(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest English language daily newspapers, on 13 January 2003.) Imagine thousands crossing the ice. Braving the frozen Rhine in 1407 to conquer Rome? Nevsky’s forces stopping Germanic armies in 1242 on the frozen channel between Chad and Pskov? Guess again. The year is 1925; the time 1:00 am. The place: Ontario, Canada. Half the local population runs toward one of the continent’s greatest spectacles. Niagara Falls has frozen over. The silence is so deafening that thousands have to see what’s up. The roar has ceased, and the people must discover what’s gone wrong, no clatter, no crackle. Zounds! No sound! Sound. Love or hate it, it’s all around. In the Himalayas sounds have caused avalanches. High notes can break glass, vex pets, clean teeth and scrub jewelry. Ultrasound enables us to see. Technology exposes the potency of sound. Karna was cursed (by sound) that when he faced his greatest danger he would forget the only mantra to activate his celestial weapon and save him. At the crucial time he was silent. So says the Mahabharata. Brahminical sound destroyed the wicked King Vena. Words emitted by Joseph Stalin caused tens of millions to perish in purges. A mother’s voice soothes her child. Gandhi’s words transformed dreams to reality in the fight for politicaljustice. Students of ‘classical culture’ say the ancients didn’t see their thoughts as belonging to them – it was always a god or goddess giving an order. Apollo ‘told’ them to be brave; Athena ‘dictated’ that they fall in love. They ‘heard’ their favourites. Today people hear commercials for movies or candy bars and rush out to spend. As they scurried to icy spaces, they now sizzle with hot products. Sounds and mantras destroy or liberate. Repetition is not essential, but due to a loss of spiritual energy, it helps. What matters is the purity, source and accessibility. The mahamantra – Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare, Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare – still summons serene times in the midst of the ‘age of quarrel’ (kali-yuga). It’s a blast of summer in winter, blossoms when there should be snow. It’s wise to be spiritually equipped in this age, as we live in a treacherous time. Silence is the most secret of sounds, but the mahamantra sung as a form of samadhi brings happiness. Even in the face of death, even if the oceans freeze, this sound sings us into life.

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest English language daily newspapers, on 4 June 2003.) `HOW ARE you?’ ‘Fine, thanks’. (Translation: ‘Nothing horrible has happened to me today’, or ‘I feel dreadful but who wants to know’?) Soren Kirkegaard said that people lead lives of ‘quiet desperation’. This existential thinking indicates that happiness is only skin deep, and fun is but a passing frisson — a glimmer, a shiver, an instant high, and that our real situation is one of ongoing anguish. As soon as a tooth is fixed, a computer glitch repaired, a disease cured, we feel ecstatic. But surely there is a pleasure that is more than the absence of pain. I? eyes are the index of the mind or windows to the soul, then we can see from each person’s face, the state of his or her consciousness. Look around. What do you see? Against today’s marketeering push for instant everything from transportation to breakfast cereal, the Gita proposes a different kind of happiness (5.24), more to do with contentedness and satisfaction, instead of the excitement generated by drugs, sex, dancing, racing, gaming, sports and romance. All these have a beginning and an end. Transcendental happiness, subtler but deeper and permanent, doesn’t depend on external stimuli. Ancient wisdom holds that such happiness is an inner part of us. Some neuro-scientists call it ‘the God spot’ in the human brain – yet to artificially activate it leads only to temporary intoxication. This ‘inner happiness’ is regarded by some as a hallucination or self-absorbed escapism (Gita 2.69). On the other hand, aspiring transcendentalists think that rationalism or the mechanistic-reductionist vision is an exclusively earthbound creation. In spite of the many scientific and technological advances that have enlarged our range of creature comforts, upward consumer mobility adds unlimited desires and supplies endless choice, where formerly there was only a basic hierarchy of needs and a few simple choices. ‘Progress’ is often regarded as iffy. Dying is something we have to experience although its exact nature is generally unknown. But in that brief sleep, our future is determined. Living is a preparation for death. In his song, The Art of Dying, ex-Beatle, George Harrison implies rightly that one’s daily meditation for the future need not seal us from reality, or make us musty and morbid. It’s intelligent preparation for blue skies beyond.

