Prose

Of Father’s rain-wet stories

By Vijay Phanshikar : “Powdery rain, Hazy hill in distance ... ... Father’s stories ! ”- SelfEVERY child has this memory -- etched indelibly on the mind. Father’s stories -- and mother’s and grandmother&..

Of the artist’s motivation

THIS is what the creator of arts, does. Countless definitions are available -- of the art and of the artist. Each definition is rich in every which the way. In sum and substance, however, granting one’s emotion a persona, a presence, is art. Is this an oversimplification ? May be ! Yet, come to think of the process -- of granting emotions their persona, their physical presence, their signature. It is very complex, to say the least. For, offering emotions their persona, in other words, means binding ..

Of human experience between covers

THIS is what book -- a book, the book -- is ! This may be described as a universally realised and uncompromisingly simple definition of the book -- pages of human experience between covers ! Of course, intelligent people have spent a lot of their energies in describing what they feel the book is. No matter the content of a book, it is, without doubt, a cumulation of human experience -- essay, poetry, thesis, fiction, memoir, dialogue, monologue, analysis, inquiry, interpretation ... !..

Under a cosy quilt on a rainy noon

THIS is everybody’s idea of a cosy noon when rains are at play out in the backyard. Tap-tap-tap ! Tip-tip-tip ! Top-top-top ! -- the raindrops dance on. From warm, dry safety of the room, one watches the rain-dance. The mind rejoices this signature of Nature -- wet and endearing. Somehow, it endures in memory far too long. Of course, when the rain is gentlemanly and not unkind and furious, it is always welcome. Then the rains drizzle, wash the surroundings clean, and have the power to wash one’s parched ..

Of the meaning of living

THESE very famous, oft-quoted lines from the legendary Firaq Gorakhpuri draw applause every time they are uttered. In just fourteen words, the poet captures and presents the essence of living -- capturing everybody’s imagination, triggering everybody’s comprehension to a new level. Philosophers often speak of the immense possibilities and potentials life holds for everybody. Yet, in the everyday grind of life, what is missed is exactly that immensity of possibilities and potentials. For, habitually, ..

Of life without boundaries

By Vijay Phanshikar : “The only way to lasting peace and clarity is by looking within, taking absolute responsibility of our experience, and embracing life without boundaries.” - SadhguruTHESE words from a great spiritual master ne..

Of a ‘faraway’ charm

By Vijay Phanshikar : “The words ‘far, far away’ had always a strange charm.” - Alfred, Lord Tennyson HOW true ! Not just every child, but the child in every adult, too, has often felt charmed by the words ‘far..

Of the souls blessed

“Heaven lies about us in our infancy ...” - William Wordsworth, in ‘Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood”...

Of the Divine golden glow

By Vijay Phanshikar : The Golden Light Thy golden Light came down into my brain And the grey rooms of mind sun-touched became A bright reply to Wisdom's occult plane, A calm illumination and a flame. Thy golden Light came down into my throat,..

Of Mother’s cocoon of pardon

THIS happens universally -- in every home, in every culture, in every country. In the cocoon of Mother’s pardon, children grow up and flourish. That cocoon of pardon is a world by itself, almost fully blessed by the Divine. For, as is believed the world over, God sent Mother when He could not be present everywhere for the benefit of human beings. In Mother, humans find God, experience the Divine touch, sense the presence of the Almighty, see the human incarnation of the Ultimate. Pardon is Mother’s ..

Of how the Divine reflects itself

Gurudev TagoreBy Vijay Phanshikar : “My soul is alight With your infinitude Of stars. Your world has broken Upon me like a flood; The flowers of your garden Blossom in my body. The joy of life That is eve..

Of an extraordinarily quiet mind

POSSIBLY, ordinary mortals do not understand the “immeasurable” -- that vast, timeless nature of existence -- because they cannot keep their minds “extraordinarily quiet, still”. For, to achieve such a state, is the toughest task in life -- and most mortals find themselves particularly unsuited to achieve that goal of a completely still mind -- where even the smallest vibration does not escape notice. Of course, J. Krishnamurti often talks of the quiet mind, the still mind. In his commentaries on ..

Of inner light in twilight

By Vijay Phanshikar : Evening arrives when a tired afternoon says ‘goodbye’ ... ... twilight !- Self AFTERNOON’S bright glow gives way to evening’s twilight -- rather hesitant, rather indolent, rather even..

