the Shamans of the Amazon
region are known to accurately identify more than 10 sub-species of a single
plant, something which even seasoned botanists find difficult to do. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But the Shamanic way of life and belief
systems are much deeper than just this, and it’s the same across the world whether
it’s the native American tradition, the amazon tribes, the aborigines of
Australia, the tribes of Siberia and Mongolia, or the Himalayas. It’s so deep
that it’s often called the ‘path of direct revelation’. Some of its core
beliefs (or values) are that everything in the world is manifestation of the
same energy/Spirit, and hence is alive. Therefore everything on Earth,
especially our Earth has to be treated with as much respect, love, and
compassion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Tc3dhX8-XXB2Miq1lil3DhVuzFgAJ3kUVHST5iS_Qn2Bhk6rYsN3LTO-biX6UUuQfdYNGNvZpuHKd0K2ONYzTbYOvsjRqq6q6rH2QJqOf_XIvc9R74Nk7lsFlHvXq4EzJCLHVBz3U6o/s1600/earth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="412" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Tc3dhX8-XXB2Miq1lil3DhVuzFgAJ3kUVHST5iS_Qn2Bhk6rYsN3LTO-biX6UUuQfdYNGNvZpuHKd0K2ONYzTbYOvsjRqq6q6rH2QJqOf_XIvc9R74Nk7lsFlHvXq4EzJCLHVBz3U6o/s400/earth.jpg" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ink Doodling by me for a friend - Element Earth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We, humans, are the physical manifestation
of the energetic experiences or memories of our ancestors, past lives, and also
our current lives. And we are all connected, in magical extra-ordinary ways, to
each other as well as to the past and the future. I am as connected to blade of
grass in Siberia, as I am connected to my mother. How I conduct myself now can
impact not only the blade of grass in Siberia, but also generations in the
future as well (much like the movie Butterfly Effect). Hence, we all should
live consciously and with gratitude. And if we can let go of our baggage and
heavy energies that we have been carrying for centuries, and connect with our
hearts and allow life to flow, each of us can experience this amazing
inter-connectedness, immense compassion, communicate with plants, trees,
rivers, and mountains, and even reach out to higher beings who are there to
guide us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Earlier, each community had their own Shamans,
and traditional practices exclusive to their community. But the current state
of the world has forced many Shamans to open their ancient wisdom to people
outside their community. I was similarly initiated into a Shamanic way of
living by a Himalayan Shaman who is using modern technology to help people heal
and find their own truths. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The insights that I got during my medicine
journey were numerous, some of which I have already mentioned in my <a href="http://unfamiliarlines.blogspot.com/2018/12/unfamiliar-lines.html">blog
post here</a>. However, some of my key learnings from the journey are: 1) Healing
is a long process – emotionally, physically, mentally, and energetically. It
starts with acknowledging that we are all flawed and hurting, seeking out our
truths consciously, getting rid of all our baggage and memory blocks, and finding our true Spirit
or “Buddha nature”. For me, I have barely just begun; 2) Ancient wisdom is not simple
superstitions, its remarkable how well they understood nature, the order of the cosmos and our place in
it; 3) We can crib and cry that the world is going from bad to worse in every
possible way, but the only true contribution that you can make right now to help
make it a better place is to change yourself and find your true Spirit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border-bottom: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;">
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<span lang="EN-US">My journey into
Shamanism has helped me find my Spirit and many other things; and living authentically and having
authentic relationships with all sentient and non-sentient beings will continue
to be a journey till the day I cease to exist is this form. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Note: People interested to know more can write
to me directly. For all others, I highly recommend the Nalanda Diploma course in
Buddhist Philosophy from Tibet House.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-54803624504502031982019-02-26T07:34:00.003-08:002019-04-01T10:08:53.918-07:00The Moon Magic:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The Moon! That was the first thing I
noticed in Ethiopia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Umm, actually not! The first thing that I
noticed after landing at the airport early morning was that Addis reminded me
of India of the 80s. Old models of cars (think Fiat and Ambassador) spewing
vehicular smoke in an otherwise clean and clear air, road-side shops selling
clothes, shoes, vegetables, and other stuff before liberalization made it all
about brands and malls, bricks and cement stacked up against walls of houses for
construction work, small buna coffee or tea places dotting market areas, old
