Gods must be crazy

Imagine five days of hectic work , followed by a clean relaxing coffee or tea which ever is your poison...

A lot of us now have such typical weekends.
Feels good is it not.

But Imagine , a hectic work load for 24 hours a day, 365 days a year without coffee breaks or joyful vacations.
Sounds dull drab and boring.
Does it not.

But who has such a job.
Well in India , every God has such a job.But it is nothing dull or boring.

Each day when the clock strikes 5 or 6, the God (when I refer to God here , I mean both Male and the female form ) is woken up and invoked in hundreds of temples, they sound of singing , the sound of the drums and bells tolling. Imagine that you have had a tough day and just managed to grab some sleep  and then suddenly you are woken up, lights near your eyes, holy water on your head.

Imagine again, to be available in all places, at the same time, standing on two legs for the entire duration, having the lights brought so near you, flames of the sacred fire too.
Would you like such a job ?

No friends who visit you, no lets chill at the bar,
No pyjama parties,
No gym, no nothing.

Just standing there and listening to everyone ranting, blabbering, devotionally immersed in praying.

The brother wants more money, the sister wants a job so that she may not marry young, the guy across her wants is saying , woah, she looks cute, "dear God, can you create that spark between us?".
His mom is wanting her son to marry the girl from her home town.
So many wishes , desires, checklists , algorithms and what not.

If god was a software program then it is one hell of a program,
If God were a project now that is a whole new dynamic after all.

Just imagine , answering queries, solving issues, creating happiness, giving away blessings.

God does not even get time to breathe, or even fart in peace. Every where he goes there are people.

And then the lovely aroma of all the cooking , comes to his abode but guess what God cannot consume any of it . Such luck eh ?

And then there are no holidays, not even festival holidays. Beat that . It is precisely when God is working at full speed. Full potential.

Now coming to potential, imagine how God's yearly appraisal meeting would be .
"33 crore wishes answered in one day...!"

Wait how would God's resume look like,

Would there be an application process there  too ?

It gets really complicated when the wishes are not granted, some of them not even possible,
Especially during exam season.

Sometimes the death algorithm , fate algorithm takes over but at times God needs to be the all smiling person we all want to be.
Expectations you see , bother the Gods too.

At times there is no sick leave, no planned sick leave, It's India Vs Pakistan cricket match leave or just plain old bored of this work leave.

It is God's role to protect and serve us,
Like some people who like to say the "puppet show".

But is that because the Gods are bored that they need entertainment ?
They have enough on their minds already.

It really needs to be appreciated though that even after so many centuries, the Gods are awake every single day and night listening to an endless barrage of prayers, listing them, sorting them , identifying them and finally tagging them. And finally taking into consideration the varying Karma index , help them lead a happy life and at long last maintain their database at the time of their return.

Then take the blame, for not Saving some one, for creating rains and for not creating rains, for blessing relationships and cursing them.

And now I almost forgot, to be called into every function and marriage to attend and bless the couple, bless the baby, take back the dead .

Such tremendous work.

Phew ! That is some serious work . Insane indeed.

Yet loved so much , revered so much and being thought of so much has its own perks.

Where else can you get all of this.

Maybe this is the Ultimate Job. Running everything and nothing.
Being the enigma,
The protagonist behind many stories, being written about in folklore, celebrated as heroes, legends and not forgotten for centuries to come...

The Gods are truly one great topic of interest...

If Gods had gossip, had social media, had smart phones and selfie sticks, had likes, dislikes and thumbsdowns ....

Just imagine , for once how would it be....

This is purely a work of random thought, not intented to belittle any feelings towards the God you worship, this is not against religion or pro religion.
It is but just another tale spun out of interesting questions.

#friyay#happyweekend

"Have a happy weekend !" He shouted across the empty office parking lot at 11 in the night , as I chugged my way to find my vehicle to head home. He was heading to the most happening pub in town to grab a beer and chill.

Happy weekend. This word stuck in my head and ignited a standard protocol of thoughts that raced along with me jogging and then running at full steam.

Happy, what exactly is happy ?
Why do we wish people happy weekend only, why not happy Mondays , Tuesday and each day of the week.
And also do we really mean the happy weekend, when we say so ? Do we really care that the other man has has a happy weekend or are we just doing it because everyone does it.

