Month: August 2018

Bird Man of Kashmir

Even though Rasool’s favorite rooster died of old age but his death wasn’t natural. The biggest virtue just before death he could acquire was patience. Yet he remained curious as a crow. He was a fighter cock and the last fight he will be remembered for was with the biggest cat who would swim every crossing Dal from the main road. She would come and eat the chickens. He injured her in the stomach but in fight lost one of his shoulders. In the following days, four other cocks came from a nearby farm and almost killed him. He was blinded in one eye and eventually lost all his confidence and started walking strangely due to the absence of an eye. But he will live through the summer and the moment he started looking like getting healthier. He was found upturned in lake one morning. Rasool had six sheeps, twelve ducks and six hen and their hundreds of children, and twelve swans.  The swans who were loved by all, and who had acquired many names …

Open your eyes, inwards

Dawn 7 New Delhi The day was Tantra. But first of all what is it that you feel when you read this word? Does it evoke complexity? Mixed emotions? Were you uncomfortable? Does the sound of it makes you uneasy? You should tell me. I have grown knowing Tantra in two forms that came from two masters. The first one was an elderly, who poured his grace for weeks in me for all the time I could spend in his space. He talked in Sanskrit and Hindi. And he introduced me to the simpler, most basic and foundational form of Tantra. Probably because he must have grown infinitely from within simplifying aspects of life by himself. One morning as we sat facing each other after the concluding homa, the sacred fire. He said tan is body and tra is rhythm. It is only a practise of rhythm of the body. And thus he simplified mantra and yantra. The other two forms of body sciences were prevalent since the Vedic times specific to a few tribes but were not …

Saving the Bird Man of Kashmir

I and Rasool entered the hospital minutes after winter sun arose. Rasool had been in extreme pain ever since he fell on a river stone fracturing his wrist. It must have taken some hit being the wrist of a boatman of six decades. I remember when he had appeared after the accident; his face inflamed, eyes crowded, jammed as if all the pain had run like water to get collected there. Yet I couldn’t have assumed. Only after he had not spoken for more minutes than usual I asked what happened. He had kept working and folding the tent, at the same place where he took this film forty years ago. We had decided to turn back and strangely I couldn’t have imagined how was he working and still picking up things then. I saw two x-rays of his left hand, each side few days later. A pigeon outside without a leg or having one sitting over chinar. Its shadows appearing on my being many feet away. There I stood looking at quiet Rasool, who …