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WEEKEND TALKS WITH AN ADVAITA MASTER IN BANGALORE

Ramesh Balsekar
Saturday 26th April and Sunday 27th April 2008 From 10.30 am to 12.30 pm
At Cardboard Factory, Bilvardahalli Village, Gottigeri - Post, Off Bannerghatta Road, Bangalore 560 083
Just 2 kms. from the Country Club
Lunch will be served. All are welcome.
For further details, please contact : Jaya Nagarkatti. Tel : 080-28429800

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Musical revealations

The short film making workshop that I am conducting had the music class today. The objective was to sensitize ourselves to the different emotions and layers that a piece of music can evoke.
Dahivat Shukla, the music teacher, played for us a number from his collections. He then asked each one of the participants for their response.

This is what they said.

Uttara: I felt as if someone with a great aura has entered the room. Someone special, and he has a strong sense of self.

Ashfaq: I felt that this person was complaining big time.

Nirali: I sensed a strong sense of detachment.

At this Dahivat smiled at me. I smiled back, saying, 'She is my friend.'

Raju: This person has risen above a lot of hardships in life. And their is an anger, raudra bhav.

Me: I saw a wild jungle, an unsafe environment. And yes, a strength.

Dahivat stood up ( for effect), and told us, 'All of you are spot on. What I just played was a piece by Salif Keita.
The name of the album is soro, the song is sanni kegniba.
Let me tell you his life story. He was born a prince, in an African jungle. He grew up playing and enjoying music. When it was time for him to become the King, the elders said, Beta, now you have to give up your musical habits.
Salif said sorry. No deal.
Elders said we are also sorry. Its either music or the kingship.
And Salif went to America, and fought against all odds, and became a star.
And from what I have heard, when Salif goes on stage to perform, he stands still, closes his eyes, joins his hands and sings.
So yes, he probably has an aura, he is justified in complaining, at having been ostracized from his community, and he needs that detachment to be able to rise to great heights.'

And he misses the jungle, I wanted to add.

A love for the language

'Can I attend school with Pavan tomorrow? I am kind of out of touch with what he is learning.' I write in the boy's diary.
'Sure,' she replies.

Navjyoti ma'am, class teacher of the multi-age class at Riverside school, Ahemadabad.

What a pleasure it is to watch her interacting with the kids. She talks to them in a well modulated voice, with clear pronunciation, better than any narrator I have worked with. More than that, she gives them her full attention, something I need to learn as a mother.

They are rehearsing for a play, 'Wizard of Oz'. They have seen the movie many times over, and whatever they remember is the guide for their dialogs and actions.

'Maam, how to show the house twirling and falling?' one kid asks.

'Let us make a house from thermo col ' says another.

'No, let us make a house from two of us. Then we can hold hands in an A shape, and go round and round and fall.' says director number three.

'And you can hang a dupatta over the house like this. Now, does this look like a house?' says Navjyoti.

Pavan is playing the wicked witch of the east and west, he has to fall under the house. The two boys fall on him and he yelps.

'All right, all of you. Come and sit down in front of me. Pavan, you sit next to me. Now, this is where you learn about team work. All of you are working together, that is team work. When you fall on Pavan, you must take care not to hurt him. Let us practice how you fall. . .'

Finally, it is time for the parent- teacher one to one.
'His spellings are very bad. His handwriting is awful.' I say, before she will say it.

'Don't worry about his spellings and handwriting. This is a computer age. He will learn spelling at his own speed. What is more important is that we inculcate in him a love for the language. Let him learn to express himself. Talk to him in English, read out stories to him every night, to the point when he starts thinking in English. Don't force him to learn, learning should be as natural as joy.' she advices.

I am almost in tears. A love for the language, she said. These words struck a deep chord in me. Yes, this is something I have. A love for the language. And what does it really mean? To be able to express myself, to articulate and appreciate the texture of an entire cosmos.

The ultimate truth may be beyond words.

For this moment, God is the Word.

Chinese Magician

Chinese magic. Without the Chinese.


Requirements:

• Seven year old who can speak, 'Oink poink, shink pank!' confidently.
• Audience with sense of humor.
• You.

Procedure:

1. Blindfold seven year old brat. Hold him (/her) in your lap.
2. Ask someone from the audience to hold any object in front of the blindfolded brat.
3. Ask the brat to tell you what the object is in Chinese.
4. 'Oink poink, shink pank!' the brat will announce.
5. 'The magician tells me that the lady is holding an orange handkerchief in her hand, in Chinese.' you announce.
6. Remove the blindfold. See how happy and surprised your Chinese Magician feels when he sees the orange handkerchief.

Mumbai meri jaan

'Come to mumbai for the weekend. You must meet this doctor, he is very good', says sis.

'I am very busy, I have to pack up the house, to shift to Bangalore...' I reply.

'I will book your tickets,' she persists.

'Well'...

'You can also meet Ramesh, you might not be able to come so easily to Mumbai from Bangalore,' she insists.

And so I am off to meet The Beloved.

Maybe this is what they mean when they say that spiritual life is difficult at first and later it becomes easy.

Ten years ago, I used to cry if I didn't meet Ramesh for a week. And now I get a red carpet to peddar road....