style wood chairs and tables in cafes (similar to those which still exist in few
places in Kolkata and parts of Mumbai), load-shedding, gasoline shortage,
rationing of sugar and butter, spurious items, community-bonding, living with
the larger (joint) family, and an unmissable languid pace of life. Add to this
India’s ‘soft’ exports – yesteryears’ Bollywood movies (like Haathi Mera Saathi
and Disco Dancer!) and blue and white tuktuks (a slender and cuter version of
our lovable autos) – and the picture was complete. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Now you know why I am so nostalgic about
the 70s and the 80s!” – I told my young friend G with glee and finality. G,
whose childhood was spent in the 90s and out of India, is now working in
Ethiopia and totally in love with the country. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Ethiopia is a very poor country, but unlike
India, and like Nepal, people do not wear their poverty on their sleeves. There
is a quiet dignity to their state of living. Decades of political upheaval and
instability meant that work on basic infrastructure, creation of jobs and other
ways of livelihood, connectivity between towns and regions, tourism etc. are still at a nascent stage. Like India in the 80s, domestic tourism is only
related to pilgrimages (Ethiopians dislike travelling!), and hence geared
largely towards western travellers making budget travelling for people like me
a big problem. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDa-t_XGN5KGDPKy5s-AUlhHvI6Bb_AevMzcs5lewB2fz6AvYbexBIVT5U8WJhD3y39Y5JPS6oupdGT3KcIQLUpbEm3Yb39JfZciMf46tA67EhyphenhyphenosujR2xHjbks6kXz5pnnAJeviorvI/s1600/IMG_4718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDa-t_XGN5KGDPKy5s-AUlhHvI6Bb_AevMzcs5lewB2fz6AvYbexBIVT5U8WJhD3y39Y5JPS6oupdGT3KcIQLUpbEm3Yb39JfZciMf46tA67EhyphenhyphenosujR2xHjbks6kXz5pnnAJeviorvI/s320/IMG_4718.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the Rift Valley lakes in the distance. Photo: Bipasha M</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Apart from travelling back in time, there
were few other things which made Ethiopia special for me. With varieties of
both vegetarian and non-vegetarian local cuisine, yummiest avocado juice, the
light honey wine Tej and an even lighter tea, the country was an absolute food
heaven for me. However, chewing chhaat leaves, having buna coffee, and eating raw meat were not for this 'faint-stomached' Indian, though G has clearly acquired a taste for the first two if not the third.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-i78k_w6pF2WHgVKQpTnaaytmEzMs0RSYjl3MekuiBPfhF-NG8XLjtltcJhaNNeP9MnHI9zbZ9OuOU62CtIK9hZZbm-xHXkxBL-OlyxZNGAkLrEEem8wUn16qb434YkAYaHGE-f2H04/s1600/IMG_4611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-i78k_w6pF2WHgVKQpTnaaytmEzMs0RSYjl3MekuiBPfhF-NG8XLjtltcJhaNNeP9MnHI9zbZ9OuOU62CtIK9hZZbm-xHXkxBL-OlyxZNGAkLrEEem8wUn16qb434YkAYaHGE-f2H04/s320/IMG_4611.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to Afar region. Photo: Bipasha M</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Ethiopia is also the region from where
humanity evolved and spread around the world. This is the place of our
ancestors. Travelling across its now arid and craggy hills, salt pans, sulfur
geysers, and endless plains, it was easy to imagine how nature might have been
when sapiens had lived here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But the most special reason was the magic
of the moon! The brilliantly sparkling city moon was the second thing I noticed
in Addis. It drew me in, into some ancient world, into another dimension. Our
journey to the crater of a live volcanic lake in Afar region through a series
of mind-blowing and alien landscape followed a waning full moon. We slept outside
on charpoys in the vast open land, directly under the influence of her glorious
moonlight. I trekked over lava beds and rocks in the dark (night trek) without
headlamps to reach the crater, intuitively knowing where to place my feet. And
when the huge orange moon rose from the top of a smoking volcano, it was
spellbinding. In that golden glow, across ancient lava beds, I felt the Spirit
of the Earth herself calling out to me, welcoming me home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-8419955751211584162018-12-27T10:09:00.000-08:002019-01-02T06:17:25.193-08:00Unfamiliar Lines:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabea-Rs0nJ2HSvRwLSunLLtxIPLci2ZvyN2WFl6A93iNmmnTQm8rWHY9eOJHhAGF2djMMvJ1mt3JBQa7lpababg6F54416nQ9sxRaIDnvWRVZ4wZZShaSXaZcalxCfmLyiUpQe6-q_m4/s1600/IMG_20181128_124148+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="650" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabea-Rs0nJ2HSvRwLSunLLtxIPLci2ZvyN2WFl6A93iNmmnTQm8rWHY9eOJHhAGF2djMMvJ1mt3JBQa7lpababg6F54416nQ9sxRaIDnvWRVZ4wZZShaSXaZcalxCfmLyiUpQe6-q_m4/s400/IMG_20181128_124148+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image credit: bipasha m</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The end of this particular year deserves a
post. This has been a special year, for me, and for many people like me
elsewhere. In the sense of regular living, nothing has changed on the surface.
