The True Art Of Living

November 27, 2009 Pune, India - Man loses health, to gain wealth and loses wealth, to regain health. I really have no objections if your take on this statement of mine is inclined towards the lighter side but, it really concerns me to see so many lifestyle-obsessed creatures around who are so much negligent to realize that their sedentary way of life is killing them bit by bit everyday. For instance, a Project Manager in a multinational organization has been holding the same position for the past fifteen years. He is proud of his status quo and all the recognition and awards that he has fetched during the course of his work in these years. Interestingly, he is a Manager among his team-mates, a Manager among his relatives and still thinks that he is a Manager at home. On similar grounds, a professionally qualified doctor makes it a point that he prefixes a 'Dr.' before his introductory name. He is tagged - professionally, mentally and spiritually to his professional identity. There is nowhere he can escape from his identity. Certainly, monotonous lifestyle and the acquired perceptions therein, have been compelling us to fade away the real self within us.

I was stuck up literally at the phrase - 'my hundred percent', yesterday when I was at a brief session conducted by the organization 'Art of Living'. I generally refrain from getting involved into spiritual stuff and that is the perception I had in my mind about this organization. Spirituality is something that takes us to a different world, a world which is just very loosely connected to the world we are living in and working in. But that is not exactly what this is all about. I have been practicing a few exercises of Pranayam and Kapalbhati for some weeks and have been intrigued by the amazing results I have obtained. Probably, this could be the reason why I decided to join the session.

'"Yes, I give my hundred percent to my work" - was the instant answer to the presenter's question that was obtained from almost all of the participants. My concern was that how each one of us was so confident about our performances given that we really had no metrics to measure it. That would have been an obvious answer from a subordinate to his superior when the same question was shot at him during his appraisal discussion. But the context of the question here, had a larger scope - much larger than what most people had imagined in the room. A simple exercise proved every one of us wrong. We were asked to stretch our hands sideways, slowly and to the best of our abilities. That's our best, each one of us anticipated. However, when the same exercise was asked to be performed in a single jerk, we realized that we had almost stretched a lot more than before. Our best was now a bit behind our new bests - we pondered.

To say we are living our lives every hour and each passing day but, the real essence is that we are actually dying every single day, every single moment. Every single person in this world is chasing his own dreams, endlessly and carelessly. His aspirations have no upper bounds. To be very terse with the point I am trying to make, he is loosing his own self between his attempts to achieve his goals, trying to be like someone else - role models. Long working hours on a chair, occupational responsibilities and stress have been depreciating the quality of modern life. There has been a steady decline in the physical activities of a modern man which just adds more concerns to this health. By this time, you must have realized that the thoughts running in your mind at the moment are harmonious with the message I am trying to pass.

With my quell for physical fitness, for three prolonged years, I was a dedicated visitor of the fitness centers and gyms where I used to carry out heavy machine workouts. The results I obtained thus, were impressive but failed to live up to my expectations when I met with an accident a couple of years back. The aftermath of the surgery almost turned me down with a drastic loss of health. All I lacked was the 'core energy'. Just ask a professional body builder to perform any of the advanced Yoga exercises and enjoy watching him accepting his defeat. The reason being, he lacks the core energy which is not linked to muscle strength. Well, for all those gym freaks, let me iterate that building bulky muscle mass and curving your biceps is not really the true definition of fitness. It is something which is linked to your thoughts, mind, body and spirituality.

I have been practicing a few types of Pranayam for a few weeks and that is the greatest way I have found to achieve fitness of body, mind and soul. I am sure that most of my Indian friends must be aware of Yoga, Meditation and the benefits involved therein. My experiences have revealed that nearly all of our fitness problems are linked to our stomach and breathe. Kapalbhati Pranayam is the one that has the power to cure and prevent almost all of the common diseases. A regular follower, will find no chance to complain about his health problems. I have been experiencing the results almost within two days. Tough to believe my words if you are very naive to the topic but I urge you hard to give it a go - you won't really mind to spare mere 20 minutes of your time for your health every morning. You may choose to take help from some institutes or tutorials in order to start with Pranayam.

