Intelligence

I had stopped at this small roadside shop for a coffee and a smoke. As I was waiting after placing the order, my attention was drawn to a gentle nudge on my right leg. It was very distinct, but also very gentle. I looked down to face a dog with its eyes fixed on my face intently. It was silently telling me ‘buy me something to eat’. It was a very clear communication and there was no mistaking. I bought a packet of biscuits and offered him. He ate them briskly, gave me a look of ‘thanks’ and moved on to another person.

Intelligent Dog

Intelligent Dog

I have seen trained dogs do all kinds of things like picking newspapers and even do some shopping. But they are always doing something repeatedly and I never thought there was so much of intelligence in it. But here was a stray dog, healthy (you know why) and it had learned exactly how to communicate with humans. Did someone teach it ? very unlikely. My best guess was that it saw some children persuade their parents to buy them something.

Undying spirit of expression

Bangalore is a riot of colours in Spring. Here is a Yellow Tabebuia (Caribbean Trumpet) tree in full blossom near my home.

Caribean Trumpet Tree

While I was returning to my car after taking this photo, another Tabebuia tree on the other side of the road caught my attention. It is a victim of the ‘beautification’ drive in the city. They had concreted the pavement where this tree stood depriving it of everything needed to survive. The branches had dried, leaves gone and its imminent death was visibly very close.

Even then, there was this single bunch of flowers that it proudly bore on one the last green branches. I assume the tree knew of its fast approaching death, but that in no way did diminish its enthusiasm to express itself the best possible way.

It was saying silently to the humans – you can kill me, but not my spirit.

Yellow Tabebuia in Bangalore

Yellow Tabebuia in Bangalore

YellowTabebuia

 

Maya

I was looking up for something and landed in this website of Sivananda Yoga Centre. What caught my attention first was the quote ” “That which truly is not, but appears to be, is Maya” by Swami Sivananda on the page. And then followed the error message ‘404: The page you requested does not exist!’

What better testimony could I have for the quote : The webpage appeared to be there, but was not in reality !

Maya

Postscript: In Hinduism, three two-syllable words – Maya, Leela, Karma - explains pretty much everything. What happens to you beyond your control is Karma, what happens around you without your involvement is Leela. When you were involved and suddenly realize that you are not involved, that’s Maya. While an understanding of these potentially liberates a person, the beautiful contradiction is that they can be used as excuses to cover-up anything in life !

 

Concepts

What you see in the picture is a dust cover of a book lying on the floor of my living room.

IMG769

It’s such a trivial thing to attach any importance to. Even I did not, until this evening, which was the third day that it had been lying there. It caught my attention when I returned from work. The irritation I felt lasted only a brief moment and gave way to amusement as the complexity of what lead to it unfolded in my mind.

I should give you a bit of background first. My wife, my 10-year-old daughter and I live in this apartment. A very clear division of responsibilities exist in our house, which has evolved over a period of time. My wife takes care of all matters at home (though with lot of complaining). I take care of my office work and things outside of home. My daughter lives in her own world of books, games and TV, never crossing her self-drawn boundaries.

My daughter and I are extremely unorganised. We love to scatter things around and literally litter the house. My wife loves to keep the house neat and tidy and we now take it for granted that it is her responsibility to put things in order. This works most of the time, except on few occasions where she feels she has had enough.

My daughter and I are voracious readers. I keep buying books for both us and the result is an overflowing library at home. My wife thinks I am wasting money buying books and keeps gives me a nasty look whenever I do.

Now back to the dust cover lying on the floor. It had been removed from a book and kept in the book shelf.  It must have fallen down (most probably) when my daughter was taking a book out of the shelf. She must have never bothered to put it back, for she considered it was mother’s job to put things in order. My wife must have had enough of this and decided to leave it where it was (books belong to father and daughter and they better learn to take care of it). I come home in the evening and notice the dust cover lying on the floor, but do nothing about it (who ever let it fall should put it back).

