Sanskrit in a night club! Good news or bad?

Yoga Rave: Trendy Buenos Aires club swings to Sanksrit tunes!

Buenos Aires: If you are in Buenos Aires don’t forget to visit this trendy night club because you will be in for a huge surprise! Here, you won’t come across salsa or reggaton music like most such places do, but soulful Sanskrit melodies that rent the air.

“I had the most unusual night club experience last weekend when I was in Groove,” says R. Viswanathan, India’s ambassador to Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay.

“The DJ was not playing salsa, samba or reggaton. Instead, the club was vibrating with Sanskrit songs…’Jai jai Radha Ramana hari Bol’, ‘Jai Krishna Hare’, ‘Gurudeva Guru Om’, ‘Govinda Govinda’ and ‘Jai Shiva Shambo’,” he said.

The club does not serve alcohol or non vegetarian food: Reuters

Lead singer Rodrigo Bustos, 29, and his band mate Nicolas Pucci, 32, were entertaining the guests with their mesmerising voices.

Some 800 people, in their teens and 20s, were dancing and swaying to the music, he said.

And guess what? This joint serves only soft drinks instead of alcohol. At Groove, one is not allowed to smoke and only vegetarian food is served.

The club also has a yoga guru who instructs the guests about various yoga techniques.

“The instructor asked the audience to smile and exchange greetings and the audience followed all the instructions religiously and fervently. After a while, the music and dance resumed,” says Viswanathan.

“Despite the loud music and wild dancing in the night club, both the singers and the audience maintained a sense of reverence to the Sanskrit mantras and the Indian gods.”

Asked how did they attract Argentine youth with Sanskrit songs, Bustos explained: “Yoga Rave is an alternative party. It is a new concept in fun-free from alcohol, smoking and drugs. The body and and soul are connected by the mantras, yoga, meditation, music and dance in an unconventional way.”

They have already attracted thousands of people since they started yoga rave in 2008 in Buenos Aires. In 2010, they took the music beyond Argentina to Brazil, Chile, Paraguay and Uruguay. In 2011, they performed at the Berlin World Cultural Festival.

The duo has not been to India but 7,000 of their CDs have already been sold there. They released their first album “Smile” in 2009 and the second “Blossom” May 20, 2012.

Bustos and Pucci drew their inspiration from Indian spiritual guru Sri Sri Ravishankar’s Art of Living Foundation, said Viswanathan.

The two use the Sanskrit mantras in all forms of music such as pop, rock, hiphop, reggaton and electronic music, he said.

Simplicity

Only in Texas!

By Sunil Pangarkar

HOUSTON: As a child growing up in India, I had often heard and recited by rote that, India is a land where there is Unity in Diversity. It took a greater part of my life to appreciate the depth of that concept via argumentation and observation. For most part I could see the diversity more than the unity. The power of music can however shorten the process of the realization of unity, by making one feel it. Clearly the first demonstration of this was through the 1988 national Integration message in India through the now famous song Mile Sur Mera Tumhara.

For me, the second realization of Unity in Diversity in the musical context, was during the Houston concerts in March 2010 called Shanti- A journey of Peace, composed by eminent musicologist and composer Kanniks Kannikeswaran and performed by Houston’s United Nations Association International Choir together with singers from the local Indian diaspora. The third and somewhat deeper and more subtle realization was on the Buddha Purnima day on 5th May 2012 in Stafford center during the concert Meditative Moments.

The chosen day of Buddha Purnima was perhaps apt – deeper realizations in life come at special times. The chosen form of musical expression was classical – a form that has emotionally connected people and has stood the test of time.  Hence the music was Dhrupad the oldest form of Indian classical music mainly practiced and appreciated in the Northern part of India. The compositions were those of Muthuswamy Dikshitar the South Indian poet, composer and one of the musical trinities of Carnatic music from late 18th century.

The concert Meditative Moments was brought to Houston by Art of Living Foundation founded by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. This is one of the largest NGO in the world promoting the unifying message of peace via stress free mind and violence free society.

All works of substance – be it in art or industry, need moments of inspiration, decision and perspiration. Kanniks Kannikeswaran as a composer, musicologist and Carnatic musician thrives on uncovering the facets of rich musical traditions. In 2002 when he was listening toShivastutis by the Gundecha Brothers (Ramakant and Umakant Gundecha who are the Dhrupad stalwarts of India today), he was blown away by the similarity of those renderings with some of Dikshitar’s compositions.

He had studied the theory and structure of Dhrupad, the kritis of Dikshitar and the context behind both genres of music. But he now imagined bringing it together in a recording or concert at some point. It was to happen much later, after an initial meeting in Boston with Akhilesh Gundecha (who accompanies his elder brothers on Pakhawaj) followed by Kannik’s  visit to Gundecha brother’s Dhrupad gurukul in Bhopal in 2011. Kanniks proposed his idea and Gundecha’s brothers were extremely receptive. Then came the opportunity of Gundecha Brother’s 2012 US tour. As only a fast acting, can-do Texan can do, Shankar Jayaraman of Art of Living Foundation, offered to host the first ever unique concert. Then it was all about hard work and organization by Art of Living members led by Shankar, and numerous other individuals and organizations that supported this cause to make Meditative Moments happen.