There is just too little space here to enlist the benefits of Kapalbhati Pranayam. This morning, I had been to the rest-room before I took up Kapalbhati and later, was compelled to visit it again. This is when I am able to say that I am giving my hundred percent in my work. Pun intended but yes, I am serious!

Terrorism Will Only Bring Us Closer

November 25, 2009 Pune, India - Hussain Rizvi, a twenty year old front office executive at the Taj hotel in Mumbai who managed to hide himself in the second floor pantry during the 26/11 terrorist attack in Mumbai was more fortunate than the 40 Muslims who died in the incident. Salim Shaikh, a poor delivery boy from Wadi Bunder who helped transportation of the injured and the dead bodies to the hospital is so furious that he says that if he happens to encounter a terrorist, he will kill him. Nahid Merchant, a Muslim fashion designer who prays five times a day says that he hangs his head in shame when the terrorists compare their illicit success with the historic Battle of Badar, which was fought to protect Islam. Naeem, a fruit seller in Bandra complained that his business has gone down because people are scared to come out of their homes. Ram Singh, a North-Indian comb seller in the local trains in Mumbai who was at the CST railway station when the attack took place and helped the transportation of the injured to hospital says that he never bothered if the body he was carrying was that of a Muslim, an outsider, a Maharashtrain or a Shiv-Sainik.

We, the residents of Mumbai have been living around amidst our own internal issues and differences but history and occurrences have always revealed the fact that whenever there has been an external attack on our integrity that possibly poses a grave threat to our values as a human being, we have stood united and fought back the situation, forgetting all of our inequalities. No doubt, Mumbai is known for its this evergreen spirit. The 26/11 carnage completes one year today but the marks that this incident has created in my mind will always remain fresh, reminding me of the Martyrs who died for a great cause.

There were numerous interrogations that were carried out by the press and media reporters pertaining to the aftermath of the terrorist attack. Most of the immediate reactions spoke in a single voice, blood for blood. They had seen it spilled around on the railway platform, in the Leopold Cafe and the Nariman House, a part of it belonged to their dear ones and of the ones without whom they had never imagined their life. However, there was one comment from a Canadian wife who had lost her husband in the attack that moved me to a great extent. She said, that she had nothing against Ajmal Kasab, the sole terrorist who was caught alive in the operation. She would not like to see him given a death sentence, rather she would be happy to see him work for humanity for rest of his life.

Most of us do understand that terrorism is an ideology which results out of immature, shallow thoughts about an issue. People like Kasab, to whom we refer as the terrorists are mere bots who fall easy pray to the leaders of the terrorist groups. They say that they fight for Islam - I hope they even understand the meaning of the word religion. No religion teaches us to perpetrate violence and perform carnage of the innocent citizens.

My six year old niece, who only understood that there were some bad men killing innocent people in Mumbai, asked me why they did so. Often curious to answer her every question, I was embarrassed that day to not have any convincible answer to quell her interest.

Accolades: This post was chosen as the Best Post from the Indian Blogosphere by BlogAdda - their topmost pick on 28th November, 2009

Who : Neeraj Shinde
What : Terrorism Will Only Bring Us Closer
Spicy : Neeraj comes out with some real gems quite frequently and this is one of them. The basic message which the post wants to convey is Terrorism is not based on any religion and no religion preaches terrorism.

If I Were A Baby Again

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 4; the fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

November 07, 2009 Pune, India - She was turning sixty-five today and it was the greatest day of her life. Not because it was her birthday, rather because it was a day when she had received the greatest gift of her life, a one day-old grand-son.

The old granny had spent her entire life within the four walls, the old house of her in-laws. Her being physically challenged had almost always proved futile to de-motivate her in life. She had always been a loving mom of two kids and a responsible housewife. It was more than ten years now that she had lost her husband, the memories of whom were the only thing that she was living for.

She loved her kids more than anything else. They reminded her of everything she had faced in her life and most importantly, the sweet memories of her husband.

"He just looks like his grandpa", she said unable to contain her excitement as she scrolled her wheelchair towards the cradle of the newborn.

"You are right Mom", said her elder son who was amazed to see the enlightened face of her Mom. He noticed that she was actually laughing with tears in her eyes. He had never observed Mom acting this way in the past several years.

"You're crying Mom?", the son asked.

