Posts

My second Vipassana - Two weeks between sensation and reaction

This was my second 10-day course of Vipassana (which means seeing reality as it is). I had been to Dhamma Arunachala in Tiruvannamalai a couple of times for short courses and liked the place, so I decided to do this 10-day course there. This time, I expected it to be different because I went as a sevika (to serve). Dhamma Arunachala is set in the remote village of Perumbakkam, about 20 km away from the Tiruvannamalai bus stand. Accessibility is difficult but not impossible. This distance from the city is what gives the place its raw, unmanicured beauty. Surrounded by fields, the centre itself is set amidst a dense overgrowth of trees. Arriving there on Day 0, I was ready to immerse myself completely in the experience and unplug from the world. After helping out at the registration desk and settling everyone into their rooms, I met my own roommate, a lady from Bangalore. Unfortunately, she took ill and had to leave the next morning. So, of the three sevikas, only two remained—me and ano...
Post a Comment
Read more

Four Letters

Only four letters, one syllable, red in colour— so primal, so pristine to describe what you mean to me. A pinched circle that makes everything whole in the vast expanse of preserved distance. A symbol of trust, of lasting comfort, of words meant yet unspoken. Held to a standard that rises above us— solid yet gentle, strong yet flexible. I ask nothing more and give nothing less. Like every breath you take: necessary, yet unnoticed.
Post a Comment
Read more

Snapping my string - a kite untethered

  One day you wake up and tell me, nonchalantly, that you were never faithful. What am I supposed to do? How do I sit with that? And why now, I ask, after all these years of weaving dreams and painstakingly making them real— as if the strength in that woven fabric would catch my fall in this new knowledge of losing everything. Unfettered, you walk out and on your way take the little dignity I had left. Snapping my string— a kite untethered, a ship unmoored. My trust in love, in the sacrifices I made, burns in the fire of betrayal. How do I begin to pick up the pieces and regain faith— if not in love, then at least in a patched-up me.
Post a Comment
Read more

Rakshasi

Image
She looks at me with black liquid eyes. Sniffing, wagging her miserable stump of a tail, she closely follows my every movement. She is scrawny, with one of her hind legs twisted out of shape and one front leg broken. She has a lean, rat-like face with black and brown skin and hardly any fur on her body. On cold and wet monsoon mornings, she shivers and shakes as she tries to stand up. I remove my slippers by the shoe rack, but my eyes are fixed on her. Some days, when I have a supply of biscuits, I beckon to her. A slight nod of my head or a sign with my eyes, and she understands. She struggles to rise from her curled up position. A light shines in her eyes as she senses that there is something to eat. She walks a couple of steps, tentatively, haltingly. She gauges whether what I have to offer is worth the effort. I drop a couple of milk biscuits on the floor. She comes closer, sniffs at them. On some days, she sticks out her tongue and tries to gather them up into her mout...
Post a Comment
Read more

Habit to Happiness - part 2

In response to the question “Do I have at least one thing that I am really looking forward to today?” ,   what kind of things should you consider?   Ideally, they should be effort-centric and not outcome-driven .   Let me explain. If you are looking forward to hitting a sub-4 pace in your run today and don’t achieve it, you’re likely to feel disappointed.   So choose things that are centred around effort rather than results. In this case, your goal should be to look forward to attempting that pace. If you hit it—great! If not, there’s always the next run to look forward to—another opportunity for joy! Similarly, choose things that depend entirely on you , not on others . For example, if you are looking forward to meeting a group of friends after work and they don’t show up, you’ll end up disappointed. That’s not the kind of thing to pin your daily happiness on.   Such things are also easier to turn into habits, as they can be incorporated into your daily routi...
Post a Comment
Read more

Habit to happiness - part 1

Take five minutes in the morning before you get caught up in the demands of the day—demands on your time, attention and energy—and ask this question: “ Do I have at least one thing* that I am really looking forward to today ?”.   The answer doesn’t have to be anything big or significant. It can be something as simple as your workout routine (walking, cycling, gym, swimming), dropping your child off at school, a food item you’re excited to eat, a new playlist you’re going to listen to, a new idea you’re implementing at work, meeting friends later in the day, or reading a book.   It can be anything as long as it has the potential to become a habit*— if it isn’t already one.   If your answer is a “yes”, give thanks to the universe that you have something to look forward to today. If your answer is “no”, it’s fine—give thanks nevertheless, because you have the luxury of asking that question and the ability to turn that “no” to a “yes” tomorrow.   If what you are looking...
Post a Comment
Read more

From my diaries - The Reading Retreat - Satkhol - Dec 2024

 Day 1- Satkhol Last night there was a crackling wood fire in the common room they called the Library. Until then, I had always seen a fireplace as an ornamental or architectural feature, at best used to add some quaint charm to a room.   I never dreamed I would experience it as a necessity . The cold mountain air, the wine, the high wooden ceilings with the huge skylight, the two walls fully lined with books, the plush and warm sofas, the custom made dinner, and the hearth at the centre - these were things I had only read about.   But now I am writing about them, having experienced it myself.   The warm glow of the fire, enhanced by the orange light, the stillness and quietness - we didn’t even hear any birds or crickets outside last night, because it was a freezing   -5 degree C with a slight drizzle - is a memory that I won’t forget, and it will give me comfort for a long time to come. These are small pleasures, trinkets perhaps, memories one collects to put ...
Post a Comment
Read more

My 10-Day Vipassana Adventure (A Comedy in Stillness)

I first heard about Vipassana from a friend in my running group. Naturally, I was intrigued—meditation that’s supposed to be life-changing? Sign me up! But also… don’t. I wasn’t sure I was ready for something that transformative. So I did what any rational person would: procrastinated and made up excuses—“No time,” “Family won’t approve,” “Ten days is a long time to sit still without snacks.” You know, the usual. But as my retirement loomed large and I stared into the wide, unstructured ocean of free time stretching ahead of me, I realized I needed something solid to anchor myself. Spiritually inclined and now finally out of excuses, I convinced myself—and more importantly, my family—that this was the perfect time to do the 10-day Vipassana course. Surprisingly, it’s not easy to get in. They actually spoke to me 2-3 times before I was “approved.” Clearly, I didn’t sound zen enough. I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but the idea of being completely disconnected from the world for 1...
Post a Comment
Read more

Lost and Found

I search for myself in prose’s long embrace, in poetry’s ornate, winding lace— chasing a fleeting glimpse of me, of what I was, of what I could be. No. Either I am a memory long forgotten, or a thought never born. Shadows drift through my grasp, always black, never white— lurking in the silence between words, where reason slips into madness, where echoes fade before they form. For every stirring leaf, a breeze must be, but was it the cause, or just the reply? I could never tell. The sharp edge of focus, sliced by a dissolving thought— so often, so quick, I no longer know what came first, what was last. Waves and circles of time ripple outward, spiraling from a vanishing center. They move so long, so far, I have lost their beginning, I will never find their end. On the train of life, I traveled, stopping at stations of intoxication— lingering too long, forgetting too much, until I lost sight of the journey’s end.
Post a Comment
Read more