The concert began with very important formalities and messages by the organizers. Art of Living Foundation made a presentation that connected with the local audience. It was great to see volunteers in Houston help local school kids in teaching how to deal with stress and thereby get the best out of them.

Art of Living Foundation also felicitated some of the music and dance gurus in Houston area teaching Hindustani and Carnatic genres of music and classical dance. Prominent among them were Dr. Rathna Kumar, Pt. Suman Ghosh, Pt Shantilal Shah and Vidushi Raja Rajeshwari Bhatt.

The foundation of classical tradition is the Guru-Shishya tradition and Sri Sri Ravi Shankar’s spiritual message to all was that Guru-Shishya relationship becomes effective when both theGuru and the Shishya explore knowledge together thereby transforming teaching to learning.

Prior to the concert Kanniks gave the audience a presentation – like a canvas on which Gundecha brothers were about to paint on. The concert began with a long Alaap in Kumudkriyawhich is an infrequently heard Carnatic Raaga but uniquely seen in Dikshitar’s tradition.Ardhanarisvaram a composition that was sung in the same Raaga in 12 beat Chautaal , in some ways relates to the Shiva-Shakti unity/dependence – a very apt first composition.

A short Alaap in Hindustani Raaga Hamir and a composition parimala ranganatham in 12 beatChautaal followed. Musically I felt like the mood of the Raaga somehow fitted very well in the sequence. The next two compositions were Gundecha Brother specials.  They are liked by audiences all over the world. Jayati Jayati in Raaga Malkauns or Hindolam (same Raaga with different names in North and South respectively) has a structure and lyrics very similar to Dikshitar’s compositions and showcases the Unity aspect of the two genres. The commentary by Kanniks in between each composition was extremely useful for both the Hindustani and Carnatic connoisseurs to understand the context of each composition.

The final composition set to 10 beat Sultaal was Shiva Shiva Shiva in Raaga Adana. The mood of Raaga Adana and particularly this composition has both the seriousness and the energy that leaves the audience spell bound.

It is said in Dhrupad circles that the best applause after a concert is complete meditative silence. This was indeed the effect. The characteristics of Dhrupad music is that key instruments like harmonium are not used since they cannot produce the shrutis or sub-tones that are needed to create the specific mood of a Raaga.

In my opinion this back to basics purity perhaps makes the confluence of the two genres stand out.  Also in my opinion, not only the concert was musically unique and satisfying at the same time but the whole idea of Unity, repeatedly came to fore every step of the way.

Finally, let me tell you one uncomfortable truth – for all these years I have not really ventured into the Carnatic music world and I know there were many in the audience who had not ventured into the Hindustani world! This concert allowed me to explore something new and different.

Only in Texas!

Paths are made by walking ...

Paths Are Made By Walking
--by Nipun Mehta, May 14, 2012


Offbeat Graduation Speech Gets Standing Ovation: 2012's Baccalaureate speaker at the University of Pennsylvania was an unconventional choice for an Ivy League school. To address their newly-minted graduates, aspiring to dazzling careers, they picked a man who has never in his adult life, applied for a job. A man who hasn't worked for pay in nearly a decade, and whose self-stated mission is simply "to bring smiles to the world and stillness to my heart". This off-the-radar speaker launched his address with a startling piece of advice. Following up with four key insights gleaned from a radical 1000 km walking pilgrimage through the villages of India. As he closed his one-of-a-kind Graduation Day speech, the sea of cap and gowned students rose to their feet for a standing ovation. What follows is the full transcript:

Thank you to my distinguished friends, President Amy Gutmann, Provost Vincent Price and Rev. Charles Howard for inviting me to share a few reflections on this joyous occasion. It is an honor and privilege to congratulate you -- UPenn’s class of 2012.

Right now each one of you is sitting on the runway of life primed for takeoff. You are some of the world's most gifted, elite, and driven college graduates – and you are undeniably ready to fly. So what I’m about to say next may sound a bit crazy. I want to urge you, not to fly, but to – walk. Four years ago, you walked into this marvelous laboratory of higher learning. Today, heads held high, you walk to receive your diplomas. Tomorrow, you will walk into a world of infinite possibilities.

But walking, in our high-speed world, has unfortunately fallen out of favor. The word “pedestrian” itself is used to describe something ordinary and commonplace. Yet, walking with intention has deep roots. Australia's aboriginal youth go on walkabouts as a rite of passage; Native American tribes conduct vision quests in the wilderness; in Europe, for centuries, people have walked the Camino de Santiago, which spans the breadth of Spain. Such pilgrims place one foot firmly in front of the other, to fall in step with the rhythms of the universe and the cadence of their own hearts.

Back in 2005, six months into our marriage, my wife and I decided to “step it up” ourselves and go on a walking pilgrimage. At the peak of our efforts with Service Space, we wondered if we had the capacity to put aside our worldly success and seek higher truths. Have you ever thought of something and then just known that it had to happen? It was one of those things. So we sold all our major belongings, and bought a one-way ticket to India. Our plan was to head to Mahatma Gandhi’s ashram, since he had always been an inspiration to us, and then walk South. Between the two of us, we budgeted a dollar a day, mostly for incidentals -- which meant that for our survival we had to depend utterly on the kindness of strangers. We ate whatever food was offered and slept wherever place was offered.

