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Happy Dussehra, once again?

              It has been quite a while since I last wrote something. There has always been an urge to write but the ideas weren’t settling. After a few weeks of reading, contemplating and organising, I am hopeful of putting them in place.

            “Kim vs Donald!”, said many headlines recently after the two of them, the contemporary leaders in this modern era of madness, exchanged words provoking each other. Like ‘Tom and Jerry’ which came together and entertained people, ‘Kim and Donald’ would have rather made a fitting title than ‘Kim vs Donald’ as they come together to destroy world peace. However, there are major differences, not in their personalities, but in the countries they lead. There is a reason why Trump has got haters all over the place while you wouldn’t find a single person in the country, at least alive, hating Kim or even Putin in that case. This difference between submitting ourselves to someone, directly or indirectly, in the east and having a high self-esteem in the west lies deeper in our cultures. It exists because of the fundamental fact that we have heroes whom we pray while they have protagonists who just do their job.

               A hero vs a protagonist; this contrast, very evident from our movies, affects us more than what we are aware of. The west act. We wait for our heroes to come and subsequently cash in every opportunity to turn them – the heroes – into our gods by putting them on a pedestal. We have become inferior as we brand all the natural calamities as a work of nature’s wrath and call all our failures as a work of stars or fate. But it has been ages since I last heard someone crediting his fate for his good fortune.

              Can it be true that we worship nature because of a low self-esteem and pray the gods because of our own inferiority complex? What would be the case if it was just the god’s duty to make the world a better place? Would we still pray him? Like any parent who is held responsible for taking care of his child, it is the god’s responsibility to take care of his creation. We express our gratitude but should we pray him for that? We don’t pray our military, do we? We only respect them.  We, not being satisfied with the god’s work of our fate put it in the hands of these ‘heroes turned gods’ as well. Be it eastern or western, every philosophy believes in the fact that ‘We are what we think!’ More we think of being controlled by fate, more are we actually controlled by them.

               In spite of all this, we celebrate the victory of these heroes – the heroes who caged us with their own mark on our destiny- over the evil, the evil which would have brought the much-needed protagonists out of us. We would have better revolted the evil and become the gods of our destiny rather than becoming the slaves of god and god’s great piece of work. The problem with the gods and the heroes is that they control us more than what we think and this has hampered and, in many cases, killed the protagonists in us. With this, a new epiphany dawned upon me: We always become the scumbags of our own work.

              So, who is god today, the present day evil whom we should kill or the one whom we should celebrate? After all, what is once divine need not remain as such. A happy Dussehra, hopefully for the last time.


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She speaks…

Men have failed in their repeated attempts in defining love and have described it as undefinable but who are men if not rapists who have continually plundered this world while unconsciously referring to nature around them or the earth they are living on as ‘she’ . May be, if there was a greater justice above all which some call karma, then everyone would come under one single crime of being a rapist.  Some men hide under the masks of science and have spoken words which talk about how greater development is achieved but again, who are men if not empty vessels with words just to make some noise?  Words, which, seemingly, cut through anything but not Love! Some have described it to be the purest of emotions which when conquers man makes him as pure- dangerously pure- as dangerous as a man’s dream, the dreams which persist even after man’s death, the death which can carry with it anything but not a dream and definitely not love. Love and dream move together hidden inside the cavern of one’s heart under the grooves always being dormant, sometimes afraid and often angry of the man who forgets them for the universe as he is naive about what she(universe) wants, she who gives man whatever he wishes for but still doesn’t get from man what she craves for, the craving for a world of dreams and love which will end in peace and results in her bliss, the bliss which every word echoed by ‘LOVE’ or every spark ignited by a ‘DREAM’ generates, every ounce of which making her happier.

(A train arrives, in fact, appears, from nowhere as if it’s always present here and moving along with all of us yet keeping itself unseen so as to avoid getting meddled with.)

“It’s not Love”, she says trying to sound philosophical,

“when you just love each other’s looks or bodies or cash or in that case, even each other’s brains.”

And she adds on saying,

“It’s love only when you love each other’s dreams, ie when you are willing to sacrifice yourselves for the dreams of your loved ones and in that case, fulfill their dreams if they die and every such permutation in this world makes me have wollycobbles, i mean collywobbles, hui hui hui.” sounding hui-ppier.

But she is like any other woman whose moods keep dwindling because of thoughts, the thoughts which, now, speak of the instances written in her diary of trauma where she repents giving a chance for the man to evolve, the evolution which has done horrible things to her, the things which I can’t even speak here.

The thoughts never end up plainly, do they?

In a train of locks, she sat presumably with monkey-like creatures and others, passing one lock after the other, the locks which when opened become the key for the next lock and so on, optimistic of the fact that she wouldn’t die from more insanity, both her’s and men’s.

