Sunday, November 30, 2014

What's your Idol?

It was a long long journey. Multitudes of people climbing up a hill to get a glimpse of their beloved idol. It was a steep hill, with curves and climbs, that reached to a sacred place for many idol worshipers. Me and my dad, scanned the hill from distance and wondered how long it will take to climb the hill. I saw a shortcut from distance, the way was empty, none of the worshipers went through that way. The shortcut climbed the hill all the way to about a quarter (from bottom) of the main route, from where it joined the main route. The shortcut was empty, and thus we chose the shortcut.

So, we went ahead, and Lo! we ended up in a castle. I do not know how we ended up in the castle, but yes it was a castle full of mystery. A castle with many paths, and we both were completely baffled with fear and loneliness, frantically searching the route to the sacred place of idol worshipers. The castle had mazes all around, up and down, right and left. A yellow castle, neither was it painted, nor was it decorated, yellow yellow everywhere. Some of the steps were steep, while others were long slides. We climbed the first stair, a narrow one, hardly enough for a fat man to squeeze in. We reached to another floor. There were steps and slides in that floor too.We chose the stairs and slides neither by reason, nor by intuition, we chose them out of fear. We preferred the broader and straighter ones rather than narrower and steeper ones. As we went higher and higher, we had multiple options, with fear did we choose, with fear did we go. Climbing up, sliding down, and then again climbing up we reached at the corridor, leading to a place with an ambiance I have never seen before. Lo! There was an idol made of silver (or appears so), with hands, legs and big eyes. It danced in its position, and I wondered what made the idol dance. There were two boys dancing on both the sides of the idol. An atmosphere of fire, rage and anger, and the only consolation for us was the smile of a friendly priest. We were facing the idol, right in front of us. We were near the front entrance door ( I did  not see any other doors, though). The temple was reddish and dark, it was reddishly lit up with fearsome fire around the corners. The light from fire was brilliantly reflected by the silvery finish of the dancing idol. There were a few people, both women and men in the right corner watching at us. Another idol with bigger eyes, colorful body was in the left corner. Perhaps, it was shaped to cast a sense of fear among the idol worshipers. A friendly priest was sitting on the left side of us. The priest was fair, and had a south Asian look. He smiled at us and was keen to talk to us. My father slowly folded his hands to the idol, in the Hindu way of saying Namaste. It would be odd for him not to do so  - the priest might think that we did not belong to his clan. When I carefully noticed the hands of my father, I found a trick that he used to shy away from the unforgivable act of idolatry. I joined my father and clasped my hands as my father did. Since it was too hard for both of us to pay respect for an idol, due to our monotheistic ideology, the trick was to slightly open our hands, so that for us it meant like a prayer to Almighty God, who created the heavens and the earth and all in between. I guess the priest did not cast any doubt on us, because from outside it appeared as though we were worshiping the idol.

After sometime, the idol was not there, but the boys were still dancing. My soul was lamenting out of guilt, even though I did not worship the idol, in essence I did worship the custom. The custom was my idol. Otherwise, I would not have folded my hands to show the priest and the people who are looking at us from the right corner. As we retreated, the priest keenly showed us a small place in corridor, which he said was the old temple. The corridor had no idols, no paintings of statue, it was painted green and was an abandoned place. Perhaps, nobody wanted a temple without idols, and all the money was thrown into the new temple.

As we were about to say farewell, the priest claimed his share, we payed the amount and retreated. We went down the hill to our normal lives. Next day morning, after breakfast as I sat down in front of my laptop, I remembered the dream. Well, I thought of jotting it down, so that it may not fade away like hundreds of other dreams, which fade away every day.

As I started thinking about the dream, I not only wondered about the sheer creativity of brain, but also the fear of custom hiding in our hearts. Even though, out of reasoning, the characters in the dream (me and my father) absolutely criticized idol worship, they themselves acted as idol worshipers did, for the fear of society (the priest and, the men and women in the right corner) and the atmosphere (of fire, rage and anger). The idols for the characters of the dream were not the dancing idol and the colourful idol in the left corner. Their idol was the custom, fear and their own life. They preferred to be hypocrites in the sacred place of idol worshippers by not preaching their monotheistic belief. They instead tried to please the customs of the idol worshipers for the fear of losing their hidden idol - society.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Love Your Soul

The supreme court deep inside says "you have sinned!". Anything can be erased from memory, but how can I erase my own consciousness? The moment I erase my own consciousness, I am not me, I am unconscious, I am devoid of soul.

The larger your soul is, the better it is for you. Then you find intoxicants, that can rip of your soul from your body. The intoxicants can be anything, lust, thirst, pleasure or pain. As you drink a drop of lust, your soul starts departing, your consciousness shrinks, and your mind is incapable to think beyond the control of the lust.

