Heaven and Hell

Many people search all their lives to determine if there is hell and heaven and if so where they exist.  The following story might help us to find out.







Long ago in Japan,  a big burly Samurai (warrior) came to a Roshi (wise man) and said, “Tell me the nature of heaven and hell.”

The Roshi looked at him in the face and said: “Why should I tell a scruffy, disgusting, miserable slob like you?”  The Samurai's face turned purple and his hair stood up, but the Roshi appeared not to notice and continued, “A miserable worm like you, do you think I should tell you anything?”

Consumed by rage, the Samurai drew his sword, and was just about to cut off the head of the Roshi when the Roshi said, “That’s hell.”



We all are inherently good, we just seem to have lost touch with our pure selves.  The Samurai suddenly realised, that he had just created his own hell. He had permitted himself to be filled with so much arrogance, and anger,  that he was about to kill someone.

Suddenly aware, the Samurai's eyes filled with tears he put his palms together and bowed to the Roshi.

The Roshi said, “That’s heaven.”

Thanks to my friend Sangeeta Karkhanis for this piece

Do we need more of 'successful' people?

The planet does not need more ‘successful people.’ The planet desperately needs more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers and lovers of all kinds. It needs people to live well in their places. It needs people with moral courage willing to join the struggle to make the world habitable and humane and these qualities have little to do with success as our culture has defined it.

— Tenzin Gyatso, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama

Let it be

Lord Buddha usually walked from village to village with a few of his followers.

On one such journey whilst travelling, they happened to pass a pond. They stopped there and the Buddha told one of his disciples, I am thirsty. Do get me some water from that lake there.

The disciple walked up to the pond. When he reached it, he noticed that, a bullock cart had just started crossing through the pond. As a result, the water became muddy and  turbid. The disciple thought, 'How can I give this muddy water to the Buddha to drink?'

So he came back and told the Buddha, "The water is very muddy. I don't think it is fit to drink."

After some time, again the Buddha asked the same disciple to go back to the pond and get him some water. The disciple went back to the pond again.  This time too he found that the pond was muddy. He returned and informed Buddha about the same.

After sometime, again the Buddha asked the same disciple to go back. The disciple reached the pond and found that the lake-water was absolutely clean. The mud had settled down and the water above it looked fit to be had. So he collected some water in a pot and brought it to the Buddha.

The Buddha looked at the water, and then he looked up at the disciple and said,  "Tell me what you did to make the water clean? Nothing. You let it be and the mud settled down on its own  and you got clear water."

Then he turned to all and said, "Mind is also like that!  When it
is disturbed, just let it be. It will settle down on its own. You
don't have to put in any effort to calm it down."


I am grateful to Mr. Arun Yallatikar for these words of enlightenment

This is good

This is good

There is a tale of an African king who had a childhood friend. That friend was a constant optimist, and no matter what happened in life, he always said the same thing: "This is good!" It occured that the king and his best friend went hunting, and on that hunting trip the friend would prepare the weapons and load the guns for his friend and king. But he misjudged, and while shooting, the gun exploded and took off one of the king's thumbs with it. The friend, seeing this, exclaimed: "This is good!" "How can this be good?" Fumed the king. "This is NOT good!". And upon their return, he ordered the friend thrown into the deepest jail cell. Some time later, the king went on another hunting trip, but not far from his destination, he was caught by a group of  cannibals, who took him back to their village to prepare a feast from his flesh. But, when they saw his thumb was missing, they sent him on his way, because it is bad luck to eat an unwhole person in their culture. Upon the king's return, he immediately had his friend freed, and as the friend stepped out of his jail cell, blinking at the light, the king said: "I am sorry my dear friend, you were right all along, it WAS good that I lost my thumb. It was wrong of me to put you in jail." "No, no!" Laughed the friend. "It was good!" "How can you say it was good?" The king was surprised. "Becuase if you hadn't, I would have been with you on this trip."

They Celebrate My Coming

Christmas promises to fill my phone and email inbox  with kind and loving messages . Most of them will be identical messages, zipping out from and to phones, computers, only occasionally touching hearts and minds.

God's messengers have come and gone, and only the fortunate have been genuinely touched, the majority of us remain asleep.

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Dusk enveloped the city but it did not dim the the celebrations. The lights in huts, mansions, and places of worship and work twinkled, as if to keep time with the singing and celebrations.

Avoiding the throngs I walked alone towards the park contemplating the Man whose greatness they were honouring. I meditated on the genius of the ages, born into poverty, lived virtuously and died on the cross.

I sat down on a bench and from afar looked at the crowded streets and listened to the hymns and songs of the celebrants. How long I sat I do not know but was jolted out of my reverie by the realisation of the presence of someone else sitting on the same bench.

After getting over my surprise, I studied my companion. Strangely clothed and dignified looking I said to myself "He is solitary, as I am." I greeted him and he replied "Good evening my son."

"Are you a stranger in this city?" I asked

"Yes I am a stranger in this and every city."

Consoling him I said " A stranger should forget that he is an outsider in these holy days, for there is kindness and generosity  in the people."

His eyes looked to the sky as if focused on a distant land and his lips quivered and he said in a sad voice, "I am more a stranger in these days than in any other."
"This is the time of the year the rich remember the poor and the strong have compassion for the weak."

He returned "Yes, the momentary mercy of the rich upon the poor is bitter, and the sympathy of the strong toward the weak is naught but a reminder of superiority."

I affirmed, "Your words have merit, but the weak poor cares not what transpires in the heart of the rich, and the hungry do not care how the bread he is craving is prepared."
And he responded, "The one who receives is not mindful , it is the giver who has to be mindful of the intent of giving,  that it is love and compassion given and not to build self esteem."