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest english language daily newspapers, on 17 March 2003.) Spirit lies at the core of humanity A HUNGER in the loins arrives at puberty. By that time we’d also developed the functions of eating and sleeping, laughing, crying, breathing, and the instinct to flee from death. Certain things are inextricably part of us. Some characteristics of the human race seem to spring from deep within and are shared by all peoples. Individual traits seem to be part of our genetic material. Of the first variety, the things that we have in common, there are basics. We grow, exist, dwindle and die and many have offspring. All are reborn as something or other, if you accept that the soul is eternal and the principle of transmigration. Nonetheless, each of us has unique propensities. As we grow, we manifest desires and attributes that make up our distinct personalities. Analysing ourselves, our bodies seem to come from ancestors ? hereditary things like facial features, mannerisms, expressions, and hair colour. More subtle characteristics like behaviour, our thought patterns and biases may also be inherited. But we’re all human, despite our differences, be they hereditary or environmental. And, as a species, we seem to be something more than merely the political animals Aristotle said we were and more than just a bundle of molecules or herd of independent minds. Searching for commonality, there is a widespread concept that humans are also built for God-belief. Poet Krishnadasa Kaviraja wrote in the 16th century that love for God resides eternally in the hearts of living beings. He also said that the Names of God, when resounded, awaken and purify the heart. So is hearing a Hallelujah chorus by Handel or Brahmins reciting the Rig-Veda before a blazing pit more than just captivating? The inner meaning of any name of God ? be it Allah, Rama, Jehovah, or Our Father, is synonymous with the Godhead Himself – or so the Vedic, Christian, Islamic and Hebraic scriptures would have it. The Vedas assert that in the present age, the activities of hearing and reciting God’s names have powers that soar over other ages. (Bhagavata 12.3.52) If such a simple procedure can awaken a fundamental nature dormant within each of us, then essential truths of scripture are proved. And if we believe Kaviraja, that we are hard-wired for God, then attaining a spiritual existence is easier than we thought. Our higher nature, fine-tuned for meditation, may be only a breath or two away. (The writer is emeritus member of the ISKCON governing body commission)

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest english language daily newspapers, on 24 March 2003.) This is a true story. Akbar the Great, king of India from 1556 to 1605, once asked a confidential minister how long the sex urge exists in man. The answer: “right up until the moment of death.” “Humbug,” said the king. Months later the same to minister asked the ruler to accompany him to the home of a dying man. “And bring your 15-year-old daughter.” commanded the aide. “l want you to notice the man’s eyes from the moment we enter his room until when we leave. This is most important.” The girl went with the minister and her father to see this fellow on his deathbed. After the brief visit, Akbar, the minister and the princess walked in silence back toward the palace. “Now I see what you meant”, said the emperor at last. “From the moment we entered until we left, his eyes remained on my daughter. He had no regard for his king.” If it’s true that no servitude is more disgraceful than that which is self-oriented, was the dying man a slave to his own cravings? Such basic drives have always dominated our earthly existence. The Gita informs us (7.5) that the cause and content of the material world is due to the living beings. The passion to enjoy nature and create progeny comes from the immemorial longing to mate and raise children. This is natural. But, the material world, the Vedas inform us, is only one quarter (the ekapad vibhuti) of creation. So we’re a minority. There’s nothing wrong with being a minority, but since we’re talking about the whole material world, there’s something disquieting about such a revelation. Furthermore, we deserve to be legitimately disturbed if we can’t readily perceive the extent of this other dimension – the tripad vibhuti. It is precisely this invisible realm that gives seers that otherworldly demeanour; but spirituality is not their exclusive domain. In fact being “in the world but not of it” is a desireable position. Our responsibility is to tackle the most complicated issues of the day through the lens of full God consciousness. A God who simply grants wishes, fulfils needs, protects us against misery and untimely death, punishes the wicked and rewards the good, has been cut a size too small. If we grasp the implications of a “fully-engaged God” we have made the break. We can be part of the big picture. (The writer is emeritus member, of the ISKCON governing body commission)