Now, I do have to say, such ideas come with a warning: do not try this at home, because your partner might not exactly welcome this kind of honeymoon. :-)

For us, this walk was a pilgrimage -- and our goal was simply to be in a space larger than our egos, and to allow that compassion to guide us in unscripted acts of service along the way. Stripped entirely of our comfort zone and accustomed identities, could we still “keep it real”? That was our challenge.

We ended up walking 1000 kilometers over three months. In that period, we encountered the very best and the very worst of human nature -- not just in others, but also within ourselves.


Soon after we ended the pilgrimage, my uncle casually popped the million dollar question at the dinner table: "So, Nipun, what did you learn from this walk?" I didn't know where to begin. But quite spontaneously, an acronym -- W-A-L-K -- came to mind, which encompassed the key lessons we had learned, and continue to relearn, even to this day. As you start the next phase of your journey, I want to share those nuggets with the hope that it might illuminate your path in some small way too.

The W in WALK stands for Witness. 
When you walk, you quite literally see more. Your field of vision is nearly 180 degrees, compared to 40 degrees when you’re traveling at 62 mph. Higher speeds smudge our peripheral vision, whereas walking actually broadens your canvas and dramatically shifts the objects of your attention. For instance, on our pilgrimage, we would notice the sunrise everyday, and how, at sunset, the birds would congregate for a little party of their own. Instead of adding Facebook friends online, we were actually making friends in person, often over a cup of hot “chai”. Life around us came alive in a new way.

A walking pace is the speed of community. Where high speeds facilitate separation, a slower pace gifts us an opportunity to commune.

As we traversed rural India at the speed of a couple of miles per hour, it became clear how much we could learn simply by bearing witness to the villagers' way of life. Their entire mental model is different -- the multiplication of wants is replaced by the basic fulfillment of human needs.When you are no longer preoccupied with asking for more and more stuff; then you just take what is given and give what is taken. Life is simple again. A farmer explained it to us this way: "You cannot make the clouds rain more, you cannot make the sun shine less. They are just nature's gifts -- take it or leave it."

When the things around you are seen as gifts, they are no longer a means to an end; they are the means and the end. And thus, a cow-herder will tend to his animals with the compassion of a father, a village woman will wait 3 hours for a delayed bus without a trace of anger, a child will spend countless hours fascinated by stars in the galaxy, and finding his place in the vast cosmos.

So with today's modernized tools at your ready disposal, don’t let yourself zoom obliviously from point A to point B on the highways of life; try walking the back roads of the world, where you will witness a profoundly inextricable connection with all living things.

The A in WALK stands for Accept. 
When walking in this way, you place yourself in the palm of the universe, and face its realities head on. We walked at the peak of summer, in merciless temperatures hovering above 120 degrees. Sometimes we were hungry, exhausted and even frustrated. Our bodies ached for just that extra drink of water, a few more moments in the shade, or just that little spark of human kindness. Many times we received that extra bit, and our hearts would overflow with gratitude. But sometimes we were abruptly refused, and we had to cultivate the capacity to accept the gifts hidden in even the most challenging of moments.

I remember one such day, when we approached a rest house along a barren highway. As heavy trucks whizzed past, we saw a sign, announcing that guests were hosted at no charge. “Ah, our lucky day,” we thought in delight. I stepped inside eagerly. The man behind the desk looked up and asked sharply, “Are you here to see the temple?” A simple yes from my lips would have instantly granted us a full meal and a room for the night. But it wouldn’t have been the truth. So instead, I said, “Well, technically, no sir. We’re on a walking pilgrimage to become better people. But we would be glad to visit the temple.” Rather abruptly, he retorted: “Um, sorry, we can’t host you.” Something about his curt arrogance triggered a slew of negative emotions. I wanted to make a snide remark in return and slam the door on my way out. Instead, I held my raging ego in check. In that state of physical and mental exhaustion, it felt like a Herculean task-- but through the inner turmoil a voice surfaced within, telling me to accept the reality of this moment.

There was a quiet metamorphosis in me. I humbly let go of my defenses, accepted my fate that day, and turned to leave without a murmur. Perhaps the man behind the counter sensed this shift in me, because he yelled out just then, “So what exactly are you doing again?” After my brief explanation he said, “Look, I can’t feed you or host you, because rules are rules. But there are restrooms out in the back. You could sleep outside the male restroom and your wife can sleep outside the female restroom.” Though he was being kind, his offer felt like salt in my wounds. We had no choice but to accept.

That day we fasted and that night, we slept by the bathrooms. A small lie could’ve bought us an upgrade, but that would’ve been no pilgrimage. As I went to sleep with a wall separating me from my wife, I had this beautiful, unbidden vision of a couple climbing to the top of a mountain from two different sides. Midway through this difficult ascent, as the man contemplated giving up, a small sparrow flew by with this counsel, “Don’t quit now, friend. Your wife is eager to see you at the top.” He kept climbing. A few days later, when the wife found herself on the brink of quitting, the little sparrow showed up with the same message. Step by step, their love sustained their journey all the way to the mountaintop. Visited by the timely grace of this vision, I shed a few grateful tears -- and this story became a touchstone not only in our relationship, but many other noble friendships as well.

So I encourage you to cultivate equanimity and accept whatever life tosses into your laps -- when you do that, you will be blessed with the insight of an inner transformation that is yours to keep for all of time.

