Jai Joshi's Tulsi Tree

Twisted Purpose

2011-12-19T03:29:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone!

As you can see, it's been months and months since I posted anything and that's because some very strange things have been going on in my life. Things that are so strange they've led me to question all my plans and my dreams and my hopes.

At this point in time, for example, I'm not in Texas as I had planned to be. I'm in London.

Yes, London.

Now you might not think that's too weird. After all, I'm London-born and like to visit home frequently. Why shouldn't I be back in the mother city for Christmas?

Except that I didn't plan on being here, don't have the money to be here, and don't even want to be here at this time.

It's all gone pear-shaped.

The good news is, of course, that I get to see all my friends and family and catch up on lots of news. One of my friends who I saw yesterday I hadn't seen in five years, and another I hadn't seen in eight! So that was lovely.

However, the twisted turns of fate have left me bemused and disturbed. I mean, what is going on? Why am I here? What is my purpose?

People keep asking me what my plans are and I've found myself at a loss of what to tell them. All my plans for the last year have gone belly up. All my plans for the next year have gone belly up too, thanks to this trip to London which might well extend into spring. Planning is futile because whatever my plans are, HIS plans are what happen and HIS will is what is done.

I wish he'd just tell me what he wants. What is it I'm supposed to do? I'm trying and trying but without some kind of clue from him it's hard to get a grip on my purpose. Yet still I try.

It's like I'm writing a song when what he really wants a sonnet. But why doesn't he just tell me he wants a sonnet? Why the subtefuge and underhanded tricks and blunt force trauma?

I'm no good at sonnets.

I know I'm supposed to be writing. But what am I supposed to write? Where? Why does he keep moving me around? I can't seem to stay in one place for more than a few months before HE decides to send me gallavanting across the globe. I tell him I can't afford it but does he listen?

Maybe he's telling me but I'm not listening. Maybe I've got wool in my ears.

I bought some cotton buds the other day and cleaned my ears out, just in case.

Meanwhile, I've been reading and reading, trying to find a clue of what I'm doing here. Who knows, maybe I'll figure out how to write a sonnet. I've got to try.

Purpose

2011-08-26T14:11:00.000-07:00

I've been suspiciously absent from the blogosphere recently. People have been emailing and messaging me to find out what's going on.

The long and short of it is that I'm moving. AGAIN. This will be the fourth time in eight months. I'm so sick of it. I've been packing and packing until I can't face anymore cardboard boxes. But this is beyond my control and I just have to go with the flow.

On top of that, I'm taking a hiatus from the day job to go to India. I know! How the heck to these things happen to me? But it's beyond my control and I just have to go with the flow.

It'll be a trip of rather extensive proportions and not just in terms of length (two months). There's going to be a whole load of other interesting things going down and all I can do is wait for it to happen.

And NO, I'M NOT GETTING MARRIED.

*"For God's sake," Jai mutters.*

Do you ever get that feeling that you're making lots of plans but the man upstairs is making completely different ones? And you don't find out about it until the last possible moment because you're on a need to know basis and you didn't need to know?

That's how I feel right now.

And yet the word "purpose" keeps entering my head. There's a purpose behind all this - all these plans I didn't know about. Somehow they must have something to do with my purpose even if I don't see how right now.

For some reason, Krishna seems to think that wiping out my savings with a trip to India at this random juncture is part of my purpose.

Someone said the strangest thing to me yesterday. He said that I looked like I had money.

"What?" I gasped, a half hysterical laugh caught in my throat.

"I bet you got all kinds of money," he said. "You have that rich look."

Still with that half hysterical laugh in my throat, I asked just what having a rich look meant.

"You're cute, you dress nice, you have nice manners. You have a way about you, like you have money."

I gave up the fight and went into uncontrollable peels of laughter. By this person's reckoning, poverty would mean being ugly, dressing badly, and behaving rudely. I couln't stop laughing. Mainly because there was truth in there somewhere but I didn't know where.

And then this question entered my head. Do you think this is why God takes delight in wiping out my savings? Because I have a rich way about me so what do I need with cold hard cash?

Purpose. I have to keep telling myself there's purpose in here somewhere.

How to Pronounce the Names Part V

2011-07-22T14:33:00.000-07:00

This is my EIGHTH attempt to get this video right and the sound is STILL a little out of sync. But it's close enough. After hours and hours, I'm done.

Here's the link to the post I'm reading. Enjoy!

Don't Watch if You're Feeling Optimistic

2011-07-11T00:22:00.000-07:00

I don't want to ruin your day. See, I get ugly in this vlog so I understand if you don't want to hear it. Still, I'm posting this because I just can't take it anymore. I've been restraining myself for too long.

I have to speak the truth (please earmuff any children who are about):

Is this too much truth from me?

Maybe. But I just can't go on in a cage of polite lies. The truth will set me free.

Yuyutsu - Of Conscience

2011-06-30T22:40:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

I have another post for you to read. I know! I can't believe it either.

Today's post is about a little known character of the Mahabharat called Yuyutsu. His part is small but very significant.

This is his story:

The Pandavas and the Kauravas were gathered on the battlefield of Kurukshetra. Their armies appeared as two oceans that threatened to engulf each other, separated only by a plain of dusty barren earth.

The Pandava army contained such heroes as the five undefeated Pandavas of whom the greatest was Arjuna - charioteered by Krishna himself. Their close allies were such strong warriors as Dristridyumna, Drupad, and Satyaki. Draupadi's five sons and Abhimanyu boosted the ranks of the Pandava commanders along with many kings of distant lands who'd come to join their cause.

Yet as great as the Pandava army appeared, the Kauravas army appeared greater. It was larger, harder, and carried the weight of Bhishma's might, Drona's experience, and Kripa's knowledge. Duryodhan and his ninety-nine Kaurava brothers swelled the ranks of their commanders, along with Karna, Shakuni, and Ashwattama. Their allies were much more in number than the Pandavas and the legions of their soldiers went on and on like a never-ending thunderstorm.

There was one other mighty warrior on the side of the Kauravas. He was a son of Dritrastra and brother to Duryodhan and yet he was not a Kaurava.

During Gandhari's long pregnancy, Dritrashtra had a fall from grace with a maidservant he concieved a child with. Forgiven by Gandhari, Dritrastra openly acknowledged the son born to the maid as his own. The boy was named Yuyutsu.

Yuyutsu was raised alongside Gandhari's hundred sons. He was younger than Duryodhan and older than Dushashan so he was in fact Dritrastra's second eldest child. Gandhari, in her kindness, never treated him as any different than one of her own sons and the Kauravas, led by Duryodhan, included him as one of them.

But as Yuyutsu stood alongside his brethren, looking out at his cousins the Pandavas, he knew he was different. He knew he was not a Kaurava.

It wasn't that he didn't love his family. He loved each and every one of them. Especially Duryodhan. For all his ego and temper, Duryodhan was a protective elder brother who never failed to stand up for those he considered his own.

So Yuyutsu loved Duryodhan. But he couldn't be blind to Duryodhan's destructiveness. He hadn't followed Duryodhan in every conspiracy and plot the way the rest of the Kauravas had. Duryodhan's greed and caprice repulsed Yuyutsu.

He tried to keep his own counsel. He was, after all, the son of a maidservant and was only called prince as a curtesy. He had no real power in his family. Yet there were moments when his conscience pricked him too deeply and he had to speak up.

One such time was when the Pandavas had gone into exile after the gambling match. Duryodhan, Dushashan, Karna, and Yuyutsu had been sitting in Duryodhan's chamber and Duryodhan had started complaining about the Pandavas' treachery in planning for war.

Yuyutsu had been disgusted. The Pandavas' treachery?

For Duryodhan to talk like that when it was he who'd used loaded dice to rob the Pandavas of all they owned-! And when he'd abused Sister-in-law Draupadi the way he had-! And when he'd sent the Pandavas into exile away from their own homeland-!

Yuyutsu had stood and said: "If you didn't want war, Elder Brother, then you should never have tried to strip Draupadi naked."

Duryodhan had looked at Yuyutsu with fury, then lunged. Yuyutsu was only unharmed because Karna had come between them.

Now standing there on the field of the Kurus, Yuyutsu looked out at his cousins' smaller army and felt his conscience slice into him. They were on the side of right. And all the while Yuyutsu was there to fight for Duryodhan's greed.

The eldest Pandava, Yudhistira, spoke in the silence of the battlefield. "If there are any on our side who feel that truth is with the Kauravas then they may leave us now. And if there are any on the side of the Kauravas who feel that truth is in our camp then they are welcome here." His voice echoed around the vast field of Kurus.

Yuyutsu gripped the side of his chariot. He looked forward, to his left, where Duryodhan's massive black chariot was. That was his elder brother who he loved. And who was wrong. So wrong.

Yuyutsu looked down at his charioteer. "Take me to my brother Yudhistira's side."

The charioteer gaped up at him. "My Prince-"

"Do it now."

In the silence of that battlefield, Yuyutsu's chariot rolled towards his cousins. The Kaurava infantry gaped at him as he drove away from them and the commanders of both armies were stupefied at they watched.

"Yuyutsu!" Duryodhan roared and Yuyutsu's charioteer pulled the horses to a stop.

Yuyutsu turned and looked at his elder brother's furious face. Then he looked at his Grandsire Bhishma, who was standing near Duryodhan. But Bhishma was not angry. As Duryodhan raged, Bhishma raised his hand in blessing, telling Yuyutsu what he needed to know.

Yuyutsu faced his cousins once more and told his charioteer to keep going. "Don't stop until we're on the Pandava side."

He'd never had much power in his family. He'd never wanted it. But at this time and in this place he had the power to follow his conscience.

It's one thing to talk about what's right and what's wrong and debate the issues but to actually follow through with action is another matter entirely. Especially when to follow through would compromise our relationships or our standing in society. That would take character and strength and courage and not everyone has these virtues. In fact, very few do.

Yuyutsu, despite all the emotional turmoil within him, was the one person in the entire Kaurava army who did the right thing. He admitted where truth resided and he joined it, even though it was at great personal cost to himself. He did what no one else had the courage to do.

He was a person of true conscience.

Click here for last week's Mahabharat post entitled Choices.

Choices

2011-06-24T00:13:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

You're not going to believe this. I actually have a written post for you today. I know! Take a moment to gasp in disbelief. Pinch yourself to check this isn't a dream. Now pinch yourself again to check that this isn't an Inception-like dream within a dream.

But yes. I have something for you to read.

It's as if I'm a real writer. Now I have to pinch myself to make sure this isn't a dream. And pinch myself again to check that this isn't an Inception-like dream within a dream. Where's my totem?

I've had the idea for this post in my head for weeks. I've been struggling with it because it's significance has been striking me every day with all these political horrors around us. I wondered if I should post it at all because it's just so close to home.

But I decided that I had to because to tell you so many of the Mahabharat's messages and yet leave this out wouldn't be fair.

So here goes:

When it became clear that there would be war, both the Pandavas and Kauravas took count of their allies. They asked their friends, their acquaintances, and especially their family members - where they loyalites lay. Everyone in the land was asked to declare, whether for the Pandava camp or the Kaurava camp.

Duryodhan wasted no time in going to Dwarka. He reached the palace and due to the close family relations between them - Krishna's son was married to Duryodhan's daughter - he was admitted into Krishna's private chambers.

Krishna was sleeping, lying peacefully on his bed during the hot afternoon hours.

Gritting his teeth with impatience, Duryodhan sat in a chair near Krishna's head.

He waited. And waited.

It was as he was waiting that someone else entered the chamber. It was Arjuna, one of the Pandavas.

Duryodhan glared at him, knowing that Arjuna was here to do what he himself was trying to.

Arjuna didn't sit down. Instead, he moved to stand at the foot of Krishna's bed with his palms folded. He didn't bother looking Duryodhan's way after the initial meeting of their gazes.

Krishna stirred.

Duryodhan shifted in his seat, hoping the noise would wake Krishna.

Arjuna made no noise, nor did he move from his position at Krishna's feet.

Suddenly, Krishna sat up. He looked to the foot of his bed. "Arjuna?" He broke into a smile. "When did you get here?"

"I got here first," Duryodhan growled.

Krishna turned his head and took in Duryodhan's form. "Ah. So you're here too."

"Yes."

"But I saw Arjuna first."

"So?" Duryodhan crossed his arms. "I got here first. I was waiting for a long time before Arjuna arrived."

Arjuna cleared his throat. "He was here before me, Krishna."

Krishna arched a brow at Arjuna but addressed Duryodhan. "Then to what do I owe this honour?"

Duryodhan remembered the role he was supposed to be playing. He fabricated a conciliatory look, a non-threatening half smile on his face. "As you know there is to be a war between the Pandavas and the Kauravas." He took care to gentle his voice. "I came here to Dwarka to ask for your aid, Krishna." He raised his hands in a gesture of openness. "We are, after all, family."

"That we are," Krishna nodded. "Just as the Pandavas are my family." He swung his legs off the bed and stood. "I presume that this is also why you are here, Arjuna?"

"Yes, Krishna."

Krishna looked from Arjuna to Duryodhan and back to Arjuna again. Then he turned from both of them and walked to his window. Pulling the drapes aside, he allowed light to flood the room. "You have come to me for aid. I am honour bound to help you both."

"How is that possible?" Duryodhan demanded to know. "You can't fight on both sides."

"I didn't say that I would fight on either," Krishna said, his powerful body silhouetted by the light streaming through the window.

This so startled Duryodhan that he looked at Arjuna, who looked back, equally baffled.

"I will give you a choice," Krishna said and they both snapped their gazes back to him. "To one side I will give my army. My vast, undefeated army. And to the other side I will give myself, alone, unarmed, for I will not lift weapons in this war. Consider carefully which of these choices you make.

Duryodhan stood and moved towards Krishna. "Obviously I should be given first choice because I was here first."

"No," Krishna said, still looking out the window. "Obviously Arjuna should be given first choice because he is your younger brother."

Duryodhan opened his mouth to reject this but Krishna turned from the window to face him. His expression became shadowed with his back to the light and Duryodhan squinted to make him out.

"In that gambling hall," Krishna said, his deep voice emanating from his silhouetted form, "did Yudhistira not allow you the first throw of the dice because you were his younger brother?"

Duryodhan had no reply.

"The younger sibling's wishes are always granted first," Krishna said. "And now, as the elder, it should be your joy to give your younger brother what he wants."

Stepping away from the window, Krishna suddenly came into focus. "So, Arjuna. What is your decision? Will it be my army or my unarmed self?"

Arjuna's eyes were clear and calm. "I choose you, Krishna."

Duryodhan stood there with his mouth agape, unable to believe his good luck. What a fool Arjuna was!

Krishna clasped his hands behind his back. "Even though I am alone and unarmed? I won't fight in this war, you know. I will have no army behind me."

Arjuna shook his head. "I don't need my Lord's army. I need my Lord."

Krishna smiled. He went forward and took hold of Arjuna's folded palms.

"I will do the fighting, Krishna," Arjuna said. "All I need is for you to be by my side."

Duryodhan was still reeling but he knew he had to pull himself together. Quickly, he smoothed his expression into one of sadness, turning his lips down and lowering his gaze. He sighed heavily. "Well, if that is what Arjuna wants then I suppose I'll have to take the army. After all, I can't break my younger brother's heart."

"No," Krishna said, letting go of Arjuna's hands. "Of course you wouldn't want to do that."

"I'll take my leave then, Krishna," Duryodhan said. "Send me a list of your commanders and I'll see that they recieve instructions."

"It shall be done," Krishna said.

On his way out, Duryodhan allowed a grin to spread across his face.

For some reason there is this understanding in western thought that bad people are Godless. That they don't pray or even think to. But they do pray. Of course they do. Do you think the Nazis didn't pray? That they didn't ask God for help?

And what do you think God does in these situations, when bad people ask him for aid?

It is written in practically every holy scripture this world has that when we ask for the Lord's help he gives it. There is no stipulation that the person asking must be morally unimpeachable. Because if that were true then we'd all be in a lot of trouble.

No. The scriptures say that if we ask for help then the Lord is honour bound to provide aid. He must.

The Mahabharat also states that this is true. Both the Pandavas and the Kauravas went to Krishna. Both wanted help.

The difference is that one side wanted the Lord while the other side wanted only the Lord's power. One side asked with love. The other side asked with greed.

This is the difference between good people and bad. And this why no matter how much power the Lord bestows on bad people, they always lose. The Nazis were winning WWII for most of the years it was being fought. Then all of a sudden, they lost. Why? They'd been preparing for victory for the past decade. They had more weapons, more strategy, more scientists, more planes, more tanks, more bombs. They had resources from all the lands they'd annexed before the war. They had an indoctrinated army, totally brainwashed into believing their cause was right. They had spies in every country around the world, ferreting out the weaknesses of all their enemies. They were determined to win and they had the means to do it.

So why did they lose?

They lost because they were like Duryodhan. They wanted God's army but they didn't want God. They fought with hate, not love. They sought to dominate the world, not protect it.

This is why good people must never lost hope. There will be times when it seems like evil has all the power, all the advantages. But the one advantage necessary for victory - love - is not in their armoury. This fundamental weakness will be their downfall. Like when the British were defeated in India's Independence struggle. Or when the Russians lost the cold war. Or when America's war in Vietnam ended in failure.

Arjuna said: "I don't need my Lord's army. I need my Lord."

This is the way to victory.

Go here for the next Mahabharat post entitled Yuyutsu - Of Conscience.

Go here for last weeks Mahabharat post.

How to Pronounce the Names Part IV

2011-06-17T13:06:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

This is the next part of my How to Pronounce the Names vlog series. Click to view the first, second, and third parts.

And here is this weeks installmment:

Towards the end there the video goes a little out of sync. I don't know why and couldn't figure out a way to correct it but since this was my fourth attempt to get this video done, I let it go. Life is too short, people.

This is the link to the post I'm reading from.

And this is the link to the series before Bhishma's entitled Shantanu - the Ancestor where you'll learn about how Bhishma came to take his vows and why they were so important.

How to Pronounce the Names Part III

2011-06-03T10:06:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

The last couple of weeks we've been learning how to pronounce the names in the Mahabharat. Click for the first and second parts.

And now for today's vlog:

How to Pronounce the Names Part II

2011-05-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

Last week we started our Mahabharat vlog series where I began to teach you how to pronounce the names in the Mahabharat epic. Here's the link if you missed it.

And now here's the first reading:

And here's the post I'm reading from, entitled The King is Dead, Long Live the King.

FAQ - What were the challenges of writing about a historical person?

2011-05-23T12:36:00.000-07:00

This is the third time lucky. Enjoy.

How to Pronounce the Names

2011-05-20T08:31:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

I know I know, I've been awol for far too long. I haven't visited your blogs in ages. I'm a crappy blog friend and I don't deserve you. I know.

Please give me time. I'm trying...

In the meantime, if you're not too irritated with me then have a watch.

How should we do this?

2011-05-13T16:57:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

How strange that blogger was down for so long and then when it came back a bunch of comments were missing from my last few posts. *groan* I'm sure many of you are experiencing similar irritations.

And it all had to happen on the one day I actually have a prepared post and wasn't scrambling around trying to set something up.

Anyway, in the meantime...

Click here to read the previous Mahabharat post entitled Anamika = Nameless One.

FAQ - What were some of my experiences on book tour? Part II

2011-05-09T09:00:00.000-07:00

This is one of my favourite anecdotes.

Anamika = Nameless One

2011-05-06T14:32:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

Mother's Day is coming up and I've got my mother on my mind. So I'm reposting this because I think it's apt:

One story in the Mahabharat is so striking that every holy teacher I've ever listened to has told it.

It's the story of Anamika. The nameless woman.

There was once a sage of deep and pious bearing. Having renounced the world and all material pursuits, he dedicated himself to the path of knowledge and peace. Every day he would sit beneath a tree and meditate, focusing his entire being on the name of God, connecting his inner consciousness to ultimate reality.

He practiced this path for many years until he was an old man. He lived in poverty, sleeping on the floor of the forest, begging for a little food every once in a while from the village people who were glad to give such a holy man something to eat.

One day as he sat alone under his tree a bird above defecated on his shoulder. The wet sensation of the dirt on his body brought the sage out of his deep meditation. In annoyance, he glanced up at the feathered being who'd offended him. Light shone from his eyes upon the bird and before he knew it, the creature was burnt, the ashes of it's body falling to the ground.

The sage stared in astonishment at the remains of the bird before him. He'd done that? He'd done that!

In all these years of practicing his meditation, he'd not known that he'd acquired such powers. He could burn a bird to ashes with just a look!

It was the result of the awakened consciousness within his being, he knew. His connection to the Supreme had released latent powers of yoga from inside him.

Having just discovered this stunning ability the sage could no longer meditate that day. He shook himself and stood, peering closer at the fallen bird. He still could not believe that he had done that. He'd certainly not meant to. He'd have to be careful in the future not to harm other creatures this way.

He went to the river and bathed the bird's dirt from his body. Then picking up his begging bowl he took his staff and made his slow way through the forest to the village that was some distance away. He wandered amongst the huts for a little while before choosing, at random, a hut.

"Alak Niranjan!" He cried so the people inside could hear. He waited a while but no one appeared with any food. "Alak Niranjan!" he said again and waited.

Still no one appeared.

The sage began to frown. Here he was, a great sage asking for food, and no one from this house was coming to donate any. And he, an accomplished yogi, was going to go hungry!

He could only call once more. It was a rule among sages that they could only ask for alms three times from any one house. And if they recieved nothing then they fasted for that day. Would he have to fast this day because this house was so stingy that they wouldn't give a sage any food?

"Alak Niranjan!" he said again, giving them their last chance to serve him.

The front door opened and a lady appeared, bearing a tray of rice and fruit and vegetables. She came towards the sage.

"Why did you make me wait so long?" he demanded to know. "Don't you realise that if you'd delayed anymore I would have been hungry all this day?"

The lady looked directly at him as he berated her. She was of indeterminate age, dressed modestly with her red veil covering her dark hair.

"You would have been guilty of making a sage go hungry," he continued. "I'm an accomplished yogi. You don't know my mystic powers."

She took a deep breath. "Great sage, I am not a bird."

He'd opened his mouth to deliver another scold when the meaning of her words hit him. He gaped at her, his beard quivering as he stood open-mouthed.

No one knew of the bird. He'd told no one. He'd been alone when it had happened. He'd been deep in the forest with no one of the village nearby. This woman had been in her home all this time. How did she know?

She bowed her head. "Please forgive me for the delay in coming out," her voice was gentle and humble. "I heard the first two times when you called but wasn't able to respond as quickly as I would have liked."

"Yes, yes," he mumbled, "but how do you know about the bird?"

She shook her head and smiled, saying nothing.

"Really, tell me. How do you know?"

She still said nothing.

He stared at her, understanding dawning on him. "You are enlightened," he whispered. "You are so enlightened that you knew everything before I even said a word." He folded his hands and bowed. "Great lady, please forgive my earlier impudence."

"Oh no," she said, "there is no need."

He blinked at her. "But how did you come to be enlightened? Do you practice meditation? Do you go on difficult pilgrimage? Do you perform long acts of worship? Tell me, please, how have you come to your depth of knowledge?"

"Great sage," she said, "I do not meditate, nor do I go on pilgrimage, nor do I spend so much time in acts of worship."

