A-Z April - Day 4 - D for Dance

As a child, I felt like doing a lot of things. I wanted to do math like my whiz big sister. I wanted to swim like a fish and gazed at my friend's humble aquarium for hours. I wanted to roll chapatis like a friend's mom and sing like Kavitha krishnamurthy - I also, always wanted to write like J K Rowling, I or like Amitav Ghosh, I wanted to paint like Thomas Kinkade,  but I never wanted to dance. I remember my friend B dancing exactly like Prabhu Deva when Muqabla  was a big rage. I was the first bencher watching him at a close distance, and his moving to the rhythm made me foot tap and freeze in awe - but never once, did I wanted to dance. No one and nothing inspired that thought in me.

The only time I danced, was for a Garba number in my 12th grade. It was before an audience, in a huge huge outdoor auditorium. We had elaborate banjara skirts and colorful sticks in our hands, and I was quiet literally forced to partake in that piece by our Accountancy teacher Ms.S. Out of my inability to say 'no' in general and a 'no' to her in particular, I twisted my two right legs and called it a day. Thank God there weren't any phone cameras back in the day, or my performance would have been something like a viral 'dancing hall of shame' video.

The next time I remember dancing was in my school gathering couple of years ago. I was whisked away to a inconspicuous place and made to swing my backside for a few steps by a group of my childhood friends, who insisted that everyone on the floor had to dance that night. I complied. And I hope it isn't pictorially evident anywhere :)

So these are the 'performances' I did. But if you ask my buddy S, She'll laugh and tell you that my moves are very rhythmic and graceful, and no one can dance better than me to the "Chor Bazari" Number form Love aaj kal. Please don't pay heed to her, as love they say, is blind ;)

The other day, I was in a Christmas party at a couple's place - the couple, who are among the most dapper ones of our friends, Had a 120 inch television in their living room. I settled before the screen as tidbits of the resolution and the set up of the system were being discussed in my ear shot. Now I am deaf to technology talk, but the sass in me did a peekaboo and I caught myself saying "But what's the use of all that technology if you folks are stuck watching a Telugu movie on such a screen?"

The next thing I notice was dozens of pairs of eyes stuck on me, in poker faced expressions. One of the guys looked at me and said - "So you look down upon my favorite hero's film?" and I said "Yes I do" to which everybody laughed. I was relieved that I wasn't going to be beaten to pulp afterall. While the movie was paused and the remote was being frantically punched by the host, I had an expectation of seeing something like the National Geographic channel on the big screen. And then, I froze again, when the lady of the house, who is girly, barbie doll, and Bollywood enthusiast all rolled into one played a movie called "War" and plonked in the couch.

I gave an eye roll and said she's got to be kidding me and suddenly she fast forwarded to a song and said "If this isn't going to please you, you have to reconsider your entertainment choices"
"I'll consider reconsidering, I offered, but please don't play a Victoria's secret fashion show after this"

On the larger than life screen, this man that needs no introduction was dancing away. When Hrithik made his debut, whole of India was swooning over his dancing prowess. But as always, I was blind to it but something on that particular day caught my eye like never before. I don't know if I had to blame the rub on effect of everyone getting hysterical about his dance movies, or the gin cocktail that was acting on my system, or just my willingness to reconsider my choices in entertainment - I felt this inspiration hit me. The inspiration of wanting to dance like Hrithik.

When I came home, I started playing the number that inspired me on my Echo show and attempted to do the moon walk like he did. Thankfully, I didn't slip. The first born looked at me with frozen daze and asked "Mother, are you ok?"

"I want to dance like Hrithik" I said to which she quiet literally fell off the chair laughing. I stopped, paused the song and asked her sporting my best possible 'this is not funny' look-  "What' wrong with that idea?"
The sassy teen responded "Duh, pretty much everything" and went back to rolling on the floor in a sinister laugh.

