GodMen Chronicles Part 4 (of 4)

The Ignorant Spokesman

(Fictional. Continuing The GodMen Chronicles)


A scandal had broken out the previous night. Some es-Mishtiqiyas had gone to the media with printouts of bank transcripts, land records, and a video that showed someone looking like Swami Mishtick in, shall we say, "a compromising position" with several female, blond sanyasins. The story had traveled like wildfire, trending into the top of Twitter overnight. TV channels were all over the story, some endlessly streaming an old BBC expose documentary on Swamiji and the "dark mishtiqiya cult", as they put it. The 24-hour news cycle was relentless, and late January is one of the slowest news periods of the year. Most business news channels too diverted their attention from the annual Davos love-fest, and featured stories about this new scandal instead. It made for great television.

(originally posted at http://rustus.blogspot.com)

By 8am, the ashram gate was surrounded by TV crews, their satellite connections beaming out images into homes all across India, and perhaps, out into the wider universe. The mela outside the ashram had taken a festive look, with reporters competing for square footage that covered the maximum of the "Himalayan Retreat" building behind them.

"Built like something out of Disneyland, this grotesque building is testimony to the massive extent of this swindle. Our sources estimate that this building was built with Twelve Million Dollars worth of donations. Donations that were meant to go to the poor and needy in India, but were spent on these luxuries for the fake Swami and his troupe. For KGB-32, this is Lakshmi Jain".

And another...

"The rumors of mis-management and mistreatment of inmates have surfaced every few months around the 'Mishtiqiya' community. Our anonymous sources, some of whom were high ranking officials inside this mysterious cult, have tipped us about the murders of four young men, and six young women at this very ashram in the last four years. It is said that the orange building that you see inside..", and here the camera zooms out to reveal the super-specialty hospital, " is the site of these crimes. The local police has refused to register the cases, and are said to be hand in glove with the ashram authorities...".

By 10am, quite a crowd had gathered. Some of the protesters were members of the local Satrang Bal, under the control of the local strongman. Very deliberately, and under the watchful gaze of the 24-hour TV crews, the protesters burnt effigies of the Swami, and started to tear down one of the walls of the ashram. Local police had arrived at the scene, but seemed to be under instructions to do nothing on camera. They watched on as well.

Unaware of the developments at the ashram gate, or even the news storm since previous night, Deva Ananda walked over to the ashram office inside the Himalayan Retreat at noon. He walked over to Andaracharya's plush office and smiled gently, "Shal-Aum Andaracharyaji. Swamiji's blessings on us".

Andaracharya turned off the 60" LCD television on his wall, and turned towards Deva Ananda. "Shal-Aum Deva Anandaji. Swamiji's blessings on us. Please come in and sit here". He gestured towards the deep orange sofas inside his office, as he himself sat down on his black leather sofa. "You are very lucky. Swamiji has chosen you for a very special task. Are you ready?"

---

At 12:30pm, Deva Ananda nervously touched his glasses, as he entered the MishTV media room. He looked again at the paper in his trembling hands, trying to memorize the text before him. He had never faced a live news camera, and this seemed like a bad time to start. He walked over to the center of the media stage, and took one last look at the crowd around him. Cameras had started flashing as soon as he had opened the door, and now the whirring of two dozen TV cameras filled the room. The room went quiet as he settled into his seat, the silence punctuated with the flash of still cameras, and the background hum of the TV cameras. They waited.

"
Hello. I am Dr. David Freeman, and I am the official spokes-person for the Mishtiqiya Ashram.

We would like to say that we are dismayed by the baseless allegations made recently in the press, and deny them completely. We would like to assert that Swami Mishtick is a divine soul and a renunciate. He does not have any earthly belongings.

We would also like to deny Swamiji's connection with any form of bodily involvement with any member of the community. We are aware that there are some videos claiming to be Swamiji, and would like the public to know that Swamiji is celibate. These videos are obviously fake propaganda created to sully Swamiji's name and good work.

The Mishtiqiya Ashram is a public service community. We would like to remind the public that the community runs 39 state-of-the-art hospitals, and 12 institutions of higher learning. We have a record of service to the community that cannot be tarnished by these baseless accusations.

Swamiji himself is away for his Maun Vrat, a vow of silence, in the Himalayas. He will not be available for comment on this matter until his meditation is over.

Copies of this statement are available on the table to my right. We will not take any more questions.

Thank you, and Shal-Aum".

GodMen Chronicles Part 3 (of 4)

Swirling Rumors

(Fictional, continuing the GodMen Chronicles)

Next morning, Deva Ananda set out for the hospital for his daily duties at 6am. As Deva Ananda walked the ashram, he was in the habit of looking at the granite paved pathway and silently reciting Swamiji's "heart calming mantra". Today, he heard someone call him from behind. Shal-Aum, Deva Anandaji! Folding his hands, he replied back instinctively "Shal-Aum to you brother! Swamiji's blessings on us!". He turned around to look for the source of this greeting, his greeter was walking towards him. It was the white-robed Swami Andaracharya, the head trustee of Swamiji's public service organizations.

(Originally posted at http://rustus.blogspot.com)

Thinking that he might get a few answers from Andaracharyaji, Deva Ananda waited for him to catch up. Swamiji's blessings on you, Deva Anandaji. You look unusually worried today. What is on your mind?

