Category: Perspective (Page 14 of 20)

An Unfair Freedom

May 26, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

After a 9 hour delay, the train finally chugged onto platform 6 on New Delhi Railway Station. I quickly alighted from the train and rushed to the luggage compartment to unload my bicycle.

Navigating our way through the sea of people on the platform, we finally reached the parcel office. I got an exit pass for the bicycle and we were free to hit the road.

Outside the railway station, I stopped to affix my pannier bags and backpack onto the bicycle. I had my helmet on and the safety lights Buddha had left for me were flashing intermittently. I put on a reflective jacket to make myself more visible in the traffic.

Quite evidently, it was not a common sight in that area and I was the subject of fascination for those five fleeting minutes. Once I finished fixing the bags, and safety lights I looked up to the stares of a dozen rickshaw pullers. Virtually invisible in the the dark oblivion of their existence, their faces lit up with each flicker of the safety lights on the bike.

Rickshaw pullers have a challenging life in Delhi. They have a tricycle which houses two passengers at the back, sometimes their luggage too. Never do they carry less than a hundred kgs on a trip.
They have to pull an old, ungeared tricycle through the maze of traffic in sweltering heat of summer. It was evening already at that moment but the air was warm and scathing. They are too many in number, fighting for a living that promises just enough food to get by, a space to sleep in their own rickshaw under a flyover and a dreamless sleep earned from exhaustion.
A little life they wrestle out of the spiral of their own fate.

I would find myself to be happy about carrying three big bags on my bicycle around Thailand. I thought I grew strong and tough with that experience. But the sight of these rickshaw pullers annihilated even a tiniest shred of pride I had in my heart.

I am going to bicycle further north from Delhi towards the foothills of the Himalayas. The ride will be mostly uphill and challenging.
But, I have an unfair advantage that life gave me without my asking.

The advantage, of having the freedom to choose my challenges, my struggles.
I have the liberty to take the road I like, of how much weight I want to carry, to stop if I am tired or if find a moment worth capturing.

Comparing it to the misery of a life the rickshaw puller leads where he cannot choose the load he has to carry, the route he wishes to take, to grant himself a modicum of rest to recover,
I felt my challenge was far too easier, for it was a challenge of my own choosing.

I left the scene quite soon, leaving them with a topic to discuss with each other before they had earned enough to call it a night.

I realised that even the freedom to choose a journey full of struggles is a privilege.

For, when your life is interminably leashed to a struggle that your fate brings with it,
And you don’t even have the choice to rest, forget choosing your own struggle,
One feels like the mythical Sisyphus, tasked to roll up a huge stone uphill, that only rolls back downhill eventually.
And every day, my brothers on three wheels, start downhill with full awareness that they will also end up downhill at night, maybe on every night of their lives.
There is never an uphill vantage point for them to take a moment and enjoy.

Helpless, yet grateful,
I pedal on slowly,
With the weight of the realisation,
Of how simple my struggle is.

What time is it Buddha?

May 25, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

I have a little polaroid camera in my bag. Whenever I find a kind and helpful person while travelling, I click a Polaroid picture for them as a gift.
I had the fortune of meeting a kind bicycle mechanic, Nu, in Chiang Mai.
He helped me even when his shop was shut for the Thai new year.
Moved by his desire to help, I clicked him a nice Polaroid picture with one of his cats in his lap.
He took out a marker to write the date at the bottom of the picture.
It read ‘13-4-2561‘

For a moment I was taken aback.
Was it possible that I was time travelling and breached past the time-space continuum to a point in future?

Nu sensed my curious mix of surprise and disbelief.

‘It is the Buddhist calendar date. Don’t worry !’ he shared smilingly.

I was relieved and a tad disappointed at the same time. Wouldn’t it be fun to have time travelled after all !

The year in which we live is also relative to our set of beliefs. I am sure there will be remote tribes where it would be another calendar year, if they believe in calendar years at all.