"Then how-?"

She put her tray down upon the porch step and moved to the front door of her house. She pushed it open and stood aside so the sage could see.

There were children and a man sitting cross-legged upon the ground of the hut, eating the noon day meal. It was the ordinary sight of any family sitting together to eat. There was bread and rice and vegetables on their plates and they looked up as the door opened, gazing in curiousity at the person outside.

The sage was confused. He looked back at the woman.

She shrugged. "I don't meditate, I don't go on pilgrimage, I don't perform great acts of worship," she said simply. "I only serve my family. That's all."

Still the sage was confused.

"My husband has just today returned home from a long journey. I was caring for him when you called for alms and that was what caused my delay in coming out." She let the door slide shut and walked back to face the sage.

She clasped her hands. "Knowing that my duty is to my family above all others, I live my life in simplicity. I put all my energy into caring for them and loving them and giving a peaceful home to them because I know that in serving my family I serve my Lord. That is my path and the source of my enlightenment."

The sage stared at her. "Just that?"

"Just that."

There was a deep silence around them as the sage stared at the ground, contemplating this revelation. This lady had not left her home. She had not renounced the world. She had not distanced herself from those she loved. Living here, amidst all the distractions of the material world, she had reached the pinnacle of knowledge.

He looked back up at her. "Will you teach me?"

She smiled. "Certainly."

The Mahabharat calls this lady Anamika. Anamika means nameless one. Because Anamika is not any particular woman, she is all women.

All women spend their days taking care of their families. Whether they are white or black, rich or poor, sick or healthy, they give all their energy in nurturing and loving their families.

It seems like such a simple thing, to take care of our family. But every woman knows that it's not easy. It takes strength and patience and forebearance. It requires selflessness, steadiness, a willingness to give and expect nothing back.

What the Mahabharat is saying is that ordinary women are extraordinary. They have knowledge that men, even enlightened men, have not. And despite their knowledge and their patience and their strength, they are not arrogant. They do not demand adoration from those around them. They do not ask for anything for their sacrifices. They simply give and give and give and smile while they give too.

This is Godliness. This is a path to enlightenment.

The Mahabharat is saying that to know the truth there are many paths. But one of the simplest and best is to be Anamika.

Go here for the previous Mahabharat post entitled Mercy Part II.

Go here to view the next Mahabharat post entitled How should we do this?

FAQ - What were some of my experiences on book tour?

2011-05-02T11:45:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I managed to get this done on time. What a relief.

If we don't do something about this culture of celebrating mediocrity and punishing intelligence, we're going to be in a lot of trouble.

Radiance

2011-04-29T09:48:00.000-07:00

My most sincere and heartfelt best wishes to Wills and Kate on their wedding day, both of whom were radiant with happiness as they said their vows to each other.

I don't even like weddings but when I woke up and saw the footage I was charmed. Many congratulations to them both. The most fantastic parties are going on all over the country right now and I'm bummed I'm missing it. But I'm cheering across the pond, in spirit with my people in Britain.

FAQ - How did I publish 'Follow the Cowherd Boy'

2011-04-26T20:32:00.000-07:00

I'm so sorry this is so late. It's too long as well. Couldn't help it!

Mercy Part II

2011-04-22T09:38:00.001-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

Two weeks ago we saw that a prophecy was made that Krishna would kill his cousin Shishupal. To read that part go here.

Krishna then made a vow to his aunt Srutadeva that he would show mercy to Shishupal one hundred times. This is what happened next:

As Shishupal grew up, Srutadeva began to notice his aversion to Krishna. At first she thought it was only his childish whims and tantrums but as he grew into a teenager she realised that he truly hated his cousin. If Krishna visited Chedi, Shishupal would leave the palace and not return until Krishna left. If someone happened to mention Krishna's heroic deeds then Shishupal would get into a fight with them.

Baffled - and worried - Srutadeva tried to talk to her son about it but when she gently said that Krishna was his brother, Shishupal flew into a rage.

"He's not my brother!" he roared, throwing a chair across the room. "He's not even my cousin!"

"What-what are you saying?" she cried. "He's your Uncle Vasudev's son. And stop that!" she added when he lifted another chair and smashed it against the marble floor.

"He grew up a cowherd! There's no proof he's royalty!"

"Son-"

"No!" Shishupal screamed. "I hate him. I hate him!"

"But why?"

"He's my enemy."

"But why?" Srutadeva cried again. "He's only ever been kind to you."

"He's a fraud. He's fooled everyone, including you. But I'm not stupid. I know he's my enemy."

"Shishupal, you're only hurting yourself with these thoughts. He's your brother. He loves you."

Shishupal threw his handsome head up and laughed. "Love! I don't want any love from him."

"But what has he done to make you feel like this?"

"He's always so perfect. Everybody loves him. But they don't see the real him. They're too stupid to see that he's all lies and trickery."

Srutadeva could do nothing but stand there with her mouth gaping as Shishupal stalked out.

She tried many times to talk to him but nothing she said worked. If anything, Shishupal became worse. He fell in with the wrong friends. He got into brawls. He came home drunk more times than sober.

Srutadeva tried to make her husband discipline him but the King of Chedi said that Shishupal was just growing into a young man. Young men were always wild, he told her.

There was no denying that in many ways Shishupal was a son to be proud of. He was intelligent in his studies, strong in his training, and so handsome he made the girls swoon on sight. He was also ever ready to serve his father in political matters. In fact, he led the way in making alliances with other countries, becoming close friends with Jarasandth of Magadh who was one of the most powerful kings of that region.

Srutadeva saw these things and thought that perhaps her husband was right, that their son had to be allowed some space to become a man.

What she didn't know was that Shishupal's alliance with Jarasandth led to the subjugation of many independent territories and the enslavement of all their kings. Jarasandth was a tyrant bent on ruling the world and he was content to do it over the deaths of innocent people. Shishupal happily shared in the booty and the blood.

The screams of those innocent people haunted Krishna at night. Especially the screams of the women. He fell asleep with their cries echoing in his mind.

But Krishna waited. He'd made a vow to his aunt. It seemed the waiting was forever.

There were times when he was able to actively prevent Shishupal's ugly deeds such as when Krishna rode against Jarasandth's forces and managed to turn them from their targets. Then there was the time when Krishna rescued Rukmini from a forced marriage to Shishupal.

If Shishupal hadn't hated Krishna already, he would have after losing Princess Rukmini. He had a fit - literally frothed at the mouth and writhed on the ground - when he learned that Krishna had married her.

Shishupal forgot any restraint after that. He did whatever he could to bring chaos to others.

Krishna's brother, Balaram, asked Krishna why he allowed it. "If you don't want to kill him then at least don't stop me." But Krishna did stop Balaram. Every instance, he stopped him.

"It's not time," he'd say.

Yet that didn't mean Krishna wasn't making plans.

Enlisting the aid of the Pandavas, he saw to it that Jarasandth was destroyed and his reign of terror over. They did this by a private challenge to Jarasandth, avoiding an open war and thus saving thousands of lives. They then freed many kings from the dungeons in Magadh.

Shishupal had lost a powerful ally.

Then an invitation came to Krishna from the Pandavas in Indraprashta. Yudhistira was performing the sacred Rajasuya yagna and requested Krishna's presence at the event. Such a powerful sacrifice was only performed by the most virtuous and beloved kings, because the ceremony bestowed upon that king the title of Emperor. It required the consent of all other kings. Yudhistira was such an admired ruler, beloved by his people and by all the world, that he had gained that consent.

Krishna debated whether he should attend. Not because he did not love Yudhistira and the Pandavas, but because Shishupal would also be invited. Krishna did not wish to mar the yagna with his cousin's venom towards him.

But in the end he knew he had to go.

In the midst of the glittering court at Indraprashta, before all the kings of the land, the crowned Emperor Yudhistira asked his grandsire Bhishma who should be honoured as the first and foremost guest of the yagna.

"There is only one," wise Bhishma told the court. "Krishna, the son of Vasudev. Honour him, Yudhistira, for he is the salvation of the world."

Yudhistira nodded at his servants and the attendants sang songs of glory. Sahadev, the youngest of the Pandavas, led Krishna to a throne beside the Emperor, bathed Krishna's feet in rose water, and bestowed a flower garland upon him. Just as Sahadev would have marked Krishna's forehead with vermillion and proclaimed him as the first honoured, a voice roared through Indraprashta's court.

"Stop!"

As one, the entire court turned to see who had spoken.

It was Shishupal, dressed in his shining yagna finery, standing in the middle of the marble hall. "How dare you, Sahadev. How dare you treat this common cowherd as an honoured guest?"

The court was stunned.

"If anyone was to be honoured it should have been one of the elders," Shishupal said, "not this wretch who steals other men's brides!"

Balaram leaped to his feet but Krishna stayed him with a glance.

"We kings came here because we thought Yudhistira knew something of dharma," Shishupal continued, "but here Yudhistira is granting the highest honour of this yagna to an ignoble fraud. Yudhistira, you are nothing but a sniveling fool. This yagna is meaningless!"

The court gasped. Empress Draupadi looked ready to scratch Shishupal's eyes out.

"Shishupal," Prince Arjuna shouted, "one more word and-"

"Arjuna!" Yudhistira said. "Shishupal is our guest. Remember your manners."

Shishupal ignored them both. "Don't think that just because Krishna calls himself Vasudev's son that it's true," Shishupal said. "He's no more my cousin than my slave who cleans my shoes."

"Shishupal!" Balaram yelled.

"Don't," Krishna finally said.

"Don't?" Balaram sputtered. "He slanders our mother and father and Emperor Yudhistira and this holy yagna, and you stand there smiling?"

"I'm not smiling," Krishna said. "I'm counting. Shishupal, do as you will for you still have three offenses allowed to you."

"I'll do what I want when I want and you can't do a thing about it," Shishupal snapped. "You think that because Bhishma spoke highly of you that you're important? Bhishma is a senile old man who made a vow of celibacy to cover up his own limp manhood."

The entire Kuru clan roared in outrage. Even Duryodhan and Dushana were ready to kill Shishupal and they were Shishupal's friends.

He's going to start a war here, Krishna thought. Aunt, are you listening to this?

"Bhishma's vow is nothing but a pretense," Shishupal said. "Even if he hadn't taken it he'd still be a doddering old fool too impotent to make any difference."

"Shishupal!" Bhishma said, striding to the front of the dias. "If this wasn't my Yudhistira's day of triumph I would cut out your tongue."

"Let him speak, Grandsire," Krishna said, laying his hand upon Bhishma's broad shoulder. "He's not trying to insult you but me."

"I don't need your permission to talk, understand?" Shishupal snapped at Krishna. "I'll insult whoever I want and none of you fools can stop me. Especially not this imbecile Yudhistira who wishes to be called Emperor but honours peasants like you. You're nothing but a fraud who's donned royal clothing and barged into this assembly!"

"Stop," Krishna said. "No more, my brother. Don't say another word."

"I'll say a thousand words and you still couldn't do anything about it. Not you or any of these cowardly sycophants gathered here today."

Krishna took a deep breath. He raised his hand and summoned the sudarshan chakra, his divine discus weapon. It dazzled the court with golden light as it whirled around Krishna's forefinger.

"Ha!" Shishupal jeered. "Think you can frighten me with your tricks? I'll show you what a real warrior is like and then I'll show everyone else." He drew his sword.

Krishna threw his weapon.

It sliced through the air so lightning fast that even later no one could remember seeing exactly what happened.

Shishupal dropped to his knees. His handsome head wobbled on his neck, then toppled over onto the ground and rolled off the lush red carpet.

The sudarshan chakra hummed as it returned to it's master, still golden and pure despite it's lethal deed.

Krishna caught it on his finger and with a thought sent it away to it's resting place. He raised his gaze to his elder brother.

Balaram put his hand on Krishna's shoulder. "Don't be sad."

Krishna squeezed his eyes shut. "Will she understand?"

Go here to read the first part.

Go here to read the next Mahabharat post entitled Anamika = Nameless One.

FAQ - How did I research 'Follow the Cowherd Boy'?

2011-04-11T18:12:00.000-07:00

I've been trying all day to get this vlog done but it was so hard! So much for my bragging about how vlogging was simple and quick.

Now here's this week's vlog!

As if that's not enough fun for you, there's a bonus video on my youtube channel. I won't tell you what it's about, only that it concerns a certain fetish of mine and a lot of funfetti sprinkles.

Here's the link.

Mercy

2011-04-08T15:10:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

Shishupal is a character in the Mahabharat who is mysterious for many reasons. He had a very particular relationship with Krishna, different from anyone else in the Mahabharat. This is his story:

Krishna had an aunt, Srutadeva, who was the Queen of Chedi. She was Vasudev's sister and rejoiced when the news came to Chedi that Krishna had killed the tyrant Kansa and freed Vasudev and Devki from jail.

However, Srutadeva was with child and thus could not travel to Mathura to join in the celebrations. Her pregnancy had been hard but she was excited to have her first child, hopefully a son who would be heir to her husband's throne.

Nine months came to an end and sure enough her pains started. She struggled through those longs hours of the night, surrounded by her maids. Then when she finally pushed the baby from her body, there was silence in the chamber.

Exhausted, Srutadeva tried to lean over to see but realised that her maids had shrunk back. "What?" Srutadeva said. "What is it?"

"Dear Lord," the midwife said, "it's a son. But..." The queen pushed upwards, ignoring the protests of her maids, and ordered her son to be given to her. Trembling, the midwife placed the baby in the Srutadeva's arms and the queen then saw what had made her servants so afraid.

The child just born of her body had not two arms but four, complete with hands and fingers and thumbs. And they were not his only deformity. Her son had an extra eye in the center of his forehead. It was black and beady, rolling in its socket.

"Throw it away, Your Majesty," her maids urged. "It's a monster."

The queen's eyes filled with tears. How could her son be a monster? Her brother's son was Krishna, the saviour of mankind. How could her son be like this?

"Throw it away, Your Majesty!"

She looked upwards. "Lord," she cried, "why do you test me like this?"

Out of a clear night there was a crack of thunder. A voice spoke from the sky. "Do not throw this child away."

The maids jumped.

"Do not throw this child away," the voice repeated. "He will be a great warrior."

The queen shook her head at the sky. "But if his beginning is this, what will be his end?"

"The one who is holding him when his deformities disappear," the oracle said, "that warrior shall be the one to kill him."

Gasping, she hugged her monstrous baby to her breast. "My son," she wept. "My poor son."

Vasudev and Devki heard the news that Srutadeva's first born, Shishupal, was horribly deformed. Taking their sons, Krishna and Balaram, they went to see her.

Vasudev greeted his sister at the palace in Chedi and she fell into his arms. "It'll be alright," he told her, stroking her hair. "Trust in the Lord, sister."

She made an effort to pull herself together and they went into her chambers.

"Where is my nephew?" Vasudev said. "I long to see him."

The queen picked him up from his satin lined crib and presented him to Vasudev and Devki. They ohhhed and ahhhed over his button nose and fat cheeks, blithely ignoring his beady third eye and extra arms. Devki took Shishupal into her lap and kissed him with affection.

Balaram and Krishna crowded around to see their cousin. "He's so cute!" Krishna said. "Just look at his tiny feet!" Balaram said, grinning.

Shishupal gurgled and kicked, making his elders laugh in delight.

"I want to hold him," Balaram said and Vasudev transferred the baby to Balaram's lap.

"Careful," Devki said. "Hold his head up." Balaram gently cupped Shishupal's head and neck and googooed over the baby, who batted at his face with four hands. Balaram laughed and buzzed the baby's tummy.

"My turn to hold him," Krishna said.

"I'm still playing!" Balaram protested.

"Son, we have to share," Vasudev said and moved Shishupal to Krishna's lap, making Krishna grin in triumph.

The third eye in Shishupal's forehead disappeared. It simply faded away as if it had never been, leaving the skin of his forehead clear. The extra arms also vanished, leaving the flesh of the baby's torso chubby and unmarred.

Srutadeva gasped.

Vasudev and Devki gasped too. "What miracle can you not do!" Devki cried, hugging her son. "Son," Vasudev said, shaking his head. "You're a constant amazement."

They did not see that Srutadeva was pale, her skin clammy, her breathing harsh.

Late that night Srutadeva couldn't sleep. She went to Krishna's room and stood at the foot of his bed. His sweet beauty was mesmerising and she stood there staring at her slumbering nephew.

He was still only a child yet he'd accomplished so much. He'd freed Mathura of a tyrant. He'd brought freedom to his parents. He'd saved millions of oppressed people. She wondered how her family could be blessed with a son like Krishna yet condemned with a son like Shishupal. Why was she chosen for this trial? What had she done to deserve it?

Krishna was so kind and compassionate. He'd played with his cousin for hours, stopping only when the baby grew sleepy. What terrible deed would Shishupal commit that it would cause Krishna to kill him?

Standing there alone with her thoughts, her silent tears fell onto Krishna's feet.

He sat up in bed, locking his lotus eyes on her face. "Aunt?"

She couldn't bear it. She put her head in her hands and sobbed.

"Aunt!" Krishna leaped out of bed and put his arms around her shoulders. "What's the matter?" She clung to him and he held her, asking over and over what was wrong.

She shuddered. "Will you kill my son, Krishna?"

He pulled away to look at her. "What are you talking about?"

"When Shishupal was in your lap, his deformities vanished. And the oracle said-"

"Oracle?"

"Yes. When he was born I asked the Lord how he would die. An oracle from the sky told me that whoever was holding him when his eye and arms disappeared would be the one to kill him."

Krishna was silent for a moment. Then he whispered: "But why did you ask such a question?"

"I just did. Now I'm so afraid. He's your cousin, Krishna. Your brother. Please spare him."

Krishna shook his head. "If he does nothing wrong then there will be no reason for me to have to spare him. But if he commits unlawful deeds that bring pain to others, I will have to stop him just as I will have to stop others. It is my duty, Aunt."

Srutadeva stepped closer. "Do you know Shishupal's fate?"

"The Almighty knows the fate of all. It is best that such knowledge remain there."

"Krishna, you're my nephew, like my own son. I want you to promise me that no matter what Shishupal does, you'll forgive him."

Krishna cast his gaze at the marble floor. "Only the Divine Mother Durga can give such an infinite boon. But I'll promise you this, beloved Aunt," he said, looking back at her. "I promise you that I will forgive him one hundred times. Whenever he commits a deed punishable by death, I will forgive him up to one hundred times."

She sagged in relief. The release of tension within her was so extreme that Krishna grabbed her shoulders to stop her falling. She suddenly laughed. "I've been so afraid but I should never have doubted you, my sweet boy. No one could commit death worthy deeds more than a hundred times. My Shishupal is safe." She embraced Krishna, still laughing with joy. She did not see the look on his face.

He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut, as if seeing what he did not want to see.

To be continued...

Go here for the second part of Mercy.

Go here for last week's Mahabharat post entitled The Stranger - Unknown Disciple.

FAQ - What prompted me to start writing 'Follow the Cowherd Boy'?

2011-04-04T10:01:00.000-07:00

It seems that these days the only thing I get time to do is vlog. It's so simple, I just click record, talk for a few minutes, then publish.

I also just realised that this video looks like I'm not wearing any clothes but I promise that I am. I'm wearing a tank top but you can't see it because of my overwhelming hair. Don't have time to re-record because I have to go to the bank and do my taxes and do lots of boring crap on my day off.

Steamrollered

2011-04-02T18:09:00.000-07:00

I tried all week to prepare today's Mahabharat post but every time I got stuck dealing with some other issue. I'm so sorry. I'm going to keep trying but I'm working 14 hour shifts every day. There's no end in sight.

This is not my purpose.

Need to scream.

FAQ: What Drew Me to Mira?

2011-03-28T15:43:00.000-07:00

This one's longer than normal but I hope you find it worth it.

The Stranger - Unknown Disciple

2011-03-25T22:26:00.001-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

This is a day late. Forgive me. My job is eating me alive.

This is the fifth part of The Stranger series. Click for the first, second, third, and fourth parts.

Guru Drona continued to teach the princes, training them to be fearless warriors, intelligent scholars, and decisive statesmen.

Arjuna was without a doubt his favourite, that was no secret, but he never shirked in teaching the others all he could.

One day, the princes were playing together when they saw a dog run past with arrows lodged in his mouth. The arrows pierced the dog's jaw, effectively sealing his mouth shut.

Stunned, the Pandavas and the Kauravas all ran after the dog, trying to see exactly what had been done to it. But it ran fast.

"Who's it running from?" little Nakula asked, panting.

"Whoever shot it," Yudhistira said.

"But who?" Nakula persisted. "Only Arjuna is as good an archer as that."

Arjuna was following the dog along with the rest of them. At Nakula's words, he turned around and ran the other way.

"Hey!" Bhima yelled. "Where are you going?" Arjuna didn't answer so his brothers turned and went after him.

Arjuna was looking at the ground, following the trail of the dog until they came back to the school playground. He took note of which direction the trail led, then headed towards Drona's hut.

Arjuna had a bad feeling about this. It was frightening what had been done to that poor dog. And who could be as good an archer as that? Arjuna had been training hard. He knew he was good. Very good. But was there someone as good as him?

Drona listened gravely to Arjuna's report. He stood and let Arjuna point out the trail.

Together they followed it, back towards whoever had shot the dog.

The Kauravas had just returned too and they joined in the hunt along with the other Pandavas.

Arjuna's heart was beating fast. He knew that something was about to happen but he didn't know what.

They went deep into the forest and came upon a glade, where the dense growth opened out. A small mud hut was hidden away in the corner. A youth with bead jewellery and a feather headress was practicing his archery on a target set on the distant side of the glade.

On hearing Drona arrive with the princes, the youth turned and faced them.

He was dark, with straight white teeth and black eyes. His body was small but well formed and strong. He must have been around sixteen or seventeen years old.

His eyes widened as he recognised Guru Drona and he dropped to his knees to perform obeisance. "Gurudev!" he said in ecstatic welcome as he touched his head to the ground before Drona.

Arjuna looked at his brothers in dismay. Who was this tribal youth who called Drona his Guru? Arjuna had never seen him before.

Drona went closer.

The youth stood. "Gurudev," he said again.

"Young man," Drona said, "I do not know you. Why do you call me your guru?"

Yes! Arjuna was thinking. Why?

"You are my guru," the youth said.

Drona shook his head. "Who are you?"

"My name is Eklavya. I'm a bhil from Magadh."

"And what are you doing here in Hastinapur?"

"I wanted to learn from you so I came here and built this hut."

"Yet you never introduced yourself to me until now. So why do you call me your guru?"

"Because I've learned all I know from you. I've watched your classes in secret, then practiced here before your image. Look," the tribal youth pointed to a small altar that was in front of his hut. There was a little mud statue of a man there. It looked just like Drona. "I made that so I could pay my respects to you everyday, and be mindful of your teachings."

Arjuna was stunned as he looked at the little image of Drona. He'd never seen such dedication to a guru. Eklavya was amazing.

Drona was silent as he studied the statue of himself. Then: "Was it you who shot the dog?" he asked the youth.

"Yes, Gurudev."

"Why?"

"I was practicing my archery and the dog was barking and disturbing my concentration. So I shot it's mouth closed."