Why say happy ?
Why not interesting weekend ,
Satisfyinging weekend,
Meaningful weekend.

Are we heading towards a point where we need momentary happiness, thrills and chills but we do not seek meaning to this life.

We want a happy life, let all others go to hell . I want a happy life.
I want to party, I want to show my pictures on social media, tell the world I am happy , I am truly and magnificently happy.

We meet people solely now to take selfies and make memories. We are unsure of finding happiness packets later in life.
We find taking photos of food and posting it online to be more happening than eating it in the first place.
Meeting a celebrity is not about the person but you having met him and taken a selfie.

We are steam rolling towards a happy nation of happy weekends and happy people. Happiness is overflowing and flooding us in all corners of life.

As yourself this, are you happy ?
Or let me put it this way,
Momentary happiness Vs satisfactory meaning in life?
What would you choose ?

Our happy weekend normally involves sitting at home, eating good food and sleeping.
Or partying at a place. And posting it on social media as Friyay . ( That is the right spelling)

After all this ranting and babbling ,the only question that I asked myself is , do I want happy weekend Vs meaningful weekend ?

Do I rather have happy weekends Vs normal week or a happy week.

Does my happiness involve drinking binges, #friyay, partying Vs having a deep meaningful conversation with people, watering my garden and watching the sunset, or being with my family and simply chit chatting.

Where in lies happiness?

And thus I reached home.
Safe sound and oddly happy that I had ranted it all out.

The last fruit

Sometimes I get late to my office owing to waking up late, but on other days I am early or on time to catch the lonely bus to school.

On days that I come in early, I am always greeted by the pomerian dog on its early morning walk that pulls along the elderly gentleman on a daliy excercise ritual. The bells of the temple nearby ring in perfect replay each day like clock work. The voice of the flower and vegetable vendors are faint and hoarse from all the shouting in the early morning.

Then there is always my favourite passtime; just behind the bus stop there is a house , painted red and in one corner there is a small Gasgase tree.

The branches are over hanging and fall out of the house with a small pocket of canopy towards the road.And they bear fruit , little red berries that are sweet to taste and an absolute delight. When the branches are loaded with these fruits they hang lower. I am tempted to pluck a few and enjoy the free treat that mother nature gives us.

But there is just one problem. The house and the tree belongs to a very elderly gentleman who finds all his excercise in shooing away the men and women who pluck the fruits from his beloved tree.

To anyone who cares to listen, he explains in his grave tone; " I water the tree everyday, I nurture it with manure but everyone just plucks it off like it is their father's free gift."

At times I have tried to outsmart him and find myself a nice berry, all red and sweet, but like the sour grapes story I teach children at school it never happens.

When ever I almost have the prize in my hands, the old man comes in like a "berry hound" and gives me that stare akin to "Dare you to touch my tree". I am forced to move away with a sheepish expression on my face.
But the thrill of stealing a berry from under his nose is unparalleled.

It was another such random day when I was early to the bus stop. I had already made up my mind to have a field day today and make the most of the berries overhanging ; teasing me from ten days.

I got caught. The elderly man always had a scowl on his face. Today was no different. And he asked me ; " What do you want ?".
It was almost an accusation , but I could not help myself and I blurted out " I love the taste of these berries, i was just about to pluck a few ". I readied myself for the inevitable backlash.
But he looked back into the house and called reinforcements. I called all the gods and was about to encash my good grace when he called me in to the house and said, "take all the berries you want, this will be the last day you enjoy this opportunity."

There was a sense of acute sadness on his face. I had seen this person since ten years but I had never talked to him. Two men came and handed me around a hundred berries;all ripe and fruity smelling.

But his sense of sadness pulled me away and I looked at him and said thank you.

"It has been forty years in this locality. My sons and grandsons grew up in this house. We are moving away to an apartment that my son has brought. " Just then we heard the thuds from inside the house. "We havent even left the house yet but they have already started demolishing our house. This tree too shall be cut down. I have nurtured this tree for years but this tree will no longer be mine.Take all the berries you want. "

"So will you be moving I with your sons?" I quizzed.