The L in WALK stands for Love. 
The more we learned from nature, and built a kind of inner resilience to external circumstances, the more we fell into our natural state -- which was to be loving. In our dominant paradigm, Hollywood has insidiously co-opted the word, but the love I’m talking about here is the kind of love that only knows one thing -- to give with no strings attached. Purely. Selflessly.


Most of us believe that to give, we first need to have something to give. The trouble with that is, that when we are taking stock of what we have, we almost always make accounting errors. Oscar Wilde once quipped, “Now-a-days, people know the price of everything, but the value of nothing.” We have forgotten how to value things without a price tag. Hence, when we get to our most abundant gifts -- like attention, insight, compassion -- we confuse their worth because they’re, well, priceless.

On our walking pilgrimage, we noticed that those who had the least were most readily equipped to honor the priceless. In urban cities, the people we encountered began with an unspoken wariness: “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?” In the countryside, on the other hand, villagers almost always met us with an open-hearted curiosity launching straight in with: “Hey buddy, you don’t look local. What’s your story?”

In the villages, your worth wasn’t assessed by your business card, professional network or your salary. That innate simplicity allowed them to love life and cherish all its connections.
Extremely poor villagers, who couldn’t even afford their own meals, would often borrow food from their neighbors to feed us. When we tried to refuse, they would simply explain: “To us, the guest is God. This is our offering to the divine in you that connects us to each other.” Now, how could one refuse that? Street vendors often gifted us vegetables; in a very touching moment, an armless fruit-seller once insisted on giving us a slice of watermelon. Everyone, no matter how old, would be overjoyed to give us directions, even when they weren’t fully sure of them. :) And I still remember the woman who generously gave us water when we were extremely thirsty -- only to later discover that she had to walk 10 kilometers at 4AM to get that one bucket of water. These people knew how to give, not because they had a lot, but because they knew how to love life. They didn’t need any credit or assurance that you would ever return to pay them back. Rather, they just trusted in the pay-it-forward circle of giving.

When you come alive in this way, you'll realize that true generosity doesn’t start when you have some thing to give, but rather when there’s nothing in you that’s trying to take. So I hope that you will make all your precious moments an expression of loving life.

And lastly, the K in WALK stands for Know Thyself.
Sages have long informed us that when we serve others unconditionally, we shift from the me-to-the-we and connect more deeply with the other. That matrix of inter-connections allows for a profound quality of mental quietude. Like a still lake undisturbed by waves or ripples, we are then able to see clearly into who we are and how we can live in deep harmony with the environment around us.

When one foot walks, the other rests. Doing and being have to be in balance.

Our rational mind wants to rightfully ensure progress, but our intuitive mind also needs space for the emergent, unknown and unplanned to arise. Doing is certainly important, but when we aren't aware of our internal ecosystem, we get so vested in our plans and actions, that we don't notice the buildup of mental residue. Over time, that unconscious internal noise starts polluting our motivations, our ethics and our spirit. And so, it is critical to still the mind. A melody, after all, can only be created with the silence in between the notes.

As we walked -- witnessed, accepted, loved -- our vision of the world indeed grew clearer. That clarity, paradoxically enough, blurred our previous distinctions between me versus we, inner transformation versus external impact, and selfishness versus selflessness. They were inextricably connected. When a poor farmer gave me a tomato as a parting gift, with tears rolling down his eyes, was I receiving or giving? When sat for hours in silent meditation, was the benefit solely mine or would it ripple out into the world? When I lifted the haystack off an old man's head and carried it for a kilometer, was I serving him or serving myself?

Which is to say, don't just go through life -- grow through life. It will be easy and tempting for you to arrive at reflexive answers -- but make it a point, instead, to acknowledge mystery and welcome rich questions ... questions that nudge you towards a greater understanding of this world and your place in it.

That’s W-A-L-K. And today, at this momentous milestone of your life, you came in walking and you will go out walking. As you walk on into a world that is increasingly aiming to move beyond the speed of thought, I hope you will each remember the importance of traveling at the speed of thoughtfulness. I hope that you will take time to witness our magnificent interconnections. That you will accept the beautiful gifts of life even when they aren’t pretty, that you will practice loving selflessly and strive to know your deepest nature.

I want to close with a story about my great grandfather. He was a man of little wealth who still managed to give every single day of his life. Each morning, he had a ritual of going on a walk -- and as he walked, he diligently fed the ant hills along his path with small pinches of wheat flour. Now that is an act of micro generosity so small that it might seem utterly negligible, in the grand scheme of the universe. How does it matter? It matters in that it changed him inside. And my great grandfather's goodness shaped the worldview of my grandparents who in turn influenced that of their children -- my parents. Today those ants and the ant hills are gone, but my great grandpa’s spirit is very much embedded in all my actions and their future ripples. It is precisely these small, often invisible, acts of inner transformation that mold the stuff of our being, and bend the arc of our shared destiny.

On your walk, today and always, I wish you the eyes to see the anthills and the heart to feed them with joy.

May you be blessed. Change yourself -- change the world.

Materialistic Life must stop !

Old is Gold!

Old is gold — yesterday, today & tomorrow

http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/open-page/article3436807.ece?homepage=true

Old is gold, it is always said. When I was a five-year old, some 55 years ago, my elders said their olden days were gold. Today, my son, who is around 30, says, “old is gold.”