"Am I?", she interrogated as she rubbed her wet eyes with her saree, "These aren't really the tears dear", she tried to evade the situation.

She looked at the little angel who had just added an unusual zing to her painful life. She touched his tender fingers with love.

"You know son, his fingers are just like the ones you had when you were born!", she said as she caressed the little hand of the baby.

She recollected the memories of her life. Everything seemed so green in her mind. She continued to go back in time, back until she was drowned into her farthest memory - the young face of her poor father and the warmth of her mother's lap. They loved her so much, just like their other daughters.

Love must be blind, she thought as she looked at her crooked leg which was resting on the foot board of her wheelchair. They simply overlooked the need for vaccinating their little daughter, she recollected.

"By the way Mom, you didn't tell us what present you wish to have on your Birthday?", the son interrupted her stream of wandering thoughts.

She shrugged as she smiled. Her face had a spark filled with life, vigor towards unfulfilled dreams and ambitions.

"I wish, If I were a baby again!", she murmured.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Marathi Manus, Lead Or Misled?

November 05, 2009 Pune, India - A few months back in Bangalore, we found Milan, one of the senior developers in our organization sitting gloomy and disheartened in his cubicle. Known for his loud telephonic conversations among his colleagues, it was somewhat awkward to see him quiet that Friday morning. After a pretty long spell of reticence, he narrated his shocking story that took place in the local BMTC city bus on his way to office. I was beaten up bitterly by three local goons for speaking Gujarati over phone in the bus this morning, spoke heartbroken Milan. His voice depicted the same as his bleeding elbow and muddy trouser did. That was a hell of an incident, an outrage of a bitter hatred for the outsiders intruding into the city, a result of a fickle minded yet strong belief in the regionalist ideology.

I have wandered in the corners of various cities of India, big and small; and it is almost the same all over. I can sniff a strong scent of regionalism in the air of Maharashtra these days. The Vidhan Sabha elections are just over and the results depict how this regionalist ideology is gaining support for false and undemocratic 'Vachak-Namas' of the myopic politicians. It is difficult to say if this is truly a victory of the voters who call themselves the sons of the soil, the most common 'Marathi Manus'. Certainly, it is a big failure of the nation's basic values - democracy and secularism when such political parties get ill-deserved success and undue significance to their ideologies. I am in a no mood to comment on what mission or vision is being beheld by the political parties like MNS or Shivsena in Maharashtra. Whatever might be Raj Thakeray's motives behind forming a new party - his fickle relations with his cousin and other relatives stand no good with the interests of the nation.

The common Marathi-Manus travels in the crowded local trains and buses in Mumbai and other big cities of Maharashtra. He feels meek and ignored when his seat is suddenly captured by a Bhaiyya (a derogatory term for a North Indian in Mumbai) who was standing just next to him. He feels superseded. This Marathi-Manus is harmless and non-violent naturally and hence he feels it okay to surrender his seat to the other. But such occurrences are mundane and the discontent keeps on accumulating with the passage of time. He is unable to vent out his disgust and displeasure until one day he finds a leader who speaks his language. He talks about kicking the *sses and thrashing the cheeks of the intruders. Our common Marathi Manus is motivated by his raging public lectures so much so that he votes for the leader in a furore of unthoughtfulness.

Leaders like Raj might be awesome leaders but their ideology and modus-operandi, if confined beyond a local Gulli, will cause tremendous harm to the state and nation’s integrity in the ultimate sense. It is very easy to gain votes by virtue of an awesomely entertaining, crowd attracting public lectures based on sympathy towards the unlawful rage of the Maharashtrians. The party can be successful in securing a short lived success by means of regionalist methods. It just means that some people have trusted you and it is your duty to live upto your promises. When it comes to power and ruling a state, a party must understand that they are ruling a state or a country and not merely representing a community.

I have a brother who is a couple of years younger to me. I had agonistic feelings when he was born and when Mom paid more attention to him. My young and unfledged mind felt neglected, which at times made me unhappy. That was it, my novice days but today, my brother is one of our greatest strengths. When in school, we pledged saying all Indians are my brothers and sisters a countless times. Certainly, several decades after independence, we are no way a novice country. What is making us so immature to support and preach such ideologies that puts a probable risk to national integrity?

