Showing posts with label Monday Musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Monday Musings. Show all posts

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Monday musings - Meditation


key words: meditation, osho, crying, gibberish, oshonisarga, shilla,

Monday musings - Meditation

jupinderjit singh

The passing week I experienced meditation for the first time in my life. In few days at Osho Nisarga, at Shilla near Dharamshala under the sky-kissing Dhauladhar mountains and by the side of a slow flowing rivulet,I had a soul enriching experience and fun moments with meditation, wild laughter, gibberish talk, dancing, jumping around, screaming, making faces, enjoying moments of silence and eventually crying profusely and someone's farting. Yes, you heard the last word right. It is indeed farting- breaking wind.


Regarding Yoga, I have been confused between different techniques of Yoga in vogue. There is the Ramdev Yoga, the Shilpa Shetty Yoga, the artistic Yoga and the Fire by Breath Yoga techniques. There are many others as well. So, not knowing which is good, I made a 15 minutes capsule of select yoga exercises from all those. It gave me good results. Once after doing the course, I went in a trance for about nine minutes not knowing where I was. A fountain had erupted at the point where the neck meets the back- the sushmana nadi. When I returned to consciousness, I was scared. Though I felt light, I never tried it again.

So, with this little background, I went to the meditation camp. Hoping that a soul stirring moment awaited me. As they say, anything can happen to you. You can have a peep into the real you. You will not levitate but you will sure be feeling less gravity, less attachment to earth. I had waves of questions, feelings, emotions developing within me for some time now. At times, I felt molten lava conjuring up inside me ready to explode and then at other times, some expanding icy glaciers choked my breath. Peace, tranquility was what I aspired for.

But as has happened with me usually, I either fell just short of achieving my aim or something funny happened, that took away all depth and seriousness from the experience. God knows why but invariably I was caught in one of the most ironic situations where I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

So there I was doing the prayer meditation. It involved standing uptight with legs shoulder wide and arms raised over head; hands stretched up as if plucking the stars from the sky. One has to pull energy from stars, planets, souls or any source from the Universe, then bending on the knees, prostrate reverentially and transfer the energy to the Mother Earth. The energy or electricity passing through the body makes one the medium between the powers in the sky and the earth. As it passes through us, it cleanses us. It can trigger range of response from the body, we were fore warned.

I didn’t take the warning seriously but by the time I transferred the energy fourth time to mother earth, I suddenly had a lump building in my throat. I was surprised. And then it happened strongly at the next and eventually the flood gates opened as I continued. I just could not stop myself. I suddenly realised I was so lonely, so alone, and meaninglessness in worldly achievements that the heart cried. Tears that flowed out were so thick that the first few took eternity to flow beyond the cheeks. Some even dried there only till, it was like, the glaciers melted and streams after streams flowed out. The more I tried to weep quietly, the more I howled.

And then I heard that disgusting sound. An old guy next to me in the dark room farted at that precise moment. What the F? I thought. He did it again and again, in small and long doses, in different sounds. Yukkk, I felt. Give me a break man, I am crying here. Can't you stop it for a while. He didnt budge. Show some respect, buddy, someone is in tears, I wanted to say. He went on and on. I wondered which planet he had approached to draw that kind of energy. He was so pent up.
I laughed as I shared it later with my friends at the meditation centre! It dawned amidst laughters as an irony of life. We go about doing our stuff even if someone is in misery close by. Or that God tells us the whole futility of shedding tears in his own inimical way.

Sunday, November 30, 2014

Monday Musings- 1 - Flea or Honey Bee



Monday Musings – 1
JjS
So the last week gave us- the journalists- a new definition of journalism. Our new PM, new because six months into the saddle, he is still springing out something novel daily from his magic hat, Narendra Modi has categorised the community of journalists as either being fleas or honeybees. Now that is something to ponder about. We all were taught to be watch dogs all these years. A dog which watches over the society as all sleep symbolising that the general public can rely on us for protecting their interests, speaking, errrr… barking, for them. And the watch dog also had the capacity to bite. It had the license to bite. But Modi doesn’t see us as watch dogs. He also forgot to call us the ego-satisfying fourth pillar of the country. A definition which made us feel important like equal to the other pillars- executive, judiciary and the legislature- of democracy. But no, Modi terms puts us in the category of fleas. He says most of us are like flease who sit on garbage and spread it further. He advises us to be honey bees instead, who gather honey and spread it. In other words, he wants us to look at positives and ignore the garbage. But wasn't it was he who took all to garbage heaps and started the swachh bharat campaign. Perhaps I should not think of garbage heaps or the scams and scandals, the anti-people policies, and concentrate on finding some honey somewhere. The big question is the honey needs to be defined.
And this week also disturbed me with a different news related to the ancient world. Our beloved tandoori chicken, our beloved rooster that wakes up in the morning and that was all ours for centuries has been claimed by the Chinese. A recent study has erased the claim of the region that the chicken was first domesticated in China over 10,000 years ago and not in Mohenjodaro- the ancient civilisation site of the Indian sub continent, now in Pakistan. Hate the chinese for taking away that also. Already, they seem to have taken away all our Gods. More idols of Indian Gods are made in China now than in India. That has a positive also. Indian Gods are going global. Now that must be the Honey, Modi was referring to. But he was talking about the Make in India campaign also. May be that is yet to happen. Let us be Honey bee and wait for the Honey only. To be fair to Modi, he did add that the Honey bee stings the worst. May be the time for the sting operation is yet to arrive.
Anyway, let us go to the world of books. I was reading Sita’s curse- a highly erotic novel about an incestuous leanings of a small town girl, intermingled with now fact now fantasy relation of the same woman with a Godman. I have read half. It is yet to develop in some direction. Though, no doubt, it is a hot erotica. It is a timely release. We live in the age of Rampal’s Ashutosh Sharma and Ram Rahim Gurmeet—living godmen all in news for the wrong reasons.
But the best one I may me hands on is a book by Vikram Sathaye titled ‘How Sachin destroyed my life.’ He tells how Sachin’s achievements shadowed his own personal growth, which was not noticed. The style is racy, fresh and full of humour. I am reading on.
----
Key words- Modi, Journalism, Sita's curse, Sachin Tendulkar, erotica, media