Monday, January 5, 2015


The man jumped on the crocodile and deftly covered its deadly mouth with his strong arms followed by his assistant who injected a sedative in the thick skin. After a while the animal gave up the struggle and fell unconscious. She was not the one to get disturbed usually by such imageries but this time she was in absolute rage to see the animal lying motionless on the tv screen.

Don’t worry your crocky is alive’ said he, ‘Just sleeping for a while till they fix a small machine on its back.’

The explanation angered her more.

‘Who has given them any right to harass the poor creature’

He retorted, ‘ It is done for its own betterment. They are going to find out how to make it  live a longer and healthier life’

By now she had fire in her eyes

‘Who  gave them the right to decide on its behalf. Isn’t it inhuman? Doesn’t such behavior reek of while man’s burden? Didn’t  all the colonizers project themselves as saviours of the colonized people.?

‘People are different but animals have to be controlled for the  sake of science'

This was going nowhere. There was no use arguing. She got up and went to her room. Lying on her bed her thoughts wandered to her house, how it meant nothing to her but a comfortable dwelling place where  her loved ones lived. But it wasn't so always.
‘Papa, I want a bathtub and also a tennis court.This small patch of land here, I will grow flowers on it'.

Papa smiled and next she knew he got fitted the bathrooms on all the three floors with luxurious bath tubs.She was very happy. On the day of the pooja she proudly hung an automatic camera in her neck and went on clicking every nook and corner of the house.People as always she was least interested in.
How she hated radios!. Her parents always had one by their side and they were always listening to the news.Though Iran-Iraq war had cooled down Kashmir was going from bad to worse. Catching some hints from the stray conversations between her parents and their friends she could make out that there was no house to return back to. Her childish heart kept thinking of the bathtub and the flower garden. Meanwhile her father booked a two bedroom flat in Delhi which again they never lived in but probably which gave them a feeling of owning a house.

‘Where will you go now when you return to India this time’ an innocent question by her Persian friend with whom she had discussed everything ranging from films to Bermuda triangle.

She had no answer. Her friend cam e up with an ingenious idea that she may marry one of latter’s cousin, a good looking boy from a very well off family.

‘Your life will be made and you will not have to leave Iran, leave us ever’

For a moment her eyes brightened but soon she realized it would mean leaving her parents and changing her religion, both of which she couldn’t do. She got up suddenly and changed the topic of conversation.

She had suddenly grown-up after the first air raid on Malayer.Their miraculous escape and events following that matured her too early in life. She would often wish the enemy air planes to vanish somewhere in Bermuda triangle. She developed a keen interest in history and philosophy to make sense of this absurd world and constant chaos which was part of her growing up. Yet questions kept arising.

‘Who had given them any right to bombard hospitals? Who had given them any right  to send young boys on the border to simply act as canon fodder? Who had given them any right to force people out of their homes and all this for sake of which science?

Monday, July 14, 2014

Poetry Thread: Doomed Life

 A poetry thread started on May 21st led to this creation by AjiteshBohra and me, alternate lines by each one of us.and the last four paragraphs by Ajitesh. Putting it together to make a coherent read.

Chill setting in a heart full of warmth
A desolate gloom 'midst laughter swarmed
doomed to a deathless life for ever
Love and joy, I have known never
Trying in vain to lessen the agony

Writhing in clutches of Fate's tyranny
Ah that perpetual wait for the end
The end, O Death, to thee befriend!
Alas you will never knock at my door
My wait is condemned to be a frivolous stupor
I die a thousand deaths a day, to recover in a minutes sway
But this perpetual oscillation never goes away.

Rosy youth to a corpse pale
O death, 'twas a tragic tale
Broken hopes and dreams stale
Oh the curse of life does ail!

Lo! For the Fates are truly worded
Death to one and all awarded
Peace and eternal sleep rewarded
Our memories by friends guarded.

Death and doom on me impending
My time here slowly ending
My heart, it stops, unto sleep descending
Into thine arms, o death, ascending.

'Tis a toast unto thee, Death!
Solemn prayers, a floral wreath
Silent tears, my friends weepeth
As peacefully in my grave I sleepeth

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

The Inklings: Story Thread No. 1

I am going to start a story thread...feel free to add to it..let's see what we will come up with

Walking past that dense forest of humanity there was only one thought that lingered in his/her mind.

 - as far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being..!!

