Category: Blogging

Daffodils – The Path of Self-Realisation

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I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils,…..  

“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings.” The poem, ‘The Daffodils’, by the renowned Romantic poet, William Wordsworth, is a mysterious blend of Nature and philosophy.

……I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

Often, described as the Nature poetry, the daffodils are seen as an object of beauty that showers happiness in solitude. Indeed, for a school going kid, the poem is an excellent tool that subtly encourages visualisation.

Very recently I laid my hands on a collection, ‘Select English Poems’, compiled by A. Parthasarathy, an acclaimed exponent of Vedanta (Vedanta is an ancient Indian philosophy). The Preface to the book states that the select poems convey great human values, and “it ushers you to the goal of Self-realistion.”

And, there was ‘The Daffodils’, a path to spiritual Enlightenment!

According to the spiritual analysis of  ‘The Daffodils’,   “encompasses the three disciplines followed by meditation: karma (action), bhakti (devotion), and jnana (knowledge).

I stop to re-read the poem again. May be, the poet was a spiritual seeker engaged in selfless services, detached from the worldly pleasures, and who experienced Universal love, “the essence of devotion”. May be, his awareness gained him the Universal knowledge of Oneness.

May be, it was his self realisation that filled contentment.

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.

I am left wondering.

French Fries, Irresistible !

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French fries, the irresistible slices, have become a staple in our weekend diet.  Ignoring the calorie counts and the intake of starch, we blink away when holding a plate full of fries.

It is even more fun to watch a child when s/he is offered French fries. They pick them and observe them, before taking small bites. At times, they place a potato fry next to another to measure its height.

Technically speaking, the “French fries are batons of deep fried potatoes.” Here, the potatoes are  cut uniformly into long, but not too thin strips and is seasoned with salt.

My curiosity as to “why it is called French fries” took me on a reading trip down the history lanes. However, the claim on “who introduced the fries” is drawn in people and places, especially Belgium.

Well, to us, the French fries were introduced by a McDonald’s take away. They were “golden on the outside and soft and fluffy on the inside”; just as the company has been advertising. Undoubtedly, they have popularised French fries world over.

With the growing number of packed food, frozen French fries come  handy. Nevertheless,  with a little time consuming peeling, cleaning and chopping, the fries can be made at home too. To avoid excess calories, pan frying is recommended.

Agreed, the home-made fries may not be as French as the branded fries. Yet, the wonder in the eyes of the children at having them home-made makes the mothers happy.

Water Flows to Still

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“What would you like to have, regular or bottled water?”

How exotic does it sound, when water is addressed differently!

If the statistics are to be believed, there are more than 3000 brands of bottled water for the consumers. It is even more interesting to find the description of the “source of water” that goes along with the bottles. Not to forget, a brand means the water comes for a cost. The older the source of water, the upper goes the charges to drink it.

I agree that, water has taste. It depends on the type of water that we receive. At times, it may be the ‘odour and taste’ of the chemical that has been administered for its purification. Certainly, we follow our own rituals to make the water “germ free” and “safe”. Often it is with the help of a water purifier, but the traditional practice of boiling and cooling is the popular choice.

Trying to figure out the form of water, I close my eyes. A few seconds it takes, and I start visualizing clear, flowing water from the hills. It runs into rivulets, playfully dragging the fallen leaves and branches, and tracing paths and making new. It appears to enjoy every moment of its unrestrained free flow, elusive though. Yet, it remains pure.

I cup my hands to scoop the water, clean and transparent. Lifting my hands, slowly I take a gulp. Sweet…. I recall tasting the spring water in the hills of Mussoorie (A hill station in north India). Nostalgia hits! My eyes open searching. Indeed, our lifeline, water speaks mysteriously. And I reach out for my still water.

Sunday an Illusion

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illusion

Yet another Sunday. The thought of a holiday gives immense pleasure. Without jotting down, I tell myself, I am going to take a break from work. There are no prior appointments, there is no alarm, and there are no ringing phones.

I wake up on a fresh note. And I smile to myself. “It’s Sunday!”

The day begins well. Taking more time than usual, I relax with the newspaper and enjoy the music playing in the background. A little later into the morning, I walk into the kitchen. I set my agenda for the day, mechanically. Daily chores are taken care off. Cooking, clearing, and cleaning follows naturally.

The listed shopping, outing and meeting with friends happen along the way. The day progresses as desired. There is ample time in hand. So we decide to sort out some of our weekly plans ahead. Mentally take note of weekdays and organise the “what to cook” and “what to wear” bit of necessity. Further, the books, games and television fill in.

Time still seems to have granted us extra hours. That’s when realisation hit me. Staring into the bleak evening sky, I rewind the day’s events. The alarm did not ring. I did wake up at my usual time. The day might have begun differently, but the routine remained the same.

A beautiful illusion my body and mind agreed upon. Convinced that I have taken a break, I relaxed to the lovely Sunday. And I hear myself humming, Just an Illusion (Imagination)

Never let your feelings get you down
Open up your eyes and look around
It’s just an illusion, illusion, illusion.