Conversations with the Dead

With every passing day of life and despite the integral presence of the mundane, (which is nice but I don’t always appreciate it) the thought that I am here for a limited period of time has not failed to cross my mind several times. I am still trying to grapple with the purpose of life, the basic reason for my existence and of course where am I headed from here. 

I have been immersed in the sacred scriptures, they are the source of all wisdom that has percolated into my mind. They are extremely enlightening in their poetic realm and yet I feel the lacuna, that I am not doing enough to answer this very deep and pertinent question. It has been even louder ever since two individuals left their earthly states, one who I loved dearly and one who I didn’t. They both affected me, in good and not so good ways. One ensured she remained relevant emotionally to me and the other ensured she messed with me completely, not intentionally though. They have left without a trace, owing nothing to the world and probably never to be remembered again. They had little to share materially and yet they had a significant impact on my mind.. the living mind. To keep it simple, let me refer to them as the good one and the lost one. 

What intrigues me is not just their exit, but the way they left their earthly sheath. The good one led a life of authority, keeping her herd together, ensuring the “family” didn’t break into nucleus bits. She guarded her fort ensuring no trouble from the outside and ensuring no trouble from the inside though she did come with a bus load of bias. She made rules and we toed the line. For all her autocracy which did get to her children at some point as they took pleasure in letting her know she needed to withdraw rather than govern, she did what she had to despite the inner opposition. Blamed, defamed and shot at almost every day, she ensured her pack stayed close to her taking all the brickbats in her stride. What mattered to her was a homogeneous family though that rule had started to fade quite a bit. What may have looked like an old age of turmoil, culminated into the most peaceful death within half an hour. She suffered no disease, she simply gave in to the call of death when it came… yes she had been waiting, we all had been waiting. She had not been super spiritual, she had deep attachments and she ensured she fed that desire well. She had outlived her time and yet it was the most peaceful exit that unfolded in front of our eyes. I held her hand one last time before she turned cold, she had left but her body remained plugged in at the hospital… just the mass of flesh breathing, the consciousness that was her had found its way out of her earthly sheath already.

In contrast, the lost one had been nothing but a trouble maker and maybe she didn’t even know how much of a trouble maker she was. She had given sleepless nights to many, created chaos in households and believed she wasn’t wrong at all. Spinster till death, she proclaimed to be the mystical one, the spiritual one and yes, we have crossed swords in the past. She defined her life differently, scoffed at the institution of marriage and the fall out that are children. Men were still her prey, and she craved for that attention. And yet, spiritualism for what ever reason was her definition of who she was. A master at communication with a charm that I could die for, yes she had a presence that couldn’t be ignored no matter how much I tried to push her out of my world. She came to haunt me in the weirdest of ways. For the spiritually inclined and one who had dedicated her life to Arunachala, apparently, her passing was a hell only she would have known how much she was subjected to. Lonely, misguided and with a host of physical ailments she fought her last war with the God of death, screaming her way through uncontrollable pain before she succumbed. She left me even more baffled, as the news of her last days trickled into my world. How or why was a person so mesmerised by the spiritual given such a torturous death? 

It has been a while since the passing of these two women, and yet their last days remains etched in my mind, keeps me speechless and makes me wonder about what impact the nature of the passing has with respect to the life we have chosen to lead. I wouldn’t believe it if we said, we have no control… we have all the control, we just need to define how we want to use it. It would be naive to believe that the one who was seeped in attachment of the family should have been granted a more painful death than the one seeped in spiritualism. And yet the reverse logic made me sit up and think, what exactly is the purpose of life and does it have an impact in the method of what death is inflicted on us. Death has intrigued me a lot more than life, and I have contemplated endless hours on the connect between these two realities. The life I live is incidental, what I make of my death is more important. And if I have to ensure the peaceful exit that I crave for, what would it take to fix the remaining of my life while the clock ticks on. 