Of the metaphor of flight

By Vijay Phanshikar :For once you have tasted flight, you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been and there you will long to return.- Leonardo da Vinci,Sculptor, scientist, painter, doctor, diplomat, philosopher..

When bud blooms into flower !

WHEN does a bud become a flower ?! Very few can claim to have captured that precise moment. Of course, pre-set cameras have captured those precious moments. For the ordinary mortals, though, that moment has often remained elusive. Children the world over often spend nights awake and alert to actually see a bud bloom into a flower -- a vain wait, though. No matter how alert you are and how focused in your watch of the bud in those precious moments before its petals open, you miss the actual loosening ..

Of music’s caress and connect

“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the spaces between notes and curl my back to loneliness. In my rented room (cooking privileges down the hall), I would play a record, then put my arms around the shoulders of the song. As we danced, glued together, I would nuzzle into its neck, kissing the skin, and rubbing its cheek with my own. ...” - Maya Angelou (1928-2014),..

Of the promise of the sunbeam

A USUAL scene, this ! As the twilight of the dawn yields to the crimson morn, a pencil of sunlight sneaks through the slight slit in the curtains ... and draws a broadening line on the floor. The room assumes an azure glow that lilts you out of the last minutes of overnight sleep. That little play of sunbeam on the floor wakes you up fully. You smile, stretch your arms and give out an imperceptible yawn. ‘Good morning’, you say to yourself -- the day has begun ! And it has begun with a sense of promise ..

Of Silence

THE picturesque lake ! Surrounded by silent stillness, it glimmers in the mid-day glow -- like a mirror. No breeze. Not a ripple. Nothing moves. One’s heart beats -- whose beats one can hear in that silence. Each beat has a story to tell -- of grief and gladness, of life’s ups and downs, of bright morns and blightful dark nights, of moving forward and getting dragged backward. Those beats go on -- signs of life, also signs of the tumult within. Yet, outwardly, everything is still, like the mirror ..

Of the difference between restlessnessand impatience

By Vijay Phanshikar : OF COURSE, both terms are vastly different -- in dictionary and in life. Restlessness points to an eager spirit all geared up to forge ahead, do things, keep moving, keep dreaming big! Impatience points to a disturbe..

Of tranquility’s signature

THIS sound -- of a bird’s sharp whistle -- remains forever embedded in everybody’s memory. The whistle of a bird in the distance pierces the stillness of the morning or the afternoon. ... Then everything is quiet again. Tranquil ! The very recall of any such moment is truly endearing -- and enduring in deep corners of memory bank. It is always so live, so much in the present -- and so, so much eternal. The whistle wafts over the intangible breeze and trails into a slowly-dying whisper...

Of an aspirational symbol

A UNIVERSAL symbolism of human aspiration -- the kite ! Flying a kite is every child’s eternal dream. And, why just a child’s; every adult, too, harbours the same dream -- in every geography, in every culture. It does not matter how rich -- or how poor -- you are, but you always harbour the dream of your kite soaring high up in the sky. The kite up their kissing the clouds, creating ripples in the placid blue sky -- occasionally dabbed by cotton-white clouds - - has so much poetry around its dancing ..

Of an astonishing marvel

OF COURSE, this is a universal experience. Yet, the marvel of both -- of the book and of the friend -- never ceases to astonish everybody. What astonishes more is how a truly good book assumes greater depth with each reading. A true friend, too, grows in his/her warmth, all right. But that is understandable with a human being. The book is different -- non-human, so to say. Yet, in its depth it keeps growing -- as if it has unstated human dimensions. Every book engages the reader in a conversation. ..

Of the mist’s light hug

WHEN they come in, the winters are like that -- bringing a paradoxical warmth for the human soul. The mist looks and feels like a light, warm comforter that wraps around the shoulders -- giving the body a welcome warmth. By itself, the mist is cool -- even cold in later days -- and wet. Yet, for those who love the change of season, the mist comes in as a warm envelop to begin with. Welcome in touch and texture. True, later, the winter would assume a biting quality, and hit one’s bones. True, a winter ..

Romancing silence

A yogic condition, this ! The inner clutter is always terrible, and of course very noisy. It fills the head and troubles the heart. Silence is the answer, they say. Achieve silence, and the clutter would melt, they insist. Achieving silence ! What a task ! Collecting stray, random thoughts and throwing them out is the start of the process of silence. And that is most difficult. Like a restless, hyper-active child, the thoughts roam and dance and bounce around -- without any discipline, without any ..