That night, back at my hostel, I was sitting in the lounge and writing on my laptop. My laptop still displayed the Indian standard time on it while my cellphone had the Thai time.
I looked at the laptop of a friend sitting next to me. Her clock showed the time in Germany. I looked at another friend who was waiting for sunrise in the west coast of USA so that he could call and talk to his family. It was late at night in Thailand but in our minds we also had the time of the places where our friends and family lived.

I wondered, well,
even time, at the same instant,
Is relative to where a person is.

The other day someone shared an article with me that asserted that time is merely a concept of our own making. Our sense of time is a locally agreed upon reality here on earth. Our understanding of time warps when viewed in the grand timelessness of the cosmos.

How do I make sense of time after all these stimuli broadening my perspective within a span of a day, which is also a local cosmic reality.

I found myself in a Buddhist temple the next morning.
Sitting in front of Buddha’s statue, I asked,

‘What year is it now Buddha?’

He chuckled and replied,
‘There is no real answer for that question.’

‘What day is it then?’

‘ It is today.’ he said matter of factly.

‘And what time is it?’

‘It is now.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘The only true, non negotiable, non relative time, in now. No matter where you are on earth, that stands true, doesn’t it?’

‘Hmm…so ‘now’ is the correct time in your opinion.’

‘It is not my opinion. It is a truism.’ he said.

‘I see, Now is the right time.’

‘Yes, Now is the right time, to do what truly matters to you most.’

We shared the same half smile, the Buddha and I.
I clicked a Polaroid picture with the Buddha. I felt no need to put a date stamp on it.

Enlightened by the profoundly simple sermon, I got up with enthusiasm,
‘To do what truly matters to me, in the present moment.’

‘Now.’

On an artist’s state being

May 24, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

‘So what music are you listening to these days?’ I asked my friend Vijay over a phone call.’

‘Ah, I must share this artist’s music with you. His playing is absolutely mesmerising. It is a wedlock of poetic expression with reckless abandon. He plays as if he doesn’t care who is listening or not listening for that matter. He just does his thing. I wonder how long it would have taken him to have that state of being.’

‘Sounds fascinating ! Do share his music with me !’

‘I will, when we hang up.’

And we went on with our friendly, fruitful conversation.

The way Vijay described the musician’s state of being made an impression on me.
I remembered a phrase a dance teacher used to say when people were shy to sway. He would say,

‘Dance as if nobody is watching.’

While that helped people for a while, of course their conscious state of mind came back to them in no time.

But when kids dance, they know the whole world around them is watching. Their expression spouts out in bountiful measure nevertheless.
They don’t dance as if nobody is watching !

Maybe the way to dance best is to dance with a subtle awareness. An awareness that people might be watching. Or not.
Consciousness is such a gift. It should never be stifled by being ‘conscious’!

As a musician, I have also felt this state of being ‘conscious’ while playing. It happens even to the best of us.

We all fall in that trap of trying to be ‘good enough’ as someone. That someone could be your favourite artist, a contemporary or your own mentor.
But in reality we can only be as good as our best selves. We can never be as good as someone outside our own being.
We can only push further and reach the heights we are capable of. The moment we stop having an external benchmark, a sense of emancipation will dawn on us.

While you should always strive to learn from everyone,
from a master to a novice,
The goal should always be to reach your best possible expression,
Your truest artistic splendor.

And it is best achieved by not striving to ‘be like someone.’
Surprisingly, it is not even achieved by striving ‘to be the best version of yourself.’

The most natural way to progress is just by ‘being’.

It might sound psuedo-spiritual.
And I must admit that it is a difficult state of being to win back.

But we had that state of being as kids.
I am not talking about mastery. Kids are not masters at an artform per se.
I am talking about that subtle awareness.
And the state of just ‘being’,
and expressing until you’re spent for the moment, for the day.

We all had that state of being.
We just have to unlearn.
Unlearn the habit of self-doubt, comparison, and the state of being ‘conscious’.

