Jai Jai Sri Radhe!

On my day off my dear friend Amritasundari and I took a trip to Premsarovar and Sanket.  Getting there took a lot of walking and a lot of tempo-riding.   First we took a tempo from Vrindavan to Chhatikara.  I used to think of Chhatikara as ¨that place with the tempo stand and the railroad tracks, where they sell corn on the cob in the fall.¨  Amrita tells me that after leaving Gokul, Sri Krishna lived in Chhatikara for three years.  ¨Chhatikara¨ means ¨half-moon.¨  It´s called that becuase Nanda Baba and the cowherd men parked their bullock carts in a half-moon shape here, keeping the cows in the center to protect them.  When Krishna lived in Chhatikara, Radharani lived in Ral (about halfway between Chhatikara and Radhakund).

Amrita didi waiting for the tempo to Goverdhan

Morning oblations in chhatikara

Chhatikara Dham, on the Delhi-Agra highway

The road to Goverdhan was closed, so the tempo took us through a winding road full of mustard fields.

The inexpensive way to thresh your grains.

After reaching Goverdhan town we walked across Dan Ghati to the other rickshaw stand, where you can catch tempos going to Barsana.

Dan Ghati

We found a tempo quickly, and were hopeful to make it to Barsana in time for darshan of Sriji.  But the tempo broke down about 3/4 of the way to Barsana.  We walked for about twenty minutes, then caught another tempo at the turn to Visakha Sakhi´s village, Kamai.  By the time we made it to Barsana, it was too late for darshan of Sriji.  We paid our pranams to her from the bottom of the hill and started walking towards Prem Sarovar.

Visvanath Cakravartipad comments on Damodar Lila, that the two inches of rope needed to bind Krishna represent two things; bhakta-nistha and sva-nistha.  Bhakta-nishta is the devoteeś effort and sva-nistha is Krishna´s propensity to give kripa.  When Yashoda Ma tried to bind Krishna, Krishna did not want to be bound.  He wanted to play.  So, his satya-sankalpa shakti and aishvarya shakti entered into his body and fulfilled his desire.  Thus, no matter how she tried, Yashoda Ma could not bind Krishna. She ran back and forth bringing more and more rope and string, but the rope always remaied two inches two short.  Her exertion was such that her breast was heaving and the flowers were falling from her hair. When Krishna saw how much difficulty she was experiencing, he had mercy and desired to be bound.  Then Kripa-Shakti entered Krishna´s body.  When Kripa arrived, aishvarya-shakti and satya-sankalpa shaktis ran away in shame, for Kripa Shakti is the Queen of all shaktis.

We remembered this as we entered Barsana five hours after leaving Vrindavan, and too late to see Radharani.  Although we missed her darshan, we hoped to get some of Srijiś Kripa nonetheless…  (to be continued)

]]> http://gokulanand.wordpress.com/2009/09/26/the-art-of-screwing-up/ Sat, 26 Sep 2009 06:53:33 +0000 gokulanand http://gokulanand.wordpress.com/2009/09/26/the-art-of-screwing-up/

I am pretty sure there is no one else in the world who can perform this “Fine art” the way I do. I call screwing up an “art” because I mull over thinking myself as an artist in every sense of the word. Screwing up things is not that easy as it may seem. It is in this context that I would like to write a small story. I want none of you to think beyond the literal meaning of things relating to the story and its characters. Its not like I am recollecting my experiences to make up a good sounding story, that would be so much unlike me. Anyone who knows me well would know that they don’t know me well. I would like to keep it that way for some time now. I would, after all have to probably steal either Huckleberry Fin or Tom Sawyer to make the story readable. I wonder what Mark Twain would do to me from his grave, but I am not going to do that. Although, the fact remains that I still believe “Successful people are those who have the best stories to tell”. This theory is based on the fact that most of them go on to write biographies or sell their story to a publisher (Stop thinking, I meant successful people). Otherwise, I don’t consider them successful anyways. Let me end this paragraph abruptly to make you think about “Sopranos” before you read my story. (It usually sends people into a relative coma and they do not remember what they read).

