Tag: Women

                              If I were a Pious and a Passionate Hindu….

   Devotion is an often misconceived notion. This misinterpretation is more complex when one is religiously passionate. If I were one of those extremely zealous Hindus, this is what I would identify with.

If I were a devout Hindu:

  • I would exhibit tolerance, for that is the very essence of my religion.

Hinduism is an age old religion that has survived the destruction of the ages and the ravages of the centuries. Like every other ancient religion, it inculcates truth as the ultimate goal of this journey on earth. How does one share this journey with numerous other living souls? It is through the practice of tolerance/ resilience.

It means that as a constantly evolving species, humans have the willingness to accept the meaningful existence of other religions, opinions, disagreements, and behavior-which also includes food choices.

  • I look upon all creatures equally; none are less dear to me and none more dear.

                                                                                             Bhagavad Gita 9.29

If I were a zealot flaunting my religion with utmost pride, I would remember the above words from the holy text and understand that in the presence of the Supreme light, every living organism is one. I would bear in mind that as per the teachings, the soul travels from one living form to another and my time in this physical form is but limited.

I would also remember that among my fellow humans there is none superior and there is no person who is of less importance whatever caste, creed or race he may be.

  • I would believe in the Freedom of Expression

I would comprehend the two forms of expression namely: Swatantrata (freedom of expression) and Swachandata (the freedom of unruly expression) and embrace the former. I would believe that every individual has the rights to express- through music, dance and through the various forms of art. I will not let my ego get offended when my thoughts are not in unison with the views and opinions of others (artists).

  • Yatra naaryasto poojyantay, ramantay tatra devata

(Where women are honored, there the Gods are pleased)

Manusmriti 3/56

If I had the ardent love for my religion, I would summon into my mind, time and again; that women are the opposite sex and in no way inferior. I would also bear in mind that a collective vibration of disdain can devastate a thousand low vibrations and I would refrain from adding to the contributing force to bring about that disdain.

 

In conclusion, one of my favorite Vachanaas ( a form of poetry) by Basavanna, a poet, a sincere reformer and an honorable statesman:

“What is the use of your learning and erudition?

Where is the proof of your claim to be high born?

You are a blacksmith if you heat,

You are a washerman if you beat,

A weaver if you lay the warp,

A brahmin if you read the scriptures.

Is anyone in this world born through the ear?

Therefore, whoever realizes the divine nature is high born.”

-Basavanna, Vacana 589

The Feminine Gender- An Anecdote

The Feminine Gender- An Anecdote

‘Mamma, please open up,’ she cried. She stood right outside the nest that was once hers. ‘What is the matter, dear?’ comes the reply. ‘I am exhausted, mamma. I feel my wings are beginning to weaken. I doubt my capabilities. I want to return here, to feel safe and joyful all over again. I would never have flown if I knew I was to live by myself’. A long silence follows. She knows she has to leave.

‘Mamma, oh mamma’ she sounds baffled. ‘How do I choose the right mate? They all do their best to impress. How do I find the right him to raise my kids? I need some time to think. Please let me in, for a night mother, please’, she pleads. The noise of the strong winds is all she hears, and into the dark, she flies.

‘Mother dear, I brave the heat and winds, rain and fog from dawn to dusk to build a home. It has been several days now. There seems to be no end. Will I ever get to finish in time? Please open up, just for today’. She knows what is to follow. She flies back to the place she will soon call her home.

‘Mamma dearest; with open eyelids I stand guard, protecting the yellow eye, through darkness and light. It has been days since I left home. My anxiety escalates every passing day, what if I fail? What if a predator nears? Please come with me just until dawn’. Solicitude hits the mind, and she takes flight.

‘Mamma most beloved, over the hills and far beyond I fly for a few morsels to feed the tiny mouths. In peace, they lie, but I have forgotten to feed myself. Can you feed me just for today?’ She intended to solicit sympathy, but her attempts go in vain. She realizes she is now a protector herself.

‘Sweet mother, they fear; they fall; they are anxious. I tend to their wounds all night.  It pains to see the scars on the tiny bodies. The heart never wants them to learn flying. The spirits are high and the heart bursts with pride, but melancholy hits at the thought of an empty nest. Can I hold onto you just for tonight?’ All she hears is the sound of a distant cry. She returns to her soon-to-be empty abode.

“My precious mother, how do I control my emotions?” she sobs. ‘I was tired of teaching and tending. Now that they have gone, I feel lost. The home is empty, and so is the heart. There is no love around. Relief, I thought I would have, but what a paradox. The dawn seems to have no purpose. Will I ever survive mamma?’ She knew what is to follow, but her heart longed for some consolation.

She is about to take flight when the overly familiar loving voice interrupts “Darling baby, when you play the role of a nurturer and protector, doubts frequently appear. But these apprehensions should seldom break you. Remember, you are beyond fear, and the only hindrance on your path is the lack of confidence. Hold onto the strength you had, when you first flew from here. As long as we breathe, we all need mothers, but when you play that role yourself, you have to put up a courageous face. You are anything but ordinary, baby.  Go now, it is your turn to face anxious questions.”

‘But mother dear, can you pamper me just for tonight? Who else can I ask for?’ The sound of the dark is all she hears.