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest english language daily newspapers, on 31 March 2003.) TINY FISH swim against the waves while mighty elephants topple in the same current. A green parrot disappears into a distant grove but maintains its unseen individuality. Evaporation creates millions of tonnes of water floating aloft as cloud cover, those billowing swabs releasing sheets of rain to glide back to the sea as rivers only to evaporate once again as floating puffs of vapour. But within the apparently homogeneous sea live many aquatics. These creatures never rise into the air; and their uniqueness is undisturbed. Their singularity persists despite the comings and goings of water; their medium for nourishment and movement. Each marine creature’s uniqueness remains. Often humans become optimistic about liberation – with the aim of losing their identity: “I will become one with everything – the earth, the air, the universe. Liberation will free me at last from the painful dualities of the world – fame and infamy, wealth and poverty, happiness and distress, life and death.” But such aspirants stumble on a contentious issue. The form of deliverance they imagine is devoid an important human characteristic: love. Freedom to possess options, the liberty to pursue unique desires, the independence required to choose partners, hobbies and clothing, is all part of self-rule. Having choices is based on the principle of love. Everybody loves something or someone, manly things or many people. We all depend on the ability to choose, and we don’t want to be told how to do personal things. We don’t like to reveal everything about ourselves. How often do we hear, “Sorry, that’s personal,” when someone doesn’t want to answer a probing question? According to wisdom of yore – as evidenced in the teachings of Ramanuja, Badarayani, Madhvacharya, Krishna (Bhagavad Gita 12.5), and many others – Dvaita Vedanta, or personalism, is essential for those desiring permanent liberation. The principle of maintaining individual freedom, even in the spiritual world, is established in many kernel treatises, including the Vedanta Sutra and Brahma Samhita. The need to preserve love and our individual freedoms, even in the spiritual realm, is so deep-rooted that we can’t shed it, even in the name of liberation. Whatever exists here is but an imperfect reflection of the ever-flawless spiritual world. Entrance into that realm requires independent thought, love, and the right to choose. (The writer is emeritus member of the ISKCON Governing body commission)

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest English language daily newspapers, on 27 May 2003.) EVERY DAY about 3000 people worldwide die in auto mishaps. Reckless and drunken driving, speeding, and distraction greatly exacerbate this unfortunate phenomenon of our times. Even before the industrial revolution got under way, some scientists envisioned a future in which millions would traverse long distances almost instantly. From an environmental perspective, it’s notable that cars are now responsible for a third of global oil use. In Bangkok, congestion on roads is so great that many dress and feed their children on the way to school and work while riding in their cars. Is this rise of ‘car culture’ progress? Wisdom of the past says no. The Bhagavad speaks of ‘illusory happiness’ (Maya Sukhaya, 7.9.43), with solutions to problems creating greater problems. Cars, the machines Americans invented and mass-produced in the early 20th century, replaced horse-drawn carriages. But almost immediately they needed more roads. Then exhaust and the resultant air pollution became a problem. Costs to create and purchase devices to limit atmospheric contamination became a problem. Skyrocketing petrol prices became a problem. Because we’re bedazzled by the speed and privacy cars afford, the sense of power of being in the driver’s seat and all the other benefits to which we’re addicted, these problems seemed inconsequential. But Bhagavad Gita speaks of another energy (Anyam Prakritim, 7.5) that is above matter, of the living beings — the drivers — who, with all their imperfections, still remain superior to the things they invent, modify, and manipulate. They can use cars for a higher purpose. Autos have become a symbol of affluence. Without them, one can more easily transcend the widespread conditioning that tells us materially privileged circumstances are ends in themselves. Even for holistic health reasons, some car owners now prefer walking, cycling and public transport. But the Gita also asserts that one who ‘lights no fire’ and performs ‘no work’ is not a ‘true mystic’ (6.1). This forecasts action and utilisation of technology. Cars can be meditation chambers or prison cells. We can use them to expand our spirituality or watch ourselves pile up in hell. Cars are an intoxicating extension of our being. Drivers would be wise to sober up, and learn how to use their vehicles in the service of the Lord. (The writer is emeritus member of ISKCON Governing Body Commission)

