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Showing posts from February, 2010

Ākāśāt Patitaṃ: Many Forms, One Reality

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Adi Shankara: The image that's stayed with me forever Sanskrit and shlokas have always fascinated me. The sheer vastness of Sanskrit literature is humbling. There are enough verses, texts, commentaries and traditions to occupy many lifetimes, and still leave one feeling that one has barely scratched the surface. But I didn't think much about any of this when I was growing up. I would recite shlokas in the morning and evening without fail. They were simply part of life. The words were there, the rituals were there, the temples were there—but much of it happened in the background. I was busy with academics. There was no time for Sanskrit or Vedanta. At least, that is what I used to tell myself. Of course, time was never really the problem. I could spend five days watching a Test match from morning to evening and somehow consider that perfectly legitimate use of my time! The truth was simpler: Sanskrit and Vedanta had not yet become priorities. Gr...

The hurt walker

What a lucky guy? I thought to myself as I saw him walk past me.  An expression that would be reserved for a fellow guy not if he was an intellectual genius or Albert Einstein's alter ego, but if he was walking with an absolute beauty of a babe or obviously, if I had other intentions.  The most incredible aspect of the male pheromone is obviously the ability to influence every member of the same species with a common trait that virtually nullifies the uniqueness of the individual.  In short, perception of unique thought is nothing but absolutely universal.  Well, I digress, but that's what I was doing literally.  I was launching a scalene triangle to cover half a pace.  You can imagine the frontal movement of my legs.  It was as though I was transformed into a dog when I tried to move forward.  Herculean, monumental, outstanding and sensational were words reduced to grave insignificance compared to the amount of happiness I secured when I moved fo...

Just another day

Why don't you help me in the kitchen? I have so many things to do. I could just hear the usual faint cry from the kitchen.  After so many years of marriage, I was getting used to these little things. Father, why don't you budge from that freakin' newspaper? The second source of disturbance was from none other than my ever social Sahana .  She was busy too.  At least, it made me feel better that she was calling me as father, instead of various condensed versions of abominate equivalents.  They were fancy killers, really! I mean who would want to be called as papa or puppy (disgusting, who wants to be called like that!) or whatever .  By the way, getting back to the real reason of she being busy. Sahana , don't shout at me like that.  I have a hundred reasons to be unhappy with you.  What are you doing in front of the laptop? Is this the reason you asked me to get you a Mac? Why can't you just communicate with your friends over phone? Or still b...