 But how does one do that? Even 'mere being' involves a huge amount of running around to simply deal with the painfully banal yet basic needs of food, shelter and clothing. But many have found their way of finding their passion with all these banalities. Or have they...?

or they have, may be. Trying to work around the available options only make people suffer in silence. Without much to 'change' individuals dwell in their own systematised life style. Only few stand out moving on the path their souls yearn for!

 Or Maybe the systematised life style is what their souls yearn for but due to humanities pressure there is an illusion of more!!!

With such existential ponderings she kept walking as if in a dream. Coming to her senses she realized the place where she had landed up, where her feet had carried her on their own accord looked quite familiar...

surprised a little, she realised she had come that little marketplace where she last saw 'her'. The woman who had so intrigued her. What had been about her that first caught her attention? She tried to recollect...

'She' had come to her out of the crowd and whispered in her ears, in a voice that reminded her of a flowing brook "I can take away you pain." Then, as strangely she appeared, as strangely she disappeared. Bewildered, she had searched for her the whole evening. Questions screamed inside her. Who are you? How do you know of my pain? How can you take it? Why will you take it? Who are you!?
But her search was futile. It was as if she had been in a dream, and somebody woke her up, and she woke up thinking of her dream to be true; but was disappointed when she saw the world around her that her dream had ended. A dream, was but a dream.
Today again she stood there, looking at the world around her. The people, their noises; just like an unruly sea tempest, trying to drown her, sink her deep, to some frightful place from where there's no coming back.
And suddenly all that tempest, all the storm, all the noise of sea waves clashing and the windy cacophony ceased. It all changed into a familiar, peaceful, mysterious sound. That of a flowing brook.
She startled.
'She' had come.

She' had come to calm her soul. She followed 'her' like a river which flows consistently to merge in the ocean. Unstoppable!
She could feel her spirit alive after a very long time.
She knew it was 'her' soothing presence which was moving here soul...

She did nothing every time she met 'her'. She just listened to 'her' speaking, her brook of a voice wielding gems from its depth. Every evening, she went there and met 'her', every evening 'she' spoke, sitting there in her immaculate white clothing and she just listened to her voice, and on and on until the night overcame their little tryst. She never asked who 'she' was, and 'she' never told. Instead, she told her of places she had never heard of, of some kind of promised land, of happiness and magic, and fairies and angels and someday 'she' would take her there with her. And miraculously, all this took her pain away. She didn't question her life anymore. Instead, she became a dreamer. She didn't know if it was good or bad, but she liked dreaming. Of 'her' and her promised land.
One day 'she' told her that she was her mother. She had never been so happy before. 'She' told her that soon she'd take her with her to that land she spoke of. This evening was the time 'she' had promised. She eagerly reached that marketplace. Finally, she was going with 'her', her own mother, to her place. She looked for 'her' in the crowd, afraid that 'she' might not show up. She saw all the people and loathed them suddenly. She talked about her mother to them and they mocked her for talking to her mother . She hated them all. 
Ah! There 'she' was finally. She was afraid 'she' would not come, that 'she' would be late. Her mother, with her voice like that of a flowing brook, calling her to come. She went to her, running. Tearing that crowd apart and those people. She hated them all. She hated them all for calling 'her' her "late" mother; but 'she' was never late.
'She' was always on time for her.

And that is when realization dawned on her. 'she' had never been away, had always been with her through thick and thin. It is just that she lacked the vision to see 'her'. This revelation was like a cool shower on her otherwise burning soul and it bestowed her with an inexplicable sense of fulfillment..

Participants: Aastha Manocha, Edha Jain, Ajitesh Bohra, Divya Balaji, Shubhra Joshi, Geetika Kaw Kher

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Role of Buddhist Siddhacaryas in expansion of Vajrayana Art and Iconography


This paper aims at critically looking into the origin and development of the Order of the Buddhist Siddhas and their role in shaping the Vajrayana art and iconography. The impact of Theory of Dhyani-Buddha, their consorts and series of emanations as propounded in the Guhyasamaja Tantra had been immense. The appropriation and sharing of the semiotics of new pantheon with the parallel evolving sampradayas like Natha and Kapalika created a veritable multi-hued imagery of deities that has enriched Indian art and culture for aeons.

Dhyani-Buddhas, Guhyasamaja, Karuna, mahasukha,Manjusrimulakalpa, Natha, Padamsambhava, Praj├▒a , sahaja, Sunyata ,Upaya.