“Have you ever wondered why monkeys are so furious at men, not just once but always?” she asks, looking at monkeys, this time rather impatiently as if in a hurry.

The  train, her only companion, started to whistle indicating her departure, making her more impatient and like every other time he(train) asks her,

“Should I destroy them, my lady? I don’t need a weapon, i don’t have to move, i don’t need to order someone, i don’t need to request as well, i don’t need to hurt someone or look them in their eyes, which I reckon is the most painful thing while killing and yet I can finish the entire damn thing sitting here. By the way, who are men, my lady, if not fools who think of holding me in their clocks? Their naivete makes me puke. I wonder if the day will ever come when they realise that i am the Apocalypse. I am the end and you are beginning. One word of yours, my lady, and that’s what all i need. You can start everything again.”

“No!” she replies him because she knew she would miss her only companion when he brings the end. Also, she is a generous mother who created man in her greed of more friends, without being satisfied with species up to monkeys. And monkeys have been furious because they know that the man is a traitor for the fact that a man is a man.

And the train calmed himself down and loved her companion for how kind she was to him. He was willing to sacrifice himself to end her suffering and she, on the other hand, has always been suffering to protect her only friend’s life. Don’t you think this is Love?

Finally, as the train geared up to disappear completely, she realised that she didn’t conclude her speech which, she hoped, would cut through at least one soul.

And she continued,

“Dreams need love for them to get fulfilled and once these grey cells, love and dream, of the universe get active, they would form a deadly couple even with the world at stake, the revenge they seek would be apocalypse, the apocalypse which would destroy all the evil including the one is man’s head, the only villain.”,  muttering every word, bit by bit, silently but strikingly, as she is driven back into her veil by the train.

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The boy who actually lived!

                   I went back to the days when tigers used to smoke. Even ‘Time’ had a tiresome journey travelling back when I asked it to. It went back to the days right when anarchy was prevalent and when the civilizations were being fashioned. It was the very beginning of governance. Sages, then known as Rishis lived and people followed what these scholarly people mentioned. Those were the days when there were a lot of mavericks in the society, unlike today where the governance had taken control over man. A village-at-don’t-know-where was led by a tribal head. People in that village were satisfied with what they were and what they had. The village priest enlightened them with the divine wisdom( divine- according to him) over years and people obediently followed.  He could persuade tribal men into worshipping the lord ‘Sun’ and they followed because the priest told them.  He was then explaining them the two mind spaces; heaven and hell which would ostensibly exist afterlife.

Heaven is the most beautiful mind space while hell brings fear in the faces of the toughest of men. Pray hard not to go to hell or else get ready to get tormented“, he mentioned.

A small boy of the village listened to it contemplating whatever understood. He was a seemingly odd looking boy not belonging to this time and definitely not the village. He roamed the streets of the village as a freelancer doing odd jobs. He was a quick learner and a cynic. No one could convince him of things so easily. He was stubborn and learnt things with his own reasons. He prayed the ‘sun’ god not because the priest told him but because he understood the fact the sun helps in the growth. He observed that the metabolic rate on earth during nights was less. It was not that he observed too much of the outside world. He observed himself, went deep within to comprehend his own ability to think. The rate of his thoughts declined at nights. He had this regular habit of drawing shapes of whatever he saw in the sky on the soil. The great priest once told that the earth was flat.

Why is it?“, the boy asked.

People easily accepted with what the priest said but this guy had other notions. One day,  it was the day’s sad end, the end which he never wanted because every day was fun,  and these days, he was observing the stars. The stars, moon, clouds formed various patterns and shapes which he replicated on the ground while he slept. Next morning when he observed it, he found that the moon was missing in the various shapes he made.

oi, i missed it“, he thought.

He wondered where the moon went. Like this, he observed that moon’s shape changed intermittently and it disappeared regularly. He was a genuine storyteller too. He once explained to the priest’s children how fast the sun moves and how it visits every nook and corner of the world. The priest went furious over his insane theories and told him to stop creating his own theories.

“YOU!, son of a ****.Get away from here or keep shut your mouth shut.”, the priest accused the boy of his blasphemous theories. 

The boy was wondering if his conception was wrong. The boy saw that the light illuminated not only beautiful places of his village but also lit the contaminated, foul stained places. He wondered if sun loved earth so much that it visited every nook and corner of it daily.