"Andaracharyaji, with Swamiji's blessing I live a contented life. However, I have been troubled by the mischief that some outsiders are making, and their slanderous accusations about Swamiji. How could it be true that Swamiji has crores of Dollars in Swiss bank accounts? Swamiji has renounced the world, and he doesn't even own more than one robe."

Andaracharyaji looked calmly at Deva Ananda, as if to size him up. After a long pause and a sigh, he said with a studied and measured tone, "Deva Anandaji, this is all part of Swamiji's leela. He had said many years ago that he will create such a situation, where the true belief of his followers will be tested. He is trying to test us. The truth is what it is. We have to pray to Swamiji that we have the courage and belief to ride through this. He had said that only his true followers will find the path to eternal heaven. Do you want to pass this test, Deva Anandaji?"

"Of course, with Swamiji's blessings, I have been with him for many lives," Deva Ananda said, "but I worry about so many of our brothers and sisters who have left the ashram after falling pray to these vile and vicious rumors. Before she left, Sister Prema Carol had told me that she met some people who Swamiji had met...er...intimately." Deva Ananda hesitated as he said the last few words, not sure if even repeating these things would be proof of his lack of belief.

What he didn't tell Andaracharyaji was that Sister Prema Carol had told him many other things about Swamiji. She told him that Swamiji's real estate empire was now worth $1.2 bn, and that the hefty donations from international and rich devotees to the hospitals far outpaced the value of the medical service the specialty hospitals were giving out. She also said that the rumors of murders on campus were true, and that some ex-Swami followers had set up a website to expose the truths about Swamiji's business and carnal affairs.

She had also told him that Swamiji had hand-selected him to be initiated into the ashram because he was looking for a free cardio-surgeon! Deva Ananda could not believe this at all. "I am cardiologist, not a surgeon!", is what he said at the time. The connection he felt to Swamiji was real, and there was no doubt in his mind that he had known Swamiji for many lives. This must all be a pack of lies, he had thought to himself as he waved goodbye to Sister Prema Carol at the golden gate on the south side of the ashram. That was 2 months ago.

"Deva Anandaji, this world is Swamiji's leela! We mustn't give in to these temptations. Let us pray to Swamiji for courage." Andaracharyaji smiled benignly as he said this. Now he put his right arm on Deva Ananda's shoulder and leaned forward- "Swamiji has blessed you with a new mission. Please come into the ashram office today afternoon".

Not sure of whom to believe, Deva Ananda walked on to the hospital. "I should call Sister Prema Carol and seek her counsel as well. Maybe in the evening when it's morning on the east coast". He had cut his connection with his past life, and his new, invented life seemed to be moored next to fictional buoys. Exit was not much of a choice.

Continued here...

GodMen Chronicles Part 2 (of 4)

The One Who Brings Joy to the Gods
(continuing The GodMen Chronicles)


Bespectacled, thin and tall, Dr. David Freeman looked every part the respectable cardiologist that he was. He had a very successful practice in New York before he attended Swami Mishtick's Meditation Retreat in northern California. He had spent his youth fascinated by eastern mysticism, and had dabbled in Buddhism for a few years. He had come across Swami Mishtick's followers a few times in his trips to India, and one of then convinced Dr. Freeman to attend the Retreat. Even at the time, $5,000 seemed a high price to pay, but he found the session absolutely worth it.

(Originally posted at http://rustus.blogspot.com)
Swamiji had the clearest eyes, clear as the bright blue New Mexico sky. His long flowing hair were a reminder of his previous birth as the Buddha and Krishna. His smile was radiant and disarming. And his words...oh! His words made easy the wisdom gathered over a thousand births. His voice could make time stand still. He talked about the time he spent meditating in the Himalayas. 12 years of silent contemplation gave him an inner fire that burns only in the most enlightened. He had the power to heal the sick, and bring back the dead. Such was his meditation in the Himalayas. There he discovered his past lives, and his future lives. He divined the reasons why his soul had descended to the Earth into this body. He had work to do in this life.

After he came back from his self-imposed exile from humanity, he took the name of Swami Mishtick, and he declared that he was an incarnate God, a true Avatar of the Buddha and Krishna. His duty in this life was to take humanity back to its' glorious ways, and show the world the true way to eternal bliss. He got busy setting up his first ashram in southern India. Then, he took his message internationally. When Dr. Freeman first met him, Swamiji's community was present in 32 countries, with 43 ashrams. About 21 million people counted themselves lucky to be Swamiji's followers.

"Shal-Aum", Swamiji had said to him. At first Dr. Freeman thought this was a little reference to his Jewish heritage. Later, he realized that this is the greeting Swamiji used with everyone. The Mishtiqiya community had it's own language, it's own customs, and it's own lifestyle.

Those 21 days were bliss-filled for Dr. Freeman. Swamiji paid special attention to Dr. Freeman, recognizing within him his old disciple from a previous birth. It was there, right there, that Swamiji inspired him to give up his earthly ambitions and join the ashram. "You will become 'Deva Ananda', the one who brings joy to the Gods", Swamiji said. Dr. Freeman sold off his practice, renounced his family ties, dedicated his entire life's savings (about $3.1 million) to Swamiji, and became Deva Ananda, the one who brings joy to the Gods.