Paper published in Journal of Indian Research

Saturday, April 19, 2014


az golestan begu, az bostan begu
barayam az insaan o shaitan begu
ke jaan bar lab shodam baraye kessehat
begu az mah o kehkeshaan begu

az anal haq e mansour, az nei rumi
az shakh-e-nabat e hafez, az shahan e firdausi
az simurgh o rustom, az shams-e-tabriz
begu az in o oun, begu az hamecheez

These are just some random thoughts I had few days back about the deep desire to lose myself  in the world of stories..let me try to translate.... 

Tell me of Golestan and Bostan (two important works by Saidi, an important Persian poet ,quite popular in Kashmir too), 
Tell me about people and evil (Satan) 
I am craving for your stories, 
Tell me about moon and constellations, (heavenly bodies)
Tell me about Anal Haq of Mansour, Rumi's flute, Hafez;s sweetheart and kings of Firdausi (the  painting is illustrating a scene from Shahnama of Firdausi), 
Tell me about simurgh (an imaginary bird found  in persian mythology) and Rustom, tell me about everything under the sun.


In that inner solitude
where nothing dwells  but eternal peace
Lost all sense of desire
Desire that burns body and soul alike

Alas! It was a momentary feel
The desire hasn’t been really killed
How it hurts to desire now!
Now it comes with a feeling of guilt.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Lecture based on Dr Raffaele Torella’s recent work on Isvara Pratyabhijna-vivritti of Utpaladeva organized by Ishwar Ashram Trust on 23-10-2013 at 6:00pm

Dr. Torella a renowned Indologist and an exponent of Kashmir Saiva tradition delivered a lecture on Utpaladeva’s work on Pratyabhijna. Before embarking on the main topic he delved on the  various currents of philosophical thoughts prevalent during Utpala’s time especially focusing on Buddhist Mahayana Tantricism. Dr. Torella suggested that Tantricism provided a break from the Absolutist Buddhist philosophy and that is why Buddhists incorporated it in a big way in their belief system and soon came up with a complex system of Tantrik iconography. Also interestingly Dr. Torella sees this change as Tantricism coming out of the shackles of Asceticism and entering a world of a householder and altering it for ever. One of the examples is the inclusion of mysterious Non dual Bhairava Tantras reserved earlier for ascetics, in the religious and ritualistic life of a common man.

Somananda’s ‘Siva Drsti’ was the first philosophical text of Pratyabhijna school which has sown the seeds for later philosophical and metaphysical treatises to come. According to Abhinavagupta Utpala’s works are reflections on Siva Drsti. Hence we can see Abhinavagupta, Utpala and Somananda as Pratyabhijna triad out of which Abhinavagupta became most popular for his elaborate commentaries , compilations and brilliant works like Tantraloka.

The dry logic of the Epistemological schools of Buddhist philosophy was soon countered by this very dynamic and vibrant system of thought  which focused on the Svatantriya sakti of Lord Siva.Utpaladeva took some linguistic ideas from Bhartrhari whom Torella calls as his ‘grammarian ally’. The thought that the language has the potential to reveal the nature of universe opened vistas for symbolic significance of language, including omnipresence of Siva.

He further went on to focus on universal appeal  of Pratyabhijna philosophy saying that Utpaladeva’s work is a blend of both rational and emotional side of man and hence deals with an array of subjects comprising metaphysics , epistemology , aesthetics and philosophy. He also suggested that the concept of Chamatkara which later was developed as an elaborate theory by Abhinavagupta was initially introduced by Utpala. Talking about the interdependence of scholars Dr. Torella said, “ Without Utpaladeva no Abhinavagupta would have been possible and to  understand Utpaladeva completely one needs to know about Dharmakirti”  hence  suggesting that to understand various ideas and concepts of so called Kashmir Saivism it is necessary to understand the Buddhist thought at that time. He was even of the opinion that we can consider Sankarananda, oten quoted by Abhinavagupta as an authority as a Buddhist which I am not quite sure about but reserve my comments as I don’t know much about the scholar.

In the end he stressed on the fact that texts should be understood philologically and not in isolation but in context of other texts written around the same time. This lucid and basic lecture was followed by a question answer session where the queries were more about his interaction with Swami Laxmanjoo than what he spoke. 

Monday, October 28, 2013

Book Review: Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

Discovering Murakami has been one of the most enigmatic literary experiences I have had recently. Early in the year while browsing through my brother’s books, I spotted a collection of short stories titled ‘After the Quake’ by the author. The appealing title and equally engaging description at the back of the book saw me reading it in no time. Two stories down, I realized that the narratives were not actually about the physical devastating earthquake but much more about the psychological tremors and emotional turbulences triggered by a natural calamity, stories giving an insight into the minds of people rather than in their lives.

