Tuesday, July 28, 2015

The Divine Fire

Not always do you find the time to read that book you wish listed. Even less so if you are preparing for IITJEE. But not if its written by Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam. Coming from the typical Indian middle class family, it becomes difficult to negotiate through the daunting challenges, especially psychological ones, to make your way through the struggles of daily life. The only row and rudder that remains sometimes, is a healthy dose of inspiration. That your dreams are as much, if not more worthwhile than anybody else's. That disappointments aren't there to stay. That means and ends run like the banks of a river. And that a good teacher can change your life for ever. This and much more. Finding a sensible thought resonating with your mind is like hitting an old friend in a crowd. That's what he said, as flipped through his autobiography.

Not many books or authors can make one feel like Wings of Fire did. It was a story more of love, compassion and hope than of struggle. It was probably the resounding force of truth in his words that made me try to imbibe a much as I could- not just me, but countless others. I believe it was much more than, as a review on its cover proclaimed, "worth its weight in gold". For what can be more valuable than igniting the hopes of the future citizens of the country, when all they get to know otherwise is cut-throat competition, scams, irresponsible governance, callous administration, corrupt politicians, uninspired teachers and students alike, and weaker familial and societal ties.

It becomes difficult to find inspiring teachers in the world that we have today. It is difficult and un-inspiring to see that most people around you are able and yet unwilling to give life all that they can- not just teachers and professors. Often, even when inspiration abounds, excellence is a rare feat in today's world of quick bucks and lesser ideals. And yet, the spark of hope has to be kept going. Dr. Kalam described vividly in his book the mentors and teachers who groomed, inspired and mentored him. He was extremely blessed to have been around the stalwarts of his time and age- nevertheless, he had worked hard to earn it. And he made sure through his tireless striving that he inspired many more, not just in his generation, but right till the youngest schoolkid of the current crop that he could reach out to. His thoughts were plain and innocent, preserved by divinity for a purpose that he devoted himself to. There were no frills in his message, nor intellectual verbosity. His were words of purpose that came from his heart and reached all hearts- the simplest and the most complex ones alike. His extensive tours to reach people, especially students of all ages and in all parts of India were a testimony to how much inspired a man can be, and how age is no barrier in reaching out to every countryman to raise his/her consciousness to the highest levels that he could. Indian mythology talks of Raktabeejasura- the evil demon whose every drop of blood falling on the ground led to the rise of another demon of equal might. The Devi finally defeats him. Dr. Kalam was an antithesis of Raktabeejasura in every sense of the word. Every drop of his sweat and blood was devoted to creating many more, I am sure, he would have wanted it so, even better than him- peaceful warriors. Such is the positive force of his thoughts. So powerful that even the end came while he was doing what he loved the most- interacting with students, being a teacher. The moving account of his co-author and advisor, Srijan Pal Singh, brings me closer to the picture of what an outstanding human being he has been.

A philosopher, Rudra veena player, scientist, lifelong student and inspiring teacher- he was what many of our generation aspire to be. His mention of his own Professor's "surgical knife" for engineering drawings, that made him strive for excellence in that area, largely made me fall in love with engineering drawings. He describes his first train journey outside south India as if it were a pilgrimage to get acquainted to the different colors and flavours of his motherland. It delights me to this day and I quietly chuckle to myself whenever I come across regions or people from regions far from where I was born. The unifying spirit that runs through, despite innumerable grounds of difference, between different corners of the country sends chills down my spine. I'm sure anyone who has ever known him, or his enthusiasm for the nation and its people will cut across all the "-isms" that divide us. Often complacency builds up inside me, as it did today, until I read the oath he made a little girl take during his visit to IIT Bombay Techfest earlier this year- "Small aim is a crime!"

And such was my enthusiasm when I had entered into the first year of engineering, courtesy Dr. Kalam, that I still cherish this page from the book of another subject that I loved. Here it goes.



Deepest love and respect to you sir. May we have more of your kind- teachers and students and professionals alike, and most importantly, human beings. This is my prayer and homage.