And then I did it only when I was in my alone time and didn't have a condescending audience that pulled my enthusiasm down. May be the universe plotted to make me stop that attempt and here we are sheltering in place, and there's no hope of dancing like no one is watching anytime soon.

But guess what? The inspiration had hit. That's all that's needed.

And I promise, I won't make the non existent blog readership watch it. I promise, and I never promise :) So the half a dozen of you that come here once in a while, you folks know who you are, please don't abandon me.

Signing off, with an after thought. Never say never! And I am only referencing the 'I never got inspired to dance" statement and not my promise (Grin)


Featured -  A video of the Indian cinema's Greek God dancing to that number - in all his casual glory!

A-Z April - Day 3 - C for Comfort

Day 3 rolls in - and I was kind of bent upon making this a spiritual theme. But there was this ponder that was making its rounds in the thought corridor as we stay at home, sheltering in place and I seemed to have realized how much of an integral part 'grocery shopping' was in my life.

I'd always taken great pleasure in browsing the isles of the grocery store or the farmers market, more than I had in any other kind of shopping. The act of stocking my pantry, labeling my jars and filling the crisper of my fridge with fresh greens and lush veggies was always a very gratifying thing to do. All this of course is because of the love Moi feels for cooking. Lately, as all the outings are restricted, I realized how much I miss my grocery store, In fact I miss it more than I miss seeing people outside, more than I miss taking a stroll in nature or more than I miss the introverted ' alone time' I have when the spouse and kids leave for their routines. It gave me a wonderful opportunity to trace this 'missing grocery shopping' to the root of it all which my love for  cooking, that has become hands down, my favorite hobby of all.

I wasn't an early bloomer in this department. My first tryst with learning how to cook commenced in my late teens, when my lil brother's friend's mom kind of intrigued me with her home making and culinary skills. This aunt in question was this conventional home maker, that had a model of a kitchen and spent copious amounts of time planning her shopping and cooking routine like a pro project manager. Her everyday was an adventure in thinking up special meals for her husband and three sons. It helped that this aunt had a special love for me, owing to the fact that she probably always wanted a daughter and I probably filled that void in her life in some way.

Every evening after I was done with my routine, I would walk to her place that was in the neighborhood. She used to wait for me in her balcony and flash a welcoming smile once she spotted me. "You need to learn to cook well. Young ladies these days are so full of degrees and career that they miss the life skill" She used to dispense her wisdom as she'd instruct me how to shell green peas and grill perfect pav buns on the stove top. It greatly helped that this aunt was from
west India and cooked a cuisine entirely different than the one I was used to eating at home. Thus, my first foray into the wonderful world of gastronomics had commenced and there was no looking back. And I do have Auntie Mrs. Bherulal to thank profusely for the foundation.

My mom, being a great cook and host herself, always forbade us from entering the kitchen and helping her. "You have a life ahead of you to toil in the kitchen" She'd say "Enjoy your mom's food for now".  So I didn't do much learning beyond what I did in the aunt's house I mentioned before. It was in my  infant years of the second decade that I found myself in the Land of the free and the brave, managing my own household, playing the homemaker I'd always pretend played as a child. High speed internet and search engines were already a thing in the US and they supplied the second tier of lessons to the quickly evolving young chef. It took me very little time to realize that cooking was something I found great joy in doing. "It is such a nurturing hobby" I used to think to myself as I wasted no opportunity to have friends over to play guinea pigs to my new recipes and experiments. I initially had a recipe box, index cards, clippings form better homes and gardens and the whole shebang to support my hobby. As time passed and as I gained confidence and approvals of my supporting friend gang that were willing accomplices to polishing the food I created, the intuitive part of me kicked in and my hobby became a full blown obsession.

