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Bhagavad-gita Classes this Fall

Koti Sreekrishna, PhD will be teaching Bhagavad-gita classes during August–October 2024 / Sunday to Thursday at 9.30pm EST (Monday to Friday at 7am IST). The opening orientation session will be held on Thursday, August 15th at 9.30pm EST (i.e. Friday, August 16th at 7am IST).

To enrol for classes, join this WhatsApp group: https://chat.whatsapp.com/JAmuGVEEwiOCRIP3kmjpbP

Dr. Sreekrishna was born in 1953 at Bangalore. He studied Biochemistry at IISc. after graduating from Central College and later worked as a research fellow with the Baylor College of Medicine and the University of Kentucky. He retired in 2021 after over thirty-five years as corporate scientist with Phillips Petroleum Company, Marion Merrel Dow, and Procter & Gamble Company. He is deeply interested in philosophy, inter-religious dialogue, and studying the Hindu scriptures. He has contributed articles to the Hindu Society of Greater Cincinnati (HSGC) temple magazine. Having been actively associated with the temple for over thirty years, he currently serves as the Religious Counselor of HSGC. For several years, he has served in the HSGC executive council. He is a Distinguished Toastmaster.

I had the good fortune of collaborating with him on five books.

[With Dr. Sreekrishna at his residence in Mason, OH in 2008 when we were translating the Gita together!]

Please find below a short note from him. –Hari Ravikumar

My Journey with the Bhagavad-gita From my childhood, I have been connected to the Bhagavad-gita, one way or another. My father (K. S. Krishna Tatachar, Sanskrit scholar and author) taught me the recitation of the Gita in the traditional, rigorous way. By age 9, I had memorized the entire 700 verses of the Gita. The most thrilling moment with this rote memorization, ever fresh in my memory, was when I won the first prize in ‘Six Chapter Gita Recitation Contest’ at my school (National Middle School, Bangalore) in 1963. One of the judges of the contest was apparently so impressed that he added Rs. 10 from his own pocket to the actual award amount of Rs. 29. I consider that as the most valuable ten rupees ever earned in my life because it was a blessing from Prof. H. S. Varadadeshikachar, who was to be my Sanskrit teacher in college; later, he was better known as H. H. Sri Rangapriya Swami.

Before I left to Houston, TX in 1978 to undertake postdoctoral studies at the Biochemistry department of Baylor College of Medicine, I requested my dad to say a few words about the Gita, which I promptly recorded on tape. In his brief talk, he said that the Gita is a sarva anukoola shastra, a scriptural guide which is convenient to everyone. That one phrase said it all. But I always wondered why even those who knew the Gita made life inconvenient for themselves and for others. Was it because of ‘something else’ (divisive and dogmatic ideas) coming in the way? I kept reading every book on Gita I could lay my hands on; I might have read fifty versions by now. In addition to that, I attended many discourses by reputed scholars. I found some new insights as well as the ‘something else’, which was not always the same, but was always there, and in disguise at times. All along, I was trying to intuitively make sense, especially of some tricky verses which could be understood in multiple ways; in a way, I was trying to read Krishna’s mind.

In 1987 as a biotechnology scientist at Phillips Petroleum Company, I attended a conference in Weimar, East Germany during which I visited Martin Luther’s hometown, I wondered why the Hindus did not get a Martin Luther but had only Popes! Then it dawned on me that Krishna is not just our Martin Luther but so much more than that. In 1988, I happened to watch Joseph Campbell and The Power of Myth with Bill Moyers, on public television. I could see the beauty of myth. The question: “Did everything happen exactly as in the epic Mahabharata?” stopped troubling me. Many traditionalists take the epic literally while many rationalists discard it entirely. Thanks to Joseph Campbell, I did not fall into either of those traps.

In 1990, my brother K. Srinivas gifted me D. V. Gundappa’s discourse on Gita in Kannada, Jeevana Dharma Yoga (‘A Manual for Living’). This was a book first published in 1966, bringing national recognition to the author. I was happy to see that some of my own intuitive understanding was also echoed in DVG’s book.