Once in India, Deva Ananda was pleased to learn that Swamiji has recently blessed the creation of a super-specialty hospital in the very ashram he had been ordained at. Being a cardiologist, he could resume his practice at this ultra-modern hospital. This time, he would work for free, and his services would be available to the lowest strata of the society- the sick, the tired, the needy.

Soon, Deva Ananda settled into his ashram routine. Five years had gone by. Ashram life was all consuming. Swamiji was a strict disciplinarian and a hard taskmaster. The day began at 5am with meditation and prayers to Swamiji, and went on without stop until 10pm. There was no moment to rest. Swamiji wouldn't tolerate it in his ashrams.

In Swamiji's absence for meditation and travel, the affairs of Swamiji's trust and ashrams fell onto Swami Andaracharyaji. He had been a banker in his past life, until he was taken in by Swamiji, and initiated into the secret yoga. Swami Andaracharya was no ordinary Sanyasi- now dressed in flowing white robes, and a gray beard that were a sign of his years and his purity. It was Andaracharyaji who had Swamiji's blessing and a capacity to organize and manage the trust's community activities. He managed the flow of funds, and the build out for new ashrams.

Continued here...

GodMen Chronicles Part 1 (of 4)

The Restless Sanyasi
(Fictional, continuing the GodMen series)




Deva Ananda Mishtiqiya was distraught. Late January in southern India is as pleasant a time as you can get on the plateau. Nights are nippy, slightly cold, and the days smell of Valentine roses. Deva Ananda had been sleeping fitfully for the last three nights, and had been restless and sweaty all day. He couldn't think of anything specific that was causing this. Like an unexplained itch that scratching won't relieve, this restlessness was gnawing away at the serenity that had become his cloak at the ashram.

(Originally posted on http://rustus.blogspot.com)

His sanyasi's (one who has renounced the world) quarters at the ashram were spartan. Bare ochre walls, adorned only with 3x8' photos of Swamiji (smiling in one, blessing pose in another), a small television perpetually tuned into Swami Mishtick's MishTV channel, a single bed, small desk fan, a dark blue BeeTel phone, and a wooden chair. Deva Ananda mindlessly turned the TV on. He didn't feel like listening to the "Shal-Aum to You" program that was on MishTV. Out of habit, and not really hoping to see anything more interesting, Deva Ananda changed the channel. Business news on CNBC. "...Every attempt made to eliminate the gap failed. As the promoters held a small percentage of equity, the concern was that poor performance would result in the takeover, thereby exposing the gap. It was like riding a tiger, not knowing how to get off without being eaten...". They were discussing another depressing financial scandal, this time in the Indian IT services industry. Nothing Deva Ananda could relate to. Never ridden tigers before.

He turned off the TV and picked up an old magazine...“It’s all just one big lie,” Madoff told his employees on Dec. 10, according to a statement by prosecutors. The firm, Madoff allegedly said, is “basically, a giant Ponzi scheme.” "That's great! More crummy news..." Deva Ananda muttered to himself, "all the world needs is more crummy news about cheats and swindlers". He decided to go out for a walk in the ashram.

The ashram was set in a 67-acre area, surrounded by trees and giant granite boulders, and 15 kilometers away from the busy industrial city nearby. Kept clean by an army of workers and resident sanyasis, the ashram was a modern day architectural wonder. Looking as-if dreamed-up by yogi on a soma-induced high, the ashram had all the trappings of a modern corporate campus. The "Himalayan Retreat" was designed like the lofty mountains that Swamiji was said to have spent 12 years of his youth meditating in. There was a super-specialty hospital on the ashram, as were the living quarters for the 500 or so sanyasis who lived and worked at the ashram. This was paradise. And where there's paradise, often comes trouble.

There had been rumors about Swamiji in the past too. The usual chin-wagging by self-righteous left wing types complaining about the "luxury" ashram, the expensive hospitals built on donations, and the "excesses" of the $6000 retreat that Swamiji held for the new initiates. No. These new rumors were far more sinister. New allegations were swirling around like dry leaves on a hot summer day. A redux of rumors of an unexplained series of disappearances and deaths in the ashram. Some new stuff had come up about Swamiji's sexual escapades and Swiss bank accounts. Don't they know, Swamiji's inner circle said, Swamiji is God incarnate! He doesn't need their money- he's here to show us all the way to heaven!

Deva Ananda reached back to his room, and picked up the phone to call his mother at her Jewish old age home in Parsippany, NJ. Please leave a message for Mrs. Freeman... "Mom! It's me- David. It's been years since we spoke. I'm fine. Just wanted to hear your voice. Love Deva A...er...it's David. Bye!"

Continued here...

A few Godmen!

It is divine intention, then, that as I started my next set blog-meditations on the subject of "belief", I am blessed by the coming out, so to speak, of several all-too-familiar shock-news stories about Godmen in India. And thus, this post was written, by the will of the creator!

(Originally posted on http://rustus.blogspot.com)

If you've been following me, I had posted a few weeks ago about my deep resoaking in traditional India. There, I realized just how deep is our urge to connect with something divine, and how far each of us is willing to go to believe. In my many recent trips to India, I have continued to be surprised by the prodigious rise of the Godman culture. There are TV channels, billboards, posters, pocket-calendars, internet darshans, blogs, temples, satsangs, and Youtube channels that proclaim the divinity of an alarming number of self-styled Babas, Gurus, Mahants, surplus Shankaracharyas, Swamis and other ochre-robed manifestations of divinity.