Now, when cooking is your hobby, but of course the detail loving side of you emerges and evolves as well. And in no time, I had gathered enough interest and inventory in fine china, cutlery, cooking utensils, kitchen gadgets and serve ware. My hobby branched into all directions as all these nuances of it enhanced my love for cooking as I aged and time passed. Slowly and steadily, cooking became an expression of sorts. It is almost as cathartic as writing or reading was before I discovered cooking. No matter the time, mood or the theme of the day, give me a well stocked kitchen and I can cook away till someone intervenes and stops me. I also realized that I particularly cook when I feel sad or low. It magically takes my mind away from a loop of negativity and as I create the edible works of art (I'll call them so myself, cause I have a very moderate , 'I'll eat to exist' kind of spouse - LOL and I am not used to him telling me what works of art my culinary creations are) I feel an immense sense of accomplishment and relief and my day transforms to the better.

No matter where I am or whom I am visiting, I invariably find myself in their kitchen, almost urging them to let me take over if they do not do it by themselves (Though I should admit, I more often than not have  happily consenting friends and family when I offer to cook) and escape into my wonderful world of cooking and feeding. My spiritual master Sadhguru Shirdi Sai said that food is the other form of God as it is life giving and sustaining and the act of sharing food is the act of sharing life. I think somewhere deep down, this tidbit of wisdom made a deep impact on me, and it is His grace that the way and the want to cook had emerged in my humble life and have become an integral part of who I am.  I don't like parties but I love hosting crowds of close friends in at my place. When I invest all that time thought and effort into making a special, elaborate spread, I feel and radiate love and life and revel in the smiles and satisfaction of my guests. 'No one leaves my home hungry' is my motto of life. Cooking and feeding gives a very literal dimension to the very abstract emotion love and I feel blessed that I love to cook.

Once the sheltering in place is lifted, I promise myself that I'd cook more and spread the love beyond my kitchen and my little group of friends and family. I'll enjoy and be more present in my grocery shopping trips and I'll live more, love more and create a storm of comfort, care and connect with my yearning to cook. If you are in this part of the world, Please stop by and knock on my door. I'll be more than happy to make a meal for you :)

Pictured - a spread I cooked for my dearest friend and her people.

A-Z April - Day 2 - B for Bliss

I'll stick to my spiritual theme today and blog about the used, abused, overused word that the world is in pursuit of - Bliss!
Bliss might mean a lot of things to lot of people. What it we are to close our eyes and think of just one most Blissful moment of our lives? I can recollect mine right now and my insides do an endorphin release and I feel a simulation of the "High" that moment made me feel, like it is happening right now. What if the actual "Bliss" in a spiritual context is a Trillion times more than the most blissful moment we'd experienced yet? If the ones that are self realized are to be trusted, it is indeed nothing like anything we can feel with our sensory perceptions - it is a constant state of absolute, unadulterated joy that would define the physical cycle of the high the low and the intermediate. It is, ironically, a state that is within us, a state that is clouded and blurred by the identification and the side effects we experience with the attachment to this impermanent form.

This Bliss, as I understand is a beautiful plot with savage plot holes. There are so many decoys we are presented with in an attempt to make us believe that there are more pleasurable and lasting things than this aforesaid Bliss. Some call them Maya - or the illusions that web the reality. Some Mystics say that Humans that house the soul, the source of bliss, are like Princes' that behave like Paupers - looking for scraps and watered down versions of this Bliss and spend life times pursuing them in materials, Intoxication, pleasures of the flesh and substances.

There's a gateway to this magic called Bliss - and it opens inward into our being. There's no use looking for it without, for within us is this fountain of eternal joy. That's what those saints and Philosophers try to attain in those Ocher garbs and worldly renunciations. But the good news, I hear, is that all the props are optional. The moment we come into awareness and realize the transience of this body, we have planted a seed that wouldn't perish and eventually lead us to this ultimate path.

May be we can all start by sitting straight and closing our eyes, and trying to catch the next thought that sprouts in our grey matter. It is hard, but nothing that is worthwhile comes without effort and even effortlessness, they say, has to only sprout out of intense effort. And, how hard can it get to sit still, close our eyes and draw our attention to the vacuum inside of us? Yes, The vacuum, and it isn't as hollow as it sounds. It is in that vacuum they say, that the cosmic energy gathers and makes us run on autopilot.