Now that I wonder about my friend’s question of,
‘I wonder how long it would have taken him to have that state of being’,

I think that the artist preserved the childlike ‘being’ he had as a kid.
Maybe he has always had that state of being.
Like we all did once upon a time.

And we can all strive for that state of being.
In the interest of our best artistic expression.
In the journey of being the best human we can be.

Sometimes the fastest way to learn,
Is to Unlearn.

How to open up your heart

May 23, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

I had the fortune of volunteering at ‘Mindful Farm’, a little community nestled among hillocks in North Chiang Mai, Thailand.

One of the things I liked most about being there was the nutritious breakfast we used to eat, seated on the floor, in complete silence, mindfully.

After breakfast, one of us would read a little story about mindfulness in daily life to everyone else. The founder, Pi Nan, had a wonderful collection of stories to be read out loud every morning.

On a particular morning, my friend Alice was reading out a story. She read the story with such an endearing cadence that all of us just wanted to keep on listening. Giving space and emphasis as it deemed fit, she beckoned us all on a journey, like Pied Piper would with his pipe.
After she finished reading the story, we all were secretly wishing that she kept on reading !

We got up from our places and continued on to work on the farm.
While we were busy working, I took a moment to compliment her about the way she read the story.

‘Alice, how did you learn to read like that?’

‘Ah, did you enjoy it?’ she asked.

‘Yes, indeed. It was read with such empathy and emotion. I felt as if I was a kid in a nursery and my teacher was reading a gripping little tale to me.’

‘Well, I am a teacher back in Myanmar. I teach kids. I have to be able to read engagingly, don’t I?’

‘Ah, that explains it!’

‘You know, I feel that we assume that we no longer need to be read to once we learn how to read. But isn’t it a joy to be be listening to a story read with the right emotion and flow?’

‘By all means !’ I assented.

And we carried on our work in the little patch of the garden.

Yesterday, my friend’s father and I sat down to share time and space. I narrated a short story to him I had written a few days ago. He recited a few of the couplets he had composed.
He had such joy in his spirit when he recited his own poetry composed in an agreeable melody.

Once he was done reciting he spoke,

‘You know, my wife has insomnia. When she cannot fall asleep at night, I sing my poetry as a lullaby to her. Before she knows, she falls asleep like a content baby.’

‘How do you think that works Uncle?’ I asked.

‘You know, I think we all feel that only little babies need lullabies to fall asleep. But, we could all use a lullaby in our life.’

Smiling gently to his wise observation, we enjoyed the evening breeze.

These two experiences with Alice and my friend’s father got me thinking about the things we do away with as we grow up.

Most experiences we consider so precious as kids are deemed to be childish.

Who doesn’t remember sleeping to a lullaby? Or a short story performed by Granny in the dark theatre of the night, that soothed us into a dream filled sleep?
The caressing on our ruffled hair by Mom, when we were down with fever? Her peculiar scent that made you feel you’re home in her arms?

As we grow up we do not let these experiences into our lives. We dare not to sleep in our mother’s lap, rationalizing our fear, fooling ourselves out of what we might truly need.

After an age, subconsciously we seek the same feelings as we did as a child, from a partner.

Yes, we need to listen to someone with deep anticipation and intent, just how we used to listen to those childhood stories.
We need to listen to them whisper in our ear, to lead us to a sound sleep, just how a lullaby used to do back in the day. We need to be touched, lovingly, like we allowed our mother to once upon a time. We need that embracing scent of our beloved, to feel home, no matter where we are, just like our mother’s scent made us feel.

Our adulthood comes with a baggage. The inertia of all those walls that we build between us and our guileless heart.
Our heart was open to love as children.
But as we grew up, we even started feeling awkward when embracing our own parents, something that used to be so natural !
How is this growth in any sense of the word?