Story* (Did you notice the star next to the word “Story”)

Long time ago, there lived a panther in a jungle. Yes, it is a panther. I am tired of the “lion” or the “elephant” character. The panther like most animals in the jungle was a “happy-go-lucky” animal. But it makes one faux pas. The panther constantly tries to be one step ahead of his folks. He does things in a different way (or so he presumes). Goes to attempt and set values that are hard to keep, claims territory (he’s not a lion), fights with squirrels and rabbits for carrots and oil seeds. But the panther was self-righteous. Since self uprightness just requires that particular person to be righteous like the name suggests and most of the time people always think that that they are right anyways, the panther ended up living a life that was so faultless that people couldn’t believe how a “measly” panther with no objectives could lead such an articulate life.

Across the jungle, there were these other panthers that were quite overwhelmed with what this guy was doing. They came to him for counsel and he gave them at will. As time grew older (Yes I said “grew”) so did the mind of the panther. He became so fixated with his ideas that he simply thought what he did was the preeminent thing to do. Although the other panthers knew this was wrong, they never told him. In due course he became tired and taunted as he had nothing more to say and nothing different to do.

As he sat near a tree one day (Newton didn’t invent this) and wondered if he had gone wrong somewhere. He contemplated and saw the others who were doing just well. He was not sure how the plan invented by him could have gone wrong with him but worked for the rest of the pack. It was simple and clear as he went to see his folks in working. He could see that they had developed “White and black” stripes like a zebra. He wasn’t sure and never believed his eye. He went again another day and he could see horns on their heads like a bison. Amazed and surprised he learnt the one lesson he should have learnt before imparting his knowledge to others.
“You can never live in a jungle happy and lucky both at the same time if you cannot adapt”.

*If you have any questions regarding the story, write a self addressed envelope and send it to someone who knows the answers.

मेरी मां ने कहा था बेटे छोटा है तूं

रोज़ ये बाता सोच सोच मैं खुद से पुछूं…

मां सच्ची या सच्चा मैं हूं?

पहले तो ये जाना भी ना मैया है क्या

चिल्लाती भी ईतराती ये औरत है क्या

खाना भी देती थी फिर भी गुस्सा करती

और अकेले जा के रोती करती है क्या?

रिश्ता रस्ता रोज़ सीखाती चूप रह के वो

कितना बोला उसने मैंने सुना भी है क्या?

एक ये छोटी बात है बडी़ कैसे कह दूं?

रोज़ ये बाता सोच सोच मैं खुद से पुछूं…

मां सच्ची या सच्चा मैं हूं?

गद्दा बिस्तर थाली कपडें सब कुछ मैला

स्कूल से आ के फैंक दिया था कैसे थैला

सब कुछ सब दिन ठीक रहा पर ऐसे जैसे

सब कुछ मैंने किया ना उसने देखा जैसे

और अगर कोई कह दे कुछ भी मेरे बारे

वो संभाले हंस के कर दे न्यारे न्यारे

पता नहि था पता चलेगा एक दिन ही यूं

रोज़ ये बाता सोच सोच मैं खुद से पुछूं…

मां सच्ची या सच्चा मैं हूं?

- संजय वि. शाह ‘शर्मिल’

(સંગીત નાટક કૄષ્ણપર્વ માટે વિશેષરૂપે તૈયાર કરવામાં આવેલી અને વૈષણવોમાં અતિ પ્રચલિત એવી શ્રીકૄષ્ણની ઑરિજિનલ ધૂનની આ મૉડર્ન વર્ઝન મારા બ્લૉગના વાચકો-ચાહકોને જન્માષ્ટમીના દિવસે સપ્રેમ સાદર…)

શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃશ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

સહુ વૈષ્ણવો સંગે બોલો શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

નાના મોટા રંગે બોલો શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

પરોઢિયે કોયલડી ગાતી શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ફૂલો પર ફોરમ પમરાતી શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