So, for Bliss, the recipe is very simple. Sit straight, close your eyes, cease to think, or think but be aware of thinking. Don't do a unconscious infinite loop. That's it! That's really it!

I have to admit, that my quest for Bliss is still in wobbly baby steps, but this simple exercise that I do puts such a wonderful, positive twist to my everyday, to a point where I am addicted to my meditation routine like one would be to Nicotine.

Don't take my word for it. It's right there, inside, and it's quiet simple. And there's no curl ups and sit ups to do, no gym memberships, or wrecking your nerves with toxic quick fixes.

It's Really that simple.

A-Z April - Day 1 - A for Ascension

Yet again, I ascend the bandwagon - Thanks to my friend, philosopher, guide and soul sibling that reminded me of the challenge in the first place. I was suggested to keep it light and bright and happy and grateful for the theme. So Yes Sire - Your wish is my command and it's going to be an out and out positive month of blogging with no particular theme in place, except the vibe of Joy.
So off we go on A for Ascension.

So, Here's what I am going to harp about in my Day 1 of the A-Z challenge. It's a micro harping about my newfound spiritual side. Now, Spirituality for one thing, is a vast, wide and varied subject and that offers such a pasture for me to graze on as I muse on this topic. But on this day, I'd like to put the spotlight on the "Ascension" in a spiritual context, with special reference to the road map of our biggest instrument, the human body. The image above provides such a clear representation of the chakras of our bodies and we'll see where ascension fits in the big picture.

So the seven chakras in our bodies are strategically located from the base up co-existing with physical glands in the said real estate of the body. Such a divine design no? The first two chakras are located on the lower end - representing the lower vibrations of consumption, secretion and sexual energies. These chakras also, incidentally, represent the lower vibrations in the spectrum which associate themselves with physical gratification.

Once we reach the solar plexus, around the navel, we are on the ascension path. The upper chakras are to represent the higher vibrations of the cosmos such as creativity, love, joy, peace and bliss. As a spiritual enthusiast we are to rise our vibrations from the self gratification to the upper decks where in we realize the enormity and the Godliness of our beings. So as a aspirant of love, joy and peace, we cultivate, with much effort the ability to unearth our true selves - the divinity that resides in every living being,  the wealth we have inside of us, the same miraculous code that runs the universe, runs for us as well - but like amnesiacs, we forget it and dwell in the drama of the physical world.

The word Ascension has such an energy around it - so uplifting, rising and progressive - quite literally. Whether the spiritual road map makes sense or not - we all can aspire to rise the collective vibration of the planet by cultivating the positive, loving and giving vibrations of love peace and joy. As 'rocket science' like as this sounds, it is very very simple and implementable.
The next time we are tempted to snap and vent out, let us take a moment to reflect on that emotion and let it go and be replaced with an ascended vibe.

It's all as simple as it gets. Just be aware. Ascend, aspire!!

God speed!

Pic credit - Arhantyoga.org

Verse

By the window she stands
Head tossed up
Looking into the vacuum
Of the infinite nothingness.
She intends to freeze that mind
Catching those rodents of thoughts 
That persist
In the mousetrap of presence.
The internal waves settle
The ocean stands still
Like a sheet of glass
Catching the reflection of what is
When what was or will be
Wait on the other side of the railing
For an opportune strike.
Bathing in the light, she stands
Breathing in the being,
Oblivious to the world beyond 
That is perhaps in a frenzy
Of critters ransacking 
Through the peace of now
She cares less,
Standing with her feet criss cross-
Like a guard 
Before her treasure of serenity.
By the window she leans
Lending support from her inner being.
With A smile playing peekaboo
On the lips of that zen!