But I am not the same person I was at the beginning of this year. The year, at
one level, seems to have gone by in a flash. But I can recall every day of
every month with crystal clarity because I lived all the days at nature’s pace –
without any hurry.<br />
<br />
Some of the lessons that I have learnt this
year are simple yet so critical – to become human in the real sense; the
importance of which I cannot stop emphasizing. The list of lessons that I have
learnt can go on to fill pages, but here are some of the most important ones
that I want to share.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Remember the movie Tamasha by
Imtiaz Ali? Everyone is born with one gift in the least which is unique like
every individual. Find your gift and let that gift lead you in life. Your gift
is not about being a leader or an orator or a team player or money manager.
Think subtler, something which you have buried deep inside and forgotten. Are you
intuitive, a healer, an herbalist, a singer, a dreamer, a storyteller, a person
who connects dots, a performer? Go back to your childhood – who were you then,
what did you do naturally, what were you drawn to naturally? That IS your gift –
hone it, live it. Just like the movie!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Humanity’s potential is vast,
like cosmos vast. With the kind of life we are living now, we barely have
scratched its surface. No, it’s not about being a CEO of a company or a world
champion or a beauty pageant or earning like the Ambanis. Human potential is
about the power of the subconscious, and the power of your heart. We have
immense capacity for love (not the jealous possessive kinds), compassion,
empathy, intuition, 'psychic' abilities, creating magic, self-healing, connections to each other and other sentient beings! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Reconnect with your heart and listen
to what it says! Stop thinking with your mind or brain. Your heart knows what
is best for you and will guide you accordingly. Use your mind to implement what
your heart says and watch how everything changes around you. We have collectively
used our brains for way too long and we are nowhere near being happy. Just look
at the state of our world!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Move your body. Dance. Yes,
dance! Switch on the music, switch off the lights, close your eyes, place your
hand on your heart and let your body respond to the music. We need to know and
love our bodies, just as it is. We are as disconnected from our bodies and we
are from our hearts. If you have the strength, stand in front of a mirror naked
and look at yourself. Acknowledge yourself for who you are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Fall in love with the night.
Don’t rush to switch on the lights when dusk approaches. Watch the day merge
into the night. Watch the stars, reconnect with the moon. It’s powerful!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Heal yourself. We carry tons
and tons of emotional baggage – from our childhood, current life, from our
parents, ancestors, and even past lives. Do whatever it takes to heal, drastic
or slow, skydive from an airplane or go for vipassana. Just do it! You owe it
to yourself to become who you truly are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Live with awareness. Live in
the present. As an Alaskan indigenous community leader mentioned – past makes
you live in guilt and hurt, and future makes you live in fear. We need to be
present to the present (as my late English teacher always used to say) to know
what love and compassion is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Let go and stop controlling
things. Nature flows and does not control. Don’t go against the rhythm of
nature. Respect it. Observe and learn from it. Nature’s wisdom is immense and
deep. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">2019 is a year for new beginnings, but only for those who are willing to let go of everything past and step up to a new life. So wishing everybody the </span></span><span style="text-indent: -24px;">best for another shining year.</span><span style="text-indent: -24px;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-19959627559913694232018-10-29T08:40:00.001-07:002018-10-30T11:23:45.502-07:00In Search of Authenticity:<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;">There is a rhythm and there is a structure.
The moon waxes and wanes, exerting an ancient influence on everything. Old
trees in forests fall, so that younger ones can grow. Rivers continue to flow
for centuries. The insects, birds, reptiles, small and large animals on earth
and those in the vast oceans feed on each other, depend on each other keeping
the machinery of life going. Rising and falling, like the sun, like the oceans.