He grew graver, " No no, they are all settled in the states and they need some one here to watch over their new apartment on the twenty third floor. There are no trees with overhanging branches he remarked.We are very much likely the free watchmen for the house.
We move tomorrow to my son's flat".

The berries though tasted wonderful. But it was the last time I saw the tree again. It was gone the next day.
The gentleman , the house, the tree, the berries.

We dont talk anymore

And then one day you start doing things that make you happy. The kind of things that you never knew that would bring so much happiness and calm to you and your inner self. A sense of "Inhalation and Exhalation "that feels so much pure and without the threads of modern day pulls.

But this new idea, this new change is something that is new and like all new things it posts a warning sign to who ever is near and dear. Then you have ' Q n A' sessions with them and start being analysed why this new hobby appeals to you.

There is no time for a correct and we'll rehearsed answer, so you   just say "I don't know". Before long there are versions and commentaries on why this "new me is the not the best me ", the idea seems alien that I am in a position to move from one hobby to another , one affiliation to another and seek the blessings of all those near and dear ones.

Yet these very near and dear ones are embarking and embracing their own drugs and needs to make sense of their lives, following their own methods of madness, getting high on weed, smoking their lungs out and drinking like baboons.

Then they meet my wall. I cut them off from all modes of communication. I am being selfish here. Aren't I ?

I cut them off like old appendages and move ahead ,steam rolling my way towards my own madness.

I make them meet my wall, greet them like they want to be greeted and smile their smile for a few more times. And then I let the silence sink and cut the umbilical cord.

We dont talk anymore, like we used to do.

I have been given titles, called names and been forgotten altogether.The happy opportunity of watching me, dissecting my actions, discrening my decisions, predicting my moves is all yours.

Go on catergorise me, and put me in any general formula, but do remember that shall be the end of it all...

Typical Temple - errr Not so typical

It was yet another random days when I was struck with the idea of visting a temple.

Typically I am not the temple kind of a person although I do like to visit the same sometimes. It was just one of those times, I decided on a Sunday to visit a Lakshmi  Venkateswara temple nearby.

It was almost the end of the month when that Sunday did come. As expected my purse was thin and I was reminded solely of god. There is a saying "Sankata Bandaga  VenkataRamana" which translates to "The abode of God during distress".After a spending spree on hotels, treats and cinemas I sought the abode of the Almighty for help with my finances and "in general well being of the masses".

I entered the temple with my head bowed low and was struck in awe at the tall Gopura and the amazingly detailed intricate designs that adorned it all along. It truly is a sight to behold.

The Garbha Gudi or the Sanctum Sanctorium houses the main diety of the temple. There is also a single structure of rock that stands on the ground strecthing up to the sky called the Garudagamba which also comes with intricate designs and the images of gods neatly sculputured. The Dwarapalakas Jaya and Vijaya welcomed me into the humble abode of the Laksmi Venkateswara temple.

The large serene atmosphere takes you on a spiritual quest, suddenly you are in a place of calm, the Aum resonting in the background, the mantras and the pujaris and the Aarathis take you on a celestial journey.

Sure enough I too went into a deeply contemplative mood, the faint ringing sound of Aum seemed to be everywhere. The temple bells had begun to ring and I was too engrossed to notice much more.

But out of the corner of my eye I could see people clicking photos in the main GarbhaGudi , a fact that seemed to surprise me entirely and this seemed to break me free from a trance. I now tried to recollect the sign boards near the entrance , near the chappal stand , but I couldn't place any sign that read, "Photography and Videography prohibited inside the temple premises ". This was somewhat different to the conventional "Typical temple".

There is a lot of empty space around this big Temple and the stone benches around the temple had attracted my attention when I had made my way in. There was a strange square structure that was etched on the GarudaGamba that seemed to be done in fine detail. Although the temple is quite an old one it has had some renovations and still maintains an old school charm about it. The people were keen on photographing the same weird sculpture that had been done even inside the temple at various places.

