Art of Living Life Stories Experiences, Sudarshan Kriya, Yoga, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar: Shreya Chugh - Art of Living Experience:

Art of Living Life Stories Experiences, Sudarshan Kriya, Yoga, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar: Shreya Chugh - Art of Living Experience:: Art of Living Teacher, ARTExcel, YES, National Director for The Art of Living -Youth Empowerment programs I was born and raised in B...

Grandma's Anecdotes!

I remember my grandmother, often reminiscing her past-- a vibrant childhood and teenage years spent in the lush hinterlands of erstwhile Bangladesh, ‘East Bengal’. The days of the Raj were still alive to the echoes of stately bugles, marching soldiers and hurtling hooves – sounds which rented the skies of a shackled nation. The wildfire of independence, however, raged on, igniting minds and hearts of millions across the country.

Grandma described her nestled existence against this backdrop of turbulence.

Warm afternoons, in the company of siblings, or with aunts busy knitting crochet or preparing sweetmeat. And, evenings spent reading school books, under the mellow-glow of the lamp; its dark wicker smoking the dainty glass-cover as well.

While women, grandma explained, were still largely restricted to the indoor quarters -- their ‘voices’, surprisingly were ‘heard’, and in certain cases seriously ‘pondered upon’! Animated discussions on women’s education, the role of women in the household, or their participation in the independence struggle – the women of the house had an ‘opinion’ on every issue. But before these ideas were put forth before the men of the house (albeit nervously), they were debated upon and analysed in the afternoons when the women gathered to weave or knit!

As an adolescent, my supposed ‘modern’ bearing, fed on and shaped by feminist ideologies, found grandma’s nostalgic descriptions regressive. They seemed like a thing of the past, meant only to be heard as ‘grandma’s anecdotes’! It was only during later years (probably when I was in college) that I actually understood what she was trying to convey to her granddaughter! 

As a young girl, I was wont to believing that women once married and engrossed in rearing children, wasted their talents, sacrificing their lives for something not worth pursuing. So, while I did not think highly of my grandmother’s crochet-weaving sessions in my teens, I began cherishing those stories later, as an adult!

Today, those descriptions have a more significant and symbolic import for me. While knitting, those women were, in a sense, weaving their world of sovereign thoughts as well! Understanding and assimilating different ideas and ideals from the outside world, and examining their value in their lives. Some of these ideas posed a challenge to their status-quo, while others showed them a new direction to walk on. Though relegated to the indoors, they gave wings to their independent feelings, and voiced them amongst themselves and later of course to the men in the house. How deeply progressive those women were, I realise now—operating from the interiors of the household, to effect a change for their gradual empowerment!

A Prayer...

Decrepit buildings cry out for comfort

Lodged firmly in the heart their deprivation and insult.

A similar fate awaits that man who tills the land…

Incessant, under the summer sun, monsoon rain and winter chill.

What morsel are you feeding tonight? -- your wife, your son and your daughter!

Blank stares instead, at the numbness of tomorrow; at the emptiness of survival --

...Oh what's on that platter tonight?  

You have your saucers full?

Yes, with delicious fare that’s greasing my tongue!

Look there, in your backyard!

Can you grease those gasping bellies?

Not with food from your hearth...

A brief prayer instead, to soothe parched hearts --

‘Annadata sukhi bhavah’

--- the line in italics is a prayer in Sanskrit, which suggests ‘may the food provider be happy and healthy’

Knowledge

Knowledge Thy name is profound

Capacious and bewildering, like the azure ocean.


Knowledge You bring enlightenment and wisdom

Shining forth like a million stars through the firmament.


Knowledge You are precious! You are Invaluable!

Precious rubies, diamonds and emeralds pale before your worth.


Knowledge You are humble

With every step learnt, a thousand others wait to be discovered.


Knowledge You are freedom

You open my mind’s eye to the yonder and beyond.


Knowledge You bring sadness and joy

…pithy colours and contrasts in the theatre of our lives.


Knowledge You embrace truth; You embrace peace and love

…yet often Ego embraces you! Strange bedfellows that mingle a while and divorce like mates.

You emerge unscathed and victorious, pure and untouched—having cleansed the ‘I’ of that Ego as well…

In the wee-hours of the day little Yusuf’s feverish hands are hard at work. He sifts through the garbage looking for ‘fine’ pieces of cloth, or a torn slipper…maybe a match-stick box, or a deserted toy as well! Anything really….from that heap of stinking garbage which can still be of ‘use’ in his paltry existence; or probably for his best-friend Rahim.


Age seems to have caught on the faces of these young scavengers. The exuberance and innocence of childhood however, is brought forth in flashes -- brought to life in their small eyes as it were, and carrying with it joy and renewed hope when a fluorescent pink pencil box, with its sides masticated almost, is recovered from the rubbish heap! Finally, the two friends can pack their humble pencils and erasers in that box, and carry it to their evening school…

I happened to interact with many such young boys and girls in the past few months; and what struck me most was their boundless passion and enthusiasm to ‘know’. There is a hunger to learn and a striking curiosity to know about the unknown – and the great deal of satisfaction they derive when the so-long unknown is acquired! Somewhat, and ironically almost, like the way they go about doing their menial work every morning – with earnest curiosity and keenness, rummaging through every piece of article, to discover an item of use; and the joy it brings to their parched souls!

She came, she saw and she conquered
'What'? -- Did you ask?

Curiosity and purpose writ large on her face

Ambling, enabling and enquiring –

Picking on that, probing on this…she swooped down at the hint of a slightest cue

She chewed, she churned and she digested – leaving little to the imagination!

Often gnawing at things as she went along; yet so stately and regal -- like that Falcon on the royal sceptre!


I study, I read, and I overfeed

Judging, and often Adjudging -- artless mortals who have no defences

A forlorn glance – or a tap of the finger, a lazy yawn – or a shrug of the shoulder

…all chewed, churned and digested

And Sincere words thrashed, like chaff from grain


She came, she saw and she conquered

‘What’? – Did you ask?

…Not the Heart which had so much to say

Like a fish out of water...

My harried neighbour is concerned how FDI in retail will affect his early morning sojourns to the local market. Vegetables, he pointed out can still be bought fresh from retail stores; but what about fish, he asked.
The aquatic animal which has attained iconic status in Bengali cuisine, and is relished, (quite literally so) 'to the bone' is actually proving to be the real 'bone of contention' for the true-blue Bengali.
Fish, is a sacred subject among Bengalis -- as sacred as that talisman or good-luck charm that he fervently swears by! So you can well imagine the dilemma and distress, the very thought of having to buy fish from an air-conditioned store is causing him. Fish, after-all is to be bought from local markets -- with its colour, weight, lustre and 'smile' providing appropriate cues of its freshness. Which therefore also means that the discerning Bengali would like to 'touch, feel...and smell' the fish during such a purchase...and yes, getting his hands 'dirty' is also part of this skilled process!

Will the Bengali therefore get a similar experience at a retail store while selecting the limbless piscean delight, is the grave question bothering many Bengalis, including my next-door neighbour. Hopefully it won't be a case of a 'fish out of water'-- the true-blue Bengali who might find himself completely ill-at-ease in such 'antiseptic' environments while selecting his favourite meal of the day.