My friend K. Vasudevan wanted to bring out an English translation of the Gita and asked me for a recommendation. I couldn’t think of one that I wholeheartedly liked. So in 2005, I began working on a translation, trying to keep out that ‘something else.

I had just completed a word-for-word translation to be published as a ‘one verse a day, self-study manual’ and shared the draft with a few, when the best happened. There came along my nephew Hari Ravikumar, over three decades younger (only in age) as co-author with brilliant ideas, great depth, unique talents, insights, and style. He wanted to first have a modern English version in order to make the book accessible to any person, from any culture, who wants to know about the Gita or about Indian wisdom. as a result we brought out The New Bhagavad-Gita: Timeless wisdom in the language of our times in 2011. Then in 2013, we wrote The Easy Bhagavad-Gita: An easy-to-read version for busy people. Both these books were well-received by readers around the world. In 2014, we published The Complete Bhagavad-Gita, a verse-by-verse self-study guide to master the ancient text with new insights.

I wish to express my heartfelt thanks to everyone who helped us during these years. We would not have these books but for their constant support and encouragement. Also, I must thank my dear wife Shailini for putting up with this ‘Gita-nut’, a title accorded by our daughter and son!

I have always felt unexplainable joy even while simply reciting verses of the Gita and so much more when I have gone deeper into the text. But for my father’s initiation I might not have had a life-long obsession with this masterpiece. It is the greatest gift my father gave me.

[The present avatar of Dr. Sreekrishna]

About the Course Thanks to Shilpa Sharma for inviting me to conduct this online Bhagavad-Gita course in English! It will span from mid-Aug to mid-Oct. 2024. It is a course for anyone who is interested. Except for a working knowledge of English, no other pre-requisites are expected.

Starting on the auspicious Shukla Ekadashi as well as India’s Independence Day (August 15; it will be August 16 for India), the hour-long classes will be on zoom, five days a week (on weekdays, at 9.30pm EST) with no homework. I will read out the Sanskrit shloka, give the meaning of the words, and explain the import of the verse. I will try to ensure that the basic concepts are clear to everyone. I will leave the last 10-15 minutes of each one-hour session for any Q&A. That will also be time for my co-author Hari Ravikumar to share any thoughts.

In this manner, I will go through all seven hundred verses of the text, fully dedicated to Gita!

Whatever has been expounded in the Gita is meant to be experimented in our life and to be realized by experience rather than by blind faith or excessive intellectualization. I will share my personal experiences where appropriate.

By the end of the course, you will get an idea of what the Bhagavad-gita contains—and perhaps the learnings will enrich your life.

While teaching the class, I will be using our book The Complete Bhagavad-Gita (available in the US in three volumes)— Vol. 1 https://www.amazon.com/Complete-Bhagavad-Gita-verse-verse-self-study/dp/1724515853 Vol. 2 https://www.amazon.com/Complete-Bhagavad-Gita-verse-verse-self-study/dp/172451637X Vol. 3 https://www.amazon.com/Complete-Bhagavad-Gita-verse-verse-self-study/dp/1724516736

This is going to be roughly a sixty-hour course in a seriously casual setting, spanning three months. It is a free course.

Here are some background presentations for those interested:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1MNOA5RXIsv5uT94WaE_pA3PI1DAfXEaw/view?usp=drivesdk

https://drive.google.com/file/d/16ohkYQ4wcySmI5eWZAmSTPk4VgkkqAVp/view?usp=drivesdk

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1PIXxG4AF8rdh977lFYCMYMZlm79inWEx/view?usp=drivesdk

–Koti Sreekrishna

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Bhagavad-Gita Classes / March to May 2024

Dear friends,

Greetings!

If you have five minutes to spare, I will tell you about my encounter with the Bhagavad-Gita.

I was nineteen when I first read the Gita, in English translation, from cover to cover.

