Tuesday, 15 October 2013

The Real You by Radhanath Swami



A crispy square book, with crispy pages and intriguing cartoons in it, a fabulous cover with a heart shaped tree and a lot of orange tint in it is what meets the eye when you behold this little book for the first time. The book emanates an aura, an aura of knowledge and wisdom and that is exactly what it contains. The truth is that the simple yet reverberating cover of this book is what attracted me to the book in the first place but once the pages started getting turned the impression was only reinforced. 

The takes flight into an altogether alien world of knowledge and wisdom right from the very first page  and with these beautiful lines about love. "The nature of love is to give.". The book is not one long story about the search for truth or anything magnanimous. Like so many of its successors that strive to preach the same values and wisdom, this book is a collection of nuggets of knowledge all presented in simple and suggestive tone yet having in it a take it or leave it manner.

The book is discontinuous and not knitted together from page to page and chapter to chapter. They are separate and utterly isolated, at times they are even worlds apart. That being said this book is not one raucous and discordant debacle, but on the contrary the book is well organized in a way. All theses little nuggets of wisdom are classified broadly into several chapters and each nuggets is kept trim and concise. The whole book is one succinct attempt to teach life's lessons, concise and straight to the point. This is a book that appears in the way it should appear, truth needn't have to give explanations, they serve only to diminish the purpose of truth and pollute its sanctity.

A striking feature of this book is the numerous cartoons that appear in the book, They sometimes support and at other times intrigues sometimes even serving both these purposes. They give a sense of innocence and simplicity to the hard and tough nuts of wisdom that appears along side these beautiful sketches. Mr Suresh Sawant does a brilliant job in giving a sense of approach-ability to this book, that may only be surpassed by the cover and its design simplicity. Radhanath Owes much of the books success to Mr Suresh in this sense.

"This book is a collection of pearls of wisdom, in the necklace of life, for the beauty of soul" This is how that book is described as in the introduction and I find this statement perfectly true and apt for the book. This is not a story or a myth but a collection of wise words and wisdom. This books aims not to teach you life but to show some of life's vital points and The book does not preach how to learn but gives you points to start planing how to live on your own. This is book is not a one stop place for spiritual awakening but a fun, tiny guide book to life.

Saturday, 12 October 2013

Lost


Stranded in the crowded Island, Often I find myself alone.
Staring at the starry water that knows not malice.
True its heart it shows me my wet eyes and the damp face,
It knows not my heart and cruel in disposition it stands.
Yet it tells me a tale of lost hearts and valor.
It tells of battles frivolously fought and lost for no reason.
I stare and stare back at me does the truth.
That I stand alone in a crowded island, Stranded I stand.
Sitting under the palm tree, On its lofty sand beaches,
I realize I wrong the boat and the voyage.
Yet marooned I should not be for my crimes.
In passion of utmost carelessness they were done.
I live not that life of moderation and revel in flaming passion do I,
The sin of such life is the peril of loneliness.
Over the expanse and adrift in its care is a boat.
A boat that I have missed for all that that was not to be.
Burned in the high flames of vanities passion was the plank.
And lost was the ride that was only mine to ride.
In this paradisaical expanse I stand, falsely wronged.
I stand stranded on a crowded Island, forever alone.
Destined am I to the case of invisible bars, 
Of lost dreams and careless passion.
Destined am I to this lonely abyss,
Of very slow decay of perpetual loneliness.