I am still thinking, while the loud mundane shows its glamorous self to me I am trying very hard not to be enamoured by its presence. The silence that beats within my mind while I watch the chaos outside, is something I want to explore more… the answer lies there. I am here, you are here, we have a relationship undefined. Is there more to this connect or are we just spending our time coping with the mundane around us… its a decision we need to take, now, seriously to ensure a little that we have some answer to our earthly presence before we let go this sheath. The question really is do we fight the Lord of death, or embrace him. 

Consciousness at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai

Arunachala Mountain

When all knowledge fades into oblivion
When the curtains of faith are drawn to look beyond
When the essence of existence is defined by consciousness
I am here, and now, at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai.

Srinivasan stared up at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai and contemplated over his spiritual journey realizing that he had been so blind, so theoretical, so completely stubborn all these days. It had been such a struggle despite all the accumulated knowledge. He had read many books, he had researched well, he had taken to changing his lifestyle into a real, though provoking journey laced with ritual. He now sat in front of the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai wondering why he had missed the point for so long.

He stared on, the gentle clouds covered its peak, like a silent glowing halo that danced around its pinnacle. It was so beautiful and so breath taking and he kept staring at its majestic presence in the otherwise flat landscape. It had been theory till today, that this mountain was the Kailash of the south. These words rang in his mind as he took a deep breath, what did these words really mean?

Like the great Kailash of the north, that doesn’t allow any person to set foot on itself, this great mountain too has many myths that surround it. Considered to be the very form of Lingodbhava, this mountain gave Srinivas the feeling of the self. These moments while he stared at this majestic piece of natural art were all about him, all about his life energy as the breath he took in consciously and the stark view of the mountain in an otherwise silent afternoon. Nothing else really mattered.

All that he had read, all that he had assumed he had achieved, all that he had considered to be part of a supreme thought, were now only ways to get there. Each way, be it tantra, yoga, or ritual, embedded this truth very subtly into their methodologies. Srinivasa realized it was not any one route that would help him in his journey; it was a combination of all of them. And now he was here, he, his mind and his body present together, having kept aside all these prescriptions to salvation he had come across so far. It was only him, and the mountain, and the rest of his life was put to silence for a few moments of complete consciousness.

His problems slowly faded away, his activities slowly died in his thoughts, his memories faded into oblivion and his worries didn’t exist anymore, he was one with the peak, he was a part of this mountain, egoless, selfless, bodiless... just consciousness.

His body was the home; his breath was the passage as he felt the energy rising in and out of it. He was an entity, a drop of consciousness that felt imprisoned within these walls. With every breath, he felt the tingle in his muscles, the gentle movement of air through his lungs and the cool feeling at his throat that lasted even longer with every oncoming breath. He prayed in his mind, to all the great beings who rested at this peak, to all the siddhas who has lived and worshiped here, to come down and bless him in their own silent way.

The great mountain of Thiruvannamalai now represented a composite geometry of the great Lord Shiva himself, every peak on itself represented a gateway to inner truth guarded by cosmic dwarapalas who make their presence felt only when one is conscious enough to tune into them. This peak, with its undulating surface, rocky slopes and lush green vegetation, in its form somewhere appeared like a stone cold rishi always in meditation, seated in padmasana, with his jatas falling over the pinnacle of his being. His body was this form, his breath was the ever living energy that surrounds this mountain, his consciousness was the living reality; the swayambhu linga that grew over this ground to now stand here, stark in this pale countryside.

Srinivasa looked up at the mountain and felt, he was such a miserable example of the same great truth. He was pure consciousness that had lost its way, he was the atma linga that had not realized its potential and he was the very same atman that lay deep, dormant asleep still within his bodily home. Breath and consciousness were his only weapons to fight the great battle of silence in his head and bring him remotely closer to his inner self.

To the great mountain of silent truth, to the ever present consciousness he was blind to, Srinivasan bowed down and prayed in all reverence, hoping to achieve something during his lifetime.

Photo courtesy: http://davidgodman.org/asaints/powerofa1.shtml