Why soul is important? Why should we cherish it? It may be possible to become a great thinker by being a drunkard. It may be possible to become a magnificent king by having hundreds of concubines. It may be possible to become a filthy rich man by having an unwarranted love for luxury. It may be possible to be a shrewd criminal by having a sadistic mindset. None of the intoxicants - lust, thirst, pleasure or pain, prohibits them from achieving their goals, because the soul once departed is not departed forever, it returns back when you seek it. A poet while intoxicated, when his soul is far away , may not be able to write a masterpiece, but once the soul is back, he may be able write a beautiful poem, full of meaning. On contrary, the intoxicants cause a normally unrecognised problem. They make people to think that it is possible to live without soul and to find pleasure through a soulless body. Such a belief, is perhaps one of the most dangerous beliefs human beings can inculcate to their mindset. It breeds escapism - "It's too difficult to judge (judging through wisdom - a conscious activity), so I will resort to intoxicant (escaping from the task of judging)", pride - "I can live without the help of my own soul", jealousy - "he/she is more conscious than me, so let me also instill intoxicative mindset in him/her", criminal mindset -"I am in soulless state now, so it is ok for me to act without wisdom", selfishness - "I don't care about earth's limited resources, I am soulless and I need more intoxicants to maintain my soulless state", and fear - "If I do this or that, I may not be able to get intoxicated next time".

As it is mentioned in Quran, intoxicants have some benefits, but the harm they cause far outweighs the benefits they can bring.

[Quran 2:219] They ask you about intoxicants and gambling: say, 'In them there is a gross sin, and some benefits for the people. But their sinfulness far outweighs their benefit.'

Let soul be your intoxicant, and you will love your soul and fear when you lose it. Even while you are sleeping, as your soul (consciousness) departs far away, you will be afraid of losing the soul - you will be afraid to sleep. Love your soul, love your consciousness and that is one of the essence of wisdom I found in many religions.

The supreme court deep inside is your soul, once it has returned, it laments- "you have sinned, you have abandoned me in exchange to your love of intoxicants". You call the cry of your soul as guilt, each drop of it's tear makes your heart bleed.


Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Changing Life, Changing Time

I was a person like no other person, for how on earth two things can be equal? I was a person not like I am now, for each second passes by I am not the older me. I will not be the same me tomorrow, so what is the point in planning for the future? Imagine, if I plan my whole life for a happy death, and at the time of death I am a different person wanting different things, giving different things, thinking different ideas, imagining different thoughts, loving different wishes, then for what good my plan will serve? It may be that during the time of death I feel afraid to live, I feel uncomfortable with the comforts of this life, I feel heat as cold or cold as heat, who knows!

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Look at 'em

Look at 'em, lot of them there. Now its all blurred, they were so many that my tears wanted to shade my eyes from getting filled by them. O' ye beautiful night, as I look into thee, how good you look! How little I feel within myself, and where my worries are gone? O' ye stars, how many lives thou sustain over there. Me with this tiny brain, thinks about thee like a lamb wondering about a mite in the grass. O' me, why can you think more than what you need to live? This world, looks like a shadow of my thoughts, and the shadow of millions of thoughts. You are a thought in there, with hands, legs and eyes to see. O' you man don't cry, for the tears can not hide you from truth. Take me there, to a place where I see no other world, and I will live for myself like a bird in the sky. Someday it rains, someday it is hot, and does the bird think why it rains, or why it is hot? Why me, who always thinks, why do we live?

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

B R E A K It

Rays of light, strings of music, let it come inside, as it is coming now. The brightness and the shadow, the hope and fear, the wonder of knowledge, as I see them, as I hear them. B R E A K it all and see the truth inside. Darkness inside, thoughts of darkness where I can hide the truth. Seeking light shadows the thought. B R E A K it. B R E A K what? B R E A K the darkness away and let the light not hide inside darkness. Don't search for love, light, they are right inside. Just take of the veil of darkness that hides them.

Memories, those memories which kills a man from death. It is there, right before you, right in there. Take it off and walk naked for the cause of finding it.

The Canvas of Love

Let me draw on this canvass of plain nothingness. I see pixels here and there. It pops up, gets blurred and new ones come. This canvas remains, even when the pixels vanish. That is the story of love, for love does not vanish even if lovers hate, even if lovers die. Pixels die someday, lovers die someday. Love remains, and the canvas remains.

Rain, let it rain from the blue sky. Let it sing the praises of shadow, as it drops to the shadow of cloud. Let me cry a bit and say, the rain doesn't know that by the time it reaches ground there will be no cloud, there will be no shadow left. For all the love you have, O' raindrops, each second of your longing for the shadow tears the cloud apart. With great pain, thunderclaps and lightening, the cloud cries - get out of here O' you rain, you don't want me, you want my shadow instead. 

LOVE is not a great place to start your love. O' man, love is not what you create, it is you who are created. The plain white canvas remains, as the sky remains high. 

Monday, November 3, 2014

The Beauty of Sadness

I love this life as much as I love my death.
Why hate sadness, repel it?
The illusion of sadness, how vague it is.

Sadness is love, sadness is beauty.
Love it, accept it.
You, me, this world,
What will survive at the end?

Bound to perish, we love life,
So much, that we hate death.
Death, as we were before,
In the thread of time before our birth.

She says, she is not afraid,
And I said, I am not afraid.
O' there goes the life of trance.
These are not the words of a sufi,
These are words of a layman.
Like everyman he dies one day.

And will be born again!