Full review published here:

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

'Refugees in their Own Homeland : The Travails of Kashmiri Pandits'- On 20th April, at Vivekananda International Foundation

The event organized by the ‘Patriots Forum’ on the theme ‘The Travails of Kashmiri Pandits’ at Vivekananda International Foundation on 20th April for the most part tried to externalize the issue of exodus of KP’s and see it not only as a crisis for  a bunch of people but as a serious threat to the sovereignty of the entire nation.

Emphatic speaker Dr. Subramanian Swamy stressed the need for revoking Article 370 in Kashmir and also explained patiently how this can be achieved simply by Government provided there is a political will to do so. After bursting the myth of Article 370 he went on to explain how an entire nation and especially KP”s, the minority community, has been compromised by  decisions taken by leaders like Nehru and likes of him.

Taking over from there Prof. R.K Ohri’s slide presentation titled ‘Kashmir: Nehru’s Self Inflicted wound’ historically contextualized the problem and brought out various incidences of political mischief played to suit vested interests.
The point was stressed by Dr.Ajay Chrungoo who quoted relevant passages from government documents suggesting that right from early days Indian State was well aware of the magnitude and intensity of the problem but decided to look the other way. Moreover serious efforts were being made to deny the reasons that led to the exodus  and the people who were forced to leave their home and hearth were simply termed as ‘Migrants’ , clearly a shrewd misnomer. The denial by none other than the Indian State amounts to betraying of a group of people and Dr.Chrungoo equated such a callous attitude with ‘double killing’,

After the down right denial of what had happened in 1990’s efforts were made by the scholars in the valley to distort history in a hope to wipe out vestiges of hindu past from Kashmir. This was the theme taken by Dr. Shashi Shekhar Toshkhani who talked about ways in which the efforts were being made to deny the civilizational connect Kashmir had with rest of India. He aptly used the term ‘Cultural Genocide’  to explain the situation and he stressed  the need to stop as well as counter this serious misinformation campaign.

The talks were summed up by Mr. K.P.S Gill by suggesting that KP’s should demand a separate Union Territory status in Kashmir. He further stressed that there are so many countries in the world whose population in less than displaced Kashmiris. To achieve such an end he emphasized that KP need to first acquire a serious intellectual space which will ultimately lead to a much desired political one.

Overall it was a thought provoking session with a common thread going through it and for us probably the lesson was to be united and demand unanimously a serious political space if we seriously want to undo the wrong done.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Figuring Out?

Figuring out isn't  that easy
as easy as one would suppose
A formidable treasure hunt
with multiple clues scattered
Yet each  clue fluid and floating
as it goes

Figuring out what needs to be figured
Why isn't the figure clear enough?
Why put figure on a figure
Isn't figuring its own end?

Figuring is a conscious task
Building, dawning bit by bit
Yet figuring out a constant dilemma
With absolutely no end to it

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Excerpts from my paper on Surrealism: A plunge in Subconcious through Art and Literature

Surrealism is considered as one of the most influential cultural movements of 20th century having pervasive influence on both visual and literary arts. Surrealist works primarily focus on the element of surprise and unexpected juxtapositions to create an imaginary world of their own. The movement started as a reaction against the ‘Age of Reason’ which had gripped the western world .It flourished between World War I and II when gradually the artist and literary community was completely disillusioned and disgusted with the ‘Rationalism’ which they believed was the prime cause of mass scale distruction. This contention is substantiated by a declaration by Andre Breton, the major spokesman of the movement :

“Intellectually, it was vulgar rationalism and chop logic that more than anything else formed the causes of our horror and our destructive impulse” (Andre Breton)

For Breton, who published "The Surrealist Manifesto" in 1924, Surrealism was a means of reuniting conscious and unconscious realms of experience so completely, that the world of dream and fantasy would be joined to the everyday rational world in "an absolute reality, a surreality."He believed that there lurks a wealth of imagination in ones unconscious mind and if an artist was able to tap it somehow it would result into pure works of genius. With this declaration started this conscious journey into the realm of subconscious by a group of artists and writers alike.

One of the most iconic works of literature produced by this movement is Breton’s second novel titled ‘Nadja’,published in 1928 and which interestingly starts with a question “Who am I”.