I always wonder why everyone's olden days are better than their present. Old music and songs were good. Old films were outstanding. Old clothings were of better quality. Old craftsmanship was worthier. Old silk sarees were good. In the olden days, food was of high standards. Old vessels and wares were of high quality.

Old teachers were excellent. Old schools were better centres of learning. Old furniture pieces were more appealing. Old houses were user-friendly, airy and well ventilated. Old games with minimum but crude gadgets were more enchanting. The old All India Radio entertained us all with high quality programmes. Old friendships were more reliable. Old wine was tasty. Why this old kolaveri di and da? Is it something to do with one's psyche? No. It cannot be brushed off or wished away simply like that. Old is, and was, really gold. But why?

Times are changing fast. Values are eroding. Goodness is replaced and it is now measured by smartness to get on with life. We have become excessively vigilant, touchy and more suspicious for no real reason. Today, we frisk everyone, inwardly at least. We take things with a pinch of salt. Though today's material comforts — that could not even be dreamt of a decade ago — are aplenty, still something is amiss about life. What is it? Peace? Happiness?

Peace prevailed earlier, despite wars. There was trust. There was hope. People relaxed better. There was no clamour for things that one did not possess. The absence of those, that were not deemed essential to own, never made any difference to a happy life.

There was contentment. Competition was less cut-throat. There was concern, affection and true bonding. There was togetherness. More important, people were patient. No doubt, there were poverty and scarcity, paucity and difficulty. But there was beauty in life and comity among all. Disputes were quickly and amicably sorted out. Courts had fairly less business.

When China invaded us in the early 1960s, there was acute rationing of essentials. Sugar disappeared. But people were happy with jaggery. Wheat replaced rice in many south Indian families as a one-time staple food. Fasting and starving were daily affairs. People helped each other. There was a total blackout and people went without power for days on end. There was camaraderie.

Places of worship were serene and tranquil. There was no terror harboured, either in the mind or for real. All communities co-existed amicably and people waited for better times. They tolerated deficiencies in others and accommodated idiocies, shortcomings and pitfalls of others. They took oddities in their stride without murmur. Rank consumerism was non-existent.

Families were big and joint family was the norm. There were guests to partake of food and there was readiness to share whatever one had. Rains were original and smiles were natural. Air was fresh. There were few privileges to enjoy. Yet life was complete, meaningful and wholesome. People lent money to the needy without documents and paper. Debts were written off without protests and contests. Times were timeless. Values were invaluable and principles were priceless.

The main door of our house, located at the fag end of our small town in Andhra Pradesh, was never locked except during night. Windows were open 24 hours of the day. There were no double grills for the main door. We knew everyone in the town, though by nicknames (only the postman knew the real names). Today, not knowing the neighbour is an etiquette and norm. Privacy is mistaken for liberty and freedom. One is compelled to look at the tenants' chart in the apartment complex to know about the neighbours caged in the matchbox apartments.

If it was lunch time, the guest would join us. Strangely, there was always enough food at home at least for one guest. Guests never brought their soaps, towels, hair oil or shaving sets. Visitors came with the minimum and left with the maximum that we could afford and spare for them. Today, it is “me and mine” culture. A guest is the most unwelcome soul, more so when the favourite TV serial is on.

We all walked to the school, miles away, barefoot in the scorching sun. We never felt the pain. There were tragedies in families. People took them in their stride. No one rushed to the media. The media were more responsible and mature. Silly stories were never entertained. There was no sensationalism. Natural calamities did occur and sufferings were more severe. Yet people breathed easy. Even one-plus-one families are suffocating today. There were not many telephones. Mobiles were non-existent. Yet, people conversed joyously.

There were no high-cc two-wheelers. Yet friends met each other every day. There were no superfast buses or trains. (Forget the planes). A 40-km travel took three hours. Yet none complained. Doctors were few and far between. Diseases were many. No big hospitals, leave alone super-speciality facilities, for miles and miles. No one grumbled.

There was give and take, and there were real tears during hard times. Roads were free of flashy four-wheelers. Dresses were tailor-made and not readymade. Hoteliers served fresh food. Food was never refrigerated. Fruit juices were fresh, never tinned. Home food was oven-hot, never re-heated.

Today, it is use and throw, be it a battery, a gadget, a gear, father or mother. Those days, it was use, remember and respect. Old homes of the past are old-age homes now. Donations to charities and orphanages are bountiful now. Temples are mushrooming in every colony. Yet, humanity is drying up, and about divinity, the less said the better.

Charity began at home then. Even beggars were dignified. They were humble and never greedy. People were self-made. They are self-centred now. Family elders were philosophers, guides and counsellors. Today, there are counsellors for every non-issue, at a price. Psychiatrists were unheard of then. Today, they proliferate, one for every two disturbed persons.

Health was not a worrisome issue. It is a psychic issue now. We market ill-health in so many names today. Medicines are a “buy-one take-two (diseases?) formula” now. Divorces were few and far between. Every wedding anniversary is a milestone now.

There was commitment in what one did those days.

There is commerce in every thing we do today. There are Valentine's Day, sisters day, fathers day, mothers day, friends day, doctors day, nurses day, husbands day, wives day, water day, sparrows day, diabetes day, AIDS day, TB day and every other day. There were only Mondays, Tuesdays and so on earlier. Forget the past, someone said. Why should one? Is it because the present is unbearable that the mind should not be tortured with the glory of the past? It is said not for nothing that old is gold.

