The Pathless Path

Hinduism is not of the saffron brigade. Aggressive. Intimidating. Debauched. Self -annihilating. Unaware. Lifeless. Desperate. Warped.

Hinduism is of the Upanishads. Of the rishis and the enlightened sages.
Of the seekers.
Of inner alchemy.
A path. A non -path.
Of forms. And formless.
Of Pranav. The wordless word.
Of Consciousness. Of evolving.
In its naive native essence.
a looking within.
Not a philosophy. But a darshan.
Aware. Alive. Assimilating.
Of advait. Of pragya.
Of emptiness. Of shoonyata.
Of Karma. Of Dhyan. Of Samadhi.
Dharayati iti dharmah. The stark truth.
A way of Life
Of Immense Peace and Strength.
A surrendering.

Hinduism was never meant to be a solid walled concrete dogmatic religion.
It started as a stream, a flow, a flowering
As a song and as a poem.
To be sung, felt, experienced.
To be drunk on divine
Not to be memorized.
The golden thread of wisdom.

A religion? A non -religion.
A liquid.
The Light.

There were no Hindus for a very long time of history. There were just beings. With techniques, a whole world of inner science to transform. Oneself.

When and how did we poison our stream?
Clogged the flow of knowing?
And got saturated with scriptures?

Who Am I?

A tiny dot
On the Wheel
Of Time?

A stream incognito
In the Infinite

A phoneme
Of The first Shabd
That exploded
Into Universe?

A spiral
Of a Cosmic thought?

Definitely not a leaf
Tossed over winds.

Who am I?


Awareness ~ wrapped in another name

What is intelligence?

Love is Intelligence.
To forgive is intelligence.
To let go is intelligence.

Intelligence is an eye to see the big picture. The big bird’s eye view of life in its ephemerality, its fragileness, its unpredictabilities, its connectivity to everyone, everything.

It needs intelligence to see how small every incident, every word is in the big picture of an infinite universe.

Is the sense that we are not that we always identify ourselves with even though we may not have actually realised who we are.

Intelligence can see the futility of ego-drama, because only the eyes of intelligence can look through the veils of darkness of ego, jealousies, revenge, negativities of destruction.

It is intelligence which makes us feel for and respect the freedom of humans, animals and insects because it allows sensitivity to know that none from the animal or human world is meant to be used as a means to some selfish end . But allows each to be in their own space of choice and freedom.

Intelligence knows that the life in a physical body is small in comparison to our lives as spirits/ souls.

Intelligence can see that there is an infinity waiting to be discovered just outside the “I achieve, I acquire, I possess” .

Because what is intelligence?

Intelligence is simply, Awareness wrapped in another name.

Getting Rid of ‘Otherness’

Vasudhaiv Kutumbhakam.

Not just a feel-good stuff but actually quite measures the level of maturity.

The stronger the ‘other-ness’, the more stuck or identified we are in our make -believe nanocosm, our own images, our nuclear families and concrete identities, the farther is the possibility of growing spiritually wise.

Letting go…


It has been my experience that the more grey matter (read awareness) we have been blessed with, the more we see clearly that the world and its people around us exist in multiple shades of grey.

Many many layers of grey. Each of us.

From the silvers to the dismal dark ones. There are no absolute blacks and whites as the mind categorises.

And the more visible the grey world is, easier comes the acceptance of the ‘other’ point of view, a different something from us, easier comes the empathy, the understanding and the forgiveness.

If there is no ray of light present in the darkest and the densest of souls there wouldn’t be a progression. We’ve all been in the darkest of spaces. Even the shiniest of souls amongst us.There is no absolute theses to life.

Keys to understanding are always liquid, fluid and flexible.


The Quiet Unfolding

When life is kind, it is difficult to see life as it is because the sugary syrupy sweetness blurs all the images. When life is difficult then again it is difficult to see because the bitterness curtains out many aspects and dimensions.

But as it happens when the ocean throws a wave feverously, hits the shore and rolls back again into itself, there comes a pause, a silence. Then beyond the sweetness and the bitterness, life appears as it is.

Clear and quiet unfolding. No philosophies.

Everything sits still, when the mud settles. No fuss of flutter. Just the very way it is.

Watching from a distance… A story falling so perfectly well into a time. No tragedies or comedies… A Marvelous Magical Mysterious Masterpiece… weaving, an Interplay of characters, conversations, events.

What leads to what… does anyone know?

Do you?


Tibetic Flowing

Talking of a language a couple of days back, brings to mind another language. From across the border. Another geographical space. Another culture. But the same cradle of a society dedicated to sculpting the inner world.

In proper Tibetan language the common nouns are not as we know them in other languages. Not static names. But the ones that go with the flow. As in life. In a constant flux.

For example, applying the same principle to our English language we may not have a river but a river -ing because it’s not paused, it’s flowing. Instead of a tree there is a tree-ing because it’s a growing and growing.
Thus human -ing, ocean-ing, boy -ing, city -ing, fruit-ing and so on.