To Heaven and Back :) - on your marks!

The onset of Monsoon had been a Goan retreat for me- watching virgin beaches and forts, as well as the towns and villages (less talked about, but equally beautiful to get immersed into the natural beauty)- sans tourists and more importantly, sans the garbage. And an impromptu one at that- with wind in my hair and the sands at my feet! Life has been offering pleasant surprises of late, and I consider myself incredibly lucky for the wonderful ways in which they unfold- welcoming each one with open arms :)

No wonder, I feel like a pilgrim, and not a tourist when I travel. :) 
Every new place evokes a new untouched corner of my mind. And I feel closer to myself than before.

When the Goa sojourn ended, and I was about to return to Mumbai, waiting for the bus to leave, I began pinging people randomly. Just because I was feeling too good and happy, enjoying my own company as much as I had enjoyed the place- and wanted to share it. And when a former colleague of mine just remarked that he had a road trip to Leh-Ladakh planned  three weeks later with a group of enthusiastic amateur bikers, I just couldn't hold myself back. I immediately asked if I could join and the group luckily obliged. This had been on my mind for the last one year, but didn't expect it to happen anytime soon. It was on my bucket list, planned more like a graduation trip, one with close friends. Getting people you know take time out of their different schedules at the same time is a Herculean task, which, despite all its turn-offs has made me independent enough to venture out shopping/eating/travelling alone quite frequently. So, unwilling to let go of an opportunity, and regardless of the risks and apprehensions of a road trip in a strange land, with mostly strangers, I immediately booked my tickets for Delhi, where I would join them. And then, I started my jugaad for woolens and browsing blogs for dos and don'ts.

On 4th July, I reached Delhi in the morning and boarded the bus to Manali a few hours later. 5-6 hours after leaving Delhi, and traversing Haryana & Punjab, we entered Himachal Pradesh, the land of the Gods. My excitement was scaling up. I had read quite a few accounts of Acute Mountain Sickness of travellers in Ladakh, and had almost suffered one myself on a trek to Surya Top in Uttarkashi, a few years ago. But this time, I was just trying to keep myself as observant of myself as possible. I didn't want to skip witnessing even a single moment this time, come what may. And I had increased my pranayams and Surya Namaskars before the trip to do whatever I could in the remaining time, to make myself more adaptable, especially when it came to lung capacity.

When I woke up early in the morning, we were 3-4 hours from Manali. The monsoons had just hit HP it seemed. And my parents were sending me constant reminders of the unfavorable weather forecasts of HP for the next one week. In the narrow valley below, I could see the strong currents of the river Beas, clouded by mist, and nestled between mountains, which were covered with trees and at places close to human settlements, apple orchards. Wherever the road ran along the river, signboards cautioned people not to venture to the banks. The night was light a long dark tunnel, gate-keeping the sights and sounds of heaven. The sight of the magnificent Beas itself took my breath away. Everything that followed, I said to myself, would be a bonus!

When with nature, I go blank. Witnessing the Creator and Creation in all their glory and splendor is meditative. Who am I? Surely not important enough than the beauty around me. What is life? Surely not serious enough to remember right now. What is my purpose? Surely not being anywhere save this moment. Nothing is important, not even I. What else but here and now? 

Kullu is the district headquarters and Manali, 40-50 km further, is the focal point for tourists from all over the world, who then diverge into the different directions, Ladakh, Lahaul-Spiti/Spiti valley, and other famous as well as less trodden treks and drives to escape into the Himalayas for it can give them all they want of it. Adventure, thrill, respite & calm- more the merrier. We reached Manali at around 10 am on the morning of 5th July. The goal was to freshen up, buy/rent the remaining necessities of the trip, get the bikes and hit the road in 4-5 hours, which we did.

And meanwhile, in the din of the bike repair training by the mechanic, the wrapping and mounting of rucksacks on bikes, the verification of documents, the purchase of gum boots and medicines, and the discussion of the itinerary, I was trying hard to memorize the names of everybody else in the group.

Acclimatization!