Drona was silent for another long moment. "That was some extremely good archery, according to my disciple Arjuna."

"My skill is due to your teachings," Eklavya said. "I owe you everything."

Drona was silent for another long moment. Arjuna couldn't imagine what was in his mind.

"You call me your guru. You say that you owe me for all your skill," Drona said.

Eklavya nodded.

Drona clasped his hands behind his back. "It is tradition for a disciple to pay a tuition fee to his guru."

"Tell me what your fee is, Gurudev, and I shall pay it."

Drona looked around the heavily shaded glade as he contemplated Eklavya's words. "And you will pay me whatever I ask as my fee?"

"Whatever you ask."

"Then I ask for the thumb of your right hand."

Arjuna stared at Drona in horror. The thumb of Eklavya's right hand? But if he gave that...

Even as Arjuna was stuck contemplating this disaster for an archer, Eklavya drew his dagger and cut his thumb off. It fell to the ground as blood poured from his hand.

Swiftly, Eklavya bound his hand and then wrapped the little stump of his fallen thumb in a piece of cloth. He presented it to Drona. "Here is my fee, Gurudev."

Every single one of the princes was silent. They couldn't believe what Drona had done. To take Eklavya's right thumb was to virtually destroy any skill he had as an archer.

"Bless you, Eklavya," Drona said.

The tribal youth folded his hands and bowed, his makeshift bandage already soaked red.

Drona turned and walked away, back to the school grounds.

The princes looked from him to Eklavya and back again, then ran to catch up with their guru who had already disappeared through the green foliage.

When they reached the school it was class time again and Drona wasted no effort as he drilled them.

But Arjuna couldn't concentrate. He made mistakes, forgot simple calculations, couldn't keep the formulae in his head. Why did Drona do that? he kept thinking. Yes, Eklavya had shot at a helpless dog, but all of the boys had, in some way, made mistakes. Drona had never punished any of them so brutally.

Was it because Eklavya as a tribal? A bhil?

Or worse, was it because Drona hadn't wanted a rival to Arjuna? Eklavya had clearly been an archer to top all others. He'd been on Arjuna's own level. Did Drona do this to fulfill his promise to make Arjuna the greatest archer in the world?

The next day, Arjuna and Ashwattama were with Drona, taking their extra lessons while the other boys played. Both students were more silent than usual. They didn't know what to say.

Drona paused in his explanation of a battle strategy. "What is it you're both hesitant to say?"

The boys looked at each other. They didn't say anything.

"Tell me. I'm your guru. Between a guru and disciple there should always be honesty and trust."

Ashwattama glanced away.

Drona looked at Arjuna who also wouldn't meet his gaze.

Ashwattama turned back. "Father, why did you make Eklavya cut off his thumb?"

Drona tilted his head. "He is what you're all so upset about?"

Silence.

"Why do you think I did it?" Drona asked.

Arjuna bowed his head.

Drona chuckled. "Because I didn't want him to rival you, Arjuna?"

Arjuna jerked.

Ashwattama's eyes flashed. "You mean that's not why?"

Drona shook his head at them both. "What did I just tell you? Between a guru and disciple there should always be honesty and trust. No secrets. No lies." Drona sighed. "Eklavya never came to me in honesty. He never humbly asked for knowledge. He tried to make me into his guru but he never asked permission to be my disciple."

"But he was sincere," Ashwattama said. "He cut off his own thumb for you!"

"He hid and secretly took the lessons I was giving you. True knowledge can only be given, not taken. And true knowledge should only be given to those who have proved themselves worthy. You have to earn it."

Arjuna's mouth opened as he began to understand what Drona was saying.

"Eklavya didn't earn his knowledge," Drona said. "He stole it. And knowledge that is stolen can never have a good result. That's why I took his thumb. I was preventing him from using the knowledge he'd stolen for harmful purposes. As he used it with that dog."

Arjuna was ashamed of himself. He'd thought that his guru had done something ignoble. Something selfish. But Drona's motive had been different entirely.

"Knowledge is a dangerous thing in the wrong hands," Drona said.

We like to think of education as a right. And it is, for the most part. But the real truth is that there are certain types of knowledge that most people should not be privy too. Like knowledge of particular weapons. Or state secrets. Or certain scientific discoveries. Not all knowledge is for common consumption because that leaves it open to being misused. Or misinterpreted. That puts others in danger.

To take knowledge from a source, without permission or right, is the same as stealing it. And no good result can come from stealing.

Many centuries ago, ancient Chinese and Indian civilisations knew exactly what gunpowder was. They just didn't use it. Not because they didn't know how to make it, but because they understood it to be too dangerous to use. It was a weapon of mass destruction. One that could bring harm to countless people. So they kept the knowledge of it secret, safeguarding the formula but not using it.

Then westerners learned of gunpowder and instantly they began figuring out ways to kill others with it. What the Chinese and the Indians had feared came to pass. Because knowledge in the wrong hands is dangerous.

Go here for the previous post in this series entitled The Stranger - Excellence.

FAQ - What is 'Follow the Cowherd Boy'?

2011-03-21T00:39:00.001-07:00

I've talked and talked and talked about it (to myself for years) and now I'm finally doing it. And all thanks to my little netbook. Nice.

Well, here it is. The first vlog of my FAQ series, inspired by my Follow the Cowherd Boy book tour.

Next Monday, the second FAQ and it's answer!

Spring

2011-03-18T11:57:00.000-07:00

It's spring break and I'm taking a short break this weekend from writing the Mahabharat. It'll be back in full force next week.

For now, enjoy your spring break!

Coming Soon... To a Youtube near You

2011-03-16T06:52:00.000-07:00

Something significant has happened. I managed to figure something out and get a video uploaded. Exactly what I figured out I don't know but I did and said video is now here for your viewing pleasure.

Ha ha! Several other videos will also soon be here for your viewing pleasure.

Your WHAT is Hard?

2011-03-14T05:37:00.001-07:00

Thanks to L. Diane Wood for giving me the Write Hard award!

I love that picture. I think I'm going to make a t-shirt out of it.

I'm passing this award on to two writers who inspire me:

Nevine at Dreams Deliriums and Other Mind Talk.

Chrystal at ChrystalAnn.com.

These are two ladies who are sensitive and kind and who see with a special kind of vision. I'm always delighted and intrigued when I look at the world through their eyes.

I wanted to vlog about them but for the second week running, youtube won't cooperate with me. I don't know what the problem is. It's driving me crazy.

I'm going to write hard about it.

The Stranger - Excellence

2011-03-11T05:26:00.000-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

This is the fouth part of The Stranger series. Click for the first, second, and third parts.

Since Drona took over the official role of guru to the princes, the boys began to sleep in the school boarding house as they were meant to, going home only on holidays and special occasions.

Each day Drona let the boys have an hour of free time and usually they would grab a ball and run outside. Arjuna joined in - he loved to play games - but then one day he saw that as the princes were playing, Guru Drona was sitting with his son, Ashwathama, on the far side of the teacher's hut. They were both bent over a diagram that Drona was drawing on the ground.

Arjuna left the shouting and laughing princes and drifted over the field towards his teacher.

"What are you doing, Gurudev?"

Drona looked up as Arjuna drew closer. "I'm teaching Ashwathama a formula."

"May I learn it too?"

Drona looked at him in puzzlement. "Don't you want to play with the others, Arjuna?"

"Not when you're teaching."

Drona tilted his head as he studied Arjuna. "Then you may sit and learn this too." He shifted to make room for the prince and Arjuna sat down. "This," Drona told both boys, pointing to the complicated circular diagram he'd drawn in the dirt with a stick, "is called the chakravyu formation. It's a very difficult strategy of war and is in fact a military secret..."

That night Arjuna couldn't sleep. He kept thinking of all the things Drona had taught him that day and in the days before. Arjuna wanted to know everything Drona did. He wanted to be a great warrior because then Arjuna could protect his family and his nation. It was his duty to Hastinapur and to his brother Yudhistira who he knew was destined to be king.

As Arjuna lay in the dark thinking of these things he heard Bhima roll out of bed. Bhima crept out of the room and Arjuna listened, thinking his brother was going out to relieve himself. But after a few minutes Bhima did not return. Frowning, Arjuna got up and followed.

It was pitch dark in the boarding house and throughout the school grounds. Arjuna's eyesight had always been good at night but it was so dark he put his hands out in front of him and felt for the wall to guide him.

The hush of sleeping air was all around as he tried to figure out where Bhima had gone. Arjuna stopped and listened, straining for any sound.

There! A small, quiet scraping sound was coming from the direction of the kitchen.

Trust Bhima to be eating at this hour, Arjuna thought, suddenly grinning to himself.

Now that he knew where Bhima was Arjuna's steps were more confident as he walked through the dark. He came towards the kitchen but was surprised that there was no lamp lit. He couldn't hear anything either.

"Bhima?" Arjuna whispered.

There was a pause.

"Arjuna?" came a whisper back, the sound muffled as if his mouth was full.

Arjuna stepped inside. "Where are you?"

"Over here."

Straining to see in the dark, Arjuna made out the shadow that was Bhima sitting on the floor in the far corner. He haltingly went towards him. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I'm hungry."

Arjuna sat down beside Bhima on the cold stone floor. "But why are you eating in the dark?"

"Can't light a lamp. That would wake Gurudev."

That was true. Their mother Kunti had told them them that a perfect disciple never did anything that caused discomfort or unrest to the guru. Instead, a disciple should arise before the guru did and lay down only after the guru had gone to sleep and spend the whole day eager to fulfill the guru's instructions. That was how she had served her spiritual master and how she expected her sons to serve Guru Drona and Guru Kripa.

"Do you want some? It's the rice from earlier," Bhima said, magnanimously offering some of his precious food.

"No, thank you," Arjuna said.

They sat in the darkness as Bhima demolished the food before him.

"How are you doing that?" Arjuna finally whispered.

"Doing what?" Bhima said after gulping some water.

"Eating in the dark. How does your hand reach your mouth if you can't see anything?"

Bhima quietly chuckled. "It's called 'practice', little brother. Practice."

Arjuna was struck. "Practice..."

His belly full, Bhima stood up. "I'm tired now. Let's go to sleep."

"You go on," Arjuna said. "I'll be there soon." He felt Bhima shrug and turn to go.

Alone, Arjuna contemplated the idea of learning to do something in the dark. Practice, he thought. Practice is the key.

Quietly, he went back outside and over the playing ground to the arms shed. By feel, he found his bow and quiver and took them outside to the practice field, where there were round targets stuffed tightly with hay.

Since he couldn't see anything he calculated the distance by counting footsteps. He set an arrow on his bow and took aim. He missed the first couple of shots, straining in the dark to see the target. Then he decided to close his eyes and see with his mind.

His next shot hit hay. He went up to it and felt around to see how accurate he'd been. It was pretty close to the center.

He counted his footsteps back again and continued. The small hours of the night came and trickled away.

An hour before dawn, Drona came into the courtyard and spotted Arjuna shooting at the target in the faintest of pre-dawn light. "What are you doing?"

Arjuna jumped. He turned, looking stricken. "I'm sorry to wake you, Gurudev. Please forgive me." He shouldered his weapon and bowed with his palms folded.

Drona walked up to him, his muscled body huge and shadowed in the pre-dawn air. "You didn't wake me, son. But what are you doing? Why are you out here?"

Arjuna lifted his quiver that was nearly empty. Then he squared his shoulders and confessed. "I'm practicing my archery."

Drona shook his head. "But why in the dark of night? You can do your shooting during the day."

"Brother Bhima told me that if I practiced enough, I could have perfect aim even in the dark."

Drona stood in silence as he absorbed Arjuna's words. He looked from Arjuna to the target that was slowly becoming more visible as the light crept over the horizon. Arrows were embedded in it's thick body.

"You have a quality within you," Drona suddenly said, "that my other disciples have not. You have excellence." A slight smile marked his mouth as he looked back down at Arjuna. "Do not doubt it, son. You will be a great archer. In fact, I promise you here and now that I will make you the greatest archer in the world."

Arjuna's lips parted in surprised. "You will?"

"Oh yes. I've been planning on it. Now I'm determined. You will be the greatest archer this world has ever seen."

Arjuna bowed his head again, humbled by his teacher's faith in him. "Thank you, Gurudev."

Arjuna wasn't like the other students in his school because he didn't just accept what he was given. He wanted more. He was thirsty for knowledge. He capitalised on every opportunity to learn. He even created his own lessons. He moved from good to excellent because he pushed himself to heights the others did not.

Raw talent is always a good start but excellence comes from dedication. And hard work. And endless practice.

If you want to be good at something, you should be determined to be good at it in all conditions. In the light and in the dark. In good weather and in bad. With the right equiptment or with nothing but what you can put together in a makeshift fashion.

Whether you're a writer, an athlete, a mathematician, a soldier, a businessman, a housekeeper, a farm worker, a sailor, a politician, a carpenter - practice and dedication are the keys to excellence in your field.

I'm always amused when I hear of cooks who are celebrated in high circles but still have to taste their food as they cook it. A truly good cook never needs to taste his food because he KNOWS how it tastes already. In his mind he has already calculated the distances, and measured the factors. He is Arjuna, shooting in the dark and hitting his target every time. My mother is a cook like that. She never tastes her food before serving it and yet it's always perfect. This is because she has excellence.

Are you excellent at what you do? Do you need to taste your own cooking? Do you write something and post it on your blog utterly sure of it's power to reach others? Do you complete a day's work and know that everything you did in that day was correct?

Do you always hit your mark?

If not then you know the answer. Be dedicated. Be determined. And practice.

Click here for the last Mahabharat post entitled The Stranger - Crocodile in the Water.

Click here for the next Mahabharat post entitled The Stranger - Unknown Disciple.

Style

2011-03-07T05:28:00.000-08:00

Every once in a while someone will give me something that's so cool I want to hang on to it. That's what happened with this award. The Blogger Formerly Known As... gave me this.

Doesn't it just look cool?

Then a crazy thing happened. Just yesterday, Al at Publish or Perish gave me another Stylish Blogger Award! Now that I have twice the style I really have no excuse to hoard it all to my lonesome. I must share the love.

The rules are that I have to tell you seven things about myself and then pass the award on. Which means I have to now think of seven things about me that you don't already know. *gulp*

1. I adore saying "Matt Damon". I just love his name. Love it!

2. I love watching The Young Turks. Don't always agree with what they say but they're very astute and thought provoking and funny too. It's fab entertainment.

3. Remember that I told you I was starting a new job? I recently got promoted at that job, after a month of working there. I'm now running the place. How this happened I've no idea.

4. I'm moving because of my promotion. I'm now living in the manager's apartment instead of just employee lodgings.

5. I'm exhausted from moving. This is the second time in two months! Can't take anymore.

6. I like to sleep on a firm, almost rock hard bed. Soft beds give me back ache.

7. I just bought one of those silicone cake-making molds. You know the one that's shaped like a giant cupcake in the TV commercial? That one. It was on clearance at Walgreens and, what with my cake fetish, I couldn't help myself.

Is that seven? Wait let me check... Yes, that's seven.

I hate counting.

Oh damn, now that's eight.

I pass this award onto:

The Happy Whisk because she can't stop making me salivate with her yummy baking. Serious style.

L'Aussie Writing for Denise's recent stylish Publication Party.

Check them out.

The Stranger - Crocodile in the Water

2011-03-04T15:30:00.001-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

This is the third part of The Stranger series. To read the first part go here and to read the second go here.

Every morning Drona took his disciples to the riverbank. First Drona would bathe and offer prayers, then he would allow the students to enter the river and swim, supervised by him.

One day, as Drona was standing in the river with his eyes closed and his hands folded in prayer, a crocodile drifted up the current towards him. The boys cried out from the riverbank. But it was too late.

The crocodile lunged and seized Drona's leg.

Drona screamed. He struggled to get away but the crocodile had him fast. Blood was everywhere.

Duryodhan and his brothers bolted back through the forest. The Pandavas rushed to the water's edge but were helpless to stop the creature from devouring their guru.

"I'll get help," Yudhistira cried and ran to find someone. His younger brothers ran after him.

But Arjuna didn't bolt, nor did he rush to get help. He ran to where he'd left his bow and arrows. Quickly, he took aim, shooting three times into the crocodile's head.

The creature stopped moving. Drona stopped struggling. He shook the crocodile off his leg and smiled at Arjuna.

"Gurudev," Arjuna shouted, rushing to help him from the water, "how badly are you hurt?"

Drona showed his limb to Arjuna. There was red all over his white cotton dhoti but he stood tall and at ease. "I'm not hurt."

"But the crocodile-"

"Was a test," Drona said.

Arjuna blinked. "A test?"

Drona gestured to the crocodile that hung limp in the water. Closer, Arjuna was able to see that it was a model. In it's fake teeth were the remains of crushed red berries that had stained Guru Drona's clothes to make it look as if he was being eaten.

"A test," Drona said. "I wanted to see how you would all behave in a crisis."

Arjuna's mouth was open as he grasped his guru's words.

"In this world danger can come at any moment, from any direction," Drona said. "You are princes. Future rulers. The fate of your nation stands upon your ability to be calm and practical in any situation. Fear is not an option for you."

At that moment, Yudhistira and the other Pandavas rushed up with two sentries they'd grabbed from patrol. The soldiers were brandishing their swords and ready to kill.

"Gurudev!" Yudhistira huffed, out of breath. "We got help!" Then he took a moment to glance around. He saw the 'crocodile' dawdling in the water with Arjuna's arrows sticking out of it's head. He also saw Drona's ease of posture and how his garments were already being washed of the berry juice. Yudhistira's gaze sharpened. "You are unhurt?"

"Correct, Yudhistira," Drona said. "Excellent work in bringing help. You did the right thing."

But Yudhistira understood what had happened. He went round to Arjuna and embraced him. "Well done."

At that moment Duryodhan ran up, with only Dushasana behind him. Neither of them looked hurried.

"We went to get help, Gurudev," Duryodhan said. "But we couldn't find anyone. Then I thought we'd come back and fight the crocodile ourselves to free you."

Arjuna looked at his teacher to see if Drona would believe that nonsense.

"As you can see, Prince Duryodhan," Drona said gently, "I've already been rescued by Arjuna, and after that by Yudhistira. But I thank you for your efforts."

The Pandavas ducked their heads to hide their smiles. Bhima openly sniggered.

Duryodhan glared at his cousins.

A teacher's job is not only about filling his student's head with theories and equations and memorised dates. A teacher's job is to prepare his student for the world outside. For danger, crises, unexpected events. A teacher's job is to make the student practical and intelligent and fearless no matter what the situation.

Much of our problems today stem from the fact that no one taught us to be prepared for a crisis. We don't calmly take grasp of a situation and decide the best way to deal with it. Instead, we react with fear. And the fact is that whenever a person does something based on fear it will be wrong.

Even worse is that we are actually taught to fear. To regard anyone not like us as the enemy. To see any system not like our own as threatening. To see ourselves as always under attack. And we're taught this because a person who is afraid is easy to manipulate. Easy to control.

So whenever someone tells you to be afraid, understand that they're trying to control you.

Drona didn't want to control his students. He wanted them prepared and able to handle any crisis. He wanted them to make the right decisions and take the right actions for their world. Thus he taught them to be prepared and to conquer their fears.

To be continued...

Go here to read the last Mahabharat post entitled The Stranger - What Do You See?

Go here for the next post in this series entitled The Stranger - Excellence.

Life is Good

2011-02-28T09:22:00.000-08:00

I'm very excited to announce that Wendy at W.M.Morrell's Musings from Down Under saw fit to bestow this award on me!

Thanks, Wendy!

These are the award rules:

1. Thank and link back to the person who gave you the award.
2. Share some things about yourself.
3. Pass the award along to other bloggers whom you think are worthy and wonderful.
4. Contact the bloggers you have chosen to let know about the award.

So now I have to share some things about myself. Here goes. Apologies for the out of sync audio. I've tried this three different ways and this is the best I can leave it at this point. I've sent a report to youtube about it.

I pass the award to:

Vaishnavi Nair at Amo Ergo Sum
Paige at Paradis Valley 2...Hell's Mountain
Karen at Coming Down the Mountain

These three bloggers are always witty and interesting and with something fascinating to say. Check them out.

The Stranger - What Do You See?

2011-02-25T07:32:00.000-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

Last week we saw that the young Pandava and Kaurava princes met the man who was to become their guru, Dronacharya. Click here to read last week's installment.

Drona was unknown but almost immediately was a favourite. This is what happened next:

Dronacharya became the new royal teacher, giving Kripacharya more time to spend in advising the king.

The princes learned that Drona and Kripa were actually brothers-in-law, since Drona was married to Kripa's twin sister, Kripi. The two gurus respected each other immensely so the transition in the school was smooth, especially when Kripi arrived with her son Ashwathama.

The boys were fascinated with their new teacher. Everything Drona did or said, they ate it up.

Especially when Drona instructed them on weaponry. He would speak quietly, pointing out the various technicalities of becoming proficient with different weapons. But Drona himself wasn't just 'proficient'. In demonstrations he stunned the princes over and over again until they were sweating and bleeding in their efforts to match him.

One day Drona took the boys on a field trip into the forest. They were excited because he'd ordered them to bring their bows and arrows and they thought this meant they would be attempting some challenging feat.

Instead, Drona led them on a long walk into the heart of the forest to an old tree. He told all the boys to sit on the ground and look up at it.

"On one of those branches I have placed the model of a bird," Drona told them. "Can you see it?"

The boys squinted and peered and eventually, one by one, they all nodded.

Drona selected Yudhistira and told him to come to the front. "Take aim but don't shoot."

Yudhistira kneeled at the roots of the tree and set his arrow on his bow, then took aim.

"What do you see?" Drona asked.

"I see the bird, the branches, the leaves, the sky, the clouds-"

"Stop," Drona said. "Go back to your place. Duryodhan, come forward and take aim but don't shoot."

Duryodhan went to where Yudhistira had kneeled.

"What do you see?" Drona asked.

"I see the branches and in the middle of the highest branch I see a parrot."

"What else?"

"I see that the parrot has a red beak and a green body."

Drona was silent for a moment.

"Shall I shoot?" Duryodhan asked.

"No."

One by one, Drona had all the princes take aim and each time he asked them the same question. "What do you see?" He didn't permit anyone to shoot.

Then it was Arjuna's turn. He kneeled amidst the tree's roots and took aim.

"What do you see?"

"I see the tree leaves and within them I see the green parrot," Arjuna said.

"Hmm... Now what do you see?"

"I see the parrot's head."

"And now?"

"I see only it's eyes."

Drona nodded. "And now?"

"Gurudev, now I see only it's left eye."

Drona was silent. Then: "Shoot."

Arjuna released his arrow and it whizzed through the air. The model parrot fell to the ground. Arjuna's arrow was embedded in it's left eye.

Drona lifted it up to show his students. "A true archer sees only his target," he told them. "In war and life there are many distractions. Your ability to focus is your deadliest weapon. When you are a true archer nothing will stop you."

Drona gave the parrot to Arjuna. "Class dismissed."

This is a life lesson for us all. This world has many distractions. Whether it's a job, bills, a spouse, kids, parents, friends, crime, the economy, personal insecurities, politics, sex - they will all get in the way to distract you from your true purpose.

Don't let this happen.