જળ-સ્થળ, જીવન, અંબર બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

મેઘધનુના રંગો ડોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

બાળકના હોઠો પર રમતું શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

મૈયાને પણ છે મનગમતું શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ચિન્ટુ બોલે, પિન્ટુ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ટીના, શીના, મીનુ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

પંચે તત્ત્વો નિશદિન ગાતાં શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

નામ લઈ એનું મઘમાતાં શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

વન ડોલંતો મયૂર બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ગૌમાતા હરખાઈ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ચંદરવે ચાંદલિયો ચમકે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

શરદ પૂનમની શોભા મલકે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

મંદિરનો ઘંટારવ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

પંખીનો કેકારવ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ખેડૂતનાં ખેતર પણ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

બંગલાના મિલિયૉનેર બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ગોકુળના ગોવાળો બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ગામગામના લોકો બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

રંગ, વર્ણ ને ભાષા બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

રંક, રાય ને રાજા બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

મધમીઠલડી પંજરી બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

પાન, બીડું, સોપારી બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

અકળ-સકળ ને મૄગજળ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

વર્ષો-દિવસો, પળ પળ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

દર્શન ડૂબ્યાં નયનો બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ધામ ધામ જઈ ચરણો બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

પચરંગી મુંબઈજન બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

અમદાવાદી અંકલ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

સુરમા સરતી બંસરી બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

રણઝણતી સંગ ખંજરી બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ચાર યુગોની ગાથા બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

લખ ચોર્યાસી ફેરા બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

દરિયાના મોજાંઓ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ધરતીના પાતાળો બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

જંગલની વનરાઈ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

પર્વતની પુરવાઈ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

ગીત-કિર્તન-ધોળ બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

દુહા-છંદ રઢિયાળા બોલે શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ શ્રીકૄષ્ણ શરણમ મમઃ

- સંજય વિ. શાહ ‘શર્મિલ’

You must have heard that man proposes and God disposes but in our case God didn’t dispose but he came up with a better plan for us. At least that’s what we all thought once we went through our entire journey. We were not able to achieve what we wanted to achieve but still we were more than happy with what we got. Instead of talking more on suspense let’s continue with our story.

We were invited to attend our colleague’s marriage in Kanpur. This was a 3-4 days trip so we decided to visit Aagra and Bharatpur along with the marriage. All planned, all set to go.  We started our journey from Kolkata in Rajdhani and we left it in Kanpur at early morning of 1^st May 2009. We were 6 people in the group, though we travelled with 7 in the train. 7^th person was the one who was getting married and I’ll exclude him from the story as he was in dreams (till Kanpur only). One of our trip-mate was from Kanpur and he was more than excited to invite all of us to his home city, of course with lots of boosting about Kanpur and with a promise to be a great host in the city. Let’s name him Mr. P. initially he was the one who was excited and dragged everybody to join his excitement. Mr. P was all game for this trip and that was visible through his action.

Ok, so we reached Kanpur at early morning. We boarded a hotel, got fresh and went to Mr. P’s home. After taking a homely breakfast we started our trip to Aagra and Bharatpur. This time we were travelling with a Chevrolet Tavera. In few minutes we were running on Kanpur Aagra highway. This time we got to know about the specialties of Mr. B, another trip-mate. He was friends to few but not to all so it was great to have him in our group. He is a great story teller and his one-liners in between his stories add lots of spices, of course to add more taste.  You may forget his stories but not his one liner, there are just brilliant. Ok, let’s move back to our story. As the Tavera was rolling on the highway we started a discussion on “Love”. Initially it was to get the views of each individual, just to understand whether Mr. P was ever in love or it was something else.  It started with definition but went for around 1 hour and it included many rounds. We got many terms to support / define love. Terms were like care, devotion, dedication and even trade. Let’s not go into details of this talk and move further.