' Nowadays people are more concerned with photos and selfies than pretty much everything else' I thought to myself.
I wanted to relish the calmness of this place to its entirety and so had conveniently kept my cellular phone at home. I proceeded to do the 'Darshana' of the god and the goddess, decked in jewels and shining in divine glory, the light from the 'Aarthi' falling on the idols was a treat to watch. And soon the temple priest came in with his Tab, to collect some donation for the new 'Bhojanalaya' that would feed all the needy everyday. I was here in the premises of the Godesss of wealth to pray for a little more dosage of wealth, and soon enough , after the 'teerthaprasada' was given; I made my way to the silent temple surroundings. There was a faint sound of temple bells that could be heard from where I sat. But surprisingly this temple had no bells that I had observed. Before I could dwell on this further, I saw a Bharatnathyam performance in full flow in one of the Pranganas of the temple. I proceeded to spend my time immersed in the artform when the temple bells rang again.
Here too the same square structure had been etched.I had expected the Shanka Chakra etching everywhere but this was somewhat different. The Typical temple had a few more surprises.

I walked along and found this 'Aachar' seated next to a board that read "Prasadam". There was no queue and I approached him with reverence and asked him,
"swamy, where do I find the place to recieve the prasadam ?"

He smiled at me and retorted "Son , you have come to the right place".

I enquired, " But I do not see any prasadam here except the small bag of coloured sheets here next to you".

He then went on to explain. "Off late most pilgrims here come to offer their prayers to God but they have a problem with donations, the new 2000 notes have proven to be a problem, we are always running for the right change to give back. Hence we have introduced the Tab where we ask for donations, the symbol you see on most place, the square structure is a QR code of the temple Hundi account. Everyone can donate their offerings to God there itself, and they can do so at anytime. It saves us a lot of hassle. We can concentrate on our spiritual journey."
Frankly I was taken aback by this and I asked him about my prime concern "How about the prasadam then ?".

"Well, my son the prasadam was being wasted by a lot of them, most times dirtying the sanctity of the temple and it was difficult to carry it home. So we give you this Prasadam voucher for you to encash at the Hotel nearby. We only prepare little that we use for the "Neividya" and the rest is given to hotels and this can be taken by the devotees anytime just by submitting this voucher.
Interesting is it not ?".

His answer struck me in the very elements, there was no Hundi here to put my humble offerings to God , no prasadam too , the symbolism of the Almighty's blessings. The Bhojanalaya was under construction , I had nowhere to go except home. Happy to have had the pleasure of the having the Darshan with utmost peace.

The typical temple bells rang once again, even before I could ask this man about the mystery my mom woke me up.

"It's Monday , the time is seven, wake up and stop sleeping. You have office today. Remember.
Your alarm is on snooze."

And thus the typical temple experience came to an end.
I was happy that I did atleast have a great Darshana in my dream.

But the question remained, what if our Typical temples, would become like this one day...

Read the original piece here :

https://sampada.net/%E0%B2%9F%E0%B2%BF%E0%B2%AA%E0%B2%BF%E0%B2%95%E0%B2%B2%E0%B3%8D-%E0%B2%9F%E0%B3%86%E0%B2%82%E0%B2%AA%E0%B2%B2%E0%B3%8D/47346

Story of dreams -Part 1

In a fit of rage he picked up his bag and went off into the night.
Slowly making his way through the streets that still slept, the light polses that flickered and the dogs that slept peacefully.This was his every day ritual.

His anger was caused by his cab driver who had called him and informed him at the last instant, of a change in travel routes for that day. In all his clumsy madness he had forgotten to lock his room that was housed amongst a colony of other paying guest accomadations.

The entire road to this new pick up point is through an open drainage arena where the "shit" of yesterday finds itself on the brinks of tomorrow. As he made his way through the not so populated roads he found himself wondering...

Back to his mediocre life. He had always been the average guy. Not too brilliant to land himself a dream job , not too crappy an educational degree to propel him further into other more lucrative ventures. He had stuck with the sheep herd and done his rather unsuccessful engineering successfully.

And like many others like him , not found campus placements. He had loitered around cigarette shops, training institutes and much more to finally land himself a job at the call centre.

It paid for his education loan, it kept his family safe and happy and he had much more money for himself than ever before but the only downside was that he had to work the night shift. It was all too good , this new experience of corporate work stations, laptops , smart phones , free WiFi and perennially available coffee.

He had met a few friends and had really hit it off. They were a cool bunch of guys and girls. The thrill of the new found friendship had pretty much propelled him on , for the first half year of work.