Sanskrit in USA

Maharishi Valmiki, poet of Sanskrit literature who penned the holy Ramayana.

Sanskrit Makes a Mini-Comeback, in the U.S.

As you pull into the driveway of the Sri Lakshmi Hindu Temple in the Boston suburb of Ashland, Sanskrit chants reverberate from a building across the way where free classes are being held. From seven-year-olds to 70-year-olds, people in Boston, New York, Seattle, Dallas, Chicago, Los Angeles and other cities over the U.S. are attending Sanskrit classes, not just to chant shlokas but also to learn to speak, read and write this ancient language. A revival is brewing.

This endeavor is being led by Samskrita Bharathi, a non-profit organization that is working to bring Sanskrit back into the mainstream. Sanskrit, traditionally a classical and liturgical language, has a position in India and South Asia similar to that of Latin and Greek in Europe, and it is a central part of Hindu tradition.

Samskrita Bharathi runs weekly Sanskrit classes and camps for children and adults. Weekend and vacation classes and camps are one thing, but a full-fledged, well-structured three-year high school language program is another, particularly when it’s being driven by an organization primarily run by volunteers.

SAFL (Sanskrit as a Foreign Language) was created in 2008 as a resource for high school students, who wished to continue their Sanskrit studies without interruption after their summer camps and weekend classes. “The idea for such a course came about after discussions with several parents of teenagers who had attended our classes and camps,” says Giri Bharathan, a volunteer who is the director of the SAFL program.

“An online course to meet the requirements of a foreign language study was created similar to normal high school courses. At $700 per student per year, SAFL runs through the year and has continuous evaluation in the way of homework, projects and exams. Grades and transcripts are issued and students will potentially be able to get credits as a foreign language course or as an independent study.”

The curriculum for the three years, (six semesters and three direct contact programs, or residential camps) was designed by Sowmya Joisa, who also teaches in the program with another teacher, Vrunda Thakrar, and some university level Sanskrit professors.

The number of students signing up for this program has risen steadily. In the first year (2009-2010) there were 17 students from seven different states. The next year, there were 30 students from 11 different states, and this year there are 48 from 13 states.  For the 2012-2013 year, the number is expected to increase to 75. The first group of eight students completed the third year course in 2011.

Giridhar Anand, a junior at Newton High School in Newton, Massachusetts, finds that the sound of the spoken language itself is so different from any other he has encountered: “The language is phonetic, and so it rolls off the tongue. There is little slurring, and there are no accents, as there are in English and Spanish,” he says. “I’ve also found the Sanskrit community to be very inviting. Every camp and every Samskrita Bharati event I have attended has been a fun, informal experience, and I have learned a lot in the process.” His siblings Aneesh and Suma (they are triplets) say they feel the same way about the program.

“While some refer to Samskritam as a ‘dead language,’ learning Samskritam has proven to be one of the most challenging and rewarding endeavors. It has taken me on a journey of self-discovery and helped me identify with my Indian roots,” adds Swathi Krishnan, a freshman at the University of Chicago who completed the SAFL program at Rye Country Day School in New York. Last summer, she attended a two-week immersion camp in Bangalore, an experience she describes as “one of the most intellectually stimulating” of her life.

Nandita Kumar a Senior at Westview High School in Portland, Oregon echoes that view. “I am an American of Indian origin, and I don’t want to lose that Indian part of me. Learning Samskritam directly lets me understand my culture and religion in the language it was written: it keeps me grounded.”

This ancient language that has served as the backbone of Hinduism is evolving into a resource for those who want to learn more about their roots, culture and tradition.

Visi Tilak is freelance writer with bylines in publications such as the Boston Globe, Indian Express, India Today and Tehelka.  She can be reached via email visitilak@gmail.com, her website www.visitilak.com or on Twitter @vtilak.

How to rule?

Way to go, Arpit!

Those interested in the IIT JEE Q & A can go to : http://www.jee.iitb.ac.in/ 

Gangaa mayyaa ki jai!

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The Ganges, above all is the river of India, which has held India's heart captive and drawn uncounted millions to her banks since the dawn of history. The story of the Ganges, from her source to the sea, from old times to new, is the story of India's civilization and culture, of the rise and fall of empires, of great and proud cities, of adventures of man. Religious significance : The Ganges is mentioned in the Rig-Veda, the earliest of the Hindu scriptures. According to Hindu religion a very famous king Bhagiratha did Tapasya for many years constantly to bring the river Ganga, then residing in the Heavens, down on the Earth to find salvation for his ancestors, who were cursed by a seer. Therefore, Ganga descended to the Earth through the lock of hair (Jata) of god Shiva to make whole earth pious, fertile and wash out the sins of humans. For Hindus in India, the Ganga is not just a river but a mother, a goddess, a tradition, a culture and much more.