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest English language daily newspapers, on 1 June 2002.) A LINE from Rupa Goswami’s Bhakti-Rasarnrita Sindhu begins with anyabhilasita-sunyam jnana-karmady-anavritarn, meaning that in order for devotion to succeed, it must be without jnana (the monistic quest for knowledge) and karma (the spirit of enjoyment). One of Gita’s primary teachings is that the Vedas deal predominantly with material pursuits via the three modes of nature (trai-gunya-vishaya veda, etc.,) and that one has to rise above this level of existence. Thus one can look at these writings of Rupa, and even the Gita itself, as instruction manuals for realising the truth of the Vedas. After all, when it comes to new cars, computers, and electronic equipment for entertainment or kitchen, we usually read the accompanying guidebooks rather than instinctively flicking dials and switches. We read handbooks because there’s often a “trick” to inserting or removing a key: perhaps there’s a switch we didn’t notice or a device we didn’t activate properly. Similarly, there are instructions to help us understand the Vedas, which are like ageless philosophical “appliances” to help us live peacefully in a world of rage. Manuals avert trial and error through pictures and simple directions. It is said in the Bible (Mathew 11:25), “Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent and hast revealed them unto babes.” Others say broad-mindedness is the answer, and that the quest for reality is like picking berries: you miss a lot if you approach it from only one angle. Agility is required to ascertain the truth. So how does one “extract” truth from a daunting array of fact, philosophy, and abstract, sometimes-contradictory, statements in the Vedas? And if the ‘manual-reading approach’ is the answer, what if the manual itself is hard to understand? Then what? The Bhagavad Gita can appear complex and mysterious, especially when Krishna says things like, “All beings are in me, but I am not in them” and “One who sees action in inaction and inaction in action, truly sees.” Well, in one part of the Gita (15.15), God asserts that “by all the Vedas, I am to be known” and that “I am the knower of the Vedas.” God Himself, as author of the Gita, provides us with a master key to that mysterious body of knowledge known collectively as the Vedas. Through study and meditation focused on knowing God, even the confusing elements of the Vedas become knowable, useful and applicable to present situations. In this way, the inconceivable contradiction-breaking energy of God can work in our daily lives.

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest English language daily newspapers, on 24 February 2003.) THE WAR in Iraq (which has a population of 23 million) could mean millions of civilian deaths both there and maybe worldwide. No matter how you slice it, war is hell. Is there a solution? Maybe. The lives of acknowledged saints like Vyas Muni, Ramanuja and Madhvacharya indicate a concern for suffering humanity. Interestingly, the English affix ‘muni’ stems from the Latin ‘munus’, meaning gift, as well as duty, while the term ‘munificent’ derives from ‘munificus’, meaning bountiful. The six goswamis of Vrindavan, apparent retirees and renunciants, wrote voluminously in isolation. But they did so with the express aim of relieving ‘the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to’ — in the early sixteenth century and what they foresaw beyond. Nevertheless, it is known that spirituality and saintliness are private and personal activities. Internal development is key to transcendental advancement. Without hours of daily private meditation and personal study, how can one achieve high levels o? any kind of learning? Meditation can mean adopting a laissez faire attitude toward the world. But should we be blissfully aloof, and praise those who make caves in the rock face? If saintly symptoms are all hidden, how are we to cure the world’s ills? Both positions have merit according to the Gita, and if we cast our glance back through history, we see how the protection of citizens was a natural consequence of well-ordered religious life. Godliness is not the sole property of hermetic saints, but a gift meant for all. It’s overly judgmental, callous and decidedly unspiritual to think that the millions who die in natural disasters, unjustly under political leaders, in the womb and in wars get what they deserve by suffering the results of their karmic destiny. We live in a time when violence is commonplace, and tragedy immanent. If and when disaster strikes, only one thing will remain, spiritual reality. Whether things get better or worse, the self and God will remain untouched. That’s not an argument for disinterestedness, it’s a reminder of what’s important. God is not a cheap purchase. Many charlatans know how to appear generous, liberal and kind. And fanatical evangelists should be barred from the category of spiritualists. Alternatively, those who generously advocate the supremacy of God and kindly awaken the self are actually compassionate. They have the potency to remedy distress and are truly munificent!