Photo - Gabrielle Coco Chanel, copyrights- Getty images 1951

That speaks to you.....

Language and words are such a powerful medium. Actually, they are skills that are supposed to set human beings apart from the rest of the species. Super power of sorts- huh? Undoubtedly. But what about the things that seem to speak to us, their own language and conversation without having an alphabet or a vocabulary - heck, what if they don't even have mouths and limbs to begin with, to talk or even to gesticulate but nevertheless, they freeze you in your tracks and download bytes of communication directly into your senses and the brain? Color does that sort of connect with me, and nature does too and then the flora and fauna though not in that order. But I'll stick to 'color' for now and ponder about my special bond with it. 

I was four, when my paternal aunt got married. I remember of all the thing, the color of the burfi that was made for the wedding favors. Back in the 80s, things were done at home, there weren't fancy caterers and event managers - so I remember these burfis being assembled by a team of hired cooks in our expansive back yard, setting up  makeshift stoves by the curry leaf tree that was in Kingkong proportions. These sweetmeats were made in pistachio green and rose pink layered with an off white piece on top. Everyone was probably busy in their world orchestrating the wedding and I only remember my awe for the said piece of confection, my senses devouring them just with the sight, uninterrupted. I don't remember if my little brain was doing a commentary, actually, i don't think my brain ever does it when I go in observant mode - But back on track, my second specimen of awe was just around the corner - As my aunt got ready for the wedding, I spotted a case of the most eye popping colors in her friend's hand - they were eye shadows perhaps. I didn't have the confidence or the attitude to approach and ask for another dekko but that was the second of its kind, that made an imprint of communication in my tiny brain. And little did I know, that my awe was just about to be multiplied in leaps and bounds as I age and spot color all around me.

Shortly down the timeline, a guest that visited, my father's cousin, brought us girls some gifts. Trinkets and a case of liquid kumkum in assorted colors, filled in mini bottles that were attached to a mini disk with a transparent lid. The case became my best friend for ages. Just gaping at that amazing array of color display kept me engaged for hours. Talk about the weirdness, or don't talk about it. It would become endless :-) And that's why I am probably blogging about it, the matter in conjunction to this topic is almost endless and the block is going to be busted, and how!!

Then there were crayons, color pencils, sketch pens, water color cakes - I would say these were my soulmates then, these are my soulmates now. These were my coping mechanisms of growing up and discovering life, these were props that contributed to my growth as much as my upbringing or education did.  I don't lose a single opportunity to buy stationery, even today, be it any of these or construction papers, pencil cases, gel pens etc, and thank God I have two kids  and a hobby for the pretext of these purchases. If they are colorful,  I can hear them screaming their voices hoarse to grab my attention - and little do they know that they don't need to do that. They have me at a sighting - even 'hello' is optional ;)

And all this frenzy for color isn't even the tip of the iceberg. Somewhere in between my toddler years and late teens, I was introduced to this wonderful color cosmetic named Nail polish and it became my crack for life. I keep on saying this that what we love as kids will remain with us forever - if I am to have the good fortune of reaching old age, I vow to leave the greys as they are and might not do much with my creepy skin but I somehow envision myself buying nail polish every time I go out shopping. My fingers would probably wrinkle, my nails would discolor but I'd hold these bottles in my sinewy hand and have a moment of nirvana. That much I am sure of - God should be kind and grant me a reasonably long life. That's all :)