I was quite impressed by it despite my near-complete ignorance of philosophy coupled with the disdainful scepticism that is natural to a college student. I got a chance to read through it again when my uncle Dr. Koti Sreekrishna prepared an independent English translation of the first few chapters. Little did I realize then that I would be co-translating the Gita some years down the road.

Our work, The New Bhagavad-Gita, was published in 2011. Since then, I've had the opportunity to go through the Gita multiple times, always hoping that the Gita will go through me at least once!

You might be wondering who I am.

This is me: Hari Ravikumar.

I am an author/editor who has (co-)written/edited some forty books, primarily related to Indian culture and heritage.

Readers praised The New Bhagavad-Gita for its simple language and accessible content. I've always believed that any new knowledge should help make us a better person. And only if we understand the message can we even try to practice it!

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Upon the request of a few friends, I will be teaching an online Bhagavad-Gita course in English, spanning March to May 2024, for anyone who is interested. Except for a working knowledge of English, no other pre-requisites are expected.

Starting on the auspicious day of Maha-shivaratri, the hour-long classes will be on zoom, five days a week (on week-days, at 6.30 am IST) with no homework. I will read out the Sanskrit shloka, give the meaning of the words, and explain the import of the verse. I will try to ensure that the basic concepts are clear to everyone.

In this manner, I will go through all seven hundred verses of the text.

What I am not going to do is enforce any views or beliefs; neither am I going to teach Sanskrit nor am I going to discuss technical details related to the Mahabharata. I will refrain from referring to any other treatise (such as Upanishads, Brahma-sutras, commentaries on the Gita, etc.)

I feel that whatever has been expounded in the Gita is meant to be experimented in our life and to be realized by experience rather than by blind faith or excessive intellectualisation.

By the end of the course, you will get an idea of what the Bhagavad-Gita contains—and perhaps seriously begin improving the quality of your life.

However, with this new learning, if you are expecting to win an election, find a girlfriend/boyfriend, get a promotion, or double your net worth, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed.

While teaching the class, I will be using the book The New Bhagavad-Gita (which you can get in the US on Amazon at this link and in India on Pothi at this link). It is not compulsory to buy the book but if you are one of those people who prefer having a book for ready reference, you may consider getting a copy.

If you are a serious student and have a great deal of extra time, you can get a copy of The Complete Bhagavad-Gita (available in three volumes: Vol. 1, Vol. 2, and Vol. 3) and study it.

I must warn you, this is going to be a really expensive course. It needs your undivided attention for 40+ hours in a span of three months.

In terms of money, however, it is free.

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If you're interested to join the course or if you wish to know more, join this WhatsApp group.

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The year that was...

“Slippery slope. I carry a spare shirt, pretty soon I’m carrying spare pants. Then I’d need a suitcase. Next thing I know, I’ve got a house and a car and a savings plan and I’m filling out all kinds of forms.” —Jack Reacher (in Lee Child’s 2007 novel Bad Luck and Trouble)

For close to a year, I have been fortunate to be part of the Saturday morning conversazione that takes place in the office of Dr. S R Ramaswamy (SRR), who is more than a mentor to me. In one of the early meetings of 2023, SRR gave me his personal copies of two Jack Reacher novels (by James Dover Grant, who writes under the pseudonym Lee Child) and added with a smile, "I must warn you, these are addictive!"

A few days after that, I was going to be on a long train to Pune and had taken the novel with me. Even before we crossed the Karnataka border, I had finished reading the novel and cursed myself for not having brought the other one too (which was a result of my underestimation of my own reading speed). As soon as I came back to Bangalore, I raced through the other novel. When I returned the two novels to SRR, he gave me more. It had been years since I had read fiction and given that my day job involves reading, writing, design, and publication, I had forgotten the art of reading for pleasure. This gesture on SRR's part rekindled that spark. The flipside was that I started finding films and web series tiresome!

