I am high!

I am no atheist. At least, I was never brought up that way. But I do take time and ponder over THE question (which is considered kinda sacrilegious in my household) - Is He there or isn't He?

I've wondered why people take the trouble to visit temples. I once asked my mother this, and got told off for asking smartass questions in a place of worship. Okay, my point here was, when most households do have a room dedicated to Pooja/Punaskaar, from where does the need to visit temples arise? Is it because God frequents temples more than he visits households? Or is it just the plain tradition originating from years past, which has stood the test of time?

One such answer that makes sense to me is that temples are where good vibrations interfere. Huge temples built over thousand years ago have multiple chambers which diminish in size as one progresses towards the deity in the very last chamber - which is invariably lush with vibrations. But for the priest's mantras, the chamber would be deathly quiet, yet exuding a sense of calmness and composure. Over a period of time, a confluence of good vibrations adds to the aura of a temple - which is immediately felt. For example, there's this temple called Dhyanalingam, located some 30 km west of Coimbatore which remains one of the best places I've meditated at.

I said I was no atheist. I am no agnostic either. I do have an idea of what God is.

Okay, so most people claim they find peace after a visit to a temple. So do a lot of people, after a round of meditation. Let's equate the two sentences.

Meditation initiates vibrations, which as we theorized, are already abundant in a temple. Man feels content thanks to the positive vibrations, leading me to believe that God is nothing but good vibrations. In another sense, God is everything that is good and pure.

I do believe in a God who is not a person or an idol. It does not make sense that God could be a man/woman - and all men and women are bestowed with identical bounties when they take their place in the world. When man is in a spot of bother, he appeals to someone who he believes is a higher force with greater wisdom - like when we may approach our elders whom we believe would be the right foil to provide help/advice during testing times. Very simply put, man looks for someone better than him.

At this point, I am reminded of my Physics teacher at High School - S.Venkatraman, who often used to quiz us on matters of religious/mystical significance even as he wrote down the equation for Newton's Law of Gravitation on the board. He was one who believed that a person is often his own solution. "Aham Brahmasmi", he declared, when a curious student asked him whether he believed in God. 'Yes', he said, 'I am God. You're God as well. Vaazhve thavam. Anbe Sivam' (Life is meditation, Love is God)

I can't help but agree with him. When you meditate, the vibrations you sustain are so powerful that they kinda give you the feeling you've been teleported to some place else, and believe it or not, most people are almost always infested with a new kind of vigour after a quiet session all alone. Maybe this is why elders advise us to close our eyes and count upto 10 everytime we get hot under our collars. Bluntly, after a round of meditation, you're better than you.

In Hindu culture, it is common to see children being addressed Parabrahma - for they've only just stepped into the world - and well, honestly, I can't think of a better example for something so good and pure. Therefore, children are God. It is only once they grow up that they learn about malice, slander, jealousy and hordes of other vices - so they kinda lose their 'good and pure' status. It is when we meditate that God makes that quick entry into us, and for a few moments we are at peace with ourselves. But not for long, right?

When you pay your respects to elders, you're merely acknowledging the fact that they've been through the mill, through life (which is perhaps the strictest teacher you could find) and therefore they are closer to realization of the self than we are, which is why I guess most people look up to saints like Ramana Maharishi or The Divine Mother. They're so full of good vibrations, so you could suppose they WILL have been wiser than the average man, given any point in time. Of course, a corollary follows that God is any equation with a Lim wisdom --> infinity applied.

So much for vibrations eh? For all you people who thought they could only be transverse or longitudinal, here's some gyan. It doesn't come often from me ;)

The Forgotten War

He was on the verge of a battle. A tussle had been on the cards for a long time now. He had tried his best to avert it. But who could thwart higher orders? Certainly not a pawn. There was immense pressure. From all sides. If Fate was against him, even the Gods conspired to bore chinks on his armour. Those chinks would soon proliferate to expose gaping holes, and his armour would be just as good as a sieve, tailormade for his enemies' artillery to embed themselves into his system. But if blood had to be shed, there were hardly any options left. He was a warrior after all. He was expected to made out of the stern stuff Mark Antony once waxed eloquent about. He was made to stare death in the eye and defeat it, at whatever cost. He had remained one-up against death ever since he had taken to the weapons.

He entered the field. He armed himself with weapons. Three powerful swords, each of them lethally sharp and capable of delivering fatal blows on their own. He had used them before to escape death numerous times. He geared up.

He rubbed his hands together. His palms were warm, yet soaked. He looked at himself in the mirror. No blood yet. Only a matter of time, he told himself. He rarely returned from battle without a bruise or a scar. He rubbed his cheeks, his chin and his temple slowly but surely. It helped him focus on the job at hand. It seemed to grant him some unforeseen strength and belief. It was the usual drill when he embarked on yet another of those Would-He-Return-From-This-Alive journeys.

He was on his way.

He caught sight of a horde of black ruffians charging towards him. He unleashed those powerful weapons of his, and brandished them with a flourish.

Chop. Chop. Chop. Heads went tumbling, and he marvelled at the lack of resistance from his opponents. When confronted with genuine valour and sophisticated weaponry, they just caved in. Every single time. He was in a rush at the moment. He permeated into their ranks.

And then the first drop came out. He had been struck. Reddish brown fluid oozed out of his system, in trickles to begin with. And then profusely. He yelled for courage, wiped the blood off, and pursued his task with dogged optimism. More ruffians fell. More blood exuded. He was a spectacle to behold. His eyes sparkled, the sinews of his face tightened, and his heart throbbed. Horatio Nelson would have been be proud of him, though he still had two eyes for vision and two legs to support his body. He continued to strike terror into their hearts.

Within minutes, he was done. He had lost count of the number of warriors who had been slain by the wrath of those deadly weapons. His face was a mess, but he was now relieved. The battle was over. Aah. Back to base camp. He was alive to tell his tale and see the light of another day. He'd won. He sighed and reached for his conch to signal victory.



"Dai! Stop howling and get out of the bathroom! I want to shave next!"

Damn.

"Coming, Dad. Give me two minutes."