Not one to make fun of someone's faith- and risk eternal hellfire and internet flames- I kept my opinions to myself so far. However, I suspect it's well within reasonable limits to think about the reasons behind this phenomenon. What is driving it?

Let me anticipate my future posts here, briefly, and then leave you with a snapshot of the week-that-was in the much loved serial: "GodMen...plyng evrywhrTM".

Believing in something is easier than knowing everything: First off, there is too much information in the world around us. I'll research just how much in a future post, but we know that the scientific and information revolution in the last couple centuries has expanded the "information quantity" by several orders of magnitude. The human brain, unfortunately, has not kept pace. Hence, we have to limit ourselves to knowing only a fraction of the stuff that's out there, and we have to believe the rest. That means, if someone is simplifying reality for me, he's doing me a favor, and I must call him my Guru. Problem solved, no!

Everyone's doing it: Belief is like the swine flu- it's infectious. If my neighbors have it, and their neighbors have it, then I would be foolish not to have it! I start believing partly to fit in, and partly because it helps simplify my life (see above). Then, I become a vector of this belief and through my inspired anecdotes and miracles, I infect others with my belief.

A few good Godmen: Like honest politicians, not all Godmen are out to cheat, swindle, and defraud (Gawd! I love the Thesaurus). There are quite a few Godmen who are honest, and are interested in the public good. That's what keep the engine moving. I think.

The long tail of spirituality: Think about it- with so many channels of information, you can find just the guru that you were looking for. You can get a north Indian guru, a south Indian guru, a pan-hindu guru, a post-hindu guru, a cancer-curing guru, a cute kid guru. There are all types of gurus out there, and with the information distribution that's possible with TV and internet, each small niche will be fulfilled.

GodMan-liness is a scale business- big is better: If you read the news articles about the fake gurus, you will conclude-as I did- that there is a lot of money and power at stake here. All those lavish ashram's need money to build, and all those news channels need content that they can play. The bigger a guru's following, the more money they have, and the more they are likely to attract new followers and crowd out the smaller, local types. You know, the ones who cared about spirituality and other soft stuff!

Escalation of commitment: And finally, once you have taken a ride on a guru band-wagon, there's no getting off. You have learnt their lingo, you have got into their community, you have attained the Guru's blessings, and you have brought your friends and family into this circle. Now, what would you do if you found your Guru was a fake? You'd hush it, because there's no way you can get off that juggernaut without getting trampled. You've joined into the lie.

Mo' Money: As India gets richer, people (a) have more money to spend on spirituality (!), and (b) have more reason to try to prevent a slide back into the cesspool of poverty they recently climbed out of. This means good business for those that promise continued good fortune because, ahem, they have a direct line into you-know-who.

In sum, I would say this whole business is a Ponzi scheme. Think about it.
---
Here's some news feeds to tell you more about the state of this business. No peeking, kids. This stuff is PG-13.

A long journey with breaks

Originally posted at http://rustus.blogspot.com

"How would I know it's you?", I remember asking the Monarch desperately, as he was about to disappear into the wind. "I will know you..." were his last words.

The month of February had been unusually cold and rainy in northern California, and the sun barely peeked through the clouds all month. The day the Monarch left with his followers, the winds were blowing at a breezy 10-15 miles an hour, much calmer than the storm in January that had brought in the clouds. He was headed east, towards the Sierra Nevada mountains. He had this calming effect on people, making them smile and reminding them of sunshine, warmth and love. Now, he was gone with no forwarding address.

The Monarch taught us that a journey worth taking, is a journey worth taking over many life-times.

His life was an example of his particular form of mysticism. "This body is a colorful cloth", he often said, "but your soul is even more luminous. You learn to love your clothes, but you are ready to discard them when they get old. Just like that, learn to love this physical body, but be ready to discard it and take on another one. The endless cycle of living and dying will continue. Your soul has to take a journey over many life-times to reach it's end state. Don't stop moving forward".

We went east to the Sierra Nevada to look for him, but he was gone. Some had heard that he had died there. Distraught and disbelieving, we kept watch for signs of him all over the mountains. Some said he lived by the fragrant milkweed plant, and we should go look there. Others said that he had reincarnated in a small, hapless little hungry creature. Still others remembered his talk of his insatiable thirst for the nectar of life that nourished him. No sightings, and certainly no way that I could find him now.

Months later, we got word from some friends in Oregon, just north of the California border. We rushed over to the grove where the Monarch was rumored to have gathered. As we got there, the air was aflutter with orange banners, floating freely in the sky. This was a familiar gathering. My heart jumped with joy at the thought of meeting the Monarch again. But how will I know him?

Like a floating angel, I could see his new form appear floating in front of me. "You are here, my friend", he said as he lightly dusted my shoulder. "You look a little different", I said weakly, "but it's always good to see you. Is this your final stop"?

"My soul will go on in this endless cycle, until I learn to break this cycle and stop this journey", he said. "Maybe that's something you should learn from a butterfly".

- - -
The Monarch butterfly is famous for being beautiful in orange, not different from the color donned by Hindu and Buddhist monks. This butterfly has a 4 generation annual migration. The generation that heads out from California goes to Sierra Nevada to have children and then die. The children then proceed on their migration to Oregon, where there give birth and die. The grand-children of the California monarchs spend two generations in Oregon and Washington states, whence they start their return trip to California.