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest English language daily newspapers, on 12 August 2002.) UNITY IN diversity has become a catch phrase for civilised people who celebrate differences and want to end civil disruption, communal violence, religious conflict and international tensions. The principle of unity in diversity has its origins in the concept of acintya-bhedabheda-tattva, inconceivable [simultaneous] oneness and difference. Although The Vedas enjoin: sarvam khaly idam brahma (everything is non-different from the God who is the Supreme Brahman), this creates logical enigmas. For example, if everything is one, why don’t I eat my father? Further; how can Brahman be complete since it also presupposes negation of everything material? The idea of simultaneous oneness and difference may pose problems for rationalists, but it is easily assimilated when one accepts an omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent God. In other words, essential truths contain paradoxes, and we can’t know everything by reason and deduction. For example, our body functions as a holistic unit, but we constantly make distinctions between stomach, legs, head and heart. Significantly, within ourselves, there is unity and diversity. We want to relate to ourselves and others, and yet be separate. Ah — to repair to a remote Himalayan village, dance daily on the streets, or find a cave, distant hermitage or ashram where we can simply contemplate mystic phenomena for the rest of our lives. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be rid once and for all of responsibility and unceasing duties, and be a renunciant? Readers of the Gita learn that the true mystic is `not he who lights no fire and performs no duty’. This theme recurs in Vedic literature. Madhvacharya writes: `When one thinks that the living entity is non-different in all respects from the Supreme Lord, there is no doubt that he is in ignorance’. Great sages of the past have taught us that renunciation is incomplete unless we use everything in God’s service. For instance, Rupa Goswami has written in his Bhakti-Rasamrita-Sindhu (2.255-256) that `When one is not attached to anything, but at the same time accepts everything in relation to Krishna, one is rightly situated above possessiveness. On the other hand, one who rejects everything, without knowledge of its relationship to Krishna, is not as complete in his renunciation’. One can be active but learn how to dedicate all his or her activities to God. This is the perfection of renunciation, the deeper understanding of meditational life, and the key to reconciliation between all peoples. Duty as a sacred principle is joyous to perform.

(This article was posted in the ?Meditations? column of the Hindustan Times on 24 October 2002.) MEAT-EATING IS unhealthy and expensive. It?s ostentatious and becoming unfashionable. It?s also environmentally unfriendly, and causes starvation. But what to do with all the ownerless cows loitering in the streets of Delhi, draped over traffic islands and eating piles of garbage? Ship them all off to Brindaban? That?s what some think. Maybe it?s not such a bad idea. Or create animal shelters and keep them there? That?s another thought. All this is leading to Diwali and the tendency to make resolutions at the start of a New Year. But resolve flies in the face of traditional and fatalistic ideas about karma and predestination. And it?s been intimated that ?the road to hell? can be ?paved with good intentions?. Besides how can I, one person, make a difference? In my humble opinion, one of the strongest personal choices we can make is to foreswear flesh. Such abstention may feel socially awkward at first, but the benefits far outweigh the liabilities. It?s a direct link to a personally less selfish world, and it restores the bridge over the waters of ignorance. Lucid satellite photographs from the US show the existence of a now underwater bridge from India to Sri Lanka. NASA?s caption says the bridge appears to be ?man-made.? Three weeks ago, Indolink.com made these photos downloadable, and hundreds of bulletin boards worldwide displayed printed versions. We shouldn?t be surprised. In the Ramayana, there is wisdom: Ram and His associates worked tirelessly to help good triumph over evil. Values of right and wrong, as espoused in the history of the Ramayana, are what young people need to hear and live by. Without such principles, we face a future of unmitigated hedonism, indecency, increased crime and terrorism. And from whence do such ideals emanate, but from the epic histories of our own past. India is the land of Ram, and we can live for His eternal return, instead of just once a year. So with the New Year upon us, why not set aside ?me-ism?, and think how to best benefit the human family, worldwide. India, like no other country, can headquarter the ?united nations of the spiritual world.? And if but a fraction of the millions who read this newspaper stopped eating meat, it would surely affect the world. It?s a start, and a decision that?s do-able. The writer is emeritus GBC of the International Society For Krishna Consciousness.