Sometimes, growth means to retreat.
Retreat to a state of pure being,
Of having an open heart,
An all embracing soul,
That touches and let’s itself be touched.
That seeks out an embrace,a lullaby, a story, the scent of home…

The Blues of the Sky

May 22, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

I opened my eyes to see Buddha’s golden statue glint feebly in star light. It took me a moment to place myself and realise that I had been sleeping in a Monastery the whole night. The toil of the days cycling had anesthesized my wakefulness as soon as I lay down.

Once I awoke, I stepped outside the enclosure. There was not a single artificial light in the vicinity. I was in a remote part of the country, virtually untouched by light pollution.

I looked up, and heard a call,
Of countless clusters of stars , shining light years away, revealing themselves in the absence of moonlight.
Transfixed, I ogled as if I’d found a treasure all for myself.
I clicked many pictures with the lens of my eye, the shutter of my lashes.
I would not move an inch until the sun rose and claimed the sky for itself. A surreal experience from my last few days in Thailand.

A few days ago, I reached Kolkata, India.
I landed at 3am. I felt an excitement to witness the night sky again.
I quickly assembled my bicycle outside the airport and headed out excitedly, to embrace the sky.
But alas, the stars were all in hiding. Lights from sodium lamps blended with the haze in the sky to obscure the marvel of the milky way.
I waited patiently for the sunrise, hoping that it would be treat for the eyes.
But the haze in the sky casually relegated the majesty of the sun.

It was such a contrast to witness these two different night skies in two different realities.

I happened to read a newspaper article yesterday which threw light on the rising pollution in Indian cities that led to respiratory ailments in citizens. I imagined people would go to a doctor to ask for a medicine to help them cope and recover.

It felt as if we are trying to save ourselves from a world of our own making. And we are trying to solve our own individual problem with pollution and letting things be, as long as we can afford to brush the dirt under the carpet.

But what about the dirt in the sky?

One effect of technology on culture is that we do not look too far beyond. We have the world at a distance of half a feet, in the confines of our glowing smartphone screens. Much of our gaze never goes beyond this vantage, to look up and sense, that the we are deserting the sky, effacing a star from our view with each passing day.

While one can go to a doctor to find a cure for his own respiratory ailment,
Where do we go to find a cure for an ailment that inflicts our collective extended being, that includes our view of the night sky?

Maybe we need to rename the institutions that monitor how much further we can push our polluted existence.

Maybe we need a ‘Nightsky Saving Board’ than an ‘ Air Pollution Control Board.’

For we will be reminded of the problem at hand and have to look no further than the sky to realise our responsibility to act as windshield wipers for our dirty skyline.

Sometimes renaming can bring us closer to the reality we must collectively rise up to change.

The most severe of tragedies is when a tragedy becomes mundane and commonplace.

Let’s find a way,
So that our kids don’t get used to
A hazy sky,
A starless night.

The sky is feeling blue.

Let’s find a way to cheer it up !

My fuel and fire

May 21, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Touring with a bicycle comes with its own baggage. Quite literally. I have two pannier bags and a backpack strung up to the carrier at the rear of my bicycle. Collectively, with three liters of water and bagful of fruit, it would weigh around 25 kgs. My bicycle itself weighs around 18kgs and I weigh close to 54 kgs.
Adding all that up, we are a unit of 97 kgs.

The sight of the bicycle when fully loaded up is quite different from when it is not.
On first look, it almost seems impossible to an onlooker that a bicycle could support so much weight and bulge on the sides.
Often while bicycling through rural parts of Thailand, I would be greeted with curious stares from perplexed village folk. They would seem to be looking too closely at the bicycle as if trying to spot an engine or a motor that’s fuelling the loaded up beast of a bicycle I fondly call Mowgli.

When I would stop at a roadside shop to eat, they would look at my lean body frame and wonder how I am even biking this thing onward. I would be tendered sympathy and encouragement in equal measure by locals.

I wondered why it seemed so impossible to all the people I met with.

Then, I took a good look around to see all the other vehicles on the road.