Fix your mind on your target. Your ability to focus is your deadliest weapon. Become a true archer and nothing will stop you.

The only question is this: What is your goal?

Or perhaps Drona said it better: "What do you see?"

To be continued...

Click here for last week's post entitled The Stranger.

Click here for the next post in this series entitled The Stranger - Crocodile in the Water.

"I don't see the point."

2011-02-21T08:27:00.000-08:00

I've mentioned before how George Harrison is my favourite Beatle. Watch this clip of him talking about writing. He was wise, he was humble. He was a genius.

This is why he's my hero:

George Harrison wrote songs that had a point. This performance was at his Concert for Bangladesh that he organised to raise money for the refugees of the Bangladesh Liberation War. Everything he says is still true for our times today.

I miss him.

The Stranger

2011-02-18T07:31:00.001-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

When the Pandavas and the Kauravas were children, King Dritrashtra sent them to school. Unfortunately, their teacher, the royal priest Acharya Kripa, was often called away on business with the king. So the princes were left to their own devices for long periods of time.

One day they were playing catch in the school courtyard and their ball fell into the well. The boys rushed to peer down and see what could be done to save it. But the well was too deep and the ball was certainly lost.

"What are you all looking at?" said a deep voice.

They turned to see a tall man walking towards them. He was dark, with a wild beard and bulging muscles. None of them had ever seen him before and they were wary, moving closer together.

"Well?" He asked, coming to stand with them at the well. Closer, they could see that his thin cotton clothes were tattered and old, barely hanging together. He smelled of sweat and dust.

Yudhistira pulled his younger brothers to him in a protective move.

Duryodhan found his voice. "Our ball fell in."

The wild man was looking down at it. "Clearly." After a moment he said: "Get me some grass."

The princes looked at each other in confusion. Grass?

But Arjuna was curious and he shook off Yudhistira's hold to run and pull some of the long grass that grew in the fields around them. He ran back and gave it to the man.

The stranger had huge hands that were hard and callused. He used them to pull several bits of grass out of the bunch and throw them away. He then selected one of the thicker stalks. He pinched its tip, rolling it between his fingers until it was sharp. Looking at the ball in the well, the man narrowed his dark eyes and threw the grass down.

It hit with shocking accuracy. The ball bobbed in the water with the grass stalk embedded in it.

The princes watched, unsure as to what he was doing.

The man selected another grass stalk, this time a little thinner. He threw. It flew down the well and, to the incredulity of the boys, hit the previous grass stalk, piercing it's end. Now the ball bobbed with two stalks of grass waving in the air, one on top of the other.

The boys gaped.

Rapidly, the man threw stalk after stalk and each time the grass pierced the last, making a long chain that reached far up the well. The man kept throwing until he could reach down and grab the linked stalks.

Slowly, gently, he pulled the chain up, lifting the ball from the water until he could grasp it. He plucked out the grass and held the ball out to the boys. Duryodhan grabbed it and ran away with the other Kauravas. The Pandavas remained by the man, staring at him.

Yudhistira folded his palms. "Who are you?"

The tall man smiled. "I am no one." Then he walked away.

When the princes reached home that night Arjuna went straight to his grandsire Bhishma and told him about the amazing wild man who'd rescued their ball from the well.

On hearing the story, Grandsire's eyes widened and he stood. "Where did he go?"

"He walked away, towards the woods. Why, Grandsire? Do you know him?"

"I know of him," Bhishma said. "The one you describe could be none other than Acharya Drona, son of Sage Bharadwaj." Bhishma glanced around his chamber, looking for his shoes. Putting them on, he left the room with long strides.

Little Arjuna ran to keep up. He didn't know who Drona was but the word archarya meant one who was a master of all fields of learning, including weaponry and warfare.

"He's a student of Sage Parashuram, like me," Bhishma said. "Drona is one of the most powerful warriors in the land. And he's going to be your new teacher."

Arjuna stopped dead on the palace walkway and stared at his grandsire's back. That wild man... Their new teacher?

To be continued...

Click here for the last Mahabharat post entitled Krishna's Dwarka.
Click here for the next Mahabharat post entitled The Stranger - What Do You See?

I lost my mind

2011-02-16T14:11:00.000-08:00

So I thought I could hold out from the end of January until mid-March to get that new laptop. I thought I was patient enough. I told myself I could do this.

By Feb 13th I was a quivering wreck. Couldn't check my emails. Couldn't blog. Couldn't get driving directions. Couldn't go on youtube.

It wouldn't have been so hard if the local library had easier hours. Closed on Sunday. Very few hours on Saturday. Closed after 7.30pm during the week.

I broke. Since I didn't have enough money for the Mac I've been determined to buy I went out and bought a little Acer netbook for roughly $300. It's dinky and super lightweight. Has virtually no memory so I'll be saving everything on flashdrive. But at least I now have a way to access the internet and do some writing in the meantime until I get that Mac. The only downer is that it does mean that I now own a pc again. I didn't want a pc. I never wanted one again.

But I do actually have to have one just to access my previous work that I have saved on disks and flashdrives. Argh! There's no being free of it!

"Do you hear that sound, Mr. Anderson? That is the sound of inevitability."

Valentine's Check

2011-02-14T02:10:00.000-08:00

This might seem odd coming from my bleeding heart but I'm not a romantic. At all.

Valentine's Day makes me retch. Heart-shaped jewelry makes me retch. Russel Stover candies in pink boxes make me retch.*

That's not to say that I don't like romance or passion. Or chocolate.

What I'm saying is that I don't like the banality of Valentine's Day. It's a consumer's paradise. Romance was much sexier when a guy went picking wildflowers along the road for the girl he loved. Or when a woman knitted a man a scarf. Or when a couple sneaked away together into the woods and had a grand time.

No one does that anymore. Instead they buy heart-shaped Valentine's Day cards and get divorced the next year.

I know, I'm horrible that I just said that. I'm the bad guy.

But it's true. Romance, love, passion - it's become something we consume, not something we feel.

It's also something we only bother to think about on a particular date. Shouldn't we be doing romantic things for our significant other every day? Shouldn't we be writing love letters, feeding each other desserts, doing thoughtful things for the other, all the time?

Some will say that it's good that we have at least one day in the year when we strive to remember these things. But haven't you noticed that we happen to have a lot of 'days' in the year when we're supposed to remember things? Like birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, mother's day, father's day, national non-smoker's day? I mean, that's a lot of days.

And for each and every one of them there's a greeting card.

Any of my friends will tell you that I'm a terrible gift giver. I hardly ever remember birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, mother's day, father's day, or even national non-smoker's day (I don't smoke and never will). But I try often to do something loving for those I care about. I listen when they want to talk, I put my needs aside so I can help them, I spend time with them, I try to make sure they have what they want.

Because love is about what you do, not what you consume. Giving someone a massive box of heart-shaped chocolates on one day while ignoring them the rest of the time is not romantic. Searching for the biggest greeting card one day while never helping around the house the rest of the time is not love.

I can do without anyone's greeting cards or heart-shaped jewelry. In fact, please spare me. But I can't do without love. No one can do without love.

*Real chocolate is never called candy. Candy is for plebs.

Disclaimer: If you do thoughtful and lovely things for your partner on a regular basis and only use Valentine's Day as an excuse to get extra special then I have no problem with that. Valentine away. But leave the heart-shaped jewelry out of it, yeah? Be original.

Krishna's Dwarka

2011-02-11T11:58:00.000-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

In the last Mahabharat post we saw that Krishna had a city built named Dwarka (also known as Dwarika), to serve as the new location of his people's royal court. The city was designed and built by the demi-god Vishwakarma, by raising an island from beneath the sea. He created such a wonder of beauty that the city has lived forever in the minds of Hindus as the golden city of God.

The Mahabharat states that after Krishna left the mortal realm, Dwarka sank beneath the sea once more.

For many years the existence of Dwarka was considered by archaeologists to be simply a myth. Until this:

Work goes on in the exploration of the undersea find. Every day new secrets are being revealed.

Go here for last week's post entitled 'Ranchod'.

Go here for next week's post entitled The Stranger.

Snowed In

2011-02-07T09:39:00.000-08:00

So the snow last week, combined with my move, combined with my having no laptop right now, all came together to mean that I had no internet access all week. It was all I could do to get around to some blogs on Saturday and try to catch up.

Thus I missed my Wednesday post and my Friday post. Doh!

However, the weather seems to be much better this week. Snow is forecasted for Wednesday but I'm hopeful that it won't happen. Please, God, no more snow.

Weather aside, Oklahoma is treating me just fine and I'm actually settling in really well. My co-workers are very sweet and welcoming and I've slipped into this job like it's an old comfy chair I just haven't used in a few years.

So everything is going well. The only thing is that I haven't written anything in a couple of weeks but that's been a conscious decision more than anything else. I needed a the mental space to get used to all the upheaval in my life so I took a break from writing to allow me to do that. And without a laptop I'm pretty much just composing stuff in my head rather than writing it down longhand.

I'm going to work hard to get around to all your blogs this week, weather permitting. I hope you're all well and that the recent extreme weather hasn't been a problem for you.

Here Comes the Sun

2011-01-31T10:39:00.000-08:00

You may have noticed that I haven't been making my usual rounds of your blogs this last week. The reason was that I was in the process of moving and starting a new job.

Finally!

My new location is Oklahoma and I'm not sure how long for but it's going to be a while. It's been hectic and arduous but the people at my workplace are really nice. I'm learning my way round the ropes this week and it's coming along OK.

I won't have a laptop with me until I can buy a new one in a couple of months. This means that I'm going to be relying on my new local library and what with the job hours it's going to be sporadic. So please do forgive if I don't get to comment on your posts. I'm going to do my best and try to reach you all at least once a week. Then when I get a laptop of my own I'll be much better at hanging around the blogosphere.

Also, thanks to everyone for commenting here at my blog even though I haven't been around. I really appreciate it!

Now, this might seem like a weird one to be singing with the coming blizzard this week but it's how I'm feeling. I'm glad to finally be moving on with things and not stuck in limbo. I'm glad to be at this job and saving up for my writing. This is a whole new phase of life and I'm glad to be in it.

Ranchod

2011-01-28T07:36:00.001-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

In the Mahabharat, a sage made prophecy that one would be born who would bring salvation to the world, freeing Earth from tyrants and oppressors. That one would be Princess Devki's eighth son, born in Mathura on the banks of the Yamuna river. The prophesy also stated that Devki's eighth son would kill Kansa, the most evil tyrant of them all.

Kansa, who was actually Devki's brother, was infuriated to hear the prophecy. He imprisoned Devki and her husband Prince Vasudev in a dark dungeon, and attempted to kill every child they had. His plan, however, went awry.

Krishna was born and secreted away so that Kansa could not harm him. And when Krishna became old enough he returned to the land of his birth, Mathura, to begin the task he'd been born to do.

After Krishna killed his tyrant uncle Kansa, he took back the kingdom of Mathura for his grandfather, King Ugrasen.

Mathura rejoiced. King Ugrasen, who'd languished in prison for years was back on the throne, and Krishna's true parents, Princess Devki and Prince Vasudev, were also freed from the dungeon. With Krishna united with his parents and Mathura free from oppression it seemed that joy had finally returned to the people.

The problem was that Jarasanth, Kansa's father-in-law, began to attack Mathura as revenge for Kansa's death.

Krishna and his brother Balaram faced Jarasanth in battle eighteen times and sent Jarasanth running home every time. But Krishna was worried. Just because he kept winning battles didn't mean that he wasn't losing men. And for Mathura to be under a constant state of attack was a burden on her people and prosperity.

It was not the right time to end Jarasanth's time on Earth so Krishna could not simply kill him. Besides, war was not the way to defeat a man of Jarasanth's power. And there were other considerations that had to fall into place before Jarasanth could be destroyed once and for all.

Yet that meant that Mathura would continue to suffer. Krishna did not want this. So he went to King Ugrasen's court and proposed that the court of Mathura move to a new land.

The court was stunned. The courtiers immediately gave a roar of disapproval and shouted that they'd never leave Mathura. Mathura was their motherland!

But Krishna appealed for the right to speak and King Ugrasen granted him that right.

Krishna looked out over the court. "I am the only reason Jarasanth attacks. His daughters are widows because I killed their husband Kansa. Because of me Jarasanth will not stop his attacks."

Balaram, Krishna's elder brother, raised his massive fist. "Then we will fight him! We have you on our side. We have your divine discus weapon. We will win every time!"

"Not all opponents are worthy of my discus, Elder Brother," Krishna said. "And even then it is not easy to kill Jarasanth. He is too powerful and has too many allies. It will be a long time before we can apply enough pressure to break through his defenses."

"We'll still win," Balaram insisted.

"And how many of our men's lives are we willing to lose in the meantime?" Krishna asked. "How many of our women are we willing to make widows? All because Jarasanth wants to kill me?"

One of the generals shook his grey head. "It's not that simple-"

"Yes, it is," Krishna said. "Hasn't our motherland suffered enough? Mathura's people have been oppressed for far too many years. It is not right that they must fend off Jarasanth as well."

"The people are proud to fight for you, Krishna," a courtier in blue robes said. "You are their saviour. For you, they are willing to die."

"But I want them to live," Krishna said. "I want them to prosper, in peace. Which isn't possible here in Mathura."

"So you propose to run away?" Balaram snapped. "Like a coward?"

Krishna's father Vasudev was grave. "The world will call you 'Ranchod', son. 'He who runs from battle'. Are you willing to allow your name to be slurred?"

Krishna shook his head. "For my motherland I killed my uncle Kansa. If by my moving to a new land I can bring our people peace and prosperity then I am willing to do it. I am willing to do whatever is necessary for Mathura. I am even willing to take the name 'Ranchod'."

The court appeared dumbfounded by this announcement.

"After all," Krishna said, looking upon them all, "I am known by many names. Through time people will call me by many other names. And always, no matter what name they call me by, if I feel I am being called with love then I will answer."

The court was mesmerised.

"There is no room for false pride when our motherland is at stake," Krishna told them. "We must move our court and protect our sacred Mathura from more bloodshed. This is our dharma."

"Prince Krishna," King Ugrasen said, "I am willing more than anyone to listen to your counsel for it was you who gave me back my throne. I would agree to move our people but the first question is where to?"

"I have been considering that, Your Majesty," Krishna said. "And consequently I have been in talks with Lord Vishwakarma, the architect of the demi-gods. He has an idea to build us a city upon an island." Krishna folded his palms. "Lord Vishwakarma, please grace this court."

There was a sudden light and a tall demi-god appeared, standing before the king on his vast dias. Vishwakarma's skin was white and his eyes were twin whirlpools of gold. His dark hair fell around his head like waves upon the sea shore. He folded his palms and bowed to Krishna. "Lord, what is your desire?"

"King Ugrasen desires to see your plans for the city."

Vishwakarma smiled and instantly a perfect model city appeared at Ugrasen's feet.

The king stood to examine it, as did Vasudev and Balaram.

It was built exactly to scale with broad paved roads, magnificent jewel-studded palaces, and sumptously carved public buildings. The city was protected by a huge wall on all sides. "The island will be off the northwestern coast of Bharat, just beyond Gujarat," Vishwakarma said. "It will be completely surrounded by ocean and thus protected on all sides. You see here the watch towers located at many different points on the wall," he pointed. "There are four main gates to the city, north, south, east, and west," he said as he showed them which was which, "as well as numerous other gates all the way around the wall. Harbours will be at each of the main gates. The royal residences will be on this side and the people's court over here. The market will be placed in this square with merchants shops along these lanes."

As Vishwakarma continued to explain the plans, more and more of the courtiers stood to peer closer at the model, all amazed at the loveliness of the city. The gardens were numerous, with lakes and ponds and fountains dotted everywhere. There was ample space to farm and produce food so they would not have to rely on imports in the case of a seige.

"It is beautiful," Ugrasen said at length. "When do you propose to begin building, Lord Vishwakarma?"

The demi-god bowed. "Oh King, the city is already built. I wait but for your permission to raise the island from beneath the sea."

"Already built!" half the courtiers exclaimed. "Beneath the sea!" the other half shouted.

"Shri Krishna's wish is my command," Vishwakarma told them. "As soon as he expressed interest in a new city I began work. By the time your people reach the shore of Gujarat the island will be above the sea level and waiting for you. I will have boats ready to ferry you all across."

"What have you named this city?" Krishna asked.

"Lord, I have named it Dwarka. The city of gates."

Krishna turned to King Ugrasen. "Your Majesty, what is your command?"

Ugrasen was quiet as he contemplated the model. "I command that our people at once make ready for the journey. Lord Vishwakarma, please ensure that Dwarka is ready for our arrival."

Vishwakarma bowed and vanished. The court took up a cry: "Shri Krishna ki jai! Shri Krishna ki jai!"

Krishna bowed to them all, humble. Soon his people would be safe and his motherland peaceful. He smiled.

This episode is significant for many reasons.

The first is that Krishna didn't think war was the answer to Mathura's difficulties. There are other ways to solve problems than fighting. Sometimes a strategic retreat is much cleverer than waging war.

The second is that patriotism doesn't always mean dying for your country. It means living for your country too. It means giving up pride and vanity in favour of the greater good. It means not being selfish.

For his country, Krishna was willing to perform a deed that would bring slander upon him. He knew that in moving from Mathura, away from the challenge of Jarasanth's constant attacks, he would be called a coward, a man who run's from battle, a "Ranchod". But he didn't care. He was much more interested in protecting his people than preserving his pride.

And in letting go of his pride he paved the way for a beautiful creation. Dwarka. The city of gates is profound because it's not just a place, it's symbolic of the human body and mind. Krishna lived in Dwarka, a place that was pristine and pure and beautiful, free from pollutants and dangerous influences. If we wish to ignite the divinity within us then we must ensure our own bodies and minds are as pure as Dwarka was.

Yet an even greater implication is what Krishna said regarding his name. He said that he was known by many names and that throughout time he would be known by many other names. This is one of the reasons why Hindus have no problem with accepting the names that other faiths and religions give God. If Krishna himself didn't have a problem with it then why should ordinary mortals?

The Hindu scriptures are saying that God does not want us to fight over his name, or to insist that our name for God is the only true one. To do so only limits the supreme being to our own narrow understanding. It does not do justice to the vastness of his compassion or the immensity of his love.

Krishna said that whatever name people called him by, if they called him with love then he would answer.

Go here for last week's post entitled To Be Faithful.

Go here for next week's post entitled Krishna's Dwarka.

Warning Update

2011-01-26T08:30:00.000-08:00

Some of you might remember last summer when I posted a warning about the Google Adwords scam. If not then go here.

The good news is that I went to my bank and after investigating it, they refunded me my money and all was well. I thought the issue was resolved.

Then on Jan 13th I recieved another email from Google Adwords asking me to pay $142.18.

What? But I cancelled the account!

The email said that my ads had stopped running until I could pay the minimum balance.

What!

I emailed them immediately and told them I owed them no money because the account was cancelled long ago. I forwarded all our past emails to them and gave them over a week to get back to me. They emailed me only to say again that I had to pay them $142.18.

I went to the Feds. Thank God there's a government agency that deals with this. It's called the Internet Crime Complaint Center and this is the link.

Thankfully I've still got the emails between me and Google Adwords as well as the letters from my bank regarding the issue. I'm not taking any more crap from these guys.

If you have any issues on the internet then go to this agency. They'll help you out.

I'm worried about having a bad score because of this scam. I'm going to go to the credit score bureaus to let them know to take this off. It's such a headache. But at least I've reported these guys to the Feds so I can rest easy on that front.

Multi-tasking

2011-01-24T09:03:00.000-08:00

Many of you might not like what I'm about to say. It's just that for myself, keeping things real is a concern. So here it is, as real as I can make it.

When we write we have to keep an eye on style, grammar, narrative, characterisation, genre, plot, subplot, and atmosphere. Then there's spelling, word count, plot holes, syntax, tension, metaphors, punctuation. The list goes on and on. We have to wring all of that out of our minds.

As if this isn't enough to keep up with, many of us work on several projects at once. A couple of novels, some articles, a non-fiction, a screenplay. All with their own distinct audience that has to be catered for and considered carefully.

Social media also takes up a great deal of our time. As Maria Schneider's always saying (she's the former editor of Writers Digest): We have to have an internet presence! So we blog and forum and chat and tweet.

Then, as if that isn't enough, we have to query agents and publishers and magazines. People who - if all goes well - will make money off us. We have make sure we spell their names right. We have to research the person we're contacting and write a letter specifically for them, in the clearest and catchiest fashion, keeping an eye on style, grammar, narrative, characterisation, genre, plot, and atmosphere. We have a justify ourselves in that little thing called a bio. We have to include synopses or an outline if they want one - which means we have to write the synopses or outline.

The emotional blows of rejection must then be dealt with in the speediest and most lighthearted way, returning to the whole laborious process of querying with a smile.

And in all this, we're told that we should be grateful when agents make time for us. They're very busy people. We should be thankful that they're willing to make money off us.

Do I sound like I'm whining? It's just that I'm impressed at the writer's ability to shrug off these absurdities and continue on, multi-tasking away. Juggling characters and plotlines and style and queries and synopses, willing to try again and again to make it work.

It's like a woman who keeps going back to an abusive husband. She works to pay the bills and feed the kids and clean the house while he beats her every night and tells her she's worth nothing. Yet she still goes back because she's grateful that he wants her.

The publishing industry is imploding around us. Anyone can see it if they just open their eyes. Something has to be done and it has to be drastic.

The independent publishing route has become more and more popular as writers decide that the traditional route isn't working. E-publishing has become an option. Digital technology and the internet have made it possible for writers to cut out the middle man and head right for the public.

That doesn't mean that it's easier. In many ways it's just as hard. But it can be done. It's fast, hard, and driven - like a passionate vacation romance. And the best bit is that a writer's work is out there in public, able to reach the reader's eyes without years of waiting and toil.

The question for us is to decide whether we want a vacation romance or an abusive husband.

Did you notice how I took care to put the metaphors in? See? Multi-tasking...

To Be Faithful

2011-01-21T08:42:00.000-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous series posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

I want to thank you all for giving me your thoughts on this Mahabharat series. It was wonderful to read your comments and garner your thoughts. If you missed that post then go here to get the low down.

Some of you asked where my questions were coming from so I need to clear that issue up. My questions stemmed from several causes:
1. The mental and emotional fatigue that came crashing down on me this winter.
2. My sudden curiousity to know if what I was doing had any effect or point.
3. Personal issues that were messing with my head and making me turn down weird and twisted thought processes.
4. A freakish reminder of how time was passing and that it was already 2011 and holy crap did I need to shake things up a bit?

After hearing what you had to say and contemplating the issue all week, I've decided to continue writing the series. It gives me such joy and I also don't want to allow any personal nonsense to get in the way of what is a beautiful relationship between us here at this blog.

So without further ado, here's this Friday's installment:

Long after the war, after Yudhistira had ruled Hastinapur for many years, the Pandavas and Draupadi recieved word that Krishna had left the mortal realm. Krishna - their friend, their saviour, their one true comfort in the world - was gone, having returned to his divine abode.

The Pandavas decided that it was time for them to leave too. They had lived long and arduous lives and they were tired. And without Krishna, the material world seemed pointless.