The novel is based on the relationship between the protagonist, who is nothing but the alter ego of the author himself, and a woman, Nadja,whom he meets randomly on a street and gets obsessed with. More than the woman herself it is her vision of the world that entices him and forces him to meet her daily.Her understanding of existence defies the rational logic and has a peculiar irrational charm to it which makes him continue the relationship till he realizes that she is actually mad and is admitted in a certain sanitorium.As this reality dawns on him, he breaks up with her but finds himself completely taken by her thinking and her vision which seems to have direct access to her unconscious and artistic mind. Interestingly it is her absence which creates a mysterious and a stronger bond between both of them and he finds her constantly present in both his conscious and unconscious thoughts. Here Breton interestingly plays with the concept of absence and presence and hence raises important questions about the workings of our unconscious mind.

The importance of dream like imagery somewhere points at Breton’s fascination with Sigmund Freud’s focus on subconcious mind and its workings. Not only Breton but most of the Surrealist artists were keen readers of Freud and well versed with his major theories. According to Freud when a certain desire cannot be represented conciously it takes an absurd form which helps in disguising the desire. He suggests that two objects that could never be juxtaposed in reality become so in the dream and hence dream has a logic of its own which makes virtually no sense to the dreamer himself/herself after waking up.

This idea of ‘disguising a desire’ which might not have been socially or culturally acceptable by distorting the reality became a tool in the hands of Surrealist artists.

The horrors of war and the fearsome aspect is reflected deeply in Salvador Dali’s painting ‘Face of War’ and can be felt in these lines by Breton:

a mouth opens within another mouth

and within this mouth another mouth

and within this mouth another mouth

and so on without end

it is a sad perspective

which adds an I-don't-know-what

to another I-don't-know-what (The domestic Stones by Breton)

Excerpts from my paper on Surrealism: A plunge in Subconcious through Art and Literature presented at Amity Institute of English Studies and Research