After few rounds of hot and cold talks we wanted to have some food. We started looking for some decent looking “dhaba”. Around 70-80 KM before Aagra we got one. We ordered for typical Punjabi food, the butter roti, daal taadka, daal fry and mix veg. The food was awesome. The hot summer day couldn’t stop us to take a heavy lunch there. The temperature was roaring at 46-47 degree so we didn’t stop too long at that place, quickly grabbed our places in Tavera which started running back on the highway. We reached Aagra at around 4.30 PM but we didn’t stop. It was Friday so Taj was closed. We decided to go Bharatpur and spend the night there. We thought to catch up the Taj next morning. When we were moving towards Bharatpur we saw a board “Mathura – 56 KM”. Mr. M, our other trip-mate, popped up the idea to go Mathura instead of Bharatpur. We had few rounds of internal talks / arguments and finally we decided to go Mathura. It was a dynamic plan and none of us had thought on this before. Our Tavera started running on Aagra-Mathura highway now. Let’s have a quick introduction of Mr. M. He is a decent and matured looking gentleman though his talks can beat teenagers. He too has stories in his pocket but they are mainly covered with some decent wrappers. The trip saw some of his wrapped talks which were refreshing at times.

At around 5.30 PM we were in Mathura. We had no plans with us but we’re all game to explore the place.

Trip Continues…

કોણ કહોને વધુ રૂપાળો કોની પ્રીત છે વટમાં

મોર ગહેકતો વનનો કે પછી મોહન વસતો ઘટમાં

કોણ કહોને…

એકને કલગી, એકને મુરલી, બેઉને પીંછું ન્યારું

શ્યામલ તન ને નિર્મળ મન, સંગીત બેઉને પ્યારું

થનગનતા મનગમતા આવી ગૂંજે અંતરપટમાં

મોર ગહેકતો…

મોર-ઢેલનું વ્હાલ અચંબો કૄષ્ણલીલા શતરંગી

પાસ નહીં પ્રિયતમ ને તોયે રાત્-દિવસના સંગી

પાવન પ્રેમનું રૂપ બન્યા બેઉ જુગજુગથી આ જગમાં

મોર ગહેકતો…

- સંજય વિ. શાહ

Puri is situated at a distance of 62 km from Bhubaneswar. The presence of Jagannath temple makes Puri one of the holiest places of India. The temple of Lord Jagannath attracts people from all over the world.

One of the most famous temples among the worshipers of Krishna and Vishnu, the Jagannath Temple is idolized greatly by all faith of Hindus. The world famous annual Rath Yatra (Car Festival) is held every year in the month of June – July for 10 days.

The deities of Lord Krishna, brother Balram and sister Subhadra are taken in beautifully decorated huge chariots to Gundicha temple located one kilometer away. At the end of the festival, the deities are taken back to the main temple and the chariots are broken. The Rath Yatra is celebrated to mark Krishna’s departure to Mathura from Gokul.

Once in the court of Akbar when all his ministers were present, the emperor called them to attention. “I would like to appoint a King’s representative to places like Mathura, Gokul and Brindavan. I would like to appoint Surdas for this post. What is your opinion on this?” he asked. All the ministers unanimously said that Surdas was the right person for the job.
Surdas was also happy that the King had chosen him and said that he would do his job in earnest. Soon he left for Mathura where he spent his time singing praises of Lord Krishna and the people and the places flourished under his guidance. However, he began donating money generously to the needy and his coffers began to dwindle.
Soon it was time for Janmashtami, the time to celebrate Krishna’s birthday. But there was no money for this and his cashier came and reminded him about that. He was in a dilemma as to how he would be able to celebrate the function on that day. He however told his cashier that Krishna will take care of this. At that time two men arrived with tax money to be paid to Emperor Akbar and told Surdas to send it across to the King. After they left, Surdas told the cashier to use the tax money and that they would explain the situation to the King at a later date.
The news reached Akbar that Surdas had used the tax money to celebrate Janmashtami and the King was livid. He sent his men to get the money from Surdas. Two of the king’s representatives were sent to Surdas. Seeing them Surdas told them to wait and went to his backyard. Here he took a big box and filled it with pebbles. Then he wrote a note to Akbar saying that he was willing to be punished after the festivities of Janmashtami were over and that he was sending some stones in the box just to delay his arrest and send the men who had come to take him away.
Meanwhile, after filling the box and writing the note, he told the waiting men that he had converted the money into gem stones as they would be safer that way and that they should take the box to the king and give him the note. The men went and relayed the information to Akbar. After reading the note Akbar was angry that Surdas had the cheek to send stones in the box and asked the men to open it. When the box was opened everyone around was surprised that the box was filled with gem stones of several kinds.
Impressed with Surdas’ devotion to Lord Krishna, Akbar returned the box with the gemstones to Surdas to serve his Lord and let him serve as his representative in the three cities.