The Marathi-Manus quibbles about being deprived of several things - admissions to reputed colleges, job opportunities or a vacant seat in a crowded bus. But there are reasons and far neglected root causes to all of these problems he is facing since years. The so called intruders are trying to dominate him just because they have the heart to live away from their hometowns, toil and excel in their feats. It often makes me feel sad to see a mere handful of Marathi folks moving and settling away from Maharashtra. Marathi-Manus is undoubtedly hardworking and talented but since years he has confined himself to his age-old taboos which are adding restrictions on his own mobility and growth. Our constitution gives every Indian equal right to mobilize and explore newer dimensions of life, work and opportunities. He can be the next Ambani, a CEO of a multinational organization, a space researcher or a lead vocalist of a death metal band, the world is an open space of opportunities. But that's possible only when he manifests the true meaning of 'Marathi-Manus Jaga Ho' - wake up!

Accolades: This post was chosen as the Best Post from the Indian Blogosphere by BlogAdda - their topmost pick on 7th November, 2009

Who : Neeraj Shinde
What : Marathi Manus, Lead or Misled?
Spicy : This post is a must read for all of us so that none of us get into regionalism. It is important for all of us to realize that we are ‘Indians’ first and then comes our States, where we live. Neeraj has this post with a very strong and relevant message. Neeraj, it’s applaudable for someone to raise and write about it.

The Underprivileged Syndrome

November 02, 2009 Pune, India - The housemaid had almost everyday seen the plump little baby yelling over the milk bottle. She had been working there for close to a couple of years. Although an integral part of the family, she had the feeling of being detached - for the very own reason that she was a mere maid within the family. Of course, she had her own roles to play in there but her most important role in life was not very different than the role being played by the baby's mother. She was the same is the very basic aspect - the role of being a mother. The only difference the maid could think of was that her baby cried due to the want of milk, whilst the other cried to evade drinking it. That's the irony of her life.

The reasons why an underprivileged despises the privileged could be many and many-a-times born due to shallow thinking or lack of the same. Yesterday, I happen to come across a mob from the slums thrashing a couple of metro sexual guys on the road. The dispute nearly disrupted the traffic on the road. I really do not want to learn the background behind the dispute. Unfortunately, all I could make out was that the whole thing had a blend of the poor despising the rich.

As a tiny kid, I played with Jeetu, a playmate from my neighborhood. I was always passionate about Jeetu's new toys that always inspired me for a new demand to my father. Thanks to my papa for standing true towards most of my demands but a feeling always dwelled into my mind that always reminded me of the envious state of Jeetu. May be that is the reason why I kinda hated him in those days. When it comes to the society, a similar feeling emerges into the minds of the underprivileged. It is present all over - in the mind of a localite when a group of IT professionals walk towards the Bannerghatta Road in Bangalore after a movie at the PVR in Forum mall, in the skanky language spoken by the grocer or a fisher women in the market when a big fat lady refused to buy her product at the quoted price and in the eyes of the hungry beggar who is pathetically looking at the beautiful college girls and boys having a lavish bucket chicken at the KFC, Gold Adlabs Mall in Kalyani Nagar.

For some, it may sound as envy but I believe it is something that has a deeper sense to it. I always had a very different feeling whenever I look at the construction workers who build skyscrapers but do not own even a hut to live in. They keep on moving and building temporary huts at the construction sites and live the life of gypsies. We do remember the name of the builder who built our houses but the worker who had literally carried bricks on his head cannot be even forgotten - just because he was never remembered at all. This is how it has always been.

The differences between the rich and the poor have always been existed. It hurts to see the pits and heaps among the varied sections of our society. Something that is a necessity for some is a much deprived privilege for many. Wealth and riches is not always a result of unfair practices. Almost all of the times, people secure their social statuses by their own merits. To be able to enjoy the view at the top, you must have dug your foundation strong. That's all an underprivileged must understand. The Pareto's principle will continue to hold true to the extent that the 20 percent of the population will hold 80 percent of the wealth. However, both have always been the two sides of the same coin and one cannot really exist without the other. Things will certainly change when the rich and the privileged understand the sentiments of the majority - that they still have to sail in the same ship, the very existence of which is based on the poor, laborious rowers down under.