I am not vain much - and I don't mean to say vanity is a bad thing. It is actually a very lovely thing. The more I see colorfully clad, elaborately decorated women around me, the more I smile. In fact, in every party, as much as I fear crowds, my sensory faculties have a party of their own, observing the rich brocades and hues, the sparkly jewel tones over smokey eyes and the whiff of fragrances that linger around in the air. That's probably why I find it hard to communicate in a group of people - as these colors and textures are screaming to me in their own language and my tongue gets tied trying to sort the cross connections of speech. I am frugal in my spending habits but when it comes to a bottle of polish in a color that I love, I look for no pretexts, occasions or reasons to buy it - Away it is whisked into my humble collection of dozens of polish promising me moments of utter joy, just by looking at their depth of color and being lost in that saturation. A few years ago, the spousal unit hit the nail on the head for my birthday and got me nail polish. I felt so understood that year and was grinning ear to ear all the day.  Yeah, gifting is about connecting and so is language...whether it is this banter I type out, without a filter, or the bond I feel with something as trivial as a bottle of nail paint. Give me a connect, and I am a slave for life. A good, willing and happy one at that.

Pictured - OPI assortment, lifted from their Insta feed.

Inspiration

When you stop by

Blessing me with a visit

Don't you sneak in and out

Making the sighting one sided.

Don't you linger around 

The borders of my world

Or spread like Irish moss

On the exposed aggregate 

By the arbor I hang around

Cushioning my feet, caressing my mojo!

When you stop by

To quench your yearning 

To steal a look at me

Just so you stabilize your pulse

Or so you fluctuate it further

To cause palpitations,

Don't you hover above like a speck

Guised as a bumble bee

Or a teensy weensy Hummingbird.

Let me devour you as you toy with me

Make it into a ploy with me

So you can enjoy with me

This peek a boo

Of perception.

For where's magic? I wonder?

Is it more in what I create?

Or more in what I notice!

When you grace your presence

And taunt me 

To see more than my eyes can

Hear more than my ears can

And feel more than this faint heart 

Can ever perceive by itself

My world opens up

To the small things

And my heart opens up

To the largeness in them.

And then...

I really live 

Beyond existence.

Vision

Everywhere I see

Those pristine blooms

Opening up like thoughts of you

Somewhere on the branches of the mind

Cascading like snow flakes

Settling in the gut,

Stirring a whimper into a holler

Silenced into a hush:

Blossoms of plight

Oh yeah, blossoms!

Let them not be thorns 

Atleast in this vision.

Let this gloom tinker them into flowers

Sprinkling pollen of tears

Like confetti

Feigning grief into something 

I learn to live with..

Cause like buds in spring 

They emerge out of nowhere 

Or perhaps it goes nowhere..

I just learn to live with it

Tricking myself  to see them as garlands

While they gnaw at my soul.

The odds of being favored.

Back in the day, my reading escapades were confined to my English and language texts, the humble school libraries and the monthly children's magazine named Chandamama (Meaning the Moon). It was perhaps the only magazine of its kind that catered to young readers. Chandamama was like my own bespoke version of Platform 9 3/4 that catapulted me to a world of magic. It wasn't a comic kind of illustration but had just the right amount of pictures to supplement the prose. It transformed me to the wonderful world of stories and expression. I remember spending many leisure summers just gazing at those illustrations and absorbing their details - much like a modern day child would gaze at a screen :)And then it was the Amar Chitra kadha comics. Between these two publications, my childhood became as eventful and layered as it could get. I specially liked the stories form our epics. They had such a surreal feel to them and introduced me to the joys of imagination and interpretation.

Most of what I read of the stories in the Hindu mythology had one character that stood out like a landmark. It is Arjuna from the epic Mahabharata. This dude somehow seemed to flip things in his favor like he had a magic wand riveted to his hand. There were one hundred and four brothers and cousins as his peers - that's not counting the friends and rivals, But Arjuna somehow always and I mean always had people eating out of his hand and things and circumstances working in his favor. Even curses that were to be very unfortunate ended up being the veritable 'blessings in disguise' for him. Talk about luck and talk about a consistent and steady supply of it. The child in me somehow felt bad for all and sundry around Arjuna. It was like no one else stood a chance if he was in the picture. Unfair no? Quiet Unfair!