Exactly. After writing the title i thought about the same thing too. How can anyone who is absolutely jobless get so busy suddenly that he stops doing the one thing he loves? the answer is simple, i did not stop blogging, i have just gotten on so much into micro blogging, that i have nothing to say on my good ol blog. of course this won’t be my position for long and i would certainly start blogging regularly soon enough, till then you can follow me on twitter at: http://twitter.com/gokul_anand

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Last week I went to Mathura, Govardhan, Vrindavan and Gokul. The situation of old Arya mandirs there is very bad. The ancient holy temples have now become the business houses of evil priests. These priests or so-called Brahmans leave no stone unturned to rob the money of pilgrims and devotees in the form of daan or donations/charity. There ‘Brahmans’ will abuse you if you do not listen to them and let them perfom prayers for you and donate a handsome sum of money to them.

I felt really bad about what I saw and expereinced in the birthplace of Bhagvan Shri Krishn.

The good Hindu temples are those established by the ISKCON and other ashrams (hermitages) which are not yet controlled by the greedy ‘pandits’.

I woke up today and it took me some wild editing all day to publish this post. Trust me. It was not even close to easy, it might seem though, the administration is taking the toll on me, after the economic crisis I am having a great build up of anti-republic sentiment inside me crying for anarchy, I have always felt military coup’s funny but today I clearly know its meaning and also its implications. For some inspection on this let me take you for a flashback to the day of the economic crisis.

……..

Morning of 22/09/2008

The dreadful day started with inquisitive calm and remarkable stillness which by itself should have made me feel something was wide of the mark, but I did not read the signs, it was perhaps the calm before the storm, I usually wake up by gently sloping myself down from the bed…whether left or right is actually the only choice I make through the night. But that historic day I was engrossed in self absorbing thought even in my sleep……I think I am making you bored to tears now, but trust me; all of us have forgotten the happiness in monotony . Coming back to that morning, it was inevitable and it wasn’t something that I did not expect but the speed in which hit me that day was incredible. Now don’t think I am trying to use a figure of speech, I was actually hit that day and very hard too.. And the worst part is this was just the beginning. The rest of the day is coming up shortly as blog posts for you to read and for me to brood, but trust me I won’t make it boring at all.

Personal note: During that appalling morning one company in my neighborhood “Silverman Bonkers” made scrupulous trade in cheese and helped me to sink in fast and securely.

If you understood what I wrote on the note, ‘kudos’ you have just made sense of C**p.

It’s tough travelling down the back lanes of history and mythology. Where do myths begin? Where does history take precedence and how do religious beliefs reign supreme? Is it irrational to expect logic while expressing belief?

Amma was a student of history but she is an ardent believer in myths. I am untrustworthy. I can shift allegiance as per the diktats of the hour for I am often beset with doubts and unable to judge truth from tale. She requests a darshan of the sacred spot where god Krishna was born-Mathura.