Explains a lot coming from a culture that values “pure awareness “.

Wise because it catches the essence of life. Which is always celebrating itself in its abundance. Flowing, growing, flourishing, branching, multiplying, spreading…

Changing, changing all the time.


तत्वमसि • Thou Art That

He was always found in the deep jungle.His home. Walking alone. Sitting sometimes.Under a tree. By the lone river. On a lone rock.
Smiling to himself. To himself humming a wordless song. Sometimes.
Mostly he sat in silence.
Sometimes he would wander in the village. He was a madman said the villagers. Unperturbed, undaunted he walked among them.
Nirbhaya, Nirvair, Nirvikar
He never talked to anyone.
He never talked about anyone.
He just walked silently among them as flows a river to itself, as floats a leaf dry on the winds…

When someone offered him food he took it… He would look up into the sky and laugh… When someone abused him he took it… He would look up into the sky and laugh.

Months and months and years he would keep appearing in the village and disappearing
into the deep green woods of Bengal.
The nineteenth century.
A. troubled time. A tethered nation.
A restlress government.
The Queen’s men all set hounding for blood for the men pressing for freedom, for themselves and their people, their country.

And the word spread from thought to lips to ears and from ears to more ears that there is a madman stalking the jungle carrying words to these brown men, the insurgents. A spy. Feigning madness.

Then one day they came face to face. Men on horses and the man on foot. Barefoot. Bare legs.
And they confronted him with anger, questions, allegations. They thrashed him.
He did not say a word.
They hit him hard and harder so that confession would spill. But he did not say a word.
Instead he looked into the sky and laughed,
And again and yet again he looked up into the empty blue space and laughed….
The men were enraged. And convinced of the word that filled their ears. A traitor, a spy, a rebel.
So they picked up a spear and pushed it into his chest. Into his heart bleeding. He gasped and the body shivered and then he looked into their eyes. The eyes of those who had brought him to this. And he laughed. A full hearted laugh. That filled the silence of the forest and the sky. And said ‘tatvamasi…’ tu vahi hai… that thou art.

So you come to me in this form. I recognize you as I always have when you came to me with food, with harsh words, as a stranger, as a friend and now these men. I recognize you everywhere. in every form in every place.

“tatvamasi” thou art that.


Naming ।। भारतम ।।

Bharat comes from bha – ra – ta. Bhava means sensation. Seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching are different types of sensations. Your whole experience of life is sensory right now. Or in other words, sensations are the basis of your experience.
Bha means sensation, out of which emotion arises.
Ra means raga or the tune. The tune is not yours – existence has already set it.
Now you have to find the rhythm, which is the tala.
If you find the right rhythm, you are a fantastic human being. If you miss the rhythm, you get crushed by the process of life.

We called this nation Bha-ra-ta, and one of the great kings of the past was Bharata. People say the country is named after him, but actually, he was named after the country. There are so many Bharats and Bharatis in this country – they are named after this nation.

Coming from Sanskrit
First in the Rig Veda & Puranas –

• The Sanskrit root ‘bhri’ (भृ) means to bear or to carry.
Also meaning one who is engaged in search of truth.

• Ra (raga) is the acoustic root of fire. The sound of fire that became ‘Melody.’ Also connotes with light or spiritual light.

• ‘Bha’ is a root which means to “appear” to “exhibit” to “manifest” and also shine, lustre, light.

‘Bha’ meaning “appear” which indicates the effects of that which “appears” as defined in the dictionary – speaking, announcing shining, declaring and ‘Expressing.’

• Going back to ‘भृ’ – bearing or carrying the fire/light of the search of truth!

Tā or ता means singing of the bird in Sanskrit.

• Tāla (ताल) is a Sanskrit word, and it is derived from the root Tal which means “being established”.
Just like ‘तल’ – ground.
Also meaning – Rhythm.

Tala is an ancient music concept traceable to Vedic era texts of Hinduism, such as the Samaveda and methods for ‘singing’ the Vedic hymns.

The word & the dance form ‘Bharatnatyam’ derives from these only – the art of expression (Bha) on Melody/sound (Ra) in Rhythm (ta)

‘Bhaarata’ has two main Nirvachanas:-
Bharatasya idam Bhaaratam (that of Bharata is Bhaarata).
Bhaayaam ratam iti Bhaaratam (as the land of the seekers of light, it is Bhaarata).

Sharanya • शरण्या


A String of thoughts
Gliding and swimming in the deeps of my mind;
Sparrows in flight,
Of Origami-ed Paper.

There’s much to be said,
It surges
To cajole;
A flighty temptress.

– A Thunderous whisper.

I see the swell before me
It’s the ocean!
And I haven’t a single drop.

Funny little kaleidoscope my head.
A Simmering Tea-Pot,
And Vapours of Imagination.


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