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Rasal Biography

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“The sound of silence was beginning to get louder, and familiar. And I was deeply in love with it. Not only does it not involve religious practices, it makes you shed all religious affiliations for ten days. What you are left with is your bare breath. That becomes the only thing you focus on – your personal rosary. There are no pictures of gurus, or even of the Buddha himself. There are no personalised gods or its dubious derivates – dogmas, or godmen – to prostrate before. No hugs, kisses, threads, amulets, satins or holy ash. No holy ‘trap’ of devices designed for an instant osmosis of blessings. No grand trickery that makes life here a hell in promise of a heaven there. It shows us the same arduous path that some of the enlightened men have walked. Men who can only show the path and are not the destination; where they communed with their truth, or, for lack of a better word, their God, in silence. The choice is left to us, to walk, stroll, stray, or squat on that path. [Many men; Ab to Za, all those alphabets and all the other men in between… Same grand truth, revealed in parts… Same path, seemingly different… Same destination…. No single path.] But Vipassana does not offer us the easier path of pleading, coaxing, extorting or seducing such men for easy blessings. It nudges you to start walking. To be your own blessing. To create your own miracles.”

Life QuotesSilenceMeditationSolitudeTransformationVipassana
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“The sound of silence was beginning to get louder, and familiar. And I was deeply in love with it. I stopped being mute, and became dumb again. There are no pictures of gurus, or even of the Buddha himself. There are no personalised gods or its dubious derivates – dogmas, or godmen – to prostrate before. No hugs, kisses, threads, amulets, satins or holy ash. No grand trickery that makes life here a hell in promise of a heaven there. It shows us the same arduous path that some of the enlightened men have walked. Men who can only show the path and are not the destination; where they communed with their truth, or, for lack of a better word, their God, in silence. The choice is left to us, to walk, stroll, stray, or squat on that path. [Many men; Ab to Za, all those letters of alphabets and all the other men in between… Same grand truth, revealed in parts… Same path, seemingly different… Same destination…. No single path.] But Vipassana does not offer us the easier path of pleading, coaxing, extorting or seducing such men for easy blessings. It nudges you to start walking. To be your own blessing. To create your own miracles.”

SilenceMeditationVipassana
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“Intense pain is not the limited servings on a humble plate in a poor man’s abode. That if shared with another reduces the host’s share of it. No matter how many people come in, the sufferer’s share remains the same. And it is a bowl that never runs out. One that still has enough to offer anyone who wishes to eat from it. The source that gives you the pain shall grant you its cure. Embrace yours wholeheartedly. For, beyond it is magic. Trust for it to unfold. And not to take anyone’s word for it. Including mine.”

LifePainPositvity
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“Tears, glistening like crystals under the dazzle of bright lights, appeared on her almost lifeless eyes – eyes that have not yet dried up, despite the copious amount that had flowed through them over the years. When life gives you certain experiences, it creates in you a volcano of unending grief. All that you wish is for this volcano to erupt once, so violently and uncontrollably that it would eventually turn into an island of tranquillity amidst the unhappy seas of your heart. But in a world that loves to shackle even your tears, these dormant volcanoes erupt only in spurts, forcing from their depths an uncontrollable flow of molten lava, or at times milder geyser springs, in the rare silences of your private space.”

PainGriefTearsLiterary
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“Of uncharted roads, unimagined experiences, and strangers less strange than the familiar. To travel anywhere without reservations; of bookings, or otherwise. To happily hop on to the next vehicle that comes along on a deserted road. To sleep in any corner of the world that offers me my six feet of space. To feel at home at every place, even other than home. Travels that remind you that if life is indeed a journey, it is also best enjoyed if one travels light. Not lugging around unnecessary baggage; of emotions and possessions. Travels that teach you that when in pain, the only place to run to for a solution is within you. And not to magical mountains or ‘mystical savannahs’; if you know what I mean. For, none exist.”

Self DiscoveryTravelsWanderings
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“Travels that remind you that if life is indeed a journey, it is also best enjoyed if one travels light. Not lugging around unnecessary baggage; of emotions and possessions. Travels that teach you that when in pain, the only place to run to for a solution is within you. And not to magical mountains or ‘mystical savannahs’; if you know what I mean. For, none exist.”

TravelSelf DiscoveryWanderings
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“As darkness spread hesitantly in a clear sky, devoid of neon glows and the pollutants, Bright celestial light from scattered crystals of sparkling stars And a moon that shone like a giant white chandelier, guided me on my path ahead, As I continued to be swept along on this journey, To a destination, I still am unsure of…”

Self DiscoveryTravelsWanderings
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“By the time he was by her shores, it was the twilight hour And he stood witness to their blending in celestial communion His tired eyes beheld the amber of her blushes drip into her tresses And ripple in a gentle zephyr of his caresses In her ankles he saw the white frills of a long turquoise robe, Replete with the tinkling of her anklets Like the many dead whose ashes are dissolved in her waters, He emptied in her the remnants of his memories, so there remained no trace of his old self, Like a monk who does self-oblation, shunning all bondages of an insignificant past He wished to be reborn in the same life, a different man with a different name – A man with no yesterdays and no tomorrows”

PoetryOceanMetaphorMysticalLiterary
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“Even if it is five days of bereavement leave that I get granted as if on parole. I would rather take out those five days now and be there while my folks are still around. A merriment leave, if you may. To celebrate life; not to grieve death. To create memories; before they, too, become a memory. Or, I do… Five days of bereavement! Since when did bereaving for the dead also start coming with deadlines?”

LifeSocietySatire
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“I wish this freedom for others too. Somewhere, a potential actor now playing the depressing role of a software engineer. A promising baker who ended up a banker and cooks up pie charts. A budding writer making up stories to escape a day’s work. A talented painter who spends her colourless days shading those shady graphs. Sadly, it does not take much for talent to turn latent. One truly turns gay only when one finally comes out of such assumed identities and forced orientations.”

LifeHumorFreedomSociety
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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“[Kerala; Communism, ballots over bullets… Promises, experiments, egalitarianism… Last remaining memory of a shared dream… Beautiful, regretful… Beautiful dreams disappearing on waking up to realities… Realities, regrets that remain… Dialectics eschewed, materialism that remains… These villages are notorious for infanticide, foeticide, STDs, malaria, TB and the more rampant malnourishment, poverty and casteism. All of it killed its people. Along with snake bites, sorcery and quackery. These are the little miracles that my kind take for granted, for we believe we are born with certain entitlements. We fail to see the miracles. Maybe it is for this reason there aren’t many rationalists and atheists hailing from the houses of the poor.”

AtheismCommunismCasteism
Book:I Killed the Golden Goose : A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS, THOUGHTLESSNESS, SILENCES, POEMS & SOME ‘SHOT’ STORIES
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