Ah, they all had a big fuel tank!
My bicycle doesn’t !
And that’s where lay the difference.

I moved on to embrace the approaching breeze on the highway.

Curiously I asked my bicycle,

‘Mowgli, I just realized why people stare at us with such wonder !’

‘Really? What do you think the reason is?’

‘Because we don’t have a fuel tank !’

‘Ah, that’s not true’ dismissed Mowgli.

‘What do you mean?’

‘We definitely have a fuel tank!’

‘Really? Where is it?’

‘The fuel tank is right there inside you.
In you mind.
It has always been there.
And each new adventure, each new experience, fuels us up even more.
No wonder we don’t have to stop to refuel like other vehicles. In fact we have to keep riding to refuel!’

‘That’s wise of you my bicycle! But if there was always fuel in my mind, why did I not start a journey earlier?’

‘Oh ! Simple.
Because you did not have an ignition to kindle the fuel inside you.’

‘And what’s that ignition Mowgli?’

‘My humble self, your bicycle, isn’t it so?’

And I wondered,

Yes! This humble bicycle has ignited my fuel to head on a wonderful journey of deep discovery,
of worlds inside and outside.

Singing to the soothing breeze, our collective unit of fuel and ignition, with all our luggage and love,

Head on in search of newer lands
Of friends to be.

A Sparrow and Nostalgia

May 20, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

It was my first day in Thailand. I was sitting in a nondescript street food shop in Bangkok.

Absolutely overwhelmed by the gush of novelty that my senses were bombarded with within hours of arrival, I sat in deep wonder.
Every frame of my vision was a new movie. Towering skyscrapers, the plentitude of seven eleven shops, a pool of people from a different race altogether, zipping miniature motorbikes, tuk tuks and takeaway shops thronging the streets, a bright blue sky painted in between the parallel stretch of towers…

The street had a a whirlpool of odours too. Of colognes that promise proximity, of grilling chicken wings on a charcoal fire, of freshly cut pineapple, of a soupy stock bubbling at a noodle shack, of the moistness in the air, of air conditioning and of a plentitude of people…
It was a kaleidoscopic joyride of novelty for these two senses,
Of sight and smell.

But at one particular moment, in a sudden flash, I felt as if I was right at home. I felt like a six year old, absolutely cosy in a home environment. I wondered why I felt like that.

Soon, a little bird came a rested itself right next to my bicycle. And it let out a soft chirrup.

That was it.
That was the moment.
I felt completely drenched in nostalgia of childhood. All the haze of history cleared up with the coo of the little bird.
You know what bird it was?

A little sparrow.

Most young adults in India have grown alongside the song of the sparrow. But a decade ago, their numbers started dwindling, and as of now, spotting a sparrow is a rarity.
But in Thailand, sparrows are thriving. Everywhere I went, they had a troop posted, for me to feel safe and at home.
I was a child, all throughout my journey.

I have pictures in albums that have tried to capture my childhood best. And I have access to them as I wish. It is great to be able to see what you looked like and the experiences you went through as a child through photographs. But after a point, as we’ve come back to them so many times, we know exactly what to expect. The nostalgia, the memories and pretty much like a re-run of your favourite show. Nothing changes,
you reminisce the same glorious days and feel happy about it.

But in the decade I grew up in, capturing sound was neither a mainstream technology or the preferred way to capture memories. The sound of our childhood echoes in a deep cavern in our heart. While being inside of us, it is still the most inaccessible place in the whole wide world.
Is there a way I can hear the voices of me and my friends playing together as kids?
Sadly, no.

But, sometimes you find yourself right inside that deep cavern in your heart, one you had absolutely forgotten about, unlocked by the spell of a little bird.

The sparrow brought me back my childhood, when I least expected it, in a land I had never been to before.

Oh the power of unsolicited nostalgia.!
It is the closest one can get to a time machine.