So for starters, Arjuna ends up being the favorite student of Guru Dronacharya. His teacher promises him that he would be the world's best archer. Once the guru spots the prowess of a nomad student Ekalavya, that claims to have learned archery from Drona as a spiritual teacher, Drona wastes no time in claiming the Guru Dakshina from this said 'long distance' student that tuned into the Guru's instructions through his own intuition. Guru Dakshina is a fee in cash (or usually kind) that the teacher claims from the student in exchange of his guidance. You might wonder what the fee was! It was Ekalavya's right thumb that the guru asks for. And being the righteous kid that he was, Ekalavya wastes no time in chopping off his thumb with an arrow and placing it at Drona's feet. Drona asks him for this particular Dakshina as he senses that Ekalavya is a finer archer than Arjuna and that voids his promise to Arjuna to make him the best of the best.

The Epic Mahabharat is filled with such sly, conniving plots galore if you are going 'Tch tch'. So brace yourself if a plan to read the epic in all its detailed glory is in your offing.

Then, His spiritual father Indra, the Ruler of the Devas goes to ask for Karna's kavacha and Kundalas that the latter is born with. These two adornments were embedded into Karna's being at birth, And this Karna is none other that Kunti's first child out of wedlock when she invokes the Sun God to grant her a child with the splendor of the Sun. No prizes for guessing that Kunti abandons the baby which would later be rescued and adopted by a kind couple - and much later Karna becomes Durryodhan's right hand. We'll save Karna's story for another day, but just so Karna doesn't stand an edge over Arjuna, Indra takes it upon himself to snatch these divine armors from the nemesis Karna. Convenient Huh!?

And Draupadi, the heroine of Mahabharat that is the wife of all the five brothers (which is a story for another day as well) pines for and favors Arjuna over the rest. We should cut her some slack because it is Arjuna that passes the test of swayamvara and wins her hand - but people - All the brothers are epitomes of virtue, wisdom and strength but somehow, this 'stuck in the middle' Arjuna gets the favors. Again, and again. And again.


Now to quickly sum up without making a laundry list of all those things that swung in our hero's favor,which are way too many by the way, I need to jump to the cherry on top - the Grand finale - Krishna's discourse the 'Holy Gita' and his viswaroopa manifestation that he particularly puts up as a show to his beloved cousin Arjuna - that people, is the crux of the entire Hindu scriptures right there. And on whom is this favor conferred? But ofcourse, Arjuna.


So, Arjuna is the poster child of the "favorite" that is favored by every one, every thing, every time. Full stop. 

Or may be not.

It took me a little bit of 'growing up' and observing the world to decode Arjuna's good fortune. 

So when Guru Drona conducts a test and calls all the 105 princes of kuru clan to come and shoot an arrow at a literal bird's eye perched in the tree, somewhere in the outdoors, they all would be dismissed even before they get a shot at the eye. Because all the princes, and each one of them say they see the tree, the forest, the sky and even their peers when the guru asks what they see. Only this blue eyed boy Arjuna says this "I see the eye of the bird and nothing else"

"Shoot" the guru beams. And the next thing you know is the bird is rendered blind in one eye. Luck seems to favor the focused I thought.

On a different occasion, when Guru Drona's own son starts sulking about how the guru favors Arjuna and not his own child, Guru Drona creates a situation that involves a lake and him bathing in it, with an alligator in tow, that comes and attacks him. He makes sure all the kuru kids are in full attendance including his own child. Guess who braves the alligator and fist fights it to save the Guru??

Is it safe to conclude that luck favors the courageous and the helpful?

So when Arjuna brings home his bride Draupadi, his mom, unbeknownst that it is a lady that he brought home, orders that all the brothers share the prize. Suddenly we have a reverse and unheard of 'polygamy' situation. And guess what? Our hero bows his head to his mother's orders and his bride is suddenly the queen of all the five brothers. 

Luck, The mother and the lady - all three would favor such a graceful, obedient, willing man. Wouldn't they?