Yudhistira put their only grandson, Pariksit, on the throne and blessed him that he have a long and prosperous and peaceful rein.

Then the Pandavas and Draupadi left Hastinapur for the Himalayas. Their goal was to find the entrance to Swarg, the heavenly realm, and thus they climbed those harsh mountains. Higher and higher they ascended and along the way they acquired a friend who walked with them. It was a black dog, wild, that silently followed their footsteps no matter how treacherous the climb or cold the wind.

Draupadi was the first to fall. Sahadev, Nakula, Arjun and Bhima reached out to save her but she'd fallen too far and lay dying on the jagged rocks and snow. The four younger brothers looked at each other in horror, not knowing what to do. But Yudistira, the eldest, walked on.

"Don't stop," he told them. "Don't look back. We will see her in the next realm."

They continued to climb. Sahadev fell. Then Nakula. Still Yudhistira walked on. Arjun also fell. Then finally mighty Bhima, leaving Yudhistira alone. And still he walked on. He didn't stop. He didn't turn back. He climbed higher and higher, through the cold and the thin air.

There was only one who remained with him on this journey. It was the black dog who braved the wind and the snow to remain at Yudhistira's side.

Then finally, in a hidden peak high up on the roof of the world, Yudhistira came to the doorway of Swarg. It was an opening into a golden world, full of warmth and light and joy.

A celestial being stood at the opening to welcome him. His shining form blinded Yudhistira's eyes.

"Yudhistira," Indra said, "we've been waiting for you."

Yudhistira blinked through his icicle covered eyelashes, focusing with difficulty at the King of the Celestials. "For me?"

"Of course," Indra replied. "You are Dharmraj, the King of Righteousness on Earth. You have restored peace and truth and justice to the people. Tales of your noble deeds will live on throughout the ages. Therefore, the honour of entering Swarg while still in your mortal body has been granted to you. Such an honour is granted to very few."

Yudhistira looked down upon his body, absorbing this news. So this was why Draupadi and his brothers had fallen. They'd not been meant to enter with their mortal bodies.

"Come," Indra told him. "It is time for you to reach your destination. But first you must choose where your destination will be."

Yudhistira frowned in confusion but then saw that the opening was splitting in two. One half was still the warm golden world that smelled of lotus blossoms and sweet fresh water. The other half was dark and cold, smelling of sour urine and death like the deepest dungeon.

Indra gestured to the golden world. "This is where the Kauravas reside." Indra gestured to the dark world. "This is where your brothers and Draupadi are."

Yudhistira staggered back on hearing it. His brothers, his wife... They were in hell? That dark foul-smelling place? And the evil Kauravas, his enemies... They were in heaven? They were rewarded while Yudhistira's family suffered?

"Choose, Yudhistira," Indra told him. "Where do you wish to be?"

Yudhistira looked at the golden world. All its joys would mean nothing to him without those he loved. "I want to be where my brothers are. Where my Draupadi is."

The dark half of the opening vanished and Indra glided down upon the black rocks of the Himalayan peak. He stood shining in the wind and cold. "Well done, Yudhistira. We wanted to see if your virtue was true and you passed our test. You may now ascend with me into Swarg and join your family."

Yudhistira was weak with relief to know that his family were not suffering in hell. He closed his eyes in a prayer of thanks.

"Now, leave behind that dog and come to your reward."

On Indra's words Yudhistira's eyes snapped open. Then he turned to the black dog who was quietly standing at his side, a silent companion. "You want me to leave this dog?" The harsh wind blew, freezing Yudhistira down to his bones.

Indra was unaffected by the wind. "A lowly dog may not enter the heavenly realm."

Yudhistira shook his head. "But he has followed me all this way. How can I leave him alone here and go with you?"

"If you do not abandon that dog you cannot enter Swarg."

Yudhistira gazed upon his faithful friend. It looked back up at him, patient, accepting. He put his hand on the dog's head. "Unless this dog can walk into Swarg beside me, I will not enter."

Indra raised his eyebrows. "You would reject Swarg for this lowly animal? Have you lost your mind?"

"Perhaps. But I have not lost my heart. Even if this dog is lowly in your eyes he is great in mine. He is my friend and I will not abandon him."

Yudhistira stepped away from Indra's shining form. He turned to go back down the mountain, turning from that place of absolute joys.

"Yudhistira," a deep voice said.

Yudhistira looked to his side where the black dog had been but there was no dog now. Instead there was a divine being. His eyes flashed like lightning and his dark body glowed like a burning ember. Yudhistira gasped.

"My son," the divine being said, smiling at Yudhistira.

Yudhistira fell at his father's feet. And it was his father, Dharmraj, the Lord of truth and righteousness. Yudhistira had seen him by a lake once, long ago, in what Yudhistira had come to think of as a dream.

Dharmraj lifted him up. "I wanted to test your loyalty so I became that humble dog. And you did not disappoint me, my dear. You were faithful to the one who followed you, even at great cost to yourself."

"I could do no less, Lord," Yudhistira said.

"Then it is time," Dharmraj said, and they turned to the doorway of Swarg for the final time.

Yudhistira felt himself enveloped by light and warmth and peace. He was home.

This, one of the final stories of the Mahabharat, is an explanation of the journey all people must go through to prove their worthiness for heaven.

As each of his loved ones fell in the climb up the mountains, Yudhistira did not waver in his search for salvation. However, the Mahabharat is not saying that Yudhistira was heartless, although many have interpreted it that way. The epic is instead showing how we must all, in leaving this world, let go of our attachments to it. Yudhistira left his throne, his wealth, his power. He left it all behind. But Draupadi and the younger Pandava brothers were Yudhistira's deepest attachments. In seeking salvation, he had to leave even them behind. That's not to say that he cast them out of his heart. No, he cast his material attachment for them out of his heart. He understood that they were greater than their bodies - that they had spiritual identities.

Indra explained that only Yudishtira was allowed to enter Swarg in his mortal body. The others had had to let go of their material selves, becoming completely spiritual. This is what we call death. Yudhistira, on the other hand, had lived such an exemplary life while in the mortal world that he did not need to shed his body because his body was not material but spiritual. His body was thus compatible with the heavenly realm and he could enter without having to go through "death".

Yet he still had to be tested. Yudhistira had to choose between heaven without those he loved or hell with them. And Yudhistira - in direct contradiction to those who think of him as heartless - chose hell. That's a serious declaration of love. He said: "I want to be where my brothers are. Where my Draupadi is." He proved that, as faithful as his brothers and Draupadi had been to him all their lives, he was just as faithful to them.

But then the second test came. Yudhistira was faced with a choice - to join his beloved family in heaven or to stay in the cold mortal realm with a dog. He chose the dog. His heart wouldn't allow him to abandon one who had stood by him. This is what it means to be faithful.

The most profound revelation, however, is that the dog was not just a dog at all. It was Dharmraj. The Lord of Truth. God.

It was God who was with Yudhistira in his arduous climb, who stood by Yudhistira in the cold and wind and snow, who was Yudhistira's silent companion right to the end.

When asked to abandon that companion in favour of rewards and joy, Yudhistira refused. He'd cast out all his material attachments but he would not cast out his faith. He could not. This was the final test and Yudhistira passed it.

Go here for the last Mahabharat post entitled Tell Me.

Go here for next week's post entitled Ranchod.

Wrong

2011-01-19T12:30:00.000-08:00

There's something wrong.

You're not going to believe this (and I say that because I wouldn't believe it if it wasn't happening to me) but I swear I'm not making this up. Nor am I joking. This is a real life problem.

I've fallen in love with my duvet.*

Don't laugh. It's not funny. It's a real life problem.

The moment I get under that duvet I'm infused with this paralysing warmth that holds down my limbs and makes my body sink into the mattress. And my mind starts to go fuzzy and I feel dazed and euphoric. My eyelids start to drift downwards.

I'm not joking. Even when I'm not on the bed and I'm touching the duvet in some way this happens to me. Right now I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom, trying to work on some writing and the duvet is around my shoulders. I can barely keep my eyes open. It's like I'm under a spell.

What is going on?

Stop laughing. This is serious. I have a real problem.

This duvet has been in my family for quite a few years. I don't remember it doing this before. But ever since it was moved into my room (by me but I'm trying not to blame myself) it's been like this. I can't explain it.

Now, I don't normally have an issue with being warm and comfy and liable to fall asleep. The problem is that I've started to fantasize about it. When I'm away I long to go back to my bedroom so I can sink beneath that duvet. And in the morning I make excuses to stay under the magic, not just for a few more minutes but a few more hours. And in the afternoon I tell myself that I'm going to read in bed when really I know that I'm going to lie down and be spelled.

It's not natural.

I've got things to do, places to go, stories to tell. I can't be fantasizing about an inanimate object when I have a life to live. What do I do? How do I rid myself of this obssession? Is it a winter thing? Is it just a phase?

My nephew read this and said halfway through: "Well, you just need a good slap or a splash of water."

But I don't think it's that simple. Somebody help me!

*In case you're wondering, a duvet is a thick bed comforter that is filled with cotton and light-weighted and very luxurious to sleep in.

Fair Dinkum

2011-01-17T12:01:00.000-08:00

Today is Dr. Martin Luther King Jr Day which means that I need to talk about something that is inspiring and moving and motivating. But the truth is that I can't, at this time, come up with any words to explain my admiration of Dr. King. The best words I can find are a phrase my friend Denise, L'Aussie Writing, taught me. That phrase is Fair Dinkum.

Fair Dinkum is a very particular Australian phrase that refers to someone as kind and generous and most honourable. Another phrase for it is True Blue. Go here for a more in-depth explanation of what it means. So imagine my amazement and gratified state when I realised that Denise had made an award called Fair Dinkum and chosen me as one of the first to recieve it. Thank you so much, Denise. I'm so honoured.

Today I'm thinking of Fair Dinkum as perfect for Dr. King. He took his inspiration from his faith and from his hero Mahatma Gandhi to rouse so many people in this country to action. The civil rights struggle and the method of non-violent passive resistance is as Fair Dinkum as things can get.

So with Dr. King in my mind I'm going to pass Denise's award onto others. I've been thinking long and hard about who I want to pass this award onto and although I would like to pass it to all my friends I think I'm going to restrict it to just five. Five seems right.

Hema at Wading through Words is a True Blue if ever I saw one.

Nevine at Dreams, Deliriums, and Other Mind Talk is talented, kind, and honest too.

Deanna at The Life of a Working Writer Mommy is a source of inspiration to me with her boundless creativity and warm heartedness.

Stephen at We All Have Swords is new to the blogosphere but I've known him for a long while and I can vouch for his gentlemanly status.

Dorothy at djpiperhobbies recycled is a long time forum friend of mine who's as kind and worthy as they come.

Recipients of this L'Aussie Fair Dinkum award are asked to:

•post on your blog, linking back to Denise if you're pleased to receive the award
•pass the award onto the 'fair dinkum' bloggers in your life - as many/few as you like
OPTIONAL: Write a blog post on your thoughts about being fair dinkum but please link back to Denise so she can read it!

Happy Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day! Hopefully you'll celebrate it by being as Fair Dinkum as you can.

Tell me

2011-01-14T09:35:00.001-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

So during my break I was thinking deeply about my Mahabharat series. I've been wondering if I should discontinue it.

Not because I don't love it. Not because I don't relish writing it. Not because I don't think you enjoy it.

But simply because. It's been going on a long while now. Well over a year. Are you tired of it? Should it stop? Should it continue? Should it change into something else? Tell me what you think.

I need all my Mahabharat readers to step up to the plate here. Even if you're one of those who reads but never comments I need you to speak up because I want to get the most accurate picture of what my readers are thinking. Be honest. Be blunt. I'm happy to hear any and all of your thoughts.

I still have ideas for Mahabharat posts, lots of things that can be explored and learned. But that doesn't mean that I should carry it on for the sake of it.

I know also that there are some followers of this blog who come here simply for the Mahabharat. I need you guys to speak up to. Do you want me to continue or discontinue? Have you heard enough of it or not? Are there other things that you want to read about or would rather read about such as other shastras or puranas? Has there been anything about this series that has displeased you or left you unsatisfied?

Please tell me. I want to hear your feelings because then I can consider the direction the series is taking with a rounded view.

I was going to put a poll up, and I might still yet, but right now I'd rather just hear what you have to say.

Go here for the last Mahabharat post entitled Little Krishna.

Go here for next week's Mahabharat post entitled To Be Faithful.

The Man in the Sky

2011-01-12T11:50:00.001-08:00

Today I want to tell you all about my friend Stephen Andrew Jackson, "the man in the sky", who just recently gave in to my nagging and the nagging of others to start a blog. He's a young man, a Texan, and one of most interesting movie critics you'll meet. I encourage you all to check out his blog and get to know him.

We All Have Swords

Stephen and I have been friends for about three years now. We met through our local writer's guild and since became good buddies outside of writing too, having heated debates about James Joyce and Transformers and eating vegetables.

He's been trying to turn me into a Texan almost since he met me and insists (with Texan stubborness) that he's succeeded. We have heated debates about that too. I keep threatening to make him travel with me to another country so that he can see with his own eyes that the milk in Texas really is crap.

He writes poetry and sci-fi and it's always fun to hang around with him. I hope you have as much fun reading his blog and being his friend as I do.

See? I'm ALIVE!

2011-01-10T08:16:00.000-08:00

So I'm back!

I took a good three weeks off. It was only meant to be two but I found that when two was over I was still in blog fatigue. It takes a lot out of you, blogging does. I don't often take breaks but I really needed this one.

So in my last post I mentioned that I might have some news for you when I came back. I had no idea the frenzy of speculation that was going to cause! From blogs to emails to phone calls, I've had to cope with people bombarding me with questions.

NO, I'm NOT GETTING MARRIED (anytime soon).

NO, I'm NOT HAVING A BABY (unless an alien impregnated me in my sleep - I better check on that one).

NO, I'm NOT INVOLVED IN CLANDESTINE PLOTS TO CHANGE THE WORLD (well, that's not quite true but rest assured that there's nothing illegal going on).

Now, with all that wild speculation taken care of, I'll tell you my real news. It's not at all very exciting:

I might be moving. Maybe. Hopefully. It's not a far move but something that I think will be significant to myself and probably not many other people. The crux of it for you guys and my wider readership is that with the move will come some kind of job that is going to take time away from my writing. So things are going to slow down for me, writing-wise, for a while.

Understand, however, that nothing is going to ever stop me from writing. Writing is my purpose, as you know. Everything I do is in keeping with this main goal of my life. So this job I'm taking is going to be a catalyst of sorts for me in that it's going to spur me onto newer heights and deeper possibilities in my literary life.

There have been a few obstacles to take care of regarding this. I'm still dealing with those obstacles. But like back when I saw God, I'm keeping on the road and hoping and trying my best to have a good outcome. The rest is up to him.

I dealt with a few personal heartbreaks this holiday season (no, not marriage or babies or clandestine plots) and that was an experience I had to go through. It was a reality check. And as you all know, I like to keep things real. So that too will work towards enriching my life and experience and ultimately, my writing.

We all have something to learn in this life. Some lessons are hard. Some lessons are easy. I seem to be dyslexic through most of them.

But I'm back on the blogosphere, learning, sharing, connecting. You guys are enriching me and helping me along. Thank you for all your good wishes over the holiday season. I hope you all had a wonderful time and are looking at this new year 2011 with relish and hope and a sense of adventure. I am.

Break

2010-12-20T09:21:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I took a blog break and now's a good time what with everyone busy with Christmas. I'm taking a couple of weeks off and will be back in the New Year fresh and raring to go (and probably with some news for you).

Enjoy your holiday with family and friends. Savour the moments together.

Time is so fleeting. All we can do is enjoy the present, keep hope for the future, and maybe - if we're sufficiently humble - we can learn from the past.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Aum shanti shanti shanti

Little Krishna

2010-12-17T08:39:00.000-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

I've nothing too taxing for you today since we're so near Christmas and everyone's scrambling like mad to get ready for the holiday.

Instead, I just recently saw this wicked trailer on youtube for a 3D animated series called Little Krishna, showing all Krishna's childhood adventures. It looks like it's been done really well too. I'm excited to see it!

The trailer's less than a minute long. Check it out:

And if you have more time then you can check this out too. It's ten minutes long. Can't wait to see the actual series!

Go here for last week's post entitled Kiss Me.

Go here for next week's post entitled Tell Me.

The Box Update

2010-12-15T09:14:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I posted about some cool things I'd seen on TV recently. Go here to read that post. I wanted to give you an update.

So it turns out that 'Sherlock' really was a three part miniseries. That's why there were only three episodes. Doh! But it is fair to mention that they were each one and a half hours long. Still, there's no hoping we'll see more episodes in the near future, like I'd been hoping. *sob* The GOOD NEWS is that a second season is being discussed over at BBC headquarters and they've confirmed that it will happen.

Come along, BBC! Chop chop!

In my other obsession, PBS's 'Nature', I saw the most amazing programme last week. They did a feature on hummingbirds. Did you see it? For years it's been virtually impossible to study hummingbirds because of how small and fast they are. And I mean really fast. Now, with high speed camera technology (that's only been developed in the past couple of years!) they were able to film and slow down (in high def!) the motion of the hummingbird to study exactly what it was doing. Watching the way this little bird moved - like it was a ballerina - I thought to myself that the hummingbird is one of the most beautiful graceful creatures in the world.

Did you know that there are 350 different types of hummingbirds? And did you know that they're only found in the Americas? And did you know that some hummingbirds have bills longer than their whole bodies because the flowers they feed from are so big that they have to be able to reach the nectar inside? Also, flowers only release their nectar for fifteen minutes at a time, because they want to force the hummingbird to go another plant, thereby spreading their pollen over the area. Isn't that amazing? And did you know that though hummingbirds survive mostly on nectar and seem like little angels of God, they also get 25% of their diet from eating insects? And they fight over territory when they see other hummingbirds homing in on a flower they consider theirs. They bop the encroacher on the head as if to say: "Get lost!"

Guess what I saw the very next day after watching that programme? I was taking a walk in the park behind my house and saw a hummingbird in a tree to the side. I knew instantly what it was because of the way it moved and how fast. It was brown and tiny and flitted from branch to branch. I never would have known it was a hummingbird if I hadn't seen that 'Nature' feature. I tried to take a picture but I wasn't quick enough with my camera. Doh! Those things are fast! But it was obviously migrating from North America down to South America for the winter. Their flight over the Gulf of Mexico is one of the longest flights in the world, because of how small their bodies are (3-4inches) and how short their wing span. The Gulf of Mexico is 500 miles of water (I think they said 500) with nowhere to stop or eat or rest. But they do it anyway. It's considered the longest flight of any bird in the world. Hummingbirds are AMAZING!

The sad thing is that the hummingbird habitat is being encroached upon, endangering this precious little bird. No prizes for guessing who the culprit is. My God, when will we learn?

If you haven't seen this 'Nature' programme on hummingbirds, you've got to check it out!

In other news, I've tivoed the last episode of 'Dexter' but haven't watched it yet. It's the season finale. I'm scared. I don't want to see what I think is going to happen. But like every compulsive 'Dexter' fan, I'm going to watch it anyway and freak out. Oh God Oh God Oh God.

Wholesome like Porridge

2010-12-13T09:31:00.000-08:00

Did you know that I was wholesome? Well I am! As voted by two bloggers, Alex J. Cavanaugh and Dominic de Mattos! Thanks guys, you're too cool.

And since I'm now doubly wholesome I won't be telling you what I did last night. Or last weekend. Or the other week. (But I'll give you a clue: It involved a serious cake fetish and some people who were willing to get their hands dirty.) But we won't talk about that because I'm wholesome, dammit. Doubly. Doubly dammit. That cake was amazing, though.

Here's my award:

There's a laptop in it! Is this a sign that a new laptop is heading my way? Or two, since this is a double award? I've been needing a laptop ever since mine died this summer... But wait, it is a pc or a mac? I don't want it if it's a pc. Freaking pcs and their freaking viruses, can't ever get away from them. I've decided I'm done with pcs. BUT if it's one of those super thin ones with a touchscreen and super cool features then I might consider it. But only if it has a long battery life. I hate it short battery lives. What's the point in a laptop with a crappy battery? I mean, it's stupid, isn't it?

What were we talking about again? Or yeah! The wholesome blogger award.

So it turns out that there aren't any particular rules which is lovely. Some people passed this award on to three people so since I recieved it twice I'll pass it on to six! Cos I wanna.

And I pass this award on to...

Karen at Coming Down the Mountain
Lydia at The Word is My Oyster
Charity at My Writing Journey
Carol at Carol's Prints
Deanna at The Life of a Working Writer Mommy
Rachna at Rachna's Scriptorium

So there you have it! Six bloggers who you should check out because they're wholesome like porridge! Wait, is that six? One...two...three...six. Yes. We're good. It'd be terribly unwholesome to miscount now, wouldn't it?

Here's the award again since I got a double award which means I can post the pic twice (because of that rule I made up ages ago).

You know, I do think this is a sign that I've got a laptop heading my way. I've been needing one for ages. And I'm due for a break. A really big break. There's only so long I can go without my own laptop and God has got to be ready to throw me a bone. I mean, come on!

But the laptop has to be lightweight because I hate carrying a lot of weight when I travel. Even though I've put on 5lbs this past few months. Cos of all that cake fetish and stuff. There was this unbelievable cream cake and it was all fluffy and sweet and soft on my tongue - but wait, I'm not supposed to be talking about that. I'm wholesome. Doubly. Don't forget the doubly. Dammit.

Kiss Me

2010-12-10T09:02:00.000-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

Who doesn't love to kiss? Roughly 90% of humans around the world kiss each other as a show of love or passion.

But it hasn't always been like this. In many cultures all over the world people didn't kiss each other for a long time and even today there are indigenous cultures where mouth to mouth kissing is not practiced. In some cultures it's even taboo because it's considered dirty. And if you think about it, kissing is rather disgusting. I mean, who knows what bacteria another person has in their mouth? Who knows what bacteria YOU have in your mouth?

So how did all this rampant kissing come about then?

Well, the first recorded kiss - mouth to mouth - in human history comes from the Mahabharat.

Of course, you're all thinking. Where else?

But it's true. There are actually several kissing references in the Mahabharat. For me, one of the most touching is when Savitri, a princess, kisses her husband Satyavan as he lays dying in her lap. Her kiss is passionate and loving and tragic because she knows that soon he'll never feel her kiss again.

Then there are references to kissing in the four Vedas. And the Kama Sutra describes different types of kissing.

All these sources come from Ancient India. No other culture's art or literature mentions kissing until centuries later.

Many anthropolists believe that kissing was introduced to the Greeks when Alexander the Great invaded India in 326BC. The Greeks then introduced it to the rest of Europe. But kissing still wasn't popularised in the west as a way of showing passion or eroticism. (That's not to say that it didn't happen, but it wasn't as popular or as commonplace as it was in India.)

"Why?" you might ask.

The answer is very simple. Hygiene. Most people in the world had no notion of oral hygiene. Rich or poor, they all had appalling teeth. Even royalty didn't bother with oral hygiene. Elizabeth I had a mouth full of the most vile rotting teeth you can imagine.

Consider what would it be like to kiss a person who never brushed their teeth. Can you imagine the stinking breath? The gingivitis? The limitless possibilities of disease?