I was amazed by the wisdom and said, "It appears you are in need of help, will you accept some money from me?" And with a sad smile he replied, "Yes I am in desperate need, but not of money, or gold."

Puzzled, I asked, "What is it that you require?"
"I am in need of shelter. I am in need of a place where I can rest my head and my thoughts."
"Please accept this money from me and go to a lodge and take rest."
Sorrowfully he answered, "I have tried every lodge and knocked at every door, but in vain. I have entered every food shop, but none cared to help me. I am hurt, not hungry; I am disappointed, not tired: I seek, not a roof, but human shelter."

"What a strange person he is! Once he talks like a great philosopher and then like a madman!"
With a sad voice he said to me, "Yes I am a madman, sadly even a madman will be denied food and shelter, because the heart of man is empty."
I apologised to him saying, "Please forgive me for my reckless thought. Would you accept my hospitality and take shelter in my home?"

I knocked on your door and all the doors, more than a thousand times, and received no answer, " he answered severely. Then he added "You would not invite me to your home were you to become aware of my identity."
"Who are you?" I asked fearfully.
With a thunderous voice like the roar of the ocean, "I am the revolution who builds what man destroys, I am the tempest that  uproots the weeds so life may grow. I am the one who came to earth to banish war and spread peace on earth. Alas I am disappointed because man is content only in misery."

Then with hands outstretched and tears running down his cheeks he stood up high facing me. I saw the scars on his arms and the marks of nails in the palms of his hands: I prostrated myself before him convulsively and cried out, saying "Oh Jesus, the Nazarene!"
And He continued, in anguish, "People are celebrating my coming and in My honour  they pursue ages old tradition around My name. Yet I remain a stranger wandering from East to West upon this earth and no one really knows of Me. The animals have their burrows and the birds have the skies, but the Son of Man has no place to rest his head."

At that moment I lifted my head, and looked around and found only a column of smoke before me. In the relative silence of the park I heard the voice resound as if emerging from the depth of eternity. "The song of the voice may be sweet, but the song of the pure heart is the voice of heaven."


Adapted from 'Eventide of the Feast' by Khalil Gibran

God belongs only to me.

Some colleagues and I were enjoying listening to 'Kirtan'  (holy hymns) as we drove to a meeting.

My colleague asked, "Who composed these beautiful hymns, and who were the minstrels?
I stated with a cocky pride that the hymns were those originally sung by my Guru, Nanak Dev ji, in praise of that one unifying energy and force we call God.
The first Sikh Guru, and humanity's youngest and probably most modern spiritual faith.

In fact the day was special because it marked Guru Nanak ji's 543rd birth anniversary.

The moment I uttered these words I felt rather foolish.
'My Guru, my God, my faith', how could I for even a fraction of a moment presume that all these belonged only to me ?  Me, an insignificant bit of living dust was now claiming ownership over God and Guru.

Was not God one? How dare I believe for a fraction of a moment that the Guru was not for the universe and only for a select few like me? How stupid and arrogant of me?  How weak and petty was my belief?

Luckily my companions did not comment, either because they were as ignorant as I or  graciously indulgent of my shortcomings. I am not alone, for I share this same myopic vision with countless other followers of various faiths.

Some time ago, the Supreme court in Malaysia passed a judgement that a non Muslim may not use the name 'Allah', as only Muslims are permitted to do so. The simple meaning of 'Allah' is God, now belongs only to Muslims as per the learned judges of the court.

The creator is one and we call Him by a million names, our perceptions may change but He remains unchanged. He belongs to no one rather we belong to him and maybe to each other.

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Religion is supposed to be a unifying force and make people and the world a better place. Somewhere along the way,  religions and faiths have mostly lost their unifying purpose,  unless to attack others. Religions have turned violent, ugly and mostly irrelevant for spiritual growth of humanity.

If one looks below the surface it is quite evident that the problem is not with religion, it is with leaders of religion.
Spiritual phenomenon are now political movements, and politics is nothing but a game of power. Politics is war by other means. Wars have no winners only losers, and the greatest loss is our reverting back from human to beast.


We visit places of worship, where we meet so called 'religious persons'. We are asked to surrender to God. What they really mean is hand over your existence to these men, these self appointed, self serving so called representatives of God.

We are told to behave in a particular manner and to indulge in a certain way as it makes the individual subservient to other men.
This is why man's greatest cruelties, inhuman acts, miseries have been inflicted on mankind in the name of religion.
God did not create the world, He is the world for He has never been separate. He is in the air, water, soil, trees, animals, the mountains and the valleys, in the rainbow.

God is everywhere and belongs to all beings and all things. A truly religious person is easy to identify,  they are compassionate, tolerant, follows no dogma,  Through the true religion of love, friendship, contentment, tolerance,  with one another and with our world we can 

Namaste

It is customary that when people meet or depart they hail each other. It could be a salute, a bend, clap, rubbing of noses, an embrace or shaking of hands, etc. None however is more significant than 'Namaste' which originated in India and now popularly used around the world.

In Sanskrit 'Namaḥa' means  'respect',  'humble greeting’ or 'high regard' whereas 'te' means 'to you'. The greeting is performed with bowed head, palms touching,  fingers pointing upwards and the thumbs near the chest, to convey that with my entire being, (my soul, mind and body) I humbly greet you.

Indian belief is that we are all divine souls. 'Namaste' simply means my soul recognises yours and therefore honours divinity. 

Those who perform the greeting with their complete being, see God in everyone and all things.

Variations to this greeting are Namaskar, Namaskaram and Sat Sri Akal. The latter performed by Sikhs which means that I greet the divinity within you which is true and timeless. 

Namaste

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How you treat one person is 

how you treat the whole universe, 

because everything is One.