|
|
||
|
Home | Hindi | Kabir | Poetry | Workshop | BoloKids | Writers | Contribute | Search | Contact | Share This Page! Shop Online |
|||
|
|
||
|
Home | Hindi | Kabir | Poetry | Workshop | BoloKids | Writers | Contribute | Search | Contact | Share This Page! Shop Online |
|||
|
Workshop
# 4
Scene I:
I am standing
in front of the mighty Niagara Falls. The sheer sight and sound of its
graceful fury is awesome and humbling. The flowing water is casting a spell
on me. The touristy surroundings are melting as my identity with the
magnificence is manifesting effortlessly. My whole being is vibrating with
a youthful exuberance, experiencing the climactic zenith of the water
droplet ready to take the great tumble. But, alas, I am abruptly shaken out
of this state by the painful impinging of flashing camera light-bulbs. As my
eyes adjust slowly to my surroundings, I hear an excitement among the
tourists pointing at the lighting display illuminating the falls. The
clicking camera flashes going in unison try to capture this moment. I slowly
walk away – for me the moment had just ended. Scene
II:
I walk into
the hospital room where my friend had just been blessed with a baby boy. As
I wade through the hospital room full of visitors to congratulate her, I
notice that she is not fully conscious. I am told that since it was a
caesarian delivery, she has been drugged to numb the pain. No sooner is this
information conveyed, she turns over and readjusts her position in bed. In
that very instant I feel a sharp pain piercing through my lower abdomen,
pelvic and groin area. It lasts at most a few seconds but I am so absorbed
in pain, experiencing in excruciating detail the feelings of my friend lying
in bed in front of me. Before my legs buckle from the intensity of the pain,
I come out of the state and collect myself just in time. My friend was
writhing in pain comforted by the visitors. Amidst the sympathetic clicking
tongues of her well-wishers, I spontaneously stretched my hand and stroked
her hair ever so gently – there was a bonding that needed no acknowledgement
or words – a divine oneness hard to describe. Scene
III:
The serenity
of the placid lake in the picturesque Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania was
pacifying my agitated mind. All the personal problems that had been drowning
my mind with despondency thus far, now strangely, seemed to be loosening
their grip over me. Not caring for my designer clothing, I sat down on the
wet grass gazing thoughtlessly at the lake. As my vision defocused, I found
myself staring at the empty space with the pristine blue sky in the
backdrop. Out of the blue, came into my vision a divine vista of a molecular
dance; tiny bundles of illumined energy were frolicking in front of my
eyes. There was an obvious graceful gaiety in the motion of these lively
beings. It was awesome to see them moving with such freedom, changing their
direction at will, instantly and effortlessly. And their contact with each
other was a heart-to-heart encounter that seemed to revitalize them. It was
one big orgasmic orgy of delightful fun. I started to feel as if my whole
body was harmoniously reverberating in tune with the vibrations of this
cosmic dance. My individuality was melting into the oneness of this festive
reality, as every ounce of me was imploding into the bigger Me. All of a
sudden I felt a sharp pain ripping through me, cruelly shaking me out of the
ecstatic state. As I strained to look around in the dimming dusk light, I
saw a bird hunter come running into my vision. He picked up his catch that
was lying helplessly in the grass, about 1000 ft in front of me. He raised
the dead bird high in the air, celebrating his show of gamesmanship to me.
Indeed he was an accomplished hunter who had mastered the art of aiming and
clicking his shotgun. Wasn’t it ironic that he was inviting me to
participate in this celebration, the very being whom his bullet had just
wounded? Scenes
IV and V:
I am browsing
the BBC website - the blazing headline announces, “Russian Submarine Sinks –
Crew Feared Dead”. I read the painful details of how the drowning crew must
have spent their last hours knowing that they were about to die. I am moved
for a few moments trying to visualize their pain and suffering. Then, I
point and click my mouse to the next news item on the website.
I am watching
CNN on television and there is a breaking news – “A Singapore Airline
crashes in Taiwan”. The news item catches my attention because I am
slated to fly by the same airline in a few days. The video clip of the
accident churns me from inside. The sight of wailing families makes me feel
helpless for a few seconds. I am glad it was not my flight. Relieved, I
point and click the remote of my television set, to watch the football game
that I had been waiting for. Scene –
Live:
I am once
again watching this picture of the rickshaw puller. My mind tries hard to
grasp the feelings of this being through my mental and emotional faculties.
And once again I remember how often, in the past, I simply had to do nothing
– I would automatically be transported to be that I was witnessing.
But now where is that identity? Can I not break through the barriers
between this photo and me? Where is that nature’s gift of collapsing the
distinction between you and me? Have I been swept by the relentless torrent
of point and click happening all around me? Perhaps… But the little innocent child in me is waiting with a sense of trusting expectation – this time to enter the photograph, squat huddled-up on my rickshaw waiting for the rain to come pouring down on my plastic sheet as I wonder why this person out there is pointing and clicking his camera at me…… –
Maalok Workshop # 4 Workshop # 16 | 15 | 14 | 13 | 12 | 11 | 10 | 9 | 8 | 7 | 6 | 5 | 4 | 3 | 2 | 1 |
|
|
|
|
Analysis |
Architecture |
Astrology |
Ayurveda |
Book Reviews |
Buddhism |
Cartoons | Cinema |
Computing |
Culture |
Dances |
|
Home | Bolography | BoloKids | Columns | Hindi | Kabir | Poetry | Quotes | Workshop | Writers | Contribute | Search | Contact |
|
|
Spontaneous
response on seeing this picture would be – “What a poignant photograph!” It
evokes and floods our mind/heart with an emotional potpourri of sympathy,
fear, helplessness, hopelessness, disgust, anger, challenge, compassion,
dilemma, resolve, love, surrender, thankfulness and remembrance. While
there can be an argument on the right action to “rectify” the situation, one
cannot debate over the authenticity of human response on witnessing such a
spectacle. For Siddhartha it even meant a journey to Buddhahood. As the dust
of these emotions settles, my own introspection transports me to a voyage of
experiential impressions……