The truth is that kissing, mouth to mouth, didn't become popular in Europe until the 17th Century. Why? Because that was when French dentists started to advocate the use of toothbrushes. People started to clean their teeth. They suddenly had mouths that weren't rotting. Their breath didn't reek.

People could kiss each other without being grossed out. And they began to kiss passionately. It turned into a sexy titillating trend that spread all over Europe. But it started in France.

That's why it's called a FRENCH kiss.

But it's not a French kiss, is it? It's an Indian kiss. Because oral hygiene in India has been a standard for millenia. Indian dentistry goes back as far as 7000BC with many methods of hygiene and oral care prescribed in Hindu texts like the Ayurveda. Hindus brush their teeth religiously because their scriptures say that personal hygiene is a matter of purity and Godliness.

So brush your teeth. And the next time you kiss your loved one, remember the Mahabharat.

Check out this link for Ayurvedic oral care.

*Hindus, as part of their oral hygiene regimen, clean their tongues by scraping it of dirt after brushing using a thin metal strip. This is important because it prevents bad breath. This practice has only in the last decade been introduced in the west by dentists who now advocate scraping the tongue clean after brushing.

Go here for last week's Mahabharat post entitled Anamika = Nameless One.
Go here for next week's Mahabharat post entitled Little Krishna.

Keeping it Real

2010-12-08T07:29:00.000-08:00

A few years ago I was at an event (in east New Mexico, on the border with Texas) and a group of teenagers walked past me. They looked my way and asked what was going on at my table. I explained that I was doing a book signing and that this was my book. One of them (their most popular lad) moved away, scoffing that he didn't read.

"You should," I told him. "Reading is the only pleasure in the world that won't give you a disease."

He turned bright red as his friends cracked up. A few of them came over to check out my novel. The "most popular lad" looked impatient as he waited for them.

"Don't hate me, dude," I told him. "I'm just keeping it real."

*Disclaimer: There ARE pleasures in the world, besides reading, that won't give you a disease. Like spending time with friends, getting a massage, doing exercise, yoga, meditating, traveling etc., but the fact of the matter is that most kids in this country (USA) don't think beyond that very tired cliche "sex drugs and rock 'n' roll". They don't have the imagination to, nor are they encouraged to by their surroundings. But if they READ then boundless possibilities will be opened up to them and they will learn to think beyond their limited understanding of pleasure. That's a fact and that's what I'm keeping real.*

World Treasure

2010-12-06T11:14:00.001-08:00

Everyone has their own version of heaven. Everyone has their own opinion on what is precious. Everyone has their own view of what must be treasured.

One of my friends forwarded me a list of monumental libraries around the world. These are my favourites from that list. These buildings contain the history, culture and art of their coutries, as well as on going reasearch into many branches of knowledge.

1. University Club Library - New York City, United States

2. Canadian Library of Parliament - Ottawa, Canada

3. Admont Abbey Library - Austria

4. Library at El Real Monasterio de El Escorial - Madrid, Spain

5. Real Gabinete Português de Leitura - Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

6. National Library of Finland - Helsinki, Finland

7. Mitchell Library - Sydney, Australia

8. Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at University of Toronto - Toronto, Canada

9. George Peabody Library - Baltimore, Maryland

10. Strahov Theological Hall - Prague, Czech Republic

Imagine the knowledge and history and philosophy and research that are housed in libraries like these. Imagine the stories! Tales of such power and passion and inspiration that they are kept protected in these beautiful sanctuaries. We're looking at our own history when we look at these libraries. At our own identity.

Anamika = Nameless One

2010-12-03T09:29:00.001-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.

One story in the Mahabharat is so striking that every holy teacher I've ever listened to has told it.

It's the story of Anamika. The nameless woman.

There was once a sage of deep and pious bearing. Having renounced the world and all material pursuits, he dedicated himself to the path of knowledge and peace. Every day he would sit beneath a tree and meditate, focusing his entire being on the name of God, connecting his inner consciousness to ultimate reality.

He practiced this path for many years, until he was an old man. He lived in poverty, sleeping on the floor of the forest, begging for a little food every once in a while from the village people who were glad to give such a holy man something to eat.

One day, as he sat alone under his tree, a bird above him defecated on his shoulder. The sensation of the dirt on his body brought the sage out of his deep meditation. In annoyance, he glanced up at the feathered being who'd offended him. Light shone from his eyes upon the bird and before he knew it, the creature was burnt, the ashes of it's body falling to the ground.

The sage stared in astonishment at the remains of the bird before him. He'd done that? He'd done that!

In all these years of practicing his meditation, he'd not known that he'd acquired such powers. He could burn a bird to ashes with just a look!

It was the result of the awakened consciousness within his being, he knew. His connection to the Supreme had released latent powers of yoga from inside him.

Having just discovered this stunning ability, the sage could no longer meditate that day. He shook himself and stood, peering closer at the fallen bird. He still could not believe that he had done that. He'd certainly not meant to. He'd have to be careful in the future not to harm other creatures this way.

He went to the river and bathed the bird's dirt from his body. Then, picking up his begging bowl, he took his staff and made his slow way through the forest to the village that was some distance away. He wandered amongst the huts for a little while before choosing, at random, a hut.

"Alak Niranjan!" He cried so the people inside could hear. He waited a while but no one appeared with any food. "Alak Niranjan!" he said again and waited.

Still no one appeared.

The sage began to frown. Here he was, a great sage asking for food and no one from this house was coming to donate any. And he, an accomplished yogi, was going to go hungry!

He could only call once more. It was a rule among sages that they could only ask for alms three times from any one house. And if they recieved nothing then they fasted for that day. Would he have to fast this day because this house was so stingy that they wouldn't give a sage any food?

"Alak Niranjan!" he said again, giving them their last chance to serve him.

The front door opened and a lady appeared, bearing a tray of rice and fruit and vegetables. She came towards the sage.

"Why did you make me wait so long?" he demanded to know. "Don't you realise that if you'd delayed anymore I would have been hungry all this day?"

The lady looked directly at him as he berated her. She was of indeterminate age, dressed modestly with her red veil covering her dark hair.

"You would have been guilty of making a sage go hungry," he continued. "I'm an accomplished yogi. You don't know my mystic powers."

She took a deep breath. "Great sage, I am not a bird."

He'd opened his mouth to deliver another scold when the meaning of her words hit him. He gaped at her, his beard quivering as he stood open-mouthed.

No one knew of the bird. He'd told no one. He'd been alone when it had happened. He'd been deep in the forest with no one of the village nearby. This woman had been in her home all this time. How did she know?

She bowed her head. "Please forgive me for the delay in coming out," her voice was gentle and humble. "I heard the first two times when you called but wasn't able to respond as quickly as I would have liked."

"Yes, yes," he mumbled, "but how do you know about the bird?"

She shook her head and smiled, saying nothing.

"Really, tell me. How do you know?"

She still said nothing.

He stared at her, understanding dawning on him. "You are enlightened," he whispered. "You are so enlightened that you knew everything before I even said a word." He folded his hands and bowed. "Great lady, please forgive my earlier impudence."

"Oh no," she said, "there is no need."

He blinked at her. "But how did you come to be enlightened? Do you practice meditation? Do you go on difficult pilgrimage? Do you perform long acts of worship? Tell me, please, how have you come to your depth of knowledge?"

"Great sage," she said, "I do not meditate, nor do I go on pilgrimage, nor do I spend so much time in acts of worship."

"Then how-?"

She put her tray down upon the porch step and moved to the front door of her house. She pushed it open and stood aside so the sage could see.

There were children and a man sitting cross-legged upon the ground of the hut, eating the noon day meal. It was the ordinary sight of any family sitting together to eat. There was bread and rice and vegetables on their plates and they looked up as the door opened, gazing in curiousity at the person outside.

The sage was confused. He looked back at the woman.

She shrugged. "I don't meditate, I don't go on pilgrimage, I don't perform great acts of worship," she said simply. "I only serve my family. That's all."

Still the sage was confused.

"My husband has just today returned home from a long journey. I was caring for him when you called for alms and that was what caused my delay in coming out." She let the door slide shut and walked back to face the sage.

She clasped her hands. "Knowing that my duty is to my family above all others, I live my life in simplicity. I put all my energy into caring for them and loving them and giving a peaceful home to them because I know that in serving my family I serve my Lord. That is my path and the source of my enlightenment."

The sage stared at her. "Just that?"

"Just that."

There was a deep silence around them as the sage stared at the ground, contemplating this revelation. This lady had not left her home. She had not renounced the world. She had not distanced herself from those she loved. Living here, amidst all the distractions of the material world, she had reached the pinnacle of knowledge.

He looked back up at her. "Will you teach me?"

She smiled at him. "Certainly."

The Mahabharat calls this lady Anamika. Anamika means nameless one. Because Anamika is not any particular woman, she is all women.

All women spend their days taking care of their families. Whether they are white or black, rich or poor, sick or healthy, they give all their energy in nurturing and loving their families.

It seems like such a simple thing, to take care of our family. But every woman knows that it's not easy. It takes strength and patience and forebearance. It requires selflessness, steadiness, a willingness to give and expect nothing back.

What the Mahabharat is saying is that ordinary women are extraordinary. They have knowledge that men, even enlightened men, have not. And despite their knowledge and their patience and their strength, they are not arrogant. They do not demand adoration from those around them. They do not ask for anything for their sacrifices. They simply give and give and give and smile while they give too.

This is Godliness. This is a path to enlightenment.

The Mahabharat is saying that to know the truth there are many paths. But one of the simplest and best is to be Anamika.

Go here for the previous Mahabharat post entitled Hidden Gem.

Go here for the next Mahabharat post entitled Kiss Me.

Feel the Buzz!

2010-12-01T11:36:00.001-08:00

Talli's Take on Amazon Web Splash is today. Talli's a blogger friend of mine and a good writer and I'd like to support her in this venture.

The aim is to get her debut novel, THE HATING GAME, hitting the Kindle bestseller at amazon.com and amazon.co.uk by spreading the word. Even a few sales in a short period of time on Amazon helps push the book up the rankings, making it more visible to other readers.

Buy here for the UK.
Buy here for the USA.

No Kindle? Download a free app at Amazon for Mac, iPhone, PC, Android and more. Coming soon in paperback. Keep up with the latest at www.talliroland.com.

Here's a synopsis of THE HATING GAME from Talli's blog:

When man-eater Mattie Johns agrees to star on a dating game show to save her ailing recruitment business, she's confident she'll sail through to the end without letting down the perma-guard she's perfected from years of her love 'em and leave 'em dating strategy. After all, what can go wrong with dating a few losers and hanging out long enough to pick up a juicy £200,000 prize? Plenty, Mattie discovers, when it's revealed that the contestants are four of her very unhappy exes. Can Mattie confront her past to get the prize money she so desperately needs, or will her exes finally wreak their long-awaited revenge? And what about the ambitious TV producer whose career depends on stopping her from making it to the end?

So take a look and support Talli and her debut book!

Not only that,

My good blog friend Lisa Maliga's having a Better than Chocolate Kindle Ebook Contest. Her book NOTES FROM NADIR is available to buy on Amazon Kindle so let's help drive up sales there too! Lisa's non-ficion account of her experiences in the small town of Nadir is entertaining, funny, and poignant.

Here's the amazon link so check it out!

Not only that, Lisa's sequel blog Leaving Nadir starts Friday so don't forget to check it out and become a follower!

On top of all that, Lisa's brand new book LOVE ME, NEED ME: A NARCISSIST'S TALE is coming out on Kindle too! Seriously, she's on fire right now.

Here's what she had to say about it on her blog:

"Middle-aged Arlen J. Stevenson hails from Alabama. He's a bumbling sexual predator, narcissist, and author of three insipid zombie books. His relentless and often hilarious pursuit of women online leads him to our other protagonist, Los Angeles-based writer of term papers, Helena Hoffman. She isn’t aware of what Arlen is as she only sees his amusing and entertaining side in their daily email correspondence.

Told in alternating points of view, we see Arlen’s self-absorbed lifestyle as he endeavors to meet his numerous catches all over the South. Helena and Arlen get friendlier via their online communication, and he invites her to be his personal manager because of her communications skills, gullibility factor and location. She launches a MySpace site for his new company. Soon he realizes there are thousands of available women in his region alone! Unlike the jailbait that many online stalkers pursue, Arlen chases after their mothers and grandmothers. Helena is aware of his perpetual cheating and decides to investigate it in person. What happens after that is alternately scary and darkly humorous. Warning: Contains graphic sexual content and language."

Buy LOVE ME, NEED ME: A NARCISSIST'S TALE

As if all that buzz was not enough, my good blogger friend Jackee came up with a brilliant idea called Project Give a Book Give the World.

Jackee says that for every book you give to a child, she'll make and send out a humanitarian school kit. I thought this was such a beautiful notion that I had to tell you about it. Jackee really is a generous person as I've come to know in the short time that I've been friends with her so I want to throw my full support behind this. You can visit her blog for more details on how she came to this project idea and what it all means but what's so important to me is the notion that we can give books to kids and know that our act is inspiring someone to do an amazing thing. Let's spread literacy and love around the world...

We are all Dancers

2010-11-29T07:58:00.000-08:00

How about a shot of adrenaline to start your week?

I've watched this five times now and every time I was mesmerised. Literally, the hairs on my arm stood on end. This girl is nine years old and I can't get over how amazing she is.

The performance comes from the show India's Got Talent. I just discovered this clip last night and knew I had to share.

The style of dance is classical Indian called Bharatnatyam. The song is Vande Mataram, a Sanskrit song which is also an unofficial national anthem, meaning "We bow to you, Mother". The giant statue on stage is Natraj, Lord Shiv's manisfestation as the Lord of Dance. Life, death, creation, destruction - the endless cycle around us is narrated in this dance. It's breathtaking.

Hidden Gem

2010-11-26T07:57:00.000-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here.

Hope everyone is recovering from all that eating yesterday and hope you had a great Thanksgiving. This is actually a re-post from over a year ago. Enjoy.

These "totally awesome action figures" (my nephew's phrasing) are action figures of the five Pandava brothers. From left to right is Yudhistira, the eldest, then Arjuna, the middle brother, then Bhima, the second eldest, then Nakula and Sahadev, the twins.

There are many bits of the Mahabharat that are called hidden gems, meaning that they are not well known but give so much knowledge that it would amaze us all.

One such hidden gem is this:

The five Pandava brothers and their Queen, Draupadi, were sent into exile through the deceit of the Kauravas. They lived in the forest for twelve years, living on simple food they could gather, sleeping in huts made of straw and mud. They lived like this despite the fact that the eldest Pandava brother, Yudhistira, was an Emperor, and Draupadi, his Empress.

One day, while travelling through the forest, they stopped to rest. Draupadi told Yudhistira that she was thirsty and they all agreed that their throats were parched. They were also tired and hungry. They could see cranes flying in the distance and determined that there must be water there so Yudhishtira told Sahadev, the youngest, to go and collect water. A long time passed but Sahadev did not return. Yudhistira then sent Nakula, the second youngest, to go and find Sahadev and bring water. Nakula did not come back either. Yudhistira, who was beginning to worry, sent Arjuna and told him to be careful and find out what had happened to their brothers. Arjuna went and did not come back. Yudhistira then sent Bhima, who was known for his great strength. Bhima did not return.

Yudhistira and Draupadi were now very worried as they could not imagine what could have stopped the younger brothers from returning. Yudhistira told Draupadi to remain out of sight while he went to find them.

He headed towards where the cranes were flying and after a short while came across a beautiful serene lake. All four of his brothers were lying on the lakeshore, dead.

Unable to believe his eyes, Yudhishtira rushed forward and fell upon them. He was stunned. His brothers were invincible so he could not understand how they could be dead. He examined their bodies, looking for signs that might tell him what had happened. Yet they had no injuries so he knew they had not fought an enemy. He wondered if the lake water was poisoned but there was no sign of poisoning on their bodies either. Still, he determined that whatever had caused their deaths had to have come from the lake.

Full of grief and knowing that there could be no life for him without his brothers, Yudhistira filled his cupped hands with lake water and leaned down to drink.

"Stop!"

Yudhistira looked up and saw that there was a glowing man hovering in the air over the lake. "Who are you?"

"I am Yaksha."

"Then you are a celestial being. Are you the one who has killed my brothers?"

"Yes. I told them not to drink from the lake but they did not listen to me. They died as a result."

"Why did you tell them not to drink?"

"This is my lake. No one can drink from it without answering my questions. If you wish to drink water and take it from here then you must answer my questions."

Yudhistira folded his palms and bowed. "I will answer your questions."

Yaksha said: "I know that you are Yudhitira, son of Kunti. You are called Dharmraj, the King of Righteousness. Oh King, do you think you can answer my questions?"

"I will try."

"Then tell me, what is heavier than the earth?"

"A mother."

"What is higher than the sky?"

"A father."

Yaksha smiled. "What is swifter than the wind?"

"The mind."

"What is more numerous than straw?"

"Worries," Yudhistira said, as one who knew many.

"Who is a friend to one nearing death?"

"Charity."

"What is the main place of duty, fame, heaven and happiness?"

Yudhistira said: "The main place of duty is efficiency. The main place of fame is charity. The main place of heaven is truth and the main place of happiness is modesty."

"What is the soul of a man?"

"A son."

"What has covered the world?"

"Ignorance."

"What is laziness?"

"To not do one's duty."

Yaksha nodded. "Who is happy?"

"One who is free from debt."

"What is a real bath?"

"That which purifies the mind."

"What is blacker than black eyeliner?"

"Stigma."

"What is the best path?"

"Kindness," Yudhistira said.

"What, if controlled, does not bring grief?"

"The mind."

"What is modesty?"

"To keep away from deeds that should not be done."

"What is kindness?"

"To wish for the happiness of all," Yudhistira said.

"What is the reason for the death of a nation?"

"Defeat."

"What is proof of a Brahmin? Is it lineage, learning, knowledge of scripture, or character?"

"Character. An ordinary worker who has character is better than a Brahmin who has lineage, learning, and knowledge of scripture but no character."

"Is religion in logical reasoning?"

Yudhistira frowned. "No."

"Is religion in the thoughts of sages?"

"No, because not all sages agree. No one sage knows the complete truth."

Yaksha raised his eyebrows. "Then where lies the complete truth of religion?"

"In the heart of the individual."

Yaksha paused, then asked: "What is the greatest astonishment of this world?"

"The greatest astonishment is that everyone knows that the ultimate reality of life is death. They see death all around them. Yet still they thinks that death is not the ultimate reality of their life. They think it will not happen to them."

"Oh King, I am most pleased with your answers. I will revive one of your brothers as a reward. Which brother do you want me to grant life?"

"Oh Yaksha, please revive my brother Nakula."

"Why Nakula? Why not strong Bhima or invincible Arjuna?"

"Because my father had two wives, Kunti and Madri. I loved them both equally even though Kunti was my birth mother. So if I am alive then one of Mother Madri's sons should also live."

"What if I said you could have two brothers back?"

"Then I would ask for Sahadev, because he is younger than Bhima or Arjuna."

"I am very pleased with you. I will give you all your brothers back."

"Then you must not be Yaksha for he cannot grant the gift of life. Please tell me who you are."

The being then changed his form. He was beautiful and glowing, his black skin shining with divine light. "I am Dharmraj, Lord of Death.* I came here to see you, Yudhistira, and am very pleased to find that you have the qualities of tranquility, endurance, detachment, patience and problem solving. You have overcome the six weaknesses of hunger, thirst, grief, attachment, old age and death. May you be blessed." Saying such, Dharmraj disappeared.

Yudhistira saw that his younger brothers were sitting up and wondering what had happened. He ran and embraced them and told them that he would explain later. Right now they had to take water and hurry back to Draupadi.

*Dharmraj is another name for God. It is written that Yudhistira was an expansion of Dharmraj, the Lord of Death and Righteousness. Therefore, as an expansion, Yudhistira was counted as Dharmraj's son and was being tested by his father. The reason why Yudhistira was considered to be the most worthy person to be king was because he had these qualities that Dharmraj found when he tested him. He was enduring, patient, tranquil, detached, and he knew how to find the answers to problems. He didn't simply react to a bad situation, he found a way out of it with logic and wisdom. This is how a leader behaves and this is how a leader is successful.

In another interpretation, God, who is father to us all, is testing his child on a vital understanding of the human condition. We need to know the answers to these questions because only by knowing them can we overcome our own ignorance and grief and anger. By understanding these truths we can find the answers to our problems. By understanding these truths we can find victory.

Go here for the previous Mahabharat post entitled Never Fear Part III.

Go here for the next Mahabharat post entitled Anamika = Nameless One.

The Box

2010-11-24T10:10:00.000-08:00

I want to tell you about the things I've been watching on TV lately. Now, other than last week and the occasional comment about 'Dexter', I don't often talk about what I watch on TV. To be honest, I don't watch much. My list oonsists of the news, Dexter, South Park. Book TV if I'm in the mood to have my brain numbed with boredom. That's about the sum of my TV watching.

Recently, however, I've been concentrating on ways to be more disciplined about having non-writing time (because of my two worlds philosophy). As a result I've found myself in front of the box for several more hours a week looking for something interesting to engage my mind.

That's how I discovered my new obssession. It's on PBS Masterpiece Mystery and it's called 'Sherlock.' Have you been watching it? Have you? If you haven't then why not? What's wrong with you? 'Sherlock' (made by the BBC of course) is the new take on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's classic Sherlock Holmes series. Everything about this series is FANTASTIC. The razor sharp script. The London backdrop. The chemistry between Holmes and Watson. The irony. The brilliant villain. The editing. The design. The way Sherlock Holmes wears three nicotine patches at a time because they "help" him think. I could go on and on. Love it!

That's why I've been incredibly upset to find that there were only three episodes broadcast. Why? It's like dangling chocolate cake in front of a child and then telling the child she can't have any. It's cruel. It's wrong.

PBS, you meanie, put 'Sherlock' back on IMMEDIATELY! And if there aren't any other episodes then rerun the first three. I need to watch them again!

On the other hand, another series I've been watching is PBS's 'Nature'. Dude, it's just too good. If you don't watch this series then you've got to take a look. Did you know that they've been deciphering the language crows speak to each other? Did you know that crows actually have two languages? Did you know that crows learn things from their parents (who mate for life) like how to recognise faces and react towards them and that crows are one of the most intelligent species on the planet? I didn't until after I watched an episode of 'Nature'. Check this series out!

Then last Friday I watched something on NBC that blew me away. It was a documentary by Prince Charles called 'Harmony'. Did you see it? It was about how we are all interconnected on this planet and how we all can find ways to be more in harmony with nature and each other and ourselves. It was AMAZING. And I'm not just saying that because I'm a die hard fan of Prince Charles (for his wisdom and inspiring commitment to environmental causes). Really, this documentary was beautiful. And the timing was beautiful too!

If you've been reading my Mahabharat series the last few weeks, you'll know that one of the themes of my Never Fear story is about nature and the environment and our place in it. On Friday I posted the third (and last) part, and then, just a couple of hours later, I saw 'Harmony'. It was like I was in 'Harmony' with Prince Charles! He said everything I'd been writing about only with the added synergy of people all over the world who were saying the same thing. We are ALL connected.