My family was lucky to view the Monarch grove one winter in the Ardenwood farm in Fremont, CA. These memories have a big role in this story.

There are a lot of web resources to study these beautiful souls. My favorite is the PBS:NOVA program, and these couple of links. My original post on afterlife is here. Enjoy.

Notes from a short life!

Originally posted at http://rustus.blogspot.com

Lokesh's diary: Summer 2009

"Today is a hot day in the peak of summer in this great land of ours, where we have lived since time immemorial. The sun will be out early, and the wheat fields will be ripe, golden and wavy.

Brothers, we swarm tonight!

For the glory of our race, we will go out in our thousands…no we shall go out in our hundreds of millions and show them what we were born to do. Our might army will come down like the rain, bringing darkness from the sky to level their fields down to the earth. Our feast will last many days and, when we are done, the devastation that will be left behind will bring nothing but hunger and death to those men who think of us as their enemies. Alone, these men think of us as mere insects that can be crushed under their feet. Together, we can bring them destruction they will remember for generations.

Brothers, our time here is short. We have to be together in this life and the next. Some of us will not survive the day- they will become martyrs. Gone to bring glory to our race, our lost brothers will join us in the after-life, where we will feast forever. In the other life, our fallen brothers will find endless fields of wheat and rice that will feed them for eternity. When it is our time, we will join them too in our endless celebration.

For the glory of our race, we have to be ready to strike first. Those that fall behind in our group, those that refuse to do their share of work for our race- we must slay them. We must slay them and consume them with our anger and our hunger. We must show no mercy. That is our way. We must remove all signs of weakness from our race. That is what we are born to do.

Ours is a short life. Our glorious afterlife will be forever. For the glory of our race, Brothers, let us go out in our hundreds of millions and show them what we were born to do.
"
- - -
Lokesh is a member of a desert locust swarm. Driven by hunger and fear, the swarms of hundreds of millions of locusts can strip fields and bring disaster to farmers that are unfortunate enough to have their fields on the swarm's path. Scientists are studying how the fear of cannibalization (of being eaten by another locust from the same swarm) drives the ferocity and intensity of the swarm's movement.

It could be said that a locust prepares to die when it joins the swarm, but we suppose this life is only a prelude to an everlasting, and glorious, afterlife for this creature.

(Links for more research on desert locusts, their eating habits, locust swarm damage, and scientific research on cannibalization and swarming). My previous post on a belief in afterlife is here.

This is the life

Originally posted at http://rustus.blogspot.com

"You're obviously doing it wrong", said CC with contempt, "when the light blinks red, you have to press with your foot HERE! You guys have no sense of timing at all, do you! You deserve to go hungry". With that he turned around, with the smug look of someone who's on top of his game, and scurried back to his living quarters .

The first time I saw CC, he was rushing back from the room with the blinking red lights, grinning ear to ear, and with food crumbs still stuck to his unkempt whiskers. He stood out from the others, with his pink skin and athletic built. "Life has been good to me", he said with pride, "ever since I figured out the secret to finding food. Now I have my own place, stockpiles to last several generations, and my kids are doing great. Is life good, or what?!"

CC had been busy all week chasing that red light. He had good breeding- his parents were hand-selected for the task of having him, as were their parents and their parents, going back 20 generations. CC's athletic build was a result of this good breeding, as was his pink skin. Life had become more interesting since CC discovered his secret power. He has discovered that he could control the food supply.

Every time that red bulb lit up, he had to press a lever in the next room which, if he did it right, would earn him some more food. This didn't work all the time- "sometimes I don't press the lever hard enough, and sometimes the conditions aren't right". But what CC knew was that ever since he figured out how to control the food supply, there was no stopping him. "I live a busy life. I have to work hard at keeping my stockpiles up, and making sure I have enough to last for the next 10 generations. My brood is growing fast, you know!".

With this much success, CC was not given to unnecessary reflection and philosophizing. "I don't have time for all that navel-gazing. That's what you guys are for. All I know is that if every lab mouse worked as hard as I did, they would be successful and happy. This is all there is to life. I keep busy, have a massive stockpile and I have a lot of kids that will continue my tradition".

This is as good as it gets for him. Many living creatures don't need to believe in afterlife to enjoy their life fully.

- - -
CC's full name was CC_Little_27777. He was the latest in a series of highly inbred laboratory specimen mice. He was named after the inventor of the laboratory mice- CC Little. His lab's research was around perceived control and mice stress.

- - -
(Links for more research on laboratory mice, their inventor CC Little, the research on "perceived control and stress", and the WIRED article on Inbred Mouse.). My previous post on belief in afterlife is here.

Continuing the previous post with three stories...

In my previous post, I talked about how the belief in afterlife can alter behavior in this life for many people. I had left the ideas out in an abstract manner.

Now I have written short stories that will help bring more color to those abstract ideas. Putting these stories together has been a lot of fun- right from thinking about how these ideas could be brought to life, and then researching each of the themes.

I have used a combination of anthropomorphism and surprise to create these short stories. Hope you'll like them.

Life, interrupted!

Religious beliefs come in different packages. In most cases, a belief in the nature of "After Life" drives a lot of the mythology, rituals and practices. These specific set of beliefs in the nature of afterlife can drive daily decisions around how to live life, and even how to end it.