No questions asked, no words spoken. All of us went about with our regular affairs; except that none seems to take notice of the dust cover lying on the floor. The next morning I left to office and my daughter to her school. When I return in the evening, the cover was lying there still. Our maid servant was on leave for a few days and I assumed that the house wasn’t vacuumed or mopped.

Another night passed with the dust cover still lying there. I think each of us now where expecting someone else to lose their patience and do something about it.

On the third day I returned home to find the dust cover still lying there and I also saw that it was deliberately left there (the floor was vacuumed and mopped !).

It was when the whole drama dawned on me and I couldn’t help being amused at the complexity of it. I picked up the dust cover and put it back in to the book shelf.

Everything around us, whether important or trivial, in order or out-of-order, on time or delayed, isn’t there or there without a reason. They have complex human egos with hundreds of concepts, playing elaborate games behind the scene.

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, said Prospero in Tempest. But I am sure our lives are made up of such concepts that we are not even aware of.

The smile of nature

The bright sunny days following the rainy season are the days in tropics where nature is at its best. It’s as if the nature has been impatiently waiting to express itself through everything – colours, sound and fragrance.

There I was, watching butterflies in our garden dancing in the bright sun. There were hundreds of them – bright and big, colourful, small and timid, black and white – briskly hovering over the lantana flowers. Shooting them with a mobile phone camera was tricky; still I gave it a shot. I had to get very close to get a good photo, but the cautious butterflies would never let me get close enough.

Butterflies

There was this cute black and white one that I tried to shoot. It flew off just in time, letting me just capture it in the frame. But definitely that wasn’t a great picture.

IMG653

The disappointment gave way to my astonishment as I was going through all the pictures later at Bangalore. There was something unusual and inexplicable concealed in the picture. It was a gentle smiling face inside a Lantana flower. The face was very clear and it seemed as if it was smiling at me having missed the butterfly.

Face_in_flower

No wonder most elements in nature where worshipped by humans through centuries. I am sure many would have had a glimpse of nature smiling at them when they were close enough.

A lesson on creativity

Every day morning, I drive my daughter to the bus stop where she boards her school bus. This short drive and the subsequent wait at the bus stop is something I love because mostly what gets done or discussed does not make any sense (as far as adults are concerned).It is alwys amusing how simple these little children’s life is, yet so fulfilling.
This morning, I noticed in the car that she was holding a tube of glue in her hand. I suggested that she put it inside her bag; for she might spill it on her dress. “No dad, I will hold it”, she refused.
A while later, as we stood waiting for the bus, I make another attempt to persuade her to put the tube inside her bag. She refused again and then I decided not to push it further. Probably she wanted to show it off to her friends, I thought (which, I realized immediately may not true, because it was after all a tube of glue).

Girl holding a glue stick in her hand

Girl holding a glue stick in her hand


The bus was late today and as we stood waiting for the bus, I noticed that my daughter was holding the glue tube in her right hand like a mike and was silently singing. She was so involved in the act that I am sure she was singing somewhere on a grand stage to a very large audience.
Perhaps she wanted to play with it, I thought.

A while later when I looked at her, she had stopped singing and was holding the tube horizontal right in front of her right eye, like a binocular and looking around through it.

Something went shattering in me. What was a simple tube of glue that did not matter, had to be kept inside the bag because it might spill, as far as I was concerned was NOT a tube of glue at all for her. It was a mike that took her to some imaginary stage somewhere, it was a binocular (probably she was imagining her to be in army or so). And I am sure by the time she reached her school today; the glue tube would have assumed many other forms.

Here was I, the intelligent and rational, who is familiar with several techniques for creativity and Innovation and who is proud that he has understood the fundamental mechanism behind creative thinking. And here was this little girl, with all innocence, had the least idea about any of these concepts was simply creative.

The difference was striking. For her the world was not what it was, it was what she wanted it to be.
And this small difference explains why all the techiques for creative thinking simply does not work.