When Durryodhan and Arjuna go to Krishna to seek his assistance in the Kurukshetra war, they find Krishna taking a nap. Arjuna sits by krishna's feet and awaits his waking, while our proud and powerful Durryodhan waits by his head, considering it below himself to sit by the feet of a cowherd. When Krishna wakes up he spots Arjuna first and says he'll give Arjun the first chance to pick between his entire army or just himself as a charioteer and Arjuna picks Krisha to the relief of Durryodhana that gets all anxious about losing the help of Krishna's army.

Arjuna knows better. He knows that Krishna is the Omnipresent that controls the entire universe and having him on their side is the ticket to victory.

Luck does favor the wise, the humble and the non greedy.  

And finally, after all the manipulations, the politics, the insults, the injuries, the atrocities Kauravas commit on Pandavas and both face each other in Kurukshetra to battle over their right on the kingdom, planet Earth's sweetheart Arjuna suddenly puts his arms down and goes - "These are my cousins. Doesn't matter what they did to me, my brothers, my wife or the people - I cannot stoop to such low and kill them just to win a lousy materialistic battle" 

Altruistic much huh? That's the whole ammunition that triggers the holy discourse Gita and the divine manifestation.
Not just luck, even God favors the empathetic, peace loving and the righteous - the one that puts the greater good before his own. 
Do I hear a resonating yes??

And for a good chunk of my childhood, I thought luck was random and the world picks favorites based on shallow credentials.
May be it does seem to be like it sometimes. But upon observation, we might notice the streak and the qualification behind such consistent randomness, that transcends beginner luck or any once in a while fortune.

And all things cannot be elucidated to us. These finer qualities like staying focused, standing up for others, being graceful, being thoughtful, being rightful - these things are not taught like a formula. We need to keep our eyes peeled and our hearts open to learn these untaught lessons. And our own observing faculties help- and magically, we have our own 9 3/4 manifesting before us.

God bless subtlety. May God bless all to notice and benefit from it.

Verse

They emerge, They pop

Dissipating into thin air.

I seem to do it on autopilot

Letting these bubbles

Run in infinite.

"Sit still, sit straight!"

The instruction is straightforward.

"Shut it..the vision, the speculation."

"This creation is but a charade

Springing in the thought."

"As you see it, so it is

And not the other way around!"

The gyaan is definite.

It's only this mind, the mirage

That dwells in the drug of addiction

Spinning them bubbles

That rise and plonk,

Such facades of illusion it creates.

Oh just shut it,

And I have arrived if I forget it

And dwell in nothing.

How amazingly simple to hear

How amusingly complex to adhere!

The view

 There's a world unfolding

While yours truly

Scrubs the pots and pans,

The most awaited chore of all. 

(Not)

Or perhaps, this window

By the kitchen sink 

Was designed as a coping mechanism

To the mundane and the bane.

A plot twist of sorts,

An attempt to make a miracle

Out of the monotony.

Those deep throated croaks

Of unnamed birds

Migrating to the warmth of the south.

Mr. Squirell serenading Miss.Squirell

As they scurry on the redwood fence,

Kind of aping the balancing act

Between the miracle and the monotony.

Seasons put up a show
And how..
Just the way only the source can pull it off.
Now there's bare branches spreading their nakedness
Like a challenge to the chaffing winter wind.
Now there's apple blossoms 
Popping out of the dry bark.
Luscious fruit, feeding the famished fauna
Lush green changing color pixels 
To a yellow, an orange, a red and a brown
Change.
The eternal element
Running cycles by the kitchen sink
While irises of a young woman
Absorb those slide shows
Growing up into a wisdom
Lent by time, stray greys and laugh lines.
The soap-sud soaked sponges
Wash away the debris of the dishes
The window by the kitchen sink
Washes away perhaps
The bore out of the chore.
Sending yours truly a memo
To keep her eyes
Her heart
And her thought
Open.
What greets her on the other side of the window 
By the kitchen sink
Can perhaps
Change the dull narrative!