As a believer in Hindu gods, I would often feel a sense of pique when I espied Westerners, in shorts, tees and sarongs walk around our temples with a mark of nonchalance and a sense of disbelief. ‘The spot is sacred to us; the deity is an embodiment of our faith; He is a placebo strengthened by the power of our prayers’. But how do you counter a non-believer approaching it from the point of touristy curiosity? Perhaps the same way I felt while visiting the Vatican- with a distant respect for a religion that was not my own; with a curiosity that made me look at it with fresh eyes; as also with a feeling that the place embodied the spirit of prayer and healing, though not of my faith.

In Mathura folklore rules, history is a talking point, and faith remains unchallenged. I found myself a bit removed from the faithful bit though. My Ummachi rests in my tiny altar at home. He nestles in mid crawl on a tiny silver swing, that is showered with flowers and decked with sandal paste.

Gautam is 13, a student, who hops into the passenger’s seat of the car, as we fumble for road directions. He is the eldest of three brothers and the family makes a living off the sacred town’s tourist and religious attractions. His father does a bit of mixed farming- a couple of cows, a bit of vegetable farming to eke a living and sends the boys to a local government school. After school hours, Gautam and his classmates roam the streets surrounding the ghats and temples looking for pocket money. “Only 40 rupees for whole day of guiding”, he asks. Given the avarice of the notorious pandas this request seems reasonable. We don’t haggle over the price.

Our first stop is at the Krishna Janma Bhoomi or the Keshav Dev temple. It’s a difficult moment. Twin marble domes of a masjid stand cheek by jowl near the temple’s tower. A wall of the temple is shared with the mosque and coils of barbed wires guard the inner walls menacingly. It’s easy to feel roused, especially for believers of either faith who visit remnants of historical insults over mythical gods.

Gautam has the gift of a guide’s gab. He informs: “Ghazni, Lodhi, Aurangazeb all destroyed it, even today you can see a shrine missing and it has been replaced with a marble wall, devoid of idols. See, see”, he urges us. He insists that we train our eyes on the marble and make out the form of Krishna. Amma peers hard at the marble wall as the lad points out, ‘the peacock crown, the flute over there and his cowherds gathered around him’. I purse my lips and he argues, “See it with your heart and soul and you’ll be able to make out his form’. Other guidebooks inform that the ‘original’ temple is located near the ghats and this is a ‘new’ structure. Who’s to tell?

We are ushered into a chamber that served as the prison where the God was born. Amma nudges me to do a namaskaram at that spot and garland the small idols of the infant Krishna.

We rush past the kitschy moats of colour and clay and sip a lassi kissed by flies to go past the ghats to Gokul. We travel past the Yamuna. She will swell in the monsoons, Gautam informs. Today, she is placid, her banks dotted with shrubs and grass and folks partaking of her holy waters.

Gokul is amazingly rustic, idyllic, untouched by urbanity. There are low thatched mud houses and small brick buildings and livestock sheds and cattle grazing. You can well believe myths about the community of cowherds and the pastoral lives of the people that Krishna spent His boyhood. The lanes are utterly narrow, gutters spew forth filth, pie dogs laze around and the tiny cubicles along the lanes are makeshift kitchen stores. Here smiling men ladle huge vats of ghee, sugar, butter, khoa to make sweets. There is a faint smell of cooking butter as you walk down the lane to reach, erm, Krishna’s house. “Krishna lived 3000 years ago. This is Devki’s house,” Gautam invites us into a brick building that looks eerily like my grandfather’s home in Tirunelveli. Priests usher us in to come forward near the idols placed in various nooks and corners of the house around a tiny courtyard. The clay idols are utterly charming, folk forms, highlighted with bits of gold pigment and colourful clothes. Puppets of cowherds and villagers sporting with Krishna are arranged in a row. We circumambulate dutifully before taking leave.

More lassi, some sweets and we head back.

Did I enjoy the visit?

Yes, I liked the sights, sounds and smells.

However when temple visits such as these come together knotted with myth, history and contemporary political babble I am unable to feel pious.