Of hope in darkness

WHEN everything is dark -- the room and the mind -- even a spec of light is most eagerly awaited. For, when the eyes wide open see nothing, even a dot of light lights up one’s inner sanctum. That little dot of light, then, shows that there is an opening in the fortification of darkness around -- and through that minuscule opening, a little spec of light has found its way in. What a delight, that ! The stolid darkness is not impregnable, after all. There is hope, thus, that at some point, some more ..

Of the silent moment of blossom

THE process -- of the opening of the bud -- is always silent, and away from anybody’s eyes ! Most buds become flowers in the dark veil of the night -- away from any gaze, away from anybody’s contemplation on how that growth takes place. True, many people have recorded on the celluloid how the buds blossom; modern technology having made the difference. Yet, one remembers keeping awake the whole night to see those countless jasmine buds flower in the morning. In those good old days, summers were special ..

Of life of innocence

Simple words, of course, but they communicate the communion between the poet and the Lord within. Mathew McConaughey is much more than an actor winning world acclaim. He is an author, a poet, a thinker and an undeclared torch-bearer of romantic school of living. Tired of logic-focused world view, he felt mesmerised by the enchanting aspects of life -- full of faith and dreams, and of course, poetry as an expression of all those cumulative emotions. The poems in ‘Poems & Prayers’ have been written ..

Of time gone by

EVERY-day picture, this ! Yet, when memory darts back in time, emotions swirl up in the mind’s well. What follows is a train of mental pictures of the times gone by, of the scars left behind, of the marks of the momentous life ... ! True, when one is over the hill, aged with vagaries of life, wrinkles represent the road-map that one has followed. Each moment of life has a story of its own, a story most won’t want to hear -- since each has a similar tale to tell. The tale of life’s trail, of its fights ..

Of the inner destination

THIS is seen everywhere -- the urge to merge. This is the most common and most urgent and most ardent emotion that defines everything -- from Nature in its numerous forms to humans in their multiple roles and actions. There is always a movement -- forward and eager to be at a destination ... ! The sea-waves surge eagerly towards the shore. The rivers rush to meet the sea. The humans constantly chase a destination or a goal.... ! All these point to an inner emotion of wanting to merge or to be one ..

Of the drop and me

VERY spiritual, this experience -- and also very universal ! The rain comes. In trillions of drops that come in torrents. But then, stopped in their flow by the roof-overhang, they fall to the soaked, water-poodled ground drip-drip-drip-drip ... ! That music, soft and as if pin-pricking, forms a rhythm in the mind that fills one’s inner being -- every nook and corner, every grain. The rain stops after whatever time, but the drip-drip-drip-drip goes on for a long while -- taking over the space within. ..

Of wet earth’s fragrance

EVERY sensitive mind reacts thus ! When the shadows of grey clouds up in the sky douse the night’s glow on the earth and the air is uneasy, a wet fragrance of the earth -- from the rain in the distance -- suddenly fills the night, as if it is raining in the room ! Tucked under quilts, nudged by the happy invasion on the nostrils, one’s eyes just open in slits, and a crack of a smile breaks the sleepy lips’ gridlock. The vibe -- that moment’s -- is just divine. This, too, is a universal human experience ..

Of the view from the mind’s eye

THE metaphor is universal ! As rains dance under night clouds’ canopy, they pause for breath. Occasionally, through them, the Moon peeps -- and the earth blushes blue. She smiles. She hums in ecstacy ! This is usual, normal -- one would say. Mother did not think so. Often, she placed her arm across my shoulders, pulled me close, and showed the Moon peeping through clouds. ‘Look at the Earth, son. She is blushing in joy. All the time when the rains danced, she missed the moon. Now, she is happy”. Simple ..

Of a deal ... of emotion

When Khalil Gibran wrote what he would call prose, there was poetry in that. His poetry, possibly, was beyond metre or even verse. So much is credited to Khalil Gibran by way of great expression of human emotion, of human experience, of human peeping into future, of human looking back on time that went by ...! By some standard, Khalil Gibran could not possibly be called a poet...

Of moments of the morn

This appeal of the morn ! As the day peeps out -- over the wet earth, over the night’s veil, over nightmares, fragrant possibilities present themselves as the day’s promise. The lilies open their little eyes -- and smile. The grass on the front lawn yawns. The morning’s stillness refuses to wither ! In the mind, it endures, endears itself. In the distance, the cuckoo calls -- only deepening the silence, enhancing the stillness. The Sun is still waiting in the twilight’s cover -- rather unwilling to ..