Some Hindus also believe life is incomplete without bathing in the Ganges at least once in one's lifetime. Many Hindu families keep a vial of water from the Ganges in their house. This is done because it is prestigious to have water of the Holy Ganga in the house, and also so that if someone is dying, that person will be able to drink its water. Many Hindus believe that the water from the Ganga can cleanse a person's soul of all past sins, and that it can also cure the ill. The ancient scriptures mention that the water of Ganges carries the blessings of Lord Vishnu's feet; hence Mother Ganges is also known as Vishnupadi, which means "Emanating from the Lotus feet of Supreme Lord Sri Vishnu." Some of the most important Hindu festivals and religious congregation (worship) happen here. Congregations are celebrated on the banks of the river Ganga, such as the Kumbh Mela every twelve years at Allahabad and the Chhath Puja. Situated on the banks of River Ganges, Varanasi is considered by some to be the most holy city in Hinduism Pollution and ecology : The Ganga river has been considered one of the dirtiest rivers in the world. The river waters start getting polluted right at the source. The commercial exploitation of the river has risen in proportion to the rise of population. As it flows through highly populous areas the Ganges collects large amounts of human pollutants, and drinking and bathing in its waters therefore carries a high risk of infection. While proposals have been made for remediating this condition, little progress has been achieved. Along the 4 miles (6.4 kilometers) stretch of terraced bathing ghats in the holy city of Varanasi, the water of the Ganges is a "brown soup of excrement and industrial effluents." The water there contains 60,000 faecal coliform bacteria per 100 ml, 120 times the official limit of 500 faecal coliforms/100ml that is considered safe for bathing. The Ganges river's long-held reputation as a purifying river appears to have a basis in science. First of all, the river carries bacteriophages that vanquish bacteria and more. The water has a unique and extraordinary ability to retain oxygen. As reported in a National Public Radio program, dysentery and cholera are killed off, preventing large-scale epidemics. The river has an unusual ability to retain dissolved oxygen, but the reason for this ability is unknown. A UN Climate Report issued in 2007 indicates that the Himalayan glaciers that feed the Ganges may disappear by 2030, after which the river's flow would be a seasonal occurrence resulting from monsoons.

The cricket legend ...

‘I’ve Got to Be Myself’: The Sachin Tendulkar Interview

Sports icons are rarely good interviews. They’re usually too conscious about their public image to be truly candid, and tend to speak in bland bromides. So when TIME correspondent Nilanjana Bhowmick and I met with India’s cricket star Sachin Tendulkar in Mumbai last month for a magazine profile that will appear in this week’s issue of TIME (available to subscribers here), we were not expecting much. Although he is known as the ‘Master Blaster’ for his swash-buckling batting, Tendulkar is famously reticent off the field. When he has given interviews, he has tended to steer clear of anything remotely controversial. He’s also been careful not to reveal very much about himself, about what goes on in the mind of a man who’s revered by his cricket-crazy countrymen as a kind of divinity.

To our surprise, Tendulkar was in a chatty mood. Although he artfully dodged questions about politics (the interview took place a couple of weeks before he was appointed to the Indian parliament), the world’s greatest batsman opened up about how he copes with the burden of a billion dreams, his mental process on and off the pitch, and even about the anxieties of fatherhood.

(PHOTOS: The 2011 Cricket World Cup)

Excerpts from the interview:

On how much attention he pays to the outsize impact he has on his countrymen:

For me there was [always] a simple formula: be focused on cricket and the rest of the things will happen. Let people talk about it; me, I move forward. Right from my school days, I have done that. I know that certain things I do or say have an impact on people; people appreciate certain things that I do. But any active sportsman has to be very focused; you’ve got to be in the right frame of mind. If your energy is diverted in various directions, you do not achieve the results. I need to know when to switch on and switch off: and the rest of the things happen around that. Cricket is in the foreground, the rest is in the background.

On how much attention he pays to media hype around him:

If I get to hear casually about something someone’s said about me, or see something in the papers, that’s fine. I don’t go looking for things. In the last few years, the hype has grown because there is such fierce competition in the media. Earlier, you played 10 shots, and maybe a couple of comments were made; today you play one shot and there are 500 comments. The ball is the player’s court, whether you want to follow every little thing or you want to keep your mind blank and trust your judgment, trust your instincts and take decisions.

I get 0.5 seconds to react to a ball, sometimes even less than that. I can’t be thinking of what XYZ has said about me. I need to surrender myself to my natural instincts. My subconscious mind knows exactly what to do. It is trained to react. At home, my family doesn’t discuss media coverage. It helps because I am able to take my own decisions not influenced by somebody saying something.

On his expectations of himself:

I don’t think I woke up one morning and felt that there was this responsibility on me and that I needed to live up to that expectation. Something which still gives me sleepless nights is, “How will I go out and keep that standard, and live up to my own expectations. How am I going to go out and perform?”

That restlessness brings the best out of me, it’s a healthy sign. At the start of my career, when I used to toss and turn at night, I was fighting that feeling and wanting to go to sleep. Now I know that’s normal, so I’ll just get up and watch TV or something. I know it’s just my subconscious mind getting ready for a game. It’s about knowing yourself, and I know myself better now.

(MORE: Sachin Tendulkar, India’s Legendary Cricket Batsman, Reaches Another Milestone)

On the importance of enjoying his cricket:

So much happens [on and off the field] that sometimes you forget to enjoy the game. That’s when things don’t go smoothly. I only realized that in 2006, after I after my [shoulder] surgery, during my rehab. I played a couple of practice games, and there was not too much media, not too many people watching. I realized something was very different: I was enjoying cricket. In retrospect, it was important for me to play those games. That was game changer for me. I didn’t even realize it had become so much about commitment and pressure, and doing this correctly.