लाइनक्स उबुँटू के सबसे आधुनिक संसकरण में अब मात्र १५ दिन बाकी – २४ अप्रैल को स्वयं डाउनलोड करें और अपने नवीन अथवा खटारा कम्प्यूटर में नया जीवन फूँक दें |

My beloved brother……!!……I really love him much….And now we is going through a cold war…..he he he……But i’m damn sure he too love me much…lol……So that’zzz it……I really missing him much……!!…….Now he is the silence…..or he is keeping his mouth shut……!!

Summertime, I’m the silence as the wind blows
My land is your land we are free
Summertime, if you listen close you hear my teardrops fall
My dream is yours………………!!

(Adopted)

::: Kent ::: Kevlar soul Lyrics :::

कृष्ण गोकुल से मथुरा आ गए। उनको मथुरा में कुछ भी अच्छा नहीं लगता। वहां मथुरा में उद्धव भगवान कृष्ण के मित्र थे। बड़े भारी विद्वान चिंतक। पर अपने ज्ञान का अभिमान भी उतना ही था। कृष्ण ने उद्धव को कहा-

उधो ब्रज मोहि बिसरत नाहीं

लेकिन उद्धव को यह पीड़ा कहाँ समझ में आने वाली थी। वे तो ज्ञान-ध्यान की बातें करते थे। कृष्ण को माया-मोह को भुलाने की बात कहते थे।

कृष्ण ने उद्धव को अपना संदेशवाहक बनाकर मथुरा भेज दिया और एक पत्र भी ग्वाल बाल के नाम लिख भेजा। उधर उद्धव कृष्ण के सन्देशवाहक बनकर ब्रज पहुंचे और इधर ब्रज में कोहराम मच गया। जिसने जहां भी सुना वहीं अपना कामकाज छोड़कर उद्धव को मिलने पहुंच गया। यशोदानंदन के मित्र को सबने घेर लिया। उधो जी कृष्ण का क्या संदेश लाए हैं?

क्या लाए थे, उद्धव जी तो अपने ज्ञान की पोटली लेकर आए थे। कृष्ण का दिया हुआ तो बस एक पत्र ही था, सो हाथ का लिखा हुआ वह रुक्का बढ़ा दिया। सोचा, पढ़ लें, स्थिर चित्त हो जाएँ, तब समझाऊंगा इन्हें जीवन का तत्व भेद।

सो पत्र उनको दे दिया। लेकिन यह क्या, जिसके हाथ में पत्र आया, उसी के आँसुओं से वह भीगने लगा, कागज गल गया, स्याही फैल गई, पढ़ने को तो कुछ बचा ही नहीं। इसके बाद छीना-झपटी मच गई, जरा हम भी देखें, हम भी पढ़ें उनका संदेश। पत्र के टुकड़े-टुकड़े हो गया। छीना-झपटी में जिसके हाथ जितना छोटा टुकड़ा आया, उसी फटे हुए टुकड़े को वह लेकर रोने लगा। अपने माथे से लगाने लगा, छाती से लगाने लगा। कृष्ण की स्मृति में खो गया। पत्र पढ़ने की तो जरूरत ही नहीं रही।

सभी गोपी-ग्वाल बालकृष्ण की याद में रोते-सिसकते और आँसू बहाते रहे। उद्धव उनके प्रेमाश्रुओं की बहती हुई गंगा की धारा को पार नहीं कर सके। प्रेम भक्ति के इस हृदयस्पर्शी मार्मिक दृश्य में किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ से खड़े रहे। बिलखते हुए गोपियों ने कहा- उधो, अँखियाँ हरिदर्शन की प्यासी।

उद्धव ने उन्हें आत्मतत्व का महत्व समझाया, ज्ञान-ध्यान का रस पिलाया किन्तु कौन सुनता है। किसी को इसमें कोई स्वाद नहीं आया। नीरस ज्ञान किसी के मन को नहीं भाया। फिर उन सब को भगवान की व्यापकता का परिचय दिया। योग का मूल सूत्र बताया। किन्तु गोपियाँ तो उस कृष्ण की याद में आँसू बहाती रहीं, जो उनके साथ खेलता था। कहा,