This experience also got me thinking about the way we capture our memories in the present day and age. We are obsessed with clicking images, for it has never been as easy in history. We have a stream of visual information chroniced in our memory cards.
How much of it is imprinted in our memory is another question.

A lost phone, a corrupted memory card, wipes out all the memories we thought we had wrestled from an inaccessible past. Or even while we have all the pictures that we so avidly click, how many of us go back and revisit them ?

Clicking pictures and shooting videos has become an instinct, a reflex of sort.
We have stronger memory cards but our memory weakens as a result.

It is time to reimagine how we capture our memories.

Maybe clicking less and looking more closely captures a memory best.
A memory is an abstraction of things that you cannot individually piece together.

A digital picture of a pajama party in college captures an image.
But does it capture the reverb in the room, the crisp of the chips, the drops of a leaky faucet, the leering orange light of the lamppost, the smell of feet, the feel of the fabric, the warmth in the comfortable touch of friends, the grain of wood, the roaring flame of a bonfire,
the howl of an owl seeking a mate at midnight….?

Sometimes a memory is best captured when hand-picked ,
experienced element after element, that makes for the collective feeling of happiness at that moment.

So, the next time you find a moment worth capturing, fight the urge to just click a picture.

Meditate over the moment,
Engage all you senses,
Mindfully.

For you are collecting bits of nostalgia of the future, to be safely put away in that deep cavern in your heart.

And the more you do this, the more unsolicited nostalgia you will find in life, in unexpected places,
Even in the gentle coo of a canary,
Or in the howl of an owl at midnight.

I have a little sparrow in my heart. And it knows all my secrets.

I wish you luck, in finding the bird that holds the spell to the deep cavern in your heart,
That leads you to,
the reveire of your childhood.

Choosing the right path

May 19, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

I was due to leave Thailand in a couple of days. Wondering how to get my bicycle packed in a case, I looked around for a bike shop that could help me.
Fortunately, I found a bike shop, ‘Bok Bok Bike’ run by a kind gentleman named Ma.

I went in to be greeted by his warm, welcoming smile. I felt as if I had arrived at the right place.
I asked him if he could help me get a cardboard casing for packing my bike for the flight back home.
He readily agreed and said I could come on the day I had my flight and pack it up the way I wished.
I felt relieved on hearing his offer.
I asked him for the best way to get the bicycle and my luggage to the airport. He got wondering. He seemed to be thinking of ways I could transport my bike. He suggested that I could book a big cab to the airport.
The following day I reached his shop at 2pm. The box was already waiting for me inside. He helped me pack up my bicycle in the best manner possible.

I asked him what I owed him for his help. He smiled, just the way he did the first time we met.

‘It is free for you. Enjoy your ride back home!’

And I knew I could never make an even offer with money.

‘Ma, can you help me book a cab?’ I asked.

‘Oh, one of my friends stays close to the airport. He will be visiting me in the evening.
You can go with him to the airport in his pickup truck. Just pay for the toll.
You’ll save time and money.’

At that moment I felt grateful and helpless at the same time. Grateful for him abundant kindness and helpless for I could think of no way to make up for his help on an immediate basis.

I rushed to my bag and took out my Polaroid camera.

‘Ma, I have a little project I wish to share with you. I click pictures for all the kind and helpful people I meet on my journey.

Can I click a picture for you?’

He readily agreed and I clicked a candid picture for him in his shop.
I hugged him goodbye with sincere hope of meeting him in India when he bicycles here on a tour.

Today, I reached Kolkata, India.
Here, I am staying with my childhood friend’s family.
I had issues with my SIM card not being active when I came back to India. My friend’s father sent me with his driver to the mobile store to get my sim reactivated. The driver, Ratanjeet, a chatty Bengali folk made good conversation all throughout our ride to the store.
He helped me communicate with the mobile store staff in Bengali.
We were told that the SIM will be activated only 48 hours later.
As we were leaving the shop Ratanjeet asked me,

‘Sir, it would be so much trouble to not have a phone for two days.
We can get a new SIM for you in my name. You can use it for two days and then give it to me when you leave.
I’ll use it later as needed.’