Three flavors of afterlife: Belief in afterlife also comes in three flavors. Read the Wikipedia entry for more details, but given below is my simplified argument. So, as I was saying, belief in afterlife comes in three flavors- (1) this life is all there is to "me", (2) I have only one life, and my fate after life will be decided by my actions in this life, and (3) This life is one in a series, and over many lifetimes I will be able to achieve a state where "I" will be extinguished/salvaged.

Belief in afterlife comes naturally: If you read my previous post, you already know that I recently suffered the loss of my Father. His loss made me realize how "extended narrative" was a very natural conclusion. It is very hard for the mind to accept that someone who was there today, will no longer be around tomorrow.

Filling in the blanks: When we close our eyes to blink or think, our brain naturally assumes the continuity of the world around us. Most optical illusions are based on this quirky feature of brain wiring- that we "fill in"things that we assume to be there. It's probably the same thought process that makes us continue to think that the departed person, or at least the "essence" of that person, continues onward much after their death. The mind "fills in" the departed person, refusing to recognize that there will be no more real interactions with this person.

What if this is it? There is, after all, no real scientific evidence of a "soul" or the continuity of a personality after physical death. If a person subscribes to the view that there is no afterlife, would their behavior be designed to make the maximum out of this life, or to think of life's objective as being the "propagation of one's gene pool"? All non-human living beings, I suppose, belong to this school! Because we can, we humans spend our life thinking about the purpose and meaning of life. To be a lifelong pleasure seeker, or to be concerned only about the propagation of one's own gene pool, even these are choices that require some thought about the true meaning of life.

One shot, that's all! What of those who believe that this life is just a short prefix to an infinite afterlife, and that our actions in this life determine our comfort/pleasure in the afterlife? Then, I suppose, people would make some stark decisions about how they want to lead this life. They could lead their life fulfilling a set of action and "Requirements" laid out before them so that they may be judged well. They could, on the other hand, think that this life is but a means to an end, and all actions are justified (however irrational or inhuman they may seem), as long as they are convinced that they are promised an exciting after-life in return. Both choices- a life of piety, or a brutish, short life of inhuman action - both these choices can be made by adjusting "the beliefs" to manipulate the behavior of the individual.

Many life-times: Modern video games come with multiple lives. You could lose one life, and still carry on your mission regardless. Somewhat like this is the Hindu/Buddhist believe that we are trapped in the Samsara- the cycle of birth, death and rebirth. In this belief system, a soul could be reborn into any living form, but the ability to act and do something is only present in the human birth. The objective of the human birth, therefore, is to do enough good work to be reborn a human being and, through geometric proportion acquired over many lives, tote up enough karma points to buy an exit from this endless cycle.

This belief, of a single narrative extended over multiple life-times, is very prevalent in Indian culture. Some of the "let it go" mentality in India comes from this- what's the rush!? People trace relationship and interactions over several life-times. All good and bad fortune can be explained away through this extended narrative- I must have deserved this fate because of actions in my past lives. This belief in an extended narrative makes people more likely to accept their current situation.

The United States, on the other hand, is a society that acts like it believes very little in the afterlife. Everything has to be consumed now,in this lifetime. Every whim has to be pursued now, in this lifetime. Nothing must be left for later, to another lifetime.

Extending the argument a little, could it be said that most of the wars and conflicts are started in this life, but continue because of the difference of belief in the afterlife?

The Call, and thoughts afterwards

To an immigrant's mind, there's one phone call that is inevitable. Inevitability, unfortunately, does not make the call easier to take. The call from a loved one- bringing news of the death of a parent in a land far, far away in memory. Preparing for this call is never easy, and I had often wondered where I would be when the call comes. Quite immediately, I imagined, thoughts would take flight and hit unexpected turbulence between the practical issues of finding the next flight home, and the emotional burden of guilt and sorrow.


The morning I got the call, I knew that the day was going to be special- it was the day of the longest solar eclipse in the millennium, and the longest till the year 3043. I was away from home (both my adopted home and my hometown), in a business meeting with 300 other people in southern India- prime viewing area for the eclipse. It was all over the Indian TV news in the morning as I was dressing to leave for the meeting. TV cameras were positioned all over the holy places in India, ready to record the faithful and the superstitious taking a dip before and during the eclipse. I didn't know then, but the wheels were in motion already, and the eclipse was to start at 11am. A little before the eclipse, I got a call from my wife. Sitting in a large auditorium, I bent down below the desk to whisper and ask why she was calling in the middle of the meeting. "Your father has died!!!", is all she would say. This call came 10 years before I expected it. I had imagined that I would break down when I got this message. Instead, a surprised "What!?" is all I could say, before I walked out of the auditorium. I called my Mom to calm her, and to tell her that I am coming home as soon as I could. No tears, yet.

I ask a colleague to help me find tickets, and the travel team found me a cab to drive me 3 hours to the nearest airport. I packed my bags and set out in the taxi. That's when the eclipse began, and I felt a shadow covering me in darkness. Letting the tears flow, I had to take an assessment of what needs to be done now. I started calling friends and relatives to let them know what had happened. Between tears and calls, I caught a glimpse of the eclipse as a reflection on my Blackberry, and behind my polarized sunglasses. This photo shows approximately what I saw.