My heart was full of love after I watched that program. If you haven't seen 'Harmony' then you must. I taped it because I knew it was going to be special. I wish I could invite you all to my house so we could eat yummy organic food as we watch it together.

That's the sum of my recent TV watching. To be honest with you, knowing that programming like this is available for people is heartwarming for me. Usuallly, I turn on the TV and get depressed by the lack of quality shows. And I turn it off again. Now I know that there is quality TV avaliable that contains humanity and wit and hope and education. Programming that enriches our lives. Since that's the kind of story I like to write, I love that it's also the kind of story I get to watch.

Check out this Harmony trailer:

Mission for Peace

2010-11-22T08:28:00.001-08:00

This weekend I was privileged to attend a charity event where the key note speaker was Greg Mortenson. He wrote the bestseller Three Cups of Tea.

The event was at the Hilton Anatole in Downtown Dallas and the tickets were $150 each. Luckily, my frient who is a professor at Brookhaven College was provided with some tickets and she called me up immediately and invited me along. I jumped at the chance.

It's Greg Mortenson's mission to promote peace through literacy. I'd heard about Greg Mortenson before but I had no idea of the depth of his commitment or the true extent of how much he's managed to accomplish. Now, after having listened to the speakers of that event (including Greg Mortenson himself) and having seen some of the work he's been doing, I'm truly stunned.

It all began when he was on a trip to Pakistan to climb K2. He saw children learning to read by writing in the dirt. One of the little girls came up to him and asked him to help them build a school. He promised her that he would and now years later his organisation has built so many schools, mainly for girls, in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

There are little girls in Afghanistan and Pakistan who get acid thrown on their faces by the Taliban because they dare to go to school. The best way to control someone is to keep them ignorant. right? That's why the Taliban wants to keep the girls of their country illiterate, so that they can continue to perpetuate their extremist views.

Yet still these little girls are so hungry, so desperate for education, that they go to school anyway. They brave the threat of the Taliban and acid and beatings so they can learn to read.

The magnitude of that shakes me.

Greg's next book, Stones into Schools is available in bookstores. This tells the continued story of his mission and of all the progress and setbacks faced in Afghanistan. Check it out.

Greg Mortensen himself (center) with Gina Davis (second from right), the gala's mc (far right), a local author (left), and the event organiser (far left). My apologies that I don't have the names of those last three. I'll find my program and post the names.

Never Fear Part III

2010-11-19T16:20:00.000-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem from ancient India. For links to all other Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can click on the Mahabharat page tab just above.

This is the third part of my Never Fear series. Click to read the first and second parts.

We saw previously that Indra reacted with anger when Krishna told the people of Vraj not to worship him. He caused a massive storm to sweep over Vraj and destroy everything. The people ran to Krishna and told him to stop the destruction by begging forgiveness of Indra.

This is what happened next:

The people watched Krishna as he stood there, his yellow silk robes whipping around his dark body as he looked up at Indra's storm. They didn't know what he would do and it terrified them. But he'd protected them so many times before. They couldn't help but look to him for salvation.

Krishna stepped down into the street and walked through the fast flowing water. The people, not knowing what else to do, followed him. The more streets he passed, the more joined the crowd that followed him, until all the village people were behind him. He passed the outskirts of Nandgaon and headed away from their homes.

"Krishna, where are you going," Yashoda cried, holding onto Nanda. "We have to find somewhere safe!"

He kept walking out through the forests that were slowly becoming wetter and wetter. The trees were acting as a barrier to the rain but the water level was rising fast anyway.

The crowd kept following, stumbling in the mud beneath their feet, and they began to realise where he was going. Govardhan.

Krishna walked to the foot of the mountain.

The people looked at each other in confusion. Yes, they could climb Govardhan and remain above the water, but in a storm like this they needed protection from the wind and the lightning. How could Govardhan protect them from that?

Krishna was facing the mountain. He bent down. He sank his fingers into the soaked earth at Govardhan's feet.

"What is he doing?" The people asked each other. "We can't stand here in the open. We need shelter."

But those who kept their gazes on him saw something amazing. He was driving his hand underground, under the mountain, and - the people swiped the water out of their eyes to see - the mountain was beginning to shift!

Krishna went farther. The mountain moved so he could put his feet beneath it and keep going. The mountain lifted higher.

The people were now watching in shock. With the roar of the rain in their ears and the flood level rising over their ankles, they could hardly believe their own eyes!

He was several feet under the mountain now and still Govardhan lifted higher. Krishna went deeper until they couldn't see him. Nanda and Yashoda rushed forward in fear but then, in one stunning move, the entire mountain was above Krishna's head. He stood on a rock, looking down upon all the people.

Govardhan was resting on Krishna's left hand. And when they looked closer the people saw he held up the entire mountain with just his little finger.

"Come beneath Govardhan," Krishna said, "and bring all the cows."

The people were frozen, staring in shock. Then lightning struck the ground just before them and they all jumped.

Not stopping to question the unbelieveable sight they were seeing, the women and children and elderly moved fast to join Krishna. The younger men rushed back to the village to release the cows from where they were penned. The cows, needing no direction from the men, rushed towards Krishna. They all came under his shelter.

The people of nearby villages also came, having run to Krishna to find a way out of the danger. Nanda directed the influx of people as they crowded together under mountain.

It wasn't until they were all safe beneath Govardhan that anyone could speak of their amazement. The storm lashed the world around them but in their dry refuge supported by Krishna, the people and cows were safe. They hugged each other and raised their arms and cried out: "Jai ho! Jai ho!"

Krishna's mother and father moved to stand as close to him as they could. There were so many who surrounded him they had to push their way through. "My darling," Yashoda cried when she reached his side.

"How are you doing this, son?" Nanda asked, gaping.

Krishna smiled and said nothing.

"It must be that Govardhan became light," a village man said, "and allowed Krishna to lift him."

"Yes," a village elder said. "We have Govardhan's blessing. He must have lightened his weight to provide shelter to us."

"And somehow my son knew it would be so," Nanda said. "Yes, that must be it."

The rain continued for the entire day. Night fell. The storm roared but with the protection of the mountain above them they were able to speak normally and be heard. The people began making preparations for sleeping but they worried about Krishna, standing above them on his rock and holding the mountain up all by himself.

"How will he sleep?" they asked. "He can't hold the mountain constantly." They stood around talking, trying to figure out what to do. "If Govardhan became light for Krishna then we should be able to hold him too," someone said while everyone nodded. "Let's try it. Krishna," they said, looking up at him.

"Yes?"

"You need to rest," Nanda said. "If we all put up our staffs and rest the moutain on them then we should be able to bear the weight."

"Do you think that will work?" Krishna asked, looking like he was laughing at some secret joke.

"We can try it at least. We can't let you do all the work."

Krishna nodded. "As you wish."

All the men set up their staffs around Krishna so that when he removed his hand the weight would immediately be distributed over the sticks. "Ready?" He asked them.

"Yes," they said.

Krishna removed his hand. The mountain began slowly to sink. The staffs snapped under the strain. The men gasped and raised their arms to hold it up but the weight was too much. They would have all been crushed if Krishna had not put his hand up again and caught the burden.

Now understanding that Govardhan had not become light at all, the people stared at Krishna yet again in amazement. He wasn't using a staff or both hands or even one hand. He was using the little finger of his left hand, the weakest part of his body, to hold up the entire mountain.

"Jai ho! Jai ho!" the people cried, raising their arms in surrender. They danced around him and praised this miracle who was their prince. "Giridar!" they called him. Mountain lifter.

Indra's storm raged for seven days and seven nights. Krishna sheltered the people under Govardhan for all that time.

Then the rains stopped. The clouds cleared. The blue sky came out.

"Is it over?" The people asked, peering at the sky. Though there was no rain, they were afraid to step out from under the mountain.

"It is finished," Krishna said. "Father, we must begin moving the cows back to the village. They haven't eaten in days while we have nourished ourselves on their milk. See to the cows."

The people jumped to on his orders. Nanda got the herders organised but the cows were not listening. Instead of following the direction of their herders, they walked towards Krishna. The thousands of cows all circumambulated the one who had protected them. Once, twice, three times they circled. Then they turned and moved out from under the mountain.

The people followed, glancing up every few moments in wonder at the peace of the blue sky.

Krishna waited until the last person was gone. His parents lingered, anxious to stay with their son. "Go, Mother," he said. "I will set Govardhan back in his place and join you at home. Father, the people need you to see to the rebuilding of the village. You must both go."

"You will come soon?" Yashoda said.

"Of course," he told her.

They left and with the last of the people gone, Krishna set Govardhan down. He did it slowly so as not to disturb Mother Earth with a sudden weight. Then, finally free of his burden, he sat down upon a convenient boulder, waiting.

Lord Indra, his body resplendent with the glow of the celestial realm, appeared before him. "Forgive me, Lord!" he said, throwing himself at Krishna's feet. "I have been a fool. I have been blind. Thank you for crushing my arrogance, Giridar!"

Krishna didn't smile. "Indra, you have misused the power bestowed upon you."

Indra clasped Krishna's feet. "Yes. I have not been worthy of your grace."

Krishna glared. "You used your powers to bring harm to others. This is against all bounds of dharma."

"Lord, I beg your forgiveness. I see clearly that I've done wrong. You were right to tell the people not to worship me. You were right to teach me this lesson. I accept all the blame, Lord. I am your humble servant," Indra pressed his forehead against Krishna's toes.

Krishna was unmoved.

"Forgive him, Lord," came a feminine voice.

Krishna looked up and saw a cow, pure white in colour, descending to earth from the celestial realm. She wore dainty golden bells on her ankles. Her eyes were dark and liquid and her horns curled upwards, gleaming gold in the sunlight. It was Kamdenu, the celestial cow. The moment her hooves touched the earth, she assumed human form with milk white skin, white robes, and dark liquid eyes.

"Mother Kamdhenu," Krishna said. "You, here?"

"I have come to speak on Indra's behalf, Lord," she said, her voice soft. "Krishna, Giridar, you are an ocean of mercy. Indra's penitence is geniune. Please forgive him."

"He sought to cause devastation."

"Yet you prevented that devastation from occurring. Truly, Lord, you only allowed this all to go so far because you were worried that Indra had lost his way. In your compassion you sought to bring him back to you. And you have done so, Lord. Forgive him."

Krishna's face softened. "You speak so much for him?"

"He has learned from his mistake, Giridar. Now grace him with your compassion. Saviour of my people, bring balance back to the world."

Krishna, for the first time, looked with kindness down at Indra. "If anyone but Mother Kamdhenu had spoken for you, I would not have forgiven your offense. Rise, Indra, you are absolved."

Indra raised his head from Krishna's feet. His face shined with tears. "Lord, I have a request."

Krishna arched a perfect black brow. "What is that?"

"I wish to crown you Indra. I wish to show all the universe who you truly are and that I am only your humble servant."

"Yes, Lord," Kamdhenu agreed. "You should be called Govinda, Protector of cows. I too desire this."

Krishna nodded his acquiesance. Within moments all the celestials appeared in the sky. Indra's royal elephant, Iravat, appeared next to Indra, bearing divine waters in his eight trunks. Guru Brahaspati appeared to chant the mantras for the coronation.

Indra removed his crown.

As Brahaspati chanted, Iravat performed the ceremonial bathing of Krishna as befits a king about to be crowned. The celestials raised their hands in surrender and the nymphs danced in the heavens, singing Krishna's praises.

With the bathing complete, Indra used his own cloth to dry Krishna's body. Then, as Brahaspati chanted the sacred mantras of kingship, Indra placed his crown upon Krishna's head. "All glories to Lord Govinda!" He called.

"Jai ho! Jai ho!" The celestial cried, showering flowers upon the king. "Govinda ki jai ho!"

Indra sank to his knees and touched his head to the ground at Govinda's feet.

Krishna raised his hand in blessing, favouring the celestials and Indra with his smile. Mother Kamdhenu turned again to her original cow form and bowed at his feet. He put his hand upon her head and granted benediction, making the celestials shout their praises once more. "Govinda! Govinda!"

In the Hindu scriptures, cows represent nature. They represent the Earth herself. Many times, Mother Earth assumes the form of a cow. So when Krishna protected the cows from Indra's storm, it was symbolic of his protection of all nature. This was why Mother Kamdhenu also called him Govinda, Protector of Cows, because it was symbolic of his role as protector of the earth. He maintains balance and keeps order.

Indra's request, to crown Krishna as Indra, is also highly meaningful. By doing this, he was abandoning all arrogance and returning to his true role of a faithful servant. He thanked Krishna for crushing his ego because that ego had taken him far from his purpose and his God. By doing so he was able to bring the world back into balance.

This is why Hindus worship Krishna as Govinda and Giridar. He protects nature. He maintains balance. But he also protects us from ourselves. When our egos overcome us and distort our understanding of the world, the Almighty is the only one with the power to remove that blindness from our eyes. The people of Vraj thought that they too could hold the mountain above their heads so Krishna let them try. But when they realised that they were in fact powerless, he quickly moved to protect them once more. Because he is the protector from storms. He is the shelter from danger.

Govardhan, in this part of the story, represents the burdens of life. The people, in need of help, ran to Krishna. He in turn lifted Govardhan for them and provided shelter not just for the people but for the cows. He gave love to everyone who came to him. The Mahabharat is saying that once we turn to the Almighty, he takes all our burdens from us. He assumes responsibility for our safety and our happiness.

Go here for the previous Mahabharat post entitled Never Fear Part II.

Go here for the next Mahabharat post entitled Hidden Gem.

Book TV

2010-11-17T10:08:00.000-08:00

Do you watch Book TV on CSPAN?

Being a book and history and politics lover, I do. It's great to have a TV channel that cares about these things and brings really interesting topics and author events to the national stage so viewers like you or I can watch them.

I only have one complaint. Book TV is BORING.

Most of the writers they broadcast, even if they've written the latest fascinating biography or political commentary, are terrible speakers. And I mean TERRIBLE. If they can't hold my attention - and I'm a committed history and politics and book lover since forever - then how the heck were they going to hold the attention of anyone else?

If these publishing houses really knew what they were doing they'd give writers training on public speaking. Or hire them a publicity expert. Or send them to acting school. Or SOMETHING.

The other day I spent yet another half an hour watching some writer who was clearly passionate about his subject and clearly clueless on how to speak in an engaging manner. It was disappointing because I really did want to hear what he had to say. Instead I spent the majority of the time raging against his publishing company for sending him up there totally unprepared to do a good job. It wasn't fair to him or his writing.

Whether you're a traditionally published author or a self-published author, you should do public speaking to promote your book and yourself. That's a fact. The days of reclusive writers who live in mountain cabins and won't give interviews are OVER. Don't get me wrong. I'd love to live in a mountain cabin and pretend like I hate the media. But that's a losing strategy.

And don't talk to me about how public speaking is scary. Yes it is. So what? Do you have any idea how many writers there are who would love to talk about their work to anyone who'll listen? What are you whining about? If a writer truly loves his writing he'll get out there and speak and damn the torpedos.

Yes, it's frightening to be in front of a camera. Yes, it's weird getting that kind of attention. Yes, public speaking isn't easy. But to promote your work you should be eager for any opportunity to reach the public. And BookTV is definitely an opportunity you don't say no to. Or Oprah. Or The Daily Show. Or the newspapers. Or your local PBS. Or your local radio. Or the community college. Or your kid's school. Or the PTA. Or your church.

You have to take whatever speaking engagement you can get because it's all in the spirit of promoting the precious writing that you've sweated and wept and bled for. Speaking to the media and through them to potential readership is an effective way to get people interested in your writing. And when you're out there you have to make sure that you don't screw up that opportunity with a terrible performance.

That's what frustrates me so much about BookTV. Those writers are on CSPAN. They're on a national stage. They should be blood pumpingly psyched to be speaking in front of that camera. But instead those writers are reading speeches from long notes (which is a TERRIBLE way to speak) in monotones (AWFUL) with no animation, no energy, and ultimately no help in selling that book.

This is a tragedy.

I self-published my first book and did book tours and interviews and talks at colleges and libraries and schools and literary festivals. It was fun and enlightening and I was on a sharp learning curve. And my book sold pretty well which also was a delight, especially when the fan mail rolled in. But when I watch BookTV and consider what I could have done with that kind of national attention, I shudder.

So if you're planning on doing any kind of publishing then get a head start now on learning public speaking skills. Tell yourself it's for your work. For your novel. For your characters. For your purpose. For your platform. Feck, it's for the money. Tell yourself anything as long as it gets you out in front of a crowd and talking about your work. You can do this!

And by the way, money is a substantial reason. Most writers make more money from speaking engagements than from royalty cheques. So stick that in your craw and swallow it.

And if I ever get on BookTV (if God shines his light on me) I'll be speaking my heart out so much the cameraman will stroke from the excitement. Because that's how it's done.

Full Circle

2010-11-15T10:16:00.000-08:00

Rachna granted me The Circle of Friends Award! Thanks so much, Rachna, it's a pleasure to be your friend.

Here's a my lovely award:

What I love about this award is that the emphasis is on friendship and connecting with each other. It's a circle that just keeps on growing with all the people I meet and connect with and learn stories from.

Recently I've faced some emotional blows from people I thought cared about me. Going through that experience has renewed my appreciation for the geniune people in my life. I'm thankful for that.

Thank you for being my friends and for giving me the opportunity to be friends with you.

I pass this award on to:

Paige at Paradise Valley
Jaleh at Ex Libris Draconis
Elizabeth at Elizabeth's Journal
Hema at Wading Through Words
Dorraine at Free Ice Cream

These are all great bloggers and friends who've been with me through tough times and through good. Check them out.

Never Fear Part II

2010-11-12T09:51:00.001-08:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem from ancient India. For links to all other Mahabharat posts go here.

This is the second part of my Never Fear series. To read the first part go here.

We saw last week that Krishna taught the people never to worship from fear. In particular, he discouraged them from worshipping Lord Indra, whose wrath was well known when thwarted. Krishna encouraged the people to worship the Almighty instead by caring for the land around them, giving back to the land that gave them so much.

This is what happened next:

Above the land of Vraj, far away in the celestial realm, Lord Indra was lounging in his palace, surrounded by nymphs as they fed him grapes and nectar. His wife Indrani sat beside him and they shared a cup of sweet wine together. A messenger came to the door and bowed.

"My Lord, there is news from Vraj."

Indra waved his hand in a languid fashion. "Yes?"

The messenger bowed again. "The humans there have not performed this year's worship ceremony to you."

Indra lost his languid mood in a moment. He glared at his messenger. "What did you say?"

The messenger stumbled over his words. "They-they were going to but then they worshipped Govardhan instead." He bowed yet again.

"Insolent humans!" Indra threw his cup of wine across the room, startling his nymphs so that they jumped and fled. Indra didn't care. He stalked across the room to stand before the messenger. "They think they can get away with offering me nothing? They think I will not show my wrath?"

The messenger was bowed so low that his head was almost on the fine marble flooring of Indra's palace. "It was Krishna who persuaded them not to worship you, Lord."

Indra had already opened his mouth to snarl something but at this news he halted. He blinked. "Krishna?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Krishna?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Krishna?"

The messenger realised at this point that Indra wasn't talking to him. He shut his mouth.

Indra turned towards his queen. "Did you hear that?"

Indrani still sat upon their throne, her delicate form glittering in the golden light of their realm. She watched her husband with a grave expression. "I heard."

"But isn't Krishna the Almighty?" He sounded bewildered.

Indrani took a deep breath. "That's what Father Brahma told us."

"But why would Krishna tell the humans not to worship me? I am King of the celestial realm! Of course they should worship me."

She moved off the throne and towards him, gently putting her hand on his shoulder. "He must have a reason, my lord. Let us trust in him to know what is right."

"But I'm entitled to worship from the mortals!" Indra said. "I regulate the weather. I control the elements. Everything that they have they have because of me."

She looked down. "The powers you have were granted to you by the Almighty. You are his servant. I have mentioned before that-"

"Maybe Father Brahma was wrong," Indra interrupted. "Maybe Krishna isn't the Almighty. The Almighty wouldn't stop the humans from worshipping me."

"Father Brahma couldn't possibly be wrong," Indrani said. "Let us watch and see what Krishna is doing. He must be teaching the humans, showing them a path that will lead to a greater society."

Indra had a faraway expression on his face. "It must be another Krishna that Father Brahma mentioned. It can't be this one. This one is an insolent pup."

"My lord-"

He moved away. "I'll summon my men. I'll go to Vraj and show them what it means to ignore my power."

"But, lord-"

Indra was gone already, shouting for his servants. Indrani watched helplessly, knowing that he was walking into trouble. His arrogance was beyond all reason. She only hoped Krishna would have mercy on him.

Far below in Vraj, Krishna was sitting on the swing in his front porch, enjoying the breeze in the noon heat. Many people were resting in their houses after the excitement of the Govardhan worship they had completed earlier in the day.

As Krishna swung he noticed that the wind was starting to pick up. It was warm and strong and gaining in strength. His hair whipped around his face. He looked up and saw dark purple clouds beginning to gather in the sky that had just a few minutes before been clear and blue.

A woman coming out of her house just across the street spotted the clouds. She screamed.

The noise brought people out of their homes, including Krishna's parents. "What's the matter? What's the matter?" They asked her.

She pointed. They all tilted their heads up and stared at the darkening sky.

The clouds were now so dense they blocked the sunlight. A gloom settled over the village. There was a crack of thunder, shaking the earth beneath their feet. Everyone jumped. Lightning spiralled down and hit a house which burst into flames. The family inside screamed and ran out.

Before any of the villagers could react to the disaster thunder rolled once more. And again. Lightning struck three more houses.

Then the rain broke.

But this was no ordinary rain. The water pounded down with such force that roofs caved in on first contact. The streets were flooded in seconds. The houses set on fire by the lightning turned to smoke and ruin.

The people scrambled, desperate to hide from the storm. They ran to Krishna.

"Look what you have done," an old man cried over the pour of torrential rain. "This is Indra's anger."

"We should never have listened to you!" a lady said.

"Calm down," Nanda said, "we will find somewhere safe."

"Where?" another man shouted as the people huddled together. "All Vraj will be swept away."

Krishna was still sitting on the swing, watching what happened around him. He looked up at the sky and smiled.

His own friend, Shyamsaka, swashed through the street and came to him. "How can you smile?" Shyamsaka cried. "Do something, Krishna, or we are all doomed."

"Yes!" The old man said. "Ask Indra for forgiveness."

Krishna stood.

The people watched, their hands to their mouths as they prayed he would ask for forgiveness. But he didn't. He did something else entirely.

One thing about this episode is that it delves into the aspect of Hindu philosophy which is that of the demigods and their role in the world. The demigods, in the Hindu scriptures, are personalities that represent the natural forces around us - the balance of nature. They in fact are highly elevated souls who through service to the Lord have gained powers. They are the forces that the Almighty has put in place to regulate nature and ensure the balance of life.

They are not meant to be tyrants. They are not meant to terrorise the people. They are not meant to expect worship.

They are not God. They only represent certain aspects of his power, which is why sometimes the Lord is referred to by the names of the demigods. But they are not God. They are his servants. Like a king has ministers he delegates work to, the Lord has demigods that he delegates the maintainance of the world to.

