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.
Always.


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

ABSTRACT

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.

KEYWORDS:
Dhyani-Buddhas, Guhyasamaja, Karuna, mahasukha,Manjusrimulakalpa, Natha, Padamsambhava, Prajña , sahaja, Sunyata ,Upaya.

Paper published in Journal of Indian Research

http://mujournal.mewaruniversity.in/JIR%202-1/8.pdf