Like the storms, floods, volcanoes which destroy and then bring forth new life.
Everything on earth moves to nature’s own rhythm, all inter-connected, all
alive. And it’s this same cosmic rhythm that governs the universe, governs us
(humans) as well. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;">Except now. For we have chosen to forget
and to disconnect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;">Now humanity is racing, against this very rhythm.
Racing to earn lots of money, to become the next president in a company, so get
the latest phone, to buy that car, to have that first kiss, to get married and
then get divorced, to touch Eiffel tower and then off to touch Petronas towers,
to climb all the tallest mountains, to tick things off the bucket list before
others. Racing to do and connect with things that hold no truth. Racing against
our very nature, ignoring the fact that living a life that is not ‘nature’ will
ultimately self-destroy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;">In this human-created physical reality
which is moving so fast away from nature’s reality, I have chosen to stop and
ask myself – how authentic is my living? How authentic are my relationships, at
what level do I connect with people, how truly do I love? How authentic is my
work, do I do the work that I do for money or fame or to resonate with my
Spirit, do I even know and use my gifts well? How authentically do I
communicate, do I listen well, do I articulate well? How authentic is my
connection to myself, do I know who I am when I strip myself off my skin,
muscles and bones? How authentic is my connection to my environment, the nature
around me, the rising sun and the moon, other sentient beings? How authentically
do I live in my body?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">I have chosen to stop, slow down, find my
truths, return to the rhythm of nature, and reconnect with my home – the Earth.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuUb1pKNUzWDh3DE-brMkgabEaOAB36CzCalQ-aBuEXP0J9gLWE3caZAaPtw4CEUXH6oaxyMwhbTeEHGIkznYwac4muqxAT8dgxLe_KTD3Rxn0eQPJaUkJTQ7DrcRt8HV_oROQxKaidn8/s1600/IMG_20180625_172214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="650" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuUb1pKNUzWDh3DE-brMkgabEaOAB36CzCalQ-aBuEXP0J9gLWE3caZAaPtw4CEUXH6oaxyMwhbTeEHGIkznYwac4muqxAT8dgxLe_KTD3Rxn0eQPJaUkJTQ7DrcRt8HV_oROQxKaidn8/s320/IMG_20180625_172214.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<br />
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-24418686824183080182018-05-26T07:56:00.002-07:002018-05-26T07:58:52.294-07:00In Gratitude:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Thich
Nhat Hanh - Inter-Being or Inter-Are*:<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">What do you see when you see a paper?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Do you see a blank sheet - where you can shape
your own creations? Or do you see bits of clouds that held the rain? Do you see
the rain that fell from these clouds and which watered the soil, or the warmth
of the sun that helped the trees grow? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do
you see the insects, organisms in the soil that distributed nutrient to the
trees? Do you see the trees themselves, from which the sheet of paper was made,
with its healthy mossy bark and green playful leaves? How about the golden wheat
raised by a farmer in some remote village from which the bread was made – the
same bread which gave strength and energy to the tree-cutter? Do you see the
tree-cutter who felled the trees and the people who toiled hard to get that
sheet to you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Itadakimasu
(Japanese):<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I humbly receive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">You fold your hand and say Itadakimasu
before you have your meal. In its simplest form, it is about showing respect to
all the living beings and the processes that went to bring that dish of food to
your table – the plants and animals that gave their lives, to the farmers, fisherfolks,
vendors, cooks, your mother/father, hostess etc. who worked hard for that dish
of food. At a deeper level, the essence of the word can be extended to almost
anything that you receive – as an acknowledgment of the efforts of so many
living beings, of gratitude and reflection, of the awareness that things should
not be simply wasted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Shamanism
(worldwide):<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">You are Nature.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">(As different from - you are part of
Nature). Everything is Spirit. You are as connected to that single blade of
grass that grows after the winter thaw in Siberia as you are to yourself. What
you do now can have an impact four generations later perhaps in Australia. At
this very moment, you are present as much in the past as you are in the future.