As every uncouth civilization which ended because of plague or because of man’s foolish wants, even this civilization had its tough times. All the surrounding villages were hit by a disease. Our village was busy trying not to get infected. The boy was busy too but with his dreams. He started sleeping more than ever as dreams connected him to a distant place. He was blind in his dreams it was dark which guided him in it. The people of the village started praying. All the ceremonies and rituals were performed but the death rate wasn’t diminishing. People started blaming the high priest and hence god. They called the earth as the INFERNO. The priest then understood how dumbfounded these people were. Some of the villages started chasing the High priest and the boy came to his rescue claiming that nothing is gonna happen and earth is a beautiful place. But the deaths didn’t stop. The death ate whatever came in its way. It looked as if there was no way to stop it. The boy didn’t understand why the death was unabatedly taking everyone with her. There was no pattern. Every single time he got doubts if the earth was hell, he got dreams which said he was wrong. The boy was no different for death as death didn’t know him so well and so it finally ate him too.

The boy was astounded at the fact that he died but more than that he was surprised by seeing the doorkeepers who appeared before him. The doorkeepers of Yama summoned all the dead which included the boy to Yama-dharma Raju. The path was indeed enthralling. He could feel all the excitement but realised the fact that it would end soon. The hall in which everyone was summoned was nothing special. It had 2 doors. Yama started checking everyone who came there. It was strange that Yama wasn’t checking their accounts. He felt uneasy when he looked at the boy. The boy’s confident looks in front of Yama’s intimidating frame surprised Yama. He saw something puzzling on the boy’s face, something dark and therefore, he was put in a conundrum. Yama believed that a child can never be dark. Also, the dark force brought in the light on the child’s face.

As everytime, Yama asked people to choose a door and people made their choice thinking one was hell and one was heaven. People went behind their leaders like sheep. Chitragupta had a vicious smile as always. This boy however chose a different road. He told yama that he wanted to get back to earth. Yama looked amazed looking at how different the boy was. Not a conventional thing this guy is, he thought. He asked the guy for a proper logical reason and if convincing , he would send the guy back.

The boy told, “Earth is the most beautiful place and the only heaven left“.

Yama asked for a reason.

The boy told,” I pray the lord sun. Sun visits earth every day and travels all through the earth, every nook and corner. He walks through not only the beautiful places but also the contaminated ones. so, i thought the earth is the only heaven as the sun visits it daily.

Yama looked paralysed and was temporarily out of the words.

Is it because of responsibility or love that my dad(sun) visits earth daily?“, Yama thought.

A small boy made Yama ponder over things which he never thought in life. Yama wondered if the dark force, which he saw in the boy and which terrified him gave the boy such wisdom.

How is it possible? How can dark show path? Isn’t the path only shown by my father, the sun? Can there be someone else? Can the dark show path?” Questions flooded all over“, and he smiled.

Life was much beautiful before,” he chuckled.

Chitragupta was amazed and Yama made up his mind. He sent the boy back. People then wondered if the boy was right! Had the boy been right, what are the 2 doors and what is the choice made by them. The people went through the doors according to their choices. They got terrified within their doors seeing how people were brutally tortured. Finally, as they walked all through till the end, they finally met the ones who entered the second door. They finally realised that the two doors were the 2 points in a circular hell path.

The boy was right,” they thought and looked disappointed.

Yama now started wondering what the boy had; the dark. what was it?  What was the boy’s dream all about? Is it the dark who is showing him the path? Is it shiva? May be it is.

“One hell of a day for me,” he rolled laughing,

and the boy lived forever, the boy who actually lived. The boy was named MARKANDEYA  by Yama and kala later made that possible playing his games again..


Ref: to know who markandeya was)

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Sita, the daughter of RAVANA??


Right through my childhood, I was always fascinated by the myth, be it RAMAYANA, MAHABHARATA or TROY, for I have known only these! I have never read anything during my bedtime, but my dad always insisted me to do so. The thing I loved the most was learning the so-called obscure myth from my ammama during my bedtime, which had the likes of Ramayana and Mahabharata in them. I have been told the tale of Rama many a times, but every time I was told, I saw it with different eyes. It looks as if a thread of magnetism binds me to it. I have always got amazed by me finding links in the myth through my friends and family, but always struggled to complete the web. I have been stuck in this web for years because of the unfathomable links which I have known but never learnt.Time made me a cynic and my family started seeing me skeptic. Every time, every single fight we see, we solve them by considering the versions from the both the sides but the tale of Rama i.e. Ramayana is only the version of Rama! Skills of Ravana as proclaimed in Ramayana boggled my mind more than that of Rama and brought me to the novel ASURA, the Ramayana told from Ravana’s perspective that is the Ravanayana authored by AnandNeelkantan which changed my inner self. This book deals with all the stages of Ravana. ‘Ravana the teen’ who is obsessed for power and rule; ‘Ravana the king’ whose prime motive is to become the emperor of the world and bring back the lost glory of his race; ‘Ravana the Emperor’ who finally learns life. Now, Did Ramayana happen as Valmiki wrote?? Did it eventuate as sung by LuvaKusha??Did Ravana capture Sita out of lust? Ramayana teaches that Ravana was a man of rich character and was a profound scholar. Can the greatest emperor be so ignorant?