Got home by 9pm, and was immediately enveloped by memories, unfinished conversations, relatives and tearful hugs. The next few days were going to be busy. We didn't sleep that night, or for much of the next few days. My brother would arrive a day later, a day too late. Elders in the family were around to comfort, provide food, and to tell us what rituals would follow. Over the next couple of weeks, I felt transported back to a completely different world. I was back amongst the familiar rituals and relatives of my childhood, but I had moved so far away from them in my thinking that this sudden immersion back into Indian culture, Hindu thoughts and rituals, was like the 5 dips I took in the ice-cold water of the holy Ganges- shockingly unexpected and utterly refreshing.

This ice-cold immersion led me to a cascade of thoughts around relationships, the idea of an interrupted life, the meaning of luck, and the value of belief in our lives. Without going Deepak Chopra on everyone, I would like to pen down my thoughts one post at a time. Hopefully soon...

Sorry Gallup....people don't really quit their bosses (despite what they tell you)

This is a continuation of my earlier post about why people leave their jobs. As you'll read in that note, I had stated that people leave their jobs as the equation between self-worth and net-worth goes south. From the comments that people left on the post, people seem to believe Gallup's finding that "People leave their managers, not companies".

I disagree.

Some people depend too much on their manager...for both self-worth and net worth. That is what I believe to be true. It's of course, true that one's manager is an important player. However, as I argue below, there are other sources of self-worth and net-worth, and most people would do well to find their true source of joy and wealth.

What brings joy... and satisfaction? You might get your jollies from any of the following people -your colleagues, your family, your community, clients your manager. If you have a bad manager you can just as well defocus from the manager and focus on your clients, for example. Treat the manager as an interesting (and irritating) side-show, and nothing more.

What adds to self-worth? Depending on your personality, your sense of self-worth could depend on your work, your social environment, your ideas (the ecosystem inside your head), and your moods. Maybe you like to engage people in stimulating conversation. Maybe you like to work hard and play hard. There are many things in this list, and the manager is just one of these items.

What adds to your net-worth? There are many ways in which your networth can increase- through your salary, your bonuses, your investments, and even "gifts" from other people. If you are too dependent on your company (and therefore your manager) for your networth, then you will be more sensitive to your manager. On the other hand, if your net-worth increases are not too dependent on your manager's largesse, you may as well not worry about how happy your manager is with your work.

The real question is...How much are you dependent on your manager for your sense of self-worth, and your increases in net-worth? If the dependence is high, you will have to figure out a way to reduce it, by adding other sources.

And now...the obligatory 2x2. Nuff said.

Many Me's

Personality is usually defined as a relatively enduring set of traits that make an individual unique and produces consistencies in thoughts and behavior. It is, by definition, a static concept. Once a person is known to have A personality, he is expected to show behavior consistent with that personality.

Needless to say, the fact that I am copying a Google definition in my opening paragraph means that I am going to refute it. How predictable, isn't it! ;-)

I think I have the potential to have multiple personalities. No, this isn't an invitation to sign me up for a 10-session-trial-program with a shrink. What I mean to say is that I can display consistent patterns of behavior under different conditions, such that the behavior is inconsistent with my own behavior under other circumstances. Heavy stuff, eh! Let me tell you more...I think all of us have the potential to have multiple stable personalities. Take that to the bank!

Allow me to clarify- Condition 1...sunny California. Condition 2...angry, hot Delhi. Imagine yourself driving down the freeway (or Ring Road, in Delhi), and this jerk in the white SUV cuts into your lane in the front. Under condition 1, I slow down my car, smile at the nice guy in front of me, and think about how the guy is probably in a hurry and needs to get ahead. Under condition 2, the Delhi sun is beating down the roof of the car, the car's puny airconditioning is barely able to keep up, and I am already bristling with anger at the slow pace of the traffic. Now, when this guy cuts ahead, I begin foaming with rage, my forehead prickles with sweat, choice vernacular "colored language" climbs up to the tip of my tongue, and I begin to honk at the insolence of this #$%. I am ready to drive over this guy now.

Same stimulus, different conditions...completely different response. Bay area guy, please meet Delhi guy.

So, in my book, a personality is a SET of consistent behaviors that are stable over time, and may not be at-all consistent with each other.

This is great news, Really! What that means is that if I am able to (1) identify my various personalities, and (2) control which state I am in right now, I will be able to do things far beyond what I do currently.

It's called method acting. Actors do this all the time - they channel completely different personalities by not faking it, but by really feeling the emotions that their characters are going through.

Politicians use this all the time. One time they will channel a benign, charming, baby-kissing personality. Another moment, they will unleash the fires of hell. Check out this photo of a Soviet premier banging his shoe on the UN table. Is that angry, or what?

So what are my stable personality types- let me count the ways. There's the kind and gentle me, the foaming-mad-Delhi-me, the brilliant-ideator-me, the-timid-mouse-me, the-teamplayer-me, the-world-citizen-me, the witty-silent-killer-me, the-kindly-friendly-smiley-me, the-yogi-gyani-me, the-lonely-depressive-me, and the-confused-jetlagged-me. Then there's the Mii I created on my Wii-game-console, but that's not even real!

Be aware, be very aware. I'm now going to be aware of who's playing me at any moment, and why I'm in that particular personality at the moment.