उधो! मन नाहीं दस-बीस, एकहुतो सो गयो श्याम संग, को आराधो ईश

महाराज, यह मन 10-20 तो हैं नहीं। हमारे पास हमारा एक ही मन था और वह कृष्ण के संग चला गया। तुम्हारे ज्ञान की बातें सुनने के लिए अब हमारे पास हमारा मन नहीं है।

गोपियों और ग्वाल बाल के प्रेम के सामने उद्धव निरुत्तर हो गए। ज्ञान की पोटली खुल कर बिखर गई, मूल्यहीन हो गई। उन्हें मथुरा वापस लौटना पड़ा। प्रेम का सम्बन्ध तर्क-वितर्क से नहीं होता, उसका सम्बन्ध तो हृदय से होता है।

प्रेम के रहस्य को कोई भी नहीं जान पाया। मीरा कृष्ण के प्रेम में व्याकुल होकर एक बार कहती हैं- मेरे तो गिरधर गोपाल दूसरो न कोई, जाको सिर मोर मुकुट मेरो पति सोई। फिर अगले ही पल कहती थी, जो मैं ऐसा जानती प्रेम करे दुख होय। नगर ढिंढोरा पीटती, प्रेम करो मत कोय।

प्रेम शब्द का बड़ा व्यापक अर्थ है। यह प्रभु का ही अनन्त रूप है। यह निष्काम, नि:स्वार्थ, पावन पवित्र शब्द है। यह भगवान की महिमा का व्यापक रूप है। जिसने भी इस प्रेम शब्द को जान लिया-पहचान लिया, वह भगवानमय बन जाता है। जब भक्तगण भगवान को याद करते हैं, उनका मनन-चिन्तन-स्मरण करते हैं, भावविभोर होकर गुणगान करते हैं, भगवान के लिए करुण क्रंदन करते हैं, तो भगवान का हृदय भी उनकी भाव भक्ति से दवित हो जाता है। और भगवान भी अपने भक्तों को याद करते हैं। भक्ति भाव भी उसी प्रेम का एक रूप है।

नवभारत टाइम्स में प्रकाशित

We got news of the blasts when we were watching a movie in PVR cinemas. As we walked out we noticed a lot of other people also quietly walking out, there was no chaos and no panic. People were just quietly picking up their stuff and leaving, while some people were still watching the movie, wondering what was going on. I hope at some point, management made an announcement, so people were able to leave reasonably.

The traffic was very orderly, shops were open, the city reacted by showing no reaction whatsoever. I think AP Police Department should get credit for having controlled the situation so quickly.

The sad part was for pure Hyderabadis like myself. I love Hyderabad. It was sad when Mecca Masjid was bombed, where I have never been. But I’ve been to Lumbini park many times, seen the laser show. I knew the Lumbini park grounds since before there was a park there. I ate at Gokul chat bhandar 3-4 times a week for four years when I was in college. We still make it there once in a while. I have passed these two places hundreds of times and feel a very personal connection to these places, and can easily put myself in the place of the people that died. If the blasts had happened another day, another time, my family or I could have been the people killed. This ties it to me in a way that I cannot even describe, and brings tears to my eyes.

The poor, poor people who died. If ever there is a case of people being in the wrong place at the wrong time, this is it. Why are we surrounded with such senseless violence? What makes people do these kinds of things? What was the objective, and who stands to gain? I think Hyderabadis have proved that they have become inured to these random acts of violence. So I am not sure what purpose was served. YSR came on TV, made all the right noises, but we all know that the people who did this may never get caught.

In the end, we will pay the price for this, again and again. Tightened security in public places is additional burden on the common man’s pocket. The terrorists have not attacked a government or an establishment, they have attacked common people, like you and me and our friends.

Something should be done. Please, please report any suspicious activity. The bombs are being made in ordinary homes, there must be neighbors. I don’t advocate paranoia, but please keep your eyes open. If you see any object that is unattended, report it to the authorities right away. Above all, take care of yourself and your families.