One of the stories of SITA I read follows this way… “Sita is the daughter of the RAVANA and MANDODHARI…soon after her birth, astrologers predict that she would bring ill luck to their great sura race  …Being well versed in 4 Vedas and 6 Shastras(his 10 heads),, Ravana accepts it…In his path towards north for being the greatest emperor on earth, Ravana is forced to take his baby girl with him foreboding the threat from the people for the girl for her ill luck. During his mission of conquering entire India, Ravana is attracted to a nymph named Vedavathi, hits at her but she refuses. With ego hurt, he tries to impress her and dives into the river, gets washed away only to be held as hostage by some other rival king!! The ministers who have come with him in his mission declare Vedavathi as the reason putting the king into trouble and also consider the baby girl’s ill luck for it. They inform one of their field warriors to take the nymph and the baby with him to a distant place and kill them. The warrior tries to force Vedavathi but she burns herself leaving a final note, cursing that the Asura race will soon be vanquished! This trembles him and he forgets to kill the baby girl who he brings with him. When he goes back, he sees the girl in the hands of a Deva king and he runs away. The Deva king names her SITA and people start believing that Sita is the daughter of Mother Earth. Yes, Ravana gets to know about Sita after a while, but he is preoccupied building his empire and appoints spies to have a check on Sita. When Rama is sent to 14 years of exile, Ravana is misled by his spies who inform him that Sita leads a miserable life. Furious Ravana this time goes to bring her back to Lanka to give her a comfortable life.He goes along with his Uncle Maricha who disguises himself as a deer ‘Mayaledi’ and is killed by Rama. Realising the death of his loving uncle, he forces Sita and takes her back to Lanka in his PushpakaVimanam. Whenever he tried to inform Sita that he is her father, she hurts his ego thereby leaving him helpless. Ravana is also livid for Rama killing his companion and soul mate Vaali! Rama also uses unfair means at many stages against the Dharma of a king! At the end it is Rama killing Ravana and performing the so called Agni pariksha on Sita. And finally Sita realizes that Rama was no less to Ravana in his deeds.”

Also, there are stories which say that the VanaraSainyam of Rama tried to exploit Ravana’s wife Mandodhari sexually!(few descriptions*) This gave rise to so many questions about the myth in my mind. Myth has been told numerous times but is it exact? Or did it happen? Is it real, surreal or is it just an incorporeal of things??Is Rama a mere figment of Valmiki?? Both Rama and Ravana possess some good and bad deeds in their names. Ravana’s kingdom was as good as Rama’s. There are temples built for Ravana in Lanka! It is presumed that even the poorest people in Ravana’s empire had food to eat, clothes to wear and homes to live. What if Rama and Ravana were just two ordinary men like us? The extraordinary story of two ordinary men! Undoubtedly, Valmiki has scripted Ramayana unbelievably well that very few people doubted about it! Others simply were in acquiescence! Not many spoke about the Rama’s rule after Ramayana. So now what to consider? And what not to?? Should I consider Valmiki’s version or the other versions? Is Rama the hero? Or Ravana, the actual hero of the story for his Dharma as a king?? May be Rama is quick witted but he failed his Dharma each time he fought from the back! The character of Ravana(according to Ramayana) is still and will always be my hero for his self-obsession, for considering his race above anything and above all for his qualities which have flaws like any other man. In contrast to that Rama’s character was exemplary as mentioned by Valmiki and only seen in books!

I was in a dilemma for a long time bewildered with diverse adaptations. Then I met my brother Teju who helped me cross-examine and helped me out! To be honest, all these characters are nothing but a part of the stories and the lessons one can learn from these characters. Learning a lot of stories without actually apprehending the positives from them is good for nothing. Now I need not see it with different eyes because it is told in multiple ways. Lots of interpretations have been published till date, like illustrations from Valmiki’s and then MollaRamayanam and finally we also have an Amish’s new series. The only thing we can do is to know many versions as they come and take positives from each version rather than debating with them.
Rama or Ravana, the oldest Valmiki’s or the latest Amish’s; the best thing they have done is giving me a legend to read and teach me things.The best thing about having so many versions is we can make our own adaptation.They have also taught me that there lies a solution even in predicaments. Above all, a movie, a book or any other experience, is meant to teach us things and Ramayana was more than just an ordinary thing in those grounds!