Your ordinary world or reality is as much of an illusion as you think the
non-ordinary reality is an illusion. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">===============================================================<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitfFuIgV8-K851wRw0izUO0WTvSc21lp4mPYy_jrmbdWhf4DZ-1FV0FhWVcdR360FAVDFKTLxNlKGqd09mCLxb9HyRx36Ts8MnvnVACtSpok58UDv1U7feSIEwMJ8ynKJR6m4_bilMTc/s1600/IMG_20180525_175055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="481" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitfFuIgV8-K851wRw0izUO0WTvSc21lp4mPYy_jrmbdWhf4DZ-1FV0FhWVcdR360FAVDFKTLxNlKGqd09mCLxb9HyRx36Ts8MnvnVACtSpok58UDv1U7feSIEwMJ8ynKJR6m4_bilMTc/s200/IMG_20180525_175055.jpg" width="157" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Element: Fire (Ink doodling by me)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This post is an expression of the deep
gratitude that I feel for the city of Mumbai, where I have spent eleven
uncommon years (boring by ordinary reality standards!) so far. Looking back
over the years – from the time I landed at the Mumbai airport on a rain-soaked
day, till today, when I am hunched over my laptop waiting for the rains to soak
the city again – it’s been an amazing tapestry of inter-woven incidents and
inter-connectedness of people and places. I have learnt two important lessons
here: one, to stop controlling and going with the flow of life, wherever life
decides to take me; two, to learn to say yes to everything that life brings to
your doorstep (atleast to all that your intuition/body does not outrightly
negate) – from rejections (gracefully accept them) to opportunities which
appear totally unconnected at first. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The city has given me the much-needed space
to learn these at my own pace, and much more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">And to the future that it intends to bring,
I say Itadakimasu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">* this example of inter-being has been given by Thich Nhat Hanh, though the words have been embellished by me</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-59344491687297435792018-04-19T07:54:00.002-07:002018-04-19T09:40:04.368-07:00Lost and Found:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Most
ancient shamanic traditions, whether it’s the Peruvian, Maoris or Himalayan,
believe that everything within this universe is made of energy; and we are all physical
manifestations of that energy. According to one Himalayan shamanic tradition,
we, each individual as well as the society, are the manifestations of our
experiences, individual as well as collective - of past lives, ancestral
experiences, and present memories and that current actions can energetically have
impact over seven generations. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Yuval
Noah Harari in his book Sapiens says that animals live in and experience
objective reality. Only homo sapiens (us) have the ability to create fictional
(imaginations) reality like politics, religion, money, human rights etc. and
accept that reality over and above the objective reality due to our ability to
be flexible and cooperate in large numbers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And now, we have almost lost touch with our objective reality.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Somewhere
between these two narratives, we (humans) have lost our way. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22kLjMoyj6BTHSO3TLQvcDEnEmhVwpR3I2hDmUysO69iLZ1mBGXWeEwCAMTcdmjwFaQKxQ5xONPfd8BCeti6nmmYqAiyEZ_IlQYp1W08BajICGSA6kkxJzAISPvraUvton85Zb8KQabU/s1600/2018-04-17-PHOTO-00039366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="550" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22kLjMoyj6BTHSO3TLQvcDEnEmhVwpR3I2hDmUysO69iLZ1mBGXWeEwCAMTcdmjwFaQKxQ5xONPfd8BCeti6nmmYqAiyEZ_IlQYp1W08BajICGSA6kkxJzAISPvraUvton85Zb8KQabU/s320/2018-04-17-PHOTO-00039366.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So, who are you when you say you are a
human? No, you are not the white privileged person from the rich west, or an
Australian, or a Dalit, a Muslim, a CEO of a company, a teacher, a mother of
two, a bored housewife, a miner, a writer, a photographer, a kabbadi player, a
murderer, a hermit, a loner, a beggar, a feminist, a right-winger, a banker, a reluctant
leader, a scientist, a child, a dreamer, a homosexual, a transgender, a
terrorist, an African, a Buddhist, a tribal, an unsuccessful actor, a
game-addict, an orphan, a runner, a trekker, a farmer, a rich man with two
houses and two cars, a schizophrenic, a sad widower.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Who are you when you remove yourself from
this ‘fictional’ life and definitions? Who are you when you strip yourself of
your hair, skin, muscle and your bones? Who are you when you stand in front of
your naked soul, when you confront your spirit? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When you come face to face with your
spirit-self, then and only then, your journey as a human being begins. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<br />Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-19260935379374063732018-03-10T07:20:00.002-08:002018-03-10T07:20:25.242-08:00In the Mango Tree:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Keep