Of moments of childhood

By Vijay Phanshikar :Tyres crunchon the gravel ...Dad !- SelfFOR this moment, one waited -- every afternoon, every evening. Arrival of Dad from the clinic was that moment at which one’s little world came to a halt. Every day was specia..

Of the essence beyond words

VERY universal -- this experience ! This is the grief almost every poet, every artist, every expresser of human emotion and inner feelings suffers from. No matter how honestly and seriously may people try, it is truly not easy for everybody to understand those intense emotions with the same intensity. For, people read words and may miss the emotions embodied in those. Gulzar -- or any other poet or artist, for that matter -- must be feeling that pinch. ‘Oh ! That’s not what I said !’, he may find ..

Of the essence beyond

The essence lingers -- accompanied by certain fragrance, certain sense of belonging, certain warmth that stays on, certain sureness of comradeship. Beyond its covers and pages, well beyond the time after it has been kept aside, the book brings along all these nuanced experiences -- at times very profound, or just touch-and-go. A book is yet to be born that has not left behind the marks of its presence on the human mind. And surely, no such book will ever come about. That is the magic. Reading of book, ..

Of the wake -- of memories

As the light fails and afterhours begin to fall in, like homing birds, rowers, too, return to roost. On the placid, greying waters, the little crafts’ wakes glisten for a moment ... and then merge into the evening’s embrace. Though familiar to human experience, this sight sparks a vast range of nuanced emotions -- of the journey, of its ups and downs, of its looking forward to destination, and of the wake that lives for quick moments embodying memories of the distance traversed riding on waves. One ..

Of musings of a classic director

OF COURSE, there would be many people who would agree with Alfred Hitchcock. But then, there also would be many who would contest his opinions. And in this chasm between opinions Alfred Hitchcock -- the master craftsman of movies -- resides. No matter that, the classicism in his opinion is truly endearing. For, in simpler words, it speaks of his immense command of the medium -- and also his method, as well as his highly individualistic and at times I-care-a-damn-for-others’ ideology...

Of art the liberator

HIS medium changed, but not his pursuit of bringing into artistic expression the inner, abstract form that nudged him from within. In each of his artistic outing -- whether on canvas or on stone or metal or walls or buildings etc -- all the versatile genius of Satish Gujral tried to achieve was sculpting of the form his emotion was trying to assume. Of course, each artist -- in whatever domain of medium -- does the same thing, one may say. There need not be any debate on this. For, art is actually ..

Of the purpose of art

WITH this dominant belief, K.K. Hebbar directed his artistic inclination all his life to hold a mirror to the society. Because of the strong social content, his part became an important tool of cultural renaissance through art for half a century in post-Independence India. Though he belonged to a pro-social school of art, Hebbar was still different since he marshalled his artistic refinement to issue a deeper social message not just to connoisseurs but also to the larger society. Such a stand required ..

Of the source of art

WHAT a contemplation ! -- Complex, even confusing ! Is this how art gets created or crafted or sculpted ? But when a Francisco Goya says this, then the thought assumes an altogether different importance. For, even though he was known to be an artist of the romantic category, Francisco Goya produced art with a clear surreal touch -- as if the work emerged from the deep layers of his conscience, as if almost on its own without any goading from the artist, without any pre-determined or advanced ideation. ..

Of the mind loaded with doubt

This is actually the very essence of being -- of being oneself. Though the words are simple, and anybody may feel tempted to call this statement mediocre in import, the depth of its meaning is actually amazing -- if one chose to get to its core. Of course, even when he wrote literally hundreds of science-fiction books, Issac Asimov often loved to express himself in the simplest of words. He also believed that basically science, too, is a simple natural phenomenon that can be understood by anybody. ..

Of the dance in the heart

THIS is art’s essence ! The art -- any art -- is in the heart, and it expresses itself through different instruments. The heart -- and the head, too -- is the sanctuary of art, thus, where the art first germinates and sprouts and blossoms and sends out its fragrance. And then come in the connoisseurs who receive the rendition, rejoice its flourish, nourish their souls in its wake, rejuvenate their spirits. For a performing artist with an intense personality -- like Sonal Mansingh -- dance is an inner ..