By then he had bought a new phone, a new laptop , a fridge ,a washing machine and a 23 inch 3D LED TV.

Wait!

Everything had been on EMI and taken with great fanfare on discount sales that sprung up two a dozen every month.

By the tenth of every month his salary would be running on the very fumes of cigarettes he consumed to make it through the day.

It had been a year and a half since he broke up with his girlfriend. And to add to it , she had called him a few days back wanting to meet up and very cheerfully informed him about her marriage to this big shot guy in the USA.

The car already had three other people in it and they were fast asleep already !

A lot of his friends were in the States and a lot of his friends were getting married too. And he was there at the cliff hanger.  The monotone of the night shift had not changed even after a year and a half and his year end reviews had been the first hit of hard reality.

The night offered him some peace. The soft breeze pulled him back to the present.

Another call came to him from his driver and the horn of the Tata Sumo reminded him again of the office.

He got in and closed the door and smiled to himself, atleast there were three more like him. But that was when his unrest came back to him , haunting him and tearing at his senses.

And the train of thoughts found their resonance, he remembered his old dreams ,as a kid . Growing up he had discarded everything to study and pass the exams. He had little knowledge of what hit him after first semester of engineering. He had lost his way and was lost in the labyrinths of reality. He remembered the promises he had made his parents about quitting cigarettes, drinking and being responsible. The romance of his first ever love story and all the things they had planned. It hit him really hard, like potholes on the railway track , his inability to overcome all this.

He wanted to go back again to sleep, to the last days of school , to his mother's lap and his father's farm and his grandfather's cycle.

Sure enough he came to office and found tons of mails and calls to attend. And as easily as he had slid into depression he went out of the same into his chores.

No coffee breaks, no gossip breaks and no internet. His day at work had begun. He began answering his call of duty.

But he had forgotten all about the key and the door he had left ajar.

Pungidasa - 5 years of writing

It has been so many days since I started writing. More than 2500 days.Not that numbers are any thing that matters.

And that is a journey in itself.From really bad formulation of words, to absolutely raw expression of feelings this path has taken me places.

From Messages to Whatsapp pings, Facebook posts and Instagram shares.

From feedback messages to spamming broadcast lists, from ”Nice 😊" , "Stop sending shit poems".

From I really don't understand your poems, too much of " high english " to simple outstanding word usage.

From "you are amazing , you have brought tears to my eyes" to great attempts at writing.

This journey has been more about the inner journey to learn and appreciate the small nuances of life. To give wings to thoughts and to take you on a journey through words, frames on a moving instant, caught in time and presented to you to savour, appreciate and find joy.

Not all times are as rosy as this. When the feedback is just Nice, or it is too harsh that you revisit your works again to really check your sanity. And my words have not reached you in the way I intended.

These are the times of learning. Learning to draw equal status to the relative pleasing feedback and the really gut wrenching raw feedback.

Not all the works are of greatness.
The world has grown to want perfectness so much that it has forgotten the lesser great or mediocre ones. And I am at times in a position to tell you a " Sorry " for sending such mediocre poems to extra ordinary people.

But the most amazing part of the night, is when the words start flowing , one word to a sentence , one sentence to a paragraph. And then to a poem or a story.
And then I am blessed when the thought has been put as a seed in your mind and then it starts its own story in your mind.

And making you smile, cry and revolt into action has a thrill that is uniquely satisfying.

The journey has also been about you, it has been about you. Through words, I have been able to connect to you in a way that only years of friendship can . Heard stories of yours that even bottles of wine couldn't​ have brought out.

A connection that has made us more than acquaintances, more than friends and most importantly has connected us  without boundaries.

I have been spamming you, been asking you for opinions and feedback .

Truth is 99.9 percent of the time you may not see my works, it may be deleted after reading or without being opened. But it that portal of connection that opens everyday to .1 percent of people that makes this excercise worthwhile.

Close to 1000  people over 5 years have been a part of this ritual of being Pungidasa.

a sincere thank you to you for all the help, feedback.

And after so much spamming , if you still have saved my number, it must be a miracle in itself.

To grammar Nazis, the anti spam squad, the "shit poem" enthusiasts , this post is inspired by you !

I am Pungidasa, the word without a definition.
Feel free to define me in your words.