Advaita

Advaita

To the seeker of truth,

Wake up from your dream;

The dream of false reality

Staged by your senses.

Wake up from your slumber;

The slumber of dreaming

With your eyes closed.

Free your mind,

Let go of the veil of illusion;

The illusion painted by

Your worthless ego.

The ego has blinded you and

Obscured the vision of reality.

Lose yourself; shed everything

That you think you have

To know that you have nothing.

Look inside yourself to learn

And realize that what you

See, hear, touch, taste,

Think and feel is one big lie.

Unlearn that this life is permanent

And learn about its fickle nature.

Let your thoughts transcend

Beyond the realm of your body

And discover that your soul

Is no different than

The Spirit of The Universe;

Where life comes and goes

Round and round in an endless cycle.

Believe that only this knowledge 

Of Self-realization is permanent.

Become aware that you are

An indivisible speck of dust

Within the infinite universe.

Still the mind; stop its clamor

From grief and desires.

Accept that you are nothing

And yet you are everything

Both within and without.

Even with your eyes wide open,

Pure consciousness pervading the cosmos

Since the beginning of time

Will be enlightened within you

To experience eternal bliss.

And this is The Ultimate Truth.

July 14, 2022

Book Review: Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

The plot of the story is battle between the pure intellectuals and pure socialists. It describes at length about dispute between two extremes: socialism and objectivism. I found this hard to believe because if individuality is one aspect, then social responsibility is another. These two concepts do overlap at a certain point. Otherwise, without objective, you cannot earn a livelihood and still contribute to society.

Another problem I had reading this book is its enormous length; I felt it was overdone. Rand has used her power of vocabulary to describe same things again and again with different lines, different passages with different sub-plots which makes the chapters redundant. Hence it took me more than an year to finish reading it. From the beginning, all the chapters inch towards the climax: "This is John Galt Speaking"; this chapter could have been a hundred page novel all by itself. It doesn't strike the right chord just by repeatedly intensifying to same issue and drag it to this point. I was tired and almost ready to give up. The work could have been more engaging by being more concise. Yes; the major problem of this novel is its length. With all this criticism, I acknowledge that there are some notable quotes, eye catching lines and passages that really nudges your soul.

It would have been worth your time if the book was cut short to explain its principles, not otherwise. If you really want to enjoy reading Ayn Rand's work on objectivism, try The Fountainhead.

But One Day

But One Day

"Raise your arms, now your chin,

Then close your eyes and your mouth,"

I said giving a bath to my naughty little boy.

The joy of experiencing such a thing:

The way he responded to my requests

Overpowered me until I took a deep breath,

I realized with a drop of sadness and fading smile

That it wouldn't last forever, but one day.

When he returned home after earning his graduation, 

I couldn't be more proud of what he had achieved

Until with a bag of mixed feelings, I heard him say,

"I'll take it from here," only to figure out that

My boy is a grown-up now, but one day.

The long walk along the country side

With the help of my cane,

Soaking in the sight of birds returning

To their abodes against the backdrop of

Lush green hills along the water stream: 

I indulge myself in such delightful spectacles

Reminiscing about my boy once I carried in my arms -

Until I felt a sudden grab on my shoulder

For my leg slipped and I was about to fall forward.

Then I glanced at the man with gray hair giving me

An assuring nod and my fading smile returned to life.

It is all but a dream that will come true; but one day.

July 25, 2021

Our Mother

Our Great Mother

Her patience is immeasurable,

Her tolerance - unimaginable.

And yet, she feels burdened

While her patience runs out.

To ease herself, to save her spine,

And to save most of her children,

She forsakes a few of them

With thunder bolts of death,

Warning the rest with fury

Without showing the grief

Withheld in her eyes.

She is, my people,

Our Great Mother,

Nature.

Childhood's End

A heartfelt laughter for the silliest

Of things from a child's lips

Is like adoring a blooming flower.

It is undoubtedly a celestial form

Of God from the Heavens above.

The same laughter for the tiniest

Of things from a grown-up is indisputably

Smeared with contrived mockery -

With a laughter suppressed by the lips.

The joy of childhood is not just

A seed of innocence planted at birth,

But it is in the virtue of living by it

Instead of shying away.

The easiness of simplicity is made

Uneasy by the complexity of smugness.

It is the malice that spreads depravity

Until decadence is established as an ideal.

Innocence is the freedom to be naïve,

But willing to taste the nectar of pristine

Life all around us; but not scathing it

By wearing the crown of ignorance.

The idiocy of petty fights to win over

The balance instituted by natural order

Is argued instead of dismissing it

For glorious abuses and selfish exploits.

Instead of chewing the gift of the present,

The known past and the unknown future

Stir up distress in the unconscious smile,

Even though it is the symbol of serenity.

The pretense of adulthood is a vermin

Of misery and despair to innocence;

Sadly it is nourished to a thriving child

Until the virtue is lost into oblivion.

There is a child in each one of us;

Why is it lost in the journey through time?

Aren't we all the children of God?

Aren't we all?

Art by Lina Abojaradeh

May 27, 2021