a green <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">tree</span> in your
heart and perhaps the singing bird will come - Chinese Proverb (so says the
internet)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s the time when the city is at its
quietest and darkness is still heavy outside. A singular mellifluous eight-note
song of the fantail in the almond tree outside my bedroom window signals that
night is about to end and dawn break is not far away. And within the hour, a
cacophony of birsongs bursts forth every single day in the limited trees that
we have within our society compound. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In my arm-chair bird watching style, I have
counted just over 20 species of birds in the one mango and one almond tree that
dot my windows: from crows, sparrows, drongo, pigeons (dumb and forever
fornicating just like humans!) to copper-smith barbet, golden oreole, purple
rumped sunbird, common tailorbird, and even a single male paradise
flycatcher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It pains me sometimes to see
so many birds in just a few trees, each struggling to find its own space (crows
and pigeons mostly win). But somewhere I count myself fortunate to yet wake up
to birdsongs in a city before chaos takes over for the rest of the day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This became all the more discernible when I
was travelling in Germany and Slovenia during fall last year. Though I missed
the ancient beech forests of Germany, the ones that I visited in both the
countries were second or third generation forests, carefully regenerated and
then ‘managed’ for ecological as well as economic sustainability. In Germany,
citizens have the right to walk inside any forest, private or public, but
within stipulated paths and trails. Different from India, I felt breathless and
lost in the beauty of these young forests: in myriad hues of yellow, orange,
red and green, in colours more heightened when the slanting autumn sun filtered
in through the transforming leaves, in forest floors layered with fallen
leaves, and in the pervasive silence everywhere. Coming from a country where noise
is the prime sensory overload, the silence of these forests was like going deep
in meditation. So absorbed was I in this other type of sensory overload, that I
did not immediately sense the forests were more silent than normal. Even in a
more rustic Slovenia, surrounded by craggy mountains and limpid lakes, the
forests were cruelly still. So were the trees in the cities and city-parks. The
singing birds did not come here despite the green trees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4cfFV3PkXgv1lu_Q2lgRxa_xA-QjUEsJg_jutcP9jnkXGdyLQwEA_tkUgiUYuLnV-z7bqVhwbhQ5cBhWT8Nv_ZAbPXGOM3B2hnesWEYB8zRavuSWN9QHqOisgyQg-mlKdLzUjesfO2w/s1600/IMG_20171026_100224+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4cfFV3PkXgv1lu_Q2lgRxa_xA-QjUEsJg_jutcP9jnkXGdyLQwEA_tkUgiUYuLnV-z7bqVhwbhQ5cBhWT8Nv_ZAbPXGOM3B2hnesWEYB8zRavuSWN9QHqOisgyQg-mlKdLzUjesfO2w/s320/IMG_20171026_100224+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">morning mist in a forest in Slovenia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Our cities, villages, parks, forests,
rivers, lakes, hills, mountains, salt-pans are alive, despite urbanisation:
insects, dragonflies, butterflies, snakes, frogs, birds, small and large
animals, fungus, algae…everywhere still. Our forests have an ephemeral silence
as well as a constant chatter, filled with a raw energy. This energy can still
be found scattered in pockets across the country, even though successive
governments have been changing policy to forcefully create plantations in the
name of forest ‘management’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The country’s
forest cover surprisingly remains the same: dense forests are cut down while plantations
(considered ‘forests’) take over its space. But then a time will come when our ‘forests’
will also become deathly silent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Till that time, I am grateful for all the
singing birds in my green mango tree. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6194257788954366266.post-59404275716059438932017-05-14T11:08:00.000-07:002017-05-14T11:09:29.520-07:00The Age of Awakening:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US">“Your
destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffaloes are all
slaughtered, the wild horses tamed, the secret corners are heavy with the scent
of many men and view of the ripe hills is blotted by talking wires?....The end
of living and beginning of survival.” ~ excerpts from Chief Seattle’s famous
letter to the President of the US. </span></i></div>
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In his book, The 12<sup>th</sup> Planet,
Zecharia Sitchin provides meticulous evidence, if one were to believe, about
the shocking origin of Earth and human beings. He argues that Homo Sapiens and
the first great civilisations are an anomaly to the natural evolution process
which has taken millions of years to actually shift from using stones to using
stones as tools like blades, spearheads etc. According to his evidence, humans
were created by beings belonging to a 12<sup>th</sup> planet in a genetic
modification process which involved the genes of Homo Erectus and themselves.