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Akanandun: Dead and Undead

Multitude of meanings can be derived from folklore depending on the method of the analysis used. Most of the times the literal meaning leaves  one baffled, confused and shocked as it fails to fit in our reasonable logical thinking and that is why scholars of culture have been using various semiotic and psychoanalytic methods to analyze the potent content of these tales of ancient wisdom. One such tale  from Kashmir  which has terribly fascinated  me with its central  intriguing motif of mystical Resurrection or Rebirth  is the story of Akanandun. The story has been told , retold , represented various times hence I am focusing on the core of the story rather than the details which might have been added later
Apart from the central motif the other recognizable one with which the story starts is  that of a desire for a male child. The anxiety to have a male heir to perpetuate the ancestral lineage is a concern discernable in most of the Patriarchal communities. There are stories about the absurd lengths that parents go to achieve this feat. In the said story too it is the desperate need to have a boy child which make the parents of Akanandun to promise the jogi that they will return the child bestowed on them through his miraculous powers, exactly after twelve years. This kind of desperation points to rash promises we human beings make without giving a second thought to what  it could actually suggest. Akanandun’s parents accepted the condition without thinking what would happen after 12 years and soon conveniently forgot the promise made. It also talks about short-lived memory of ours where we tend to consciously forget the things which give us immense pain and also about the fickleness of human mind. 
Rather then getting worried about the future the couple dedicated their energies in bringning up their son in the best possible way and happily wishing away the future. The fear might have lurked somewhere in their subconscious but they didn’t let that hamper their joy. Once engrossed in their happiness they completely lost sight of the approaching misery. But the jogi remembered the promise very well and returned after the stipulated time and demanded that the boy be returned to him. This reality shattered their world and they begged jogi to spare the child and take whatever he wanted.
The aspect of ‘moha’, is underlined here . The couple and their seven daughters had grown extremely fond of the boy and they wept , wailed and tried to get the sympathy of the jogi. But the latter had given up the world and along with it all the materialistic passions. He remained unmoved, untouched by the extreme emotions displayed by the family and would take nothing but the child.He harshly reminded them of their fateful promise. The moment of realization of the actual implication of the promise must have been so painful!
Greatly aggrieved and pained the parents obliged with a heavy heart and called Akanandun, a young ,energetic and handsome lad of 12 who had shown great promise in all the fields. Jogi asked the boy to be cleansed and draped in new clothes .When the child was ready Jogi took him to a side and beheaded him in full view of his parents. What a shock it must have been to the parents! But the miseries didn’t’ end  there. He started cutting the body in small pieces and patiently separated the flesh from the bone. The hapless parents could hardly believe their eyes. In front of them was their dear son ,killed and chopped to pieces. Imagine the condition of the mother who was then ordered by the jogi to wash the pieces of meat and cook them for him.The fact that she complied with such gruesome order somewhere points to an underlined faith because just  fear will not let a mother take such an extreme step. Somewhere the trust in the Jogi who had given her the greatest happiness of her life can be deciphered here. He even ordered her to taste the flesh to see if it was properly cooked and later to serve the dish in seven vessels and cover them with a white cloth. She complied again, almost mechanically.But she could control her feelings no more when the holy man asked her to call Akanandun to take his meals. She burst into tears and said it was impossible. She cried her heart out but Jogi once again was adamant. There must have been something in Jogi’s voice which made her call her son in most pitiful a voice..a wail of a lamenting whom the extent of her loss had just dawned upon completely.As  she was undergoing these extreme emotions Akanandun rushed in the room and took his place ready to take his meals. The family  could believe their eyes no more and turned their questioning glances towards the Jogi , only to find no one there.The holy man had disappeared along with the seven vessels. There was nothing which could remind them of the dreadful act they had witnessed sometime back.
The story capable of creating macabre and violent imagery, filled to core with Bhibatsa Rasa, able to arouse tremendous Jugupsa (disgust) somewhere I feel has a cleansing power. A Catharsis of sorts is achieved by reading and sure enough by watching the story being enacted.  The narrative takes us to a different planes of emotion, increases our heartbeats , purges us of all the emotions of pity and fear that delve in our physche. On one hand it gives a glimpse of extremely fickle nature of  human beings on the other it talks of miracles that can happen if only we have faith. Faith alone has the power to conquer duality. Probably this is why the narrative has had a great appeal for poets like Samad Mir, Ahad Zargar, Prakash Ram and otherswho have identified the story with Sufi thought.
Similar motif of resurrection can be seen in the well known biblical story of Abraham and Issac
Gen 22 NIV states that God ordered Abharam to take his only son, Isaac, to the region of Moriah and sacrifice him as a burnt offering to the god.
. It is to faithful and trusting devotees that He shows the most enchanting of the miracles. Miraculous truths are not meant for people who are skeptical of faith and tend to employ their limited reason to question the declarations of faith. The aspect of underlined faith and trust comes across through the following lines:
“Heb 11:17-19 NIV) By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had received the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, "It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned." “
Abraham is stopped by an angel and is asked to replace his son by a ram . So the entire ordeal was to see if Abraham had enough unquestioning faith in his God or the human weaknesses would take the better of him. Perhaps one the best visual representation of this incident is this painting by Caravaggio, a 17th Century Italian Baroque  Painiter.
Somewhere in our story too the faith and trust of the family especially the mother in the Jogi seems to have been tested. .One sees a willful submission to the wishes of someone who had blessed her with a  son.
Interestingly a story narrating the myth of Resurrection is also found in Egyptian Myth of Osiris , the god of afterlife. who was cut into pieces by his arch enemy Set and was brought back to life by his wife Isis. Isis collected all the body parts and arranged them in order and started singing a song while going around the pieces until her husband came back to life and later on came to be known as the ‘god of afterlife’.Though the same motif may be found repeated in various myths and folktales ,everyone of them unique in their  own way , the feeling of faith and turst seems to be the intersecting point for all of them.
Idea of Paroksha or paradox as observed by Subhash Kak in Epic myths can be extended to folk literature too. As Kak observes in such narratives the moral ambiguity works like the hubris of Greek myth and drama, creating a space that is not quite in the realm of gods, although it is superhuman. The story of Akanandun has definitely an other worldly aura about it. Today we might not be able to relate to what to our rational senses would appear too irrational or illogical but the violent imageries replete with deep phychological meanings have been a part of Indian culture since hoary past.Disowning such stories or art works shows our tremendous disconnect with our own past. Maet or Malangs as they were known in Kashmir were a reality just two decades back and probably exist to this day. Our parents and grand parents are witness to their mystical powers and seemingly mad actions.  Existing on a different plane of reality nobody dared question them. I have heard how people used to fear Nand Mot and what he had to say to them.Mysticism is part of our culture and unfortunately we are losing touch with it.Unfortunately we have..turned ourselves into a fearful bunch ..thinking about the dangerous consequence before embarking on anything new…Years of submissive behavior has made us puppets in the hands of our own apprehensions which it is a high time to fight.