I was pleasantly surprised by his eagerness to find a solution.

‘Thank you so much Ratanjeet, but I think it will be okay for me to not have a number for a couple of days. ‘

In the evening, I sat back and wondered about these two incidents that happened with a span of 24 hours in two different countries.
Two complete strangers went out of their way to help me in the best manner possible. In fact, it wasn’t even about me. I am sure they would have gone out of their way to help someone they thought they could help.

Then I realised,
These kind humans,
are not going out of their way at all.

Helping people in need, is the only right way in their eyes.

We often hear elders tell us to choose the correct path in our life. After meeting these two gentlemen, I am convinced that the correct way,
The noble path,
Is one where there are avenues to help others.

Grateful for the profound lessons my friends Ma and Ratanjeet introduced me to,
I too am enthusiastic to join their tribe,
Of kind strangers,
On the noble path,
Of helping people with an open heart.

How to find a good teacher

May 18, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

In my eyes, the most powerful group of people, who can make the maximum impact in the world are teachers.
A teacher is like a skillful potter, who can mould the the psyche of an entire generation. She can steer the course of thought of curious and aspiring minds.
What a gift it is to be a teacher !

I’ve had the fortune of having met teachers who have changed my life in profound ways. The way I have evolved in life is undeniably a function of the influence my teachers have had on me.

After a point in life we move out of the brick and mortar university. But we must not forgo the possibility of being an eternal student of life. In fact we should actively seek out teachers to learn from.
Even our friends are but teachers,
who we learn from constantly.

But how to find a good teacher?
In the pursuit of finding a teacher/mentor, strive to ask these two questions to them:

a) What more can I learn from you apart from what you promise to teach?

b) Do you consider yourself more a teacher or a student?

Citing an example, the way I play drums and approach music has been deeply influenced by my mentor. Not only by her playing which is spellbinding in itself, but also by her philosophy, worldview and personality.
While choosing a teacher, seek someone who has a worldview you find fascinating, a personality that you would like to integrate. For even if you want it or not, these things will seep into your being while you are learning from someone.
Better to choose someone who you admire deeply, both for their expertise and the way they lead their life.

Secondly, I firmly believe that,

‘The best teachers are eternal students.’

My mentor had such a curious spirit of learning that she would learn things from me if she found I was working on something new. My lessons with her always felt as if two students are learning at the same time, albeit at different stages in their lives. It made me confident about my creative energy as a musician. My discoveries were always received avidly with an intent to learn from it if she found value in it.
And while learning from her I also picked up this aspect of her personality that made me a better teacher and human being.

Remember,
Learning will preserve your youth.

Find good friends, sincere mentors and curious students. Explore the possibility of being a student and teacher throughout your life.

And ask those two questions to all your teachers,
And be in a position to answer those two questions for all your students.

In the spirit of eternal learning,
Let’s aspire to design,
An Epic University Of Life!

The seed we are all sowing…

May 17, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Each tiny seed has a mighty tree waiting inside it.
A single seed being a microcosm of all of what the tree it came from is like.
Many seeds,
Many trees,
The possibility of a thriving forest!

Now, consider this.

Each of your actions is your own seed,
Your own karmic fingerprint.
Each little action is a microcosm of all you are, all your future could be.
Many actions,
Many stories,
The possibility of a thriving life!

Once you realise this,
The smallest of actions can only be done with greater love.
Being responsible at every moment will become second nature.

And each of the seeds we plant,
Each of our little actions,
Will manifest into its highest possible expression.

We can start small.
How about listening to someone with complete attention?
Or keeping an organised living space?
Or smiling with an open heart?
Or playing and learning from children?

Little steps.
Little actions.
With a little smile throughout,
We’re planting a forest of the future after all !

May it thrive !
Realising all of its expression.

Let us begin my friend.
Let us begin.