If one wants a bit more scientific evidence, then the theory of Panspermia says
that life on Earth or the first organisms that started life was seeded from
outside. This theory has the backing of eminent scientists such as Nobel Prize
winner molecular biologist Professor Francis Crick and astrophysicist Stephen
Hawking.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The beauty of this theory is that it
answers one critical question about humanity - in a well-oiled natural machine
where every species and natural processes serve a purpose and are intricately
linked to each other for survival, what role do humans play? Human behaviour so
far, has been more parasitical than interdepending; like the alien weeds which
invade local eco-systems and result in massive ecological changes. If you take
humans away from nature, nature thrives just as it would if we were inherently
not part of the original blueprint of Earth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i>“For so long as man continues to be the ruthless destroyer of lower
living beings, he will never know health or peace. For as long as men massacre
animals, they will kill each other. Indeed, they who sow the seeds of murder
and pain cannot reap joy and love.” ~
Pythogaros<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In 2013, Nestle’s CEO Peter
Brabeck-Letmathe declared that access to water is not fundamentally a human
right and therefore it should be privatised.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="background: white;">In about three
centuries, the definition of nature changed to mean natural ‘capital’ and
‘resources’ – nature commodified to supply us with goods and services in a
blatant disregard for other life forms on Earth. </span><span lang="EN-US">As per
scientists, human activities and control over nature have resulted in the sixth
great mass extinction of species even before we have been able to fully
understand how nature works or known its many secrets. Not only that, we have
systematically eliminated indigenous tribes and their ways of life for
centuries simply because they speak the language of nature. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">As the famous naturalist E.O. Wilson
mentions in his latest book Half-Earth, in order to save species from extinction,
we have to leave half the planet untouched. In an increasingly violent space, his
radically reimagined world is but a practical impossibility. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US">“Shiva
(male principle, the consciousness, the medium) denotes all things positive and
virile…Parvati is the Shakti (female principle, the universal energy, the creator)
or the force behind Shiva. Without Shakti, Shiva is impotent.” ~ under a statue
in Dakshina-Chitra (TN) – a tantra philosophy.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">A similar philosophy exists in the Chinese
concept of Yin and Yang (female and male energies respectively) that are present
everywhere in the universe. Though mutually exclusive, they complement each
other and only together they form a perfect whole. The universe, solar systems,
planets, Earth, nature, life and even humans - all function in tandem to this
rhythm and balance. The ‘chaos’ of nature and cosmos is mathematically
structured. Beauty, whether it’s found in a human face, nature or life, is the
existence of this perfect balance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">War, conflict, violence, aggression, abuse,
materialism, too much stress on the self – all point to a masculine world
order, moving towards a hyper-masculine world order led by 56”chests and
similar anatomical features. The evidence is that men are the perpetrators of
violence and abuse towards fellow men, women, children, transgender, queer,
nature and animals. The evidence is that nature and humanity are on the edge of
a precipice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And yet, as his own death drew near, Sakyamuni turned again towards the
north....“Come Ananda, let us go to Kushinagar”. Like the rest of us, perhaps
he longed for home - Matthiessen in The Snow Leopard.</span></i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br />In the shimmering global arena today, our
economic policies and technology are rapidly changing society’s way of
connecting with each other and everything around us, bringing everybody closer,
eliminating boundaries and interlinking destinies. But t<span style="background: white;">hrough psychological and social manipulation, emotions and values are
being externalised by endless consumption, accumulation of affluence, external
approvals and setting one individual against the other. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="background: white;">The result is </span><span lang="EN-US">an increasingly fragile and ephemeral understanding of ourselves and
our environment. The result is that we have lost our connection with Earth. The
result is that we are looking at Mars for a new home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Whether we believe in Zacharia Sitchin or
Darwin or some divine origin, the fact is that we are here. In this planet
called Earth. This is our home. And to create a world order that’s in perfect
harmony, we need to go back to the start, reconnect with our planet, our
homeland, and relearn lessons from nature. As the Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat
Hanh rightly said, “<span style="background: white;">Cherishing our precious
Earth – falling in love with Earth – is not an obligation. It is a matter of
personal and collective happiness and survival.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="background: white;">And perhaps then,
only then can we progress from a struggle to survive to an age of awakening and
love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Bipasha Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580139308427837056noreply@blogger.com1