Watch and Think. Then I'm going to see which me would perform best in a given environment/situation. Going to Delhi, but don't want to be mad? Call the "kind and gentle" me. Going to a business meeting, and want to hold the upper hand in the negotiations? Avoid the "timid-mouse" me, and instead invoke the "witty-silent-killer" me.

Switch. Then I'm going to see if I can - through will power - command a different me to take over on demand. Just like snap.

Snap!

Hello there!

110

In case you're wondering about the title, the number 110 in hindi reads exodus.

The long instant
It seems like it has happened suddenly, but really, it has been building up quietly for some time now. Being a long timer in the same company means that one by one all the old timers start to leave to do their own thing. I didn't notice it at first, but it seems like of late there's been a rush to the exit doors. A sudden exodus of departing friends.

Why do we work?
Needless to say, we work for the money. Not really though. We work because it provides us a context to live in, and provides us with lasting relationships and a stream of external stimuli which informs our sense of self. In a sense, where we work defines who we are. Our network of relationships and the constant give and take of this network gives us the energy we need to bring us back into office everyday!

"Friend" shaped hole in my personality
I am defined (even to myself) by the context I operate in. My context is driven by the people around me, and the social web of relationships I have with them, and they have with each other. When an old friend (and one with whom you have had a long history of exchanges) leaves the network, his departure creates a hole in my immediate vicinity. This friend-shaped-hole then brings into question my own sense of self, my identity, and the meaning of my own existence. In other words, it bring out the question "why am I here", here in this company, here in this country, here with these people, here in this life, and here with this new network!

Company of strangers
Not to mention the stress of making friends with strangers, and making sense of this new network of relationships, and remaking my own personality in this new context.

Back to work!

Are you thinking what you're thinking?

It’s a scary notion, so don’t try this at home. I shamefully admit to frequently trying out this form of self-abuse, but the outcome of these thought experiments is always the same.

Lewis Carroll would be proud, and confused, too!
What if you were to chase a rabbit down a rabbit hole, only to find more rabbit holes inside? What if you continued chasing the rabbit further into more rabbit holes and burrows, and weren’t able to find out where the rabbit really lives? Worse, what if you realize that You, the observer, have now turned into a rabbit.

Now look what you’ve done!?! You are lost in this confusing maze and there is no "The End" to this maze? An eternally lost rabbit, that what you are now. Didn’t you read the part in the beginning that said “don’t try this at home”!? Jeez!

Who the heck wrote THAT?
I write differently, and I know that. Often at 33,000 ft above the Atlantic Ocean, I give in to the urge to conduct silly thought experiments. Every now and then, I read all the things that I have written and I marvel. I marvel about the poetry in the words, the depth of perception, and the pain and humor in the notes. This invariably leads me to wonder – who the hell wrote all these things? Where are these thoughts coming from?

Chasing Parasitic Thought Rabbits
So I chase all these thoughts to their source. I find more thoughts that gave birth to these written thoughts. I chase those thoughts then, only to find more thoughts. Strangely, some of these thoughts are parasitic – in the sense that I didn’t know they lived in my head (if, that is, ideas live in people’s heads at all) until I had written them down. Some of the symmetry that comes out in the notes was as much a surprise to me as it is, perhaps, to you. On further reflection, I see two things – (1) that’s who I am, and (2) that’s how every artist is.

I, Rabbit
The scary part of this experiment is that I could follow all my thought down to their source, and find more thoughts and ideas behind them. It’s very clear that my sense of “Me” is nothing but a messy and massive collection of thoughts, all of whom have no source except other thoughts.

I am a thought rabbit, and there’s no “The End” to this maze of thoughts. There’s no base to me – my consciousness – except other thoughts. The very thought is at once liberating and frightening.

Tuning into "The Channel"
The second realization is that almost all artists come up with new ideas that surprise themselves. Many holy books are written by Prophets who were “merely channeling a higher power”. All new art too comes from people who are merely channeling “their” emergent ideas.

So, are you thinking what you’re thinking?

Faster, Master

Faster, Master

Sunday, July 08, 2007

I have come to realize that the quickening pace of life has something to do with the quickening pace of unhappiness. Thoughtless rat-a-tat of action replaces enjoyment completely, just as junk food fills the stomach but provides no nutrition. It’s pretty clear that the speed of life is not linked at all to its quality. Here are two examples of my own experiments with slowing down the pace of life, and increasing happiness. Slow eating, and even slower reading. Easy for me to say, eh!

In praise of slow eating. Perhaps we eat and read faster to avoid being alone with our thoughts. I usually have a newspaper or some other reading article handy to support the time-wasted in eating. However, I have tried slow eating a few times and find it more enjoyable, but I lose quality reading time. Here’s how. Try looking carefully at your food, and enjoy each morsel. Smell the food and the aroma it creates. Feel the texture of the food against your tongue. Sense the food travel down your gullet and into your stomach. Spend some time thinking about how tomorrow this very morsel will become you!

Devour books slowly too. Hear yourself reading. (Avoid eating while reading, since you’re likely to hear yourself slurping and crunching. Especially while eating crispy things). Keep an ear out for your thoughts which, autonomously, critique and absorb the text. Some thoughts read ahead, while other thoughts leave to handle other pending chores. Listen to yourself think. That’s what reading is all about. The enjoyment from reading comes not from the joy of turning pages, but from the dialogue that our thoughts carry out with the author, and with each other.