Knowing this, we are able to percieve and understand the many layers within this story. We see that conflict arose between Krishna and Indra because Indra's power went to his head. He allowed his ego to get in the way of his job. Indra forgot his true purpose.

We are all just like Indra. As humans we have great power within us. We have the potential to do wonderful things. But in the arrogance of our human capabilities, we bring pain to others instead of joy. We disrupt balance when we should protect it. Just as Indra saw the humans on earth as beneath him and there to bring him pleasure, we see other life-forms (as well as the earth and her resources) as below us, there to be exploited and dominated, because they do not have our intelligence or our strength.

And as a result the world is suffering.

God help us all.

To be continued...
Go here to read the next part of this series.
Go here to read the previous part of this series.

Do You Remember?

2010-11-10T08:14:00.001-08:00

November 11th is Remembrance Day in Britain. That's tomorrow.

This is the one day in all the year that I miss Britain the most.

The history of this day goes back to World War One when the ceasefire of that horrific war was finally called on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

November 11th, Remembrance Day (also known as Armistice Day and Veterans Day), has come to mean a time when we stop and remember all the sacrifices made by our patriots in the wars of the last century. From World War I and World War II decades ago to Iraq and Afghanistan today. Whether you agree with any particular war or not, the soldiers and civilians who died in that war are always to be remembered with respect.

And when it comes to WWI and WWII, which are so integral to Remembrance Day, it behooves everyone to remember the millions who fought for freedom. Especially in WWII when we fought against the tyranny of the Nazis. But I'm not just talking about British soldiers. Or even British and American soldiers. It wasn't just Britons and Americans who fought despite what Hollywood wants you to believe.

The soldiers and civilians who made up the forces of the allies were much more vast than just Britain and America. I'm talking about the French and Canadian and Indian and Cuban and Mexican and Brazilian and Greek and Ethiopian and Czech and Australian and New Zealander and Polish and Norwegian and South African and Belgian and Russian patriots. And many many more from so many countries. That's why it was called a World War. Because the entire world fought.

Do you know which country donated the largest volunteer army to the allies in WWII? It was India. 2.5 million Indians volunteered to fight Hitler.

So on Remembrance Day people in Britain don't think of only their own countrymen. They think of all the noble souls who gave up their lives in the cause of freedom.

If you are in Britain on Remembrance day or in the weeks leading up to it, you will see everyone from little children to the elderly wearing red poppies over their hearts. The poppies are symbolic of the flowers that grew over the graves of our fallen heroes. School children do sponsored activities to raise money for veterans charities and churches do sermons on how we must never forget the sacrifices made for us. Freedom isn't free.

And on Remembrance Day itself, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the entire country comes to a standstill for a two minutes silence. Schools stop, shops close their doors, offices pause, while everyone turns their gaze to the clock and remembers.

This is the day I miss Britain the most.

This song is considered one of the most beloved patriotic songs of England. The music is by Gustav Holst. The lyrics were written by Sir Cecil Spring-Rice:

I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,
Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love;
The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test,
That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;
The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,
The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice.

And there's another country, I've heard of long ago,
Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;
We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;
Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering;
And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,
And her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace.

My Marriage

2010-11-08T08:44:00.001-08:00

You may have noticed that I've made a few additions to the Tulsi Tree. I've added five pages and you can see them just above this post, under the header.

The first page contains this blog's manifesto. The second contains links to all posts on storytelling. The third contains links to all posts specifically about writing. The fourth contains links to all Mahabharat posts. And the fifth has links to all travel posts. This way you'll be able to easily access what you're looking for.

I'll soon be providing a page for miscellaneous 'just for fun' posts because I noticed, as I worked on these pages, that I have quite a few of those. Though they contain snippets of thought and relevant information, they don't strictly fall under the categories of the other pages. So they'll have their own place.

If you have any questions or comments regarding the new pages then please let me know in the comments section below or in the comments sections of the pages themselves. That way if there are any problems then I'll be able to deal with them quick.

Now onto today's post which is inspired by Donna Hole's blog from last Wednesday.

Writers often have complicated relationships with their writing. Some of them struggle with what they call their muse that pokes and prods them at random moments. Some have what they call a tempestuous love affair with writing that often keeps them up at night, writhing in passionate ecstasy. Others call their books their precious children that they have to take care of and raise to adulthood.

I've always thought of writing as a marriage. I'm truly madly deeply married to writing in a very old school "there is no such thing as divorce" kind of way.

When people get married they often say things like: "I knew the moment I saw her. She was the one." Or: "It was like I knew him from a previous life. We were meant to be."

I feel like that about writing. Like it's destiny. I knew it from the first moment. But this isn't a passionate love affair. Passionate love affairs are unreliable. They burn bright for a few days and then it's over.

But marriage is constant and steady. Marriage has to be worked at.

While my relationship with writing can be passionate and tender (he romances me with sweet nothings and poetic notes), it's also mundane and boring. He helps me cook dinner and do the dishes. He bickers with me. He sits at my bedside when I'm sick, reading me stories. He keeps me up late at night as we discuss the meaning of life. He pisses me the f*** off.

But no matter what, no matter how tired I am or ill I get or how shocking I look first thing in the morning, I know that my spouse is never going away. This isn't a fling. It isn't a crush that I'll get over. It isn't even a serious affair. It's forever.

Every once in a while, I get sick of him. I have to get away for a few days or even a few weeks or even a few months. That doesn't mean I'm leaving him. It just means I need some time to myself. I need some space. Then when I'm ready I go back to him.

And guess what? Sometimes my spouse gets sick of me. He goes away for a few days or even a few weeks or even a few months. That doesn't mean he's leaving me. He always comes back.

Because this is a marriage. In sickness and health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, we are married. Old school.

Some writers feel guilty when they're writing, guilty because they could be spending that time with their family or friends. I don't. I feel guilty when I'm not writing. As if I'm cheating on my spouse. It's a horrible uneasy feeling, like I'm wasting precious time I could be spending with him. What if I get hit by a bus and die without writing all the things I'm meant to write?

Writing, and telling stories through writing, is my purpose. I've known it from the first moment. It's my destiny.

And that's forever.

Never Fear

2010-11-05T16:41:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem from ancient India. For links to all other Mahabharat posts go here.

Also, I've done something I should have done ages ago. I created a new page to the blog called 'Mahabharat'. The page tab is above this post, just under the blog header. It contains links to all the Mahabharat posts. This way you'll be able to easily access the Mahabharat posts whenever you want.

Now, this week's post is inspired by the fact that this week is the festival of Diwali. It's known in English as the Festival of Lights. For Hindus, Diwali is our most major festival, where we cook feast after feast, put lights outside our house, and shop like crazy. Each day of the week is special for a particular reason and thus there are different celebrations for each day. At the end of the week is the Hindu New Year's Day which this year falls on Saturday, which is tomorrow.

So Happy Diwali and Happy New Year!

Today's story comes from an event in the Mahabharat that happened on New Year's Day.

Krishna grew up in the arable land of Vraj. His village was called Nandagaon, after his father Nanda who was the village chief. They herded cows over the lush land and lived in joy on the banks of the Yamuna river. But despite the idyllic scene of his childhood, the time was anything by peaceful.

Many demons, dismayed by the magnitude of his power and knowing he threatened them, attacked Krishna. Over and over, from the moment he was born, Krishna and Nandagaon were attacked by enemies. Krishna protected the people by killing the demons.

His foster parents, Nanda and Yashoda, were always amazed every time they saw their little Krishna perform these incredible feats of strength. Most of the time they put it down to some coincidence, or thought that someone had helped him and that was why he'd escaped death. They had no idea he was the Almighty. To them he was only their beloved son, the prince of their village. who brought light and love into their lives.

On New Year's Day little Krishna awoke to find massive preparations underway in his village. There were great piles of flowers that were being strung together, and a huge pit was being constructed for a holy fire. There were so many articles of worship that were being gathered together around the pit. It looked like preparations for some great festival. Krishna asked his father, who was directing the work, what was happening.

"We're getting ready to perform worship of Lord Indra," Nanda said.

"Lord Indra?"

"Yes, son. Indra is the king of the demigods and he brings the rain. We have to make sure that we thank him every year for helping us."

"But why do we have to thank him? Isn't it his duty to make the rain? After all, he is a servant of the Almighty and that is the job the Almighty gave him."

Nanda looked at Krishna with wide eyes. "Shhhh! You mustn't say things like that, Krishna. Lord Indra's wrath can be terrible."

"Are you frightened of him, Father?"

"Of course! Everyone is frightened of him. With one move he could destroy all Vraj."

Several of the village people murmured agreements as they worked near Krishna and Nanda.

Krishna looked around at them. "But surely someone with such a terrible temper is not worthy of worship. It's not good to be angry."

Nanda reached out and covered Krishna's mouth. "We have to be very careful when talking about Indra. He will punish us all."

Krishna moved his father's hand away. "But that's not right. No god should be worshipped out of fear. If Indra was truly praise-worthy then he wouldn't punish people for not worshipping him. It is the divine right of all to pray but it is not the duty of the gods to compel worship."

"Krishna, what do you propose we do?" one of the other village men asked. He was leaning on his staff. "Do we stop worshipping Indra just because you say so? This is our ancestral custom."

"But why? If Indra brings the rain then that is his duty, not his mercy. And if he is a tyrant and expects worship from us then that is not admirable. Only those who are kind and worthy deserve worship."

A crowd was growing around them as people came to hear what Krishna was saying.

"And who is worthy then, my darling?" Yashoda asked. She was walking towards them from the barn, carrying a pot of fresh milk.

"We are cowherds, Mother. Our lives are tied to the cows. They give us milk and butter that nourishes us. They plough the land that grows our grain and give rich fertiliser that keeps the land lush. So worship the cows, Mother."

Krishna continued. "And the cows cannot live without the forests, where they graze. So worship the forests of Vraj. And worship the river Yamuna who waters the trees with her nectar, keeping the forests green and bountiful. And worship Mount Govardhan, who brings rain by catching the clouds, filling all our ponds and wells and lakes. So many fruits and herbs grow from his gracious soil that are vital to our good health."

Krishna looked around at the people who were listening in silence. "Mount Govardhan does all this for us but have you ever heard him demand worship in return? Does he punish anyone for not worshipping him? Or are the cows vengeful or angry? Or Yamuna? Do the forests threaten us with violence if we don't repay them for their service? No. They are not selfish or petty. They are generous and pure hearted and they love us. That is why they take care of us."

The crowd was larger still, all of the villagers gazing at Krishna in wonderment that he was so passionate about this subject.

"Don't be afraid of Indra's anger," Krishna told them. "One who is worthy of worship never gets angry."

"But how do we worship the cows and Mount Govardhan?" Another lady asked. She was holding a pot of water on her head and had paused in her way across the courtyard to hear Krishna's speech.

"We already worship the cows, sister," Krishna said. "We return the love they give us by caring for them and ensuring they're always protected. The forests and Yamuna are worshipped by keeping them clean and clear of pollutants. Mount Govardhan can be worshipped through offering. If we give a little of our bounty back to him then that is a form of thanks. It will re-nourish the land that gives us so much."

The village people were nodding. But one man was not. "So what happens if we do what you say and that makes Indra angry? What will we do when he punishes us?"

"Indra has no right to punish us," Krishna said. "He is not the Almighty that he may pass judgement on anyone."

"Easy to say but what do we do when he does punish us?" The man persisted.

Krishna watched the man steadily. "Our shelter is assured, my friend. By giving up our fear we will attain salvation."

The people looked around at each other.

"It would be nice to not be afraid," one old man said.

Someone gave a nervous laugh. Then silence fell again.

"We'll do it," Nanda said. "We'll have a ceremony to give offerings to Mount Govardhan. Everyone go home and collect whatever you wish to give. We'll meet at the foothills of the mountain."

There was an air of energy as the crowd broke up and each person hurried back to their own house. Nanda spoke quietly to the priests who nodded and began to change their arrangements according to the new plan.

Yashoda put down her pot of milk and took Krishna's face in her hands. "How are you so young and yet so wise?"

Krishna grinned at her. "It is all thanks to your blessings, Mother."

The preparations were finished for the ceremony. Each person in the village, according to their own ability, gave an offering to Lord Govardhan. Some gave grains, some gave fruits, some gave milk. Some gave seeds from their own fields. The offerings were lovingly placed into Govardhan's soil.

That was when an astonishing thing happened. A face appeared in the mountainside. It was Govardhan himself! The villagers gasped in awe.

"People of Vraj," he said, the earth vibrating with the depth of his voice.

They all folded their hands in respectful prayer.

"I accept your offerings," he told them. "You have pleased me greatly. I bless you that this mountain shall always be a refuge to you."

The people broke into delighted smiles. "Thank you, Lord!" the men shouted, raising their hands and dancing with joy.

But the ladies were staring at Govardhan's face. "He looks just like Krishna!" they gasped to each other. It was true. The face in the mountainside looked like Nanda and Yashoda's son, with his big eyes and gentle smile and cloud of curly hair.

"Why does Govardhan look like Krishna?" they asked each other. Finally, someone said to Yashoda: "Why does your son look like Govardhan?"

Yashoda hadn't noticed the resemblance until that moment. Then she gasped too. "I don't know!"

Krishna was an environmentalist. He advocated caring for the land and protecting the animals. This episode in his life where he taught the people to give back to the land is a very important lesson in the philosophy of the Mahabharat. Our environment is vital to not only our prosperity but our very survival. We must take care of it. And when we take care of it, it will take care of us.

Krishna explained that we should never take without giving back. For that reason Hindus worship the cow. Because she gives us milk we give her protection and love. We never kill her or harm her in any way. Similarly, other animals should be protected because they are all part of the environment and make up the delicate balance of our world.

When the ladies of Vraj looked at Govardhan they saw Krishna's face. What the Mahabharat is saying is that to care for the environment is an act of worship. It is devotion to God. All the bounty that is on this earth is granted to us by him. So by taking care of it and protecting it and giving back to it we are pleasing him.

One of the most important things to learn from this story is that Krishna told the people never to worship from fear. Fear will make you irrational. Fear is the root cause of all negative emotions, like anger and jealousy and hate. When people use fear to motivate others, it is harmful. Only by letting go of our fear do we find the path to salvation.

The Mahabharat teaches that God is not vengeful. He will not punish you if you don't worship him. Nor will he force you to worship. Instead Krishna encouraged the people to appreciate that which was kind and generous because, in truth, that was him. Whether they knew it or not, the people of Vraj worshipped Krishna when they prayed to Govardhan.

In Hindu philosophy, God does not want you to fear him but love him. Love is the greatest motivator, the highest bond. And true love is fearless.

As they go into their new year, Hindus remind themselves to be fearless.

To be continued...
Go here for the second part of this series.

Go here to view the previous Mahabharat post entitled Krishna's Flute.

The Test

2010-11-03T08:38:00.001-07:00

Sometimes - and by sometimes I mean all the time - we have to look around ourselves and see if our environment is healthy. This can mean our house, our work place, our family, our bodies, our food. This can also mean our friendships.

Are you happy when you're around the people who call themselves your friends? Do they make you feel loved, supported, understood? Or do they make you feel unsure and uneasy, like you don't belong but you don't know why? Do they make you feel bad about yourself by blaming things on you, or because nothing you do pleases them?

A true friend is never going to expect anything from you. They'll be there when you're well and when you're not well. They'll laugh with you and cry with you and be outraged when someone else hurts you. They'll never pretend with you. They'll never lie to you.

But that doesn't mean there won't be rocky moments. Over the course of any friendship there will be difficult times. Momemts when, either intentionally or unintentionally, you hurt each other.

The test is whether or not you can be honest when that happens.

In my own life, privately and professionally, I've tried my best to be as honest and straight forward as possible. Just this summer I had to tell a dear friend of mine that something she'd done had bothered me. It was hard to say because I knew that she hadn't meant to hurt me but if I didn't tell her then I'd be lying to her about my feelings.

She was stunned. She said she'd never meant to hurt me. But she was confused because she didn't understand how what she'd done was hurtful. When I explained my exact feelings and she saw how what she'd done could be interpreted as hurtful she was so sorry. She said she'd never do it again. The next day she added that she felt no malice and wanted to reassure me that she'd learned from this experience. She was glad that I'd been honest with her because otherwise this sort of thing could grow and grow until it ruined a friendship.

To this day our bond is as strong as ever - maybe even stronger - after that short intense conflict.

Recently a similar event occurred in my life. The behaviour of several of my friends distressed me, for a variety of reasons. The most pertinent reason was that, through their behaviour, it seemed that they were not really my friends. After confirming what was happening to myself, I decided to break with them because that was the most healthy option. However, I still wanted to do them the curtesy of telling them why I'd taken this decision.

Part of why I did this was because, in my heart, I wanted to see if I'd misread the situation. I mean, if they were my friends then they'd react in the way that any genuine friend would react and apologise, promising never to do what hurt me ever again. The conversation might be hard but it would end well because we all loved and cared for each other.

Unfortunately, that's not what happened. Once I was done calmly and clearly explaining how I was feeling and that I'd decided to break with them, they attacked me. They informed me that all my concerns were in my head. Then, when I told them that wasn't true and gave examples of why I felt this way, I was labeled - by all of them - as aggressive.

I supppose they thought that by attacking me they were defending themselves in the most effective way possible. (After all, "attack is the best defense" so sayeth the masters of chess.) But what they didn't realise was that their reaction was nothing but an admission of guilt. If they'd truly cared for me they never would have tried to blame me for their behaviour. They would have had the genuine caring to apologise and make amends. They would have tried to work it out.

But instead they'd been outed as false hearted and thus their claws came out.

Only one of them had the dignity (and the class) to apologise. Ironically, she was the only one I'd thought was innocent. See how it works? Because she cared about me she gave validation to my feelings and made a genuine apology. Whereas the others, who had been the instigators of the situation, attacked me because they didn't care about our friendship and were more interested in defending their egos.

Throughout the entire ten minutes of that conversation, while I kept telling them that I was still their friend and would always be their friend, they didn't once tell me the same. While I said that I wished them the best and bore them no malice, they didn't reciprocate my sentiments.

Even now, they probably still don't realise how their behaviour screamed of guilt.

When I arrived home from that meeting I was upset. But gradually over the next hour I worked through my thoughts and realised how my suspicions had been confirmed. Not only that, I'd seen miles into their character with this short conversation that I'd not seen in years of knowing them. It hurt to lose friends but the truth was that they'd never been my friends. I'd cared about them but they'd never cared about me. They'd had so little consideration for me that they couldn't say even once: "I'm sorry that I hurt you."

Throughout my life I've thought myself a good judge of character but in this instance I was wrong. That's humbling. How did I go so long without figuring them out? I suppose I was too reliant on my ego as well.

As for them, I'm still their friend. I still wish them the best. I still hope things work out for them. And I thank tham for teaching me this lesson.

My Master

2010-11-01T10:09:00.000-07:00

I turned Jedi Master years ago when I was very young. A spider bit me. My university friends know most of the story but they're all sworn to secrecy. And I don't talk about it much these days. That's why I find it so surprising when perfect strangers know my secret:

Dear Jai,

Congratulations! Jen here, and your blog, Jai Joshi's Tulsi Tree, is a Master Story Telling Blog!

We've scoured the web looking for amazing blogs that not only are great in content, but informative and helpful when needed. And we've determined you blog to be such! We like to call it a Master of its category!

You can see your blog and others at:

mastersdegreeonline.net/top-blogs/top-story-telling

As a winner, we honor you by presenting you with an awards badge. You can get your badge here:

mastersdegreeonline.net/top-blogs/top-story-telling/#badge

If you choose to accept or decline to be recognised, please let me know.

Please do not hesitate to call or email if you have any questions. Again, Congratulations and keep up the awesome work!

Cheers,
Jen Hughes
mastersdegreeonline.net

My jaw dropped to the ground as I read the email. Oh my God! How did she know? Did the spider talk?

And when I followed the link and saw the company I was with in the Master blog list, I was more stunned than ever. I hadn't Jedi mindtricked Jen so there was no reason for this email. It just came out of the blue.

And was I going to accept the award? Are you crazy? OF COURSE I was!

Here is my badge:

Online Masters

To be honoured in such a way is truly a humbling experience. Thank you thank you thank you! I feel like I've just been given an injection of the force straight to my bloodstream. Or like that spider bit me again. I needed that booster. Thank you so much!

Krishna's Flute

2010-10-29T12:10:00.000-07:00

This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all other Mahabharat posts go here.

I've been wracking my brains all week, trying to come up with a decent Mahabharat post for you. Please understand that my predicament is no fault of the epic itself but of my own weak and mortal mind that is subject to flaws and dullness and lack of insight. Therefore I'm failing in my duty to provide you with a Friday sweet this week. Anything I come up with simply does not do justice to the story.

Thus I have decided not to post anything substandard.

Instead, I'm going to leave you with some stunning flute music that will hopefully relax and inspire you as you go into your weekend.

Krishna, the greatest flute player in existence, enchanted all the world with his music. So be prepared for enchantment.

Go here for the previous Mahabharat post entitled The Night Before the War.

Go here for the next Mahabharat post entitled Never Fear.

I'm a Cartoon Character

2010-10-27T15:36:00.000-07:00

This entire day has gone by without my being able to blog or check out your blogs or comment or anything.

I was stuck sorting out a bunch of issues that were on my father's laptop. The virus protection ran out days ago but all the people who knew that didn't bother to tell me. So of course I was stuck cleaning up the mess. I've been working on it since 11am and only just finished now at 5:30pm. Freaking pop-ups! I'll have nightmares about them tonight.

On top of that, every time I logged on to blogger to post or comment (on a different computer) it wouldn't let me. The publish or post button wasn't there. Did this happen to anyone else? Or was I the only one? It's possible I was sitting under a rain cloud that followed me about all day like one of those cartoon characters. Wait while I paint a black outline around my body.

The good news is that the laptop is working fine once more. The bad news is that I'm not working so well anymore. I've got program names and software code swimming between my synapses, blocking up all my mental faculties.

Now I'm off to eat something. I've starved the entire day while the laptop has eaten my brain.

Freaking technology! When it works it's heaven sent. When it doesn't it's hell on earth.

Friends United!

2010-10-25T15:06:00.000-07:00

This weekend was very special to me. With the issues I've had recently it was like a burst of light in a dark room.

I managed to finally meet IN PERSON one of my longtime friends from Writers Digest Forum who is also a fellow blogger. Paige from Paradise Valley 2...Hell's Mountain came up to the D/FW area and since I live up here she asked me if I was free to meet up.

"Of course!" I told her. We decided on breakfast Sunday morning. We met up and Paige introduced me to her wonderful husband and daughter who had accompanied her. On top of talking all the way through breakfast we also talked all the way through lunch. We talked about everything from writing to blogging to God to other cultures to music to animal magnetism to God knows what else because I can't remember all the things we talked about. We talked and laughed for six hours straight! and it was only when I asked what the time was - thinking I had to get home by 3pm - that we realised it was 4.30! Woah! Where did the time go?

We just enjoyed each other's company that much.

Thanks so much for having breakfast with me, Paige, and for letting me also get to know your husband and daughter. It was such a lovely experience and I'm glad to have had the opportunity.

We've been friends for four years now and I foresee us being friends for many years to come.