Since then, there have been challenges along the way, some tough moments. But I would speak to myself and say. “It doesn’t matter what the situation is, enjoy it.”

On his inner monologue while batting:

Sometimes I chat to myself, sometimes I don’t. Most of the time, it’s my subconscious mind that’s working. I don’t have time to complicate my mind, so I try to keep it empty. Being in “the zone” is when you’re not thinking of anything, merely reacting.

One would like to be in that zone more often, but it’s not that easy. It’s like you are completely cut off from the crowd, from the noise they are making. Your subconscious has taken over.

I feel it’s the conscious mind that messes things up. The conscious mind is constantly telling you, this might happen or that might happen, even before it has happened. Your conscious mind tells you the next ball might be a out-swinger, but when it’s coming at you you realize it’s an in-swinger… so literally, you’ve played two balls.

On how often he is in “the zone,” and how he gets there:

I would say 50% of the time I’m in that zone. Sometimes I am there instantly, sometimes I get there through a couple of shots, and sometimes I’m fighting to get that feeling. You focus on your breathing and all those kind of things. But it’s not a guaranteed formula that works always

On whether there’s a direct correlation between “the zone” and the runs he scores:

Not really. You might be feeling unbelievably good, but you still get out. Sometimes you are not feeling good, but you struggle and struggle, and the runs come.

On whether getting into “the zone” is a matter of personal enjoyment, rather than achieving an outcome:

It is. But I would want an outcome.

On his “switch-on/switch-off” process:

Switching on happens automatically. I know that I am going to be playing in three weeks, so I better start doing something. I get restless. Even if I am holidaying and not doing anything—training, jogging or going for walks—I feel uneasy. It’s become part of me now. Whether I am playing or not, I need some activity and that helps me to be normal, otherwise I am a little restless. I like to go and hit a few balls, even if it is for half an hour. I need to see the ball coming towards me and get used to that pace and bat swing and body moving; that’s critical.

(SPECIAL: Sachin Tendulkar — The 2010 TIME 100)

To switch off is not an instant process. It’s only possible when I know I have a month and a half [between games] when I’m not doing anything, and I’m spending time with my children. That’s when I actually switch off and I stay away completely from cricket. I do normal things, like any father, any family man.

On the challenges of being a father when he’s likely to be mobbed by fans whenever he steps out of his house:

It’s a little unfortunate that I can’t take [my kids] out for evening walks, or whatever. In Mumbai, if I had to go out and be a normal father… it’s not possible. We go on holidays and that is the time when I look to spend as much time with them as possible. My son loves cricket, and I can play with him in Mumbai, because it happens in a controlled environment.

On playing with his son Arjun, 11:

He bats. He bowls a bit, too. But he enjoys cricket and that’s more important. Nobody has forced him into cricket, it’s by his own choice. As long as he is in love with cricket, it’s fine. Then you don’t look at your watch or count the number of hours you’ve practiced. It’s the sheer joy and satisfaction of being on the field. And that’s what I want [for him]. I believe cricket starts from your heart and then it travels up to your brain as you grow older. First you have to be in love with the game, and my son is in love with cricket.

On how he, raised in a middle-class home, transmits values to his kids:

I think it has a lot to do with interaction. My father never told me what was right or wrong. He guided me, but most of the things I learned came from watching him. He never told me that I had to be humble, I just watched him [being humble himself] and I said, “This is how I want to be in life.”

The most important advice he gave me was when he said, “Most things are temporary, your cricket will also be temporary because at some stage you will stop. But something that stays permanently with you is your nature, the person you are. So try and be a good person. People will appreciate that even after you’ve stopped playing.” So I try and tell my children the same thing.

On the financial rewards he has reaped from cricket:

When I started playing for India in 1989, I remember our entire tour fee was 50,000 rupees (approx. $1,000 in today’s dollars) which included four test matches and four one-day games. And today, per test match, it’s possibly 15 times more. When I signed a contract with [sports management firm] Worldtel in 1995, we decided to do it to make my life easier, to ensure I did not have to compromise on my cricket by spending an extra minute thinking about commercial things. I wanted to be completely focused on the game, and let someone else managing the rest.

Mark Mascarenhas [the CEO of Worldtel, who was killed in a car crash in 2002] never said, “If you do this or that, you will make more money.” He said, “Just think of how to score more runs, the rest you leave to me.” And that was the best formula for me because I just wanted to think about cricket, nothing else. I do [advertising] shoots, but not at the cost of compromising on my cricket.

At no stage did I feel I would have to make compromises to earn an extra buck. I’ll give you an example. There was a company which wanted to sign a contract with me during 1996 World Cup, to put their logo on my bat. But I had already played the first two matches without a sticker on the bat: I was used to the way it looked, and didn’t want to change that in the middle of the tournament, didn’t want the distraction. So I said, “Offer me whatever, I’m not signing this contract.”

On how he plans for his future:

My planning is only done match by match. I don’t plan too far ahead, I’ve never done that. At most, I plan for the next tournament or series. I believe in approaching my targets step by step, and don’t look at the larger picture.

On other sports icons who inspire him:

I have followed lot of sports. In Formula 1, I like Michael Schumacher. I’ve followed tennis quite a bit, right from Bjorn Borg, John McEnroe to Roger Federer now. I never felt that I should be like them. You admire all those sportsmen. I love the way Federer plays: it’s incredible, but I’ve still got to be myself.