I mostly read Jack Reacher novels this year and what fascinated me the most (besides the intricate plots, value conflicts, and the edge-of-the-seat twists and turns) was the universal appeal of a character like Reacher who lives like a monk and fights like a tiger; even in the materialistic West the allure of a man who is detached and driven by a strong sense of dharma is irresistible. And that gives me hope.

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Soon I will hit forty. Probably my best years are behind me but I like to believe that they are yet to come. To augment this belief, I lay out my plans for 2024 before getting into my recollections of 2023.

I have three short-term goals, which I wish to complete in the next six months: i. Organise my library ii. Simplify my wardrobe iii. Consolidate my finances and four lifestyle goals that I wish to continue through the year: 1. Exercise daily 2. Read more, and more varied books 3. Play the violin more 4. Avoid sugar and fried foods at all costs

Some of the books in the pipeline for this year are: A R Krishnasastri’s Kathāmṛta, a new edition of Bhāsa’s Svapna-vāsavadatta, D V Gundappa’s Jīvana-dharma-yoga translated by Raghavendra Hebbalalu and Sreelalitha Rupanagudi, Volumes VII and VIII of DVG’s Art Gallery of Memories, S R Ramaswamy’s Silhouettes of Excellence, Sripriya Srinivasan’s book on Pallava history for high school students, minor poems of Nīlakaṇṭha-dīkṣita, and Jayadeva’s Gīta-govindam, among others.

I'm also working on a few exciting projects with cousin Dr. Chandra Shekhar (a short stories anthology), my college classmate Sudarshan K A (on financial wisdom), and with my friends Ganesh Bhat Koppalatota and Neelakanth Kulkarni (curating the best of Kannada literature), and I hope that at least a few of these see completion by end of the year.

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I was lucky to have a front row seat as the following books unfolded through the course of the year: Three volumes of DVG's Kannada writings in translation (Contemporaries of Vidyaranya, his writings on the two epics of India, and an anthology of his essays on poetics), Vols. V and VI of the Art Gallery of Memories by DVG, Śatāvadhānī Dr. R Ganesh's Kṣāttra: The Tradition of Valour in India, and Dr. L Subramaniam's Festival Beyond Borders, among others.

I was able to facilitate the publication of three books by family members: my mother's booklet of life-lessons titled Song of my Soul, my father's monograph on The Amazing Human Mind, and my great-uncle (Late) Sri S Rangarajan's mammoth 648-page memoirs titled It Happens as Ordained.

The highlight, however, was a little book that I co-wrote with Dr. Ganesh titled The Essential Sanatana Dharma.

In addition to working on a few books in 2023, I was also invited to give lectures on a variety of topics, some of which were at the insistence of Dr. Arathi V B who has often magnanimously offered me opportunities that are far beyond my ken. If my calculations are right, I must have given no less than eighteen lectures this year. Friends like Madhulika Srivatsa, Sagar Mehta, and Vani Anur invited me to their homes to give lectures to their family and friends, which were highly rewarding.

I had the singular fortune of addressing a large number of school children, teachers, young parents, devout Hindus, et al. on topics as varied as life skills to the essentials of Sanātana-dharma; from the importance of history and heritage to world musical genres (at an elders' enrichment centre); from Indian Knowledge Systems to the Art Gallery of Memories (series of lectures at the Gokhale Institute of Public Affairs); and on the Artha-śāstra, Mahābhārata, Bhagavad-gītā, and Śrīkṛṣṇa-karṇāmṛta.

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For more than two decades I have been attending the Lakshminarayana Global Music Festival (LGMF) organised by my guru Dr. L Subramaniam (along with his wife, Smt. Kavita Krishnamurti, who is the director of the festival); for some years, I was also active in the organising committee of the festival. Each edition of the LGMF has been a historic event and 2023 was no different. The upcoming tour is no less exciting with a remarkable orchestra from Kazakhstan visiting India.

Some of the other memorable events that I attended in 2023 include the third edition of Madanotsava organised by my good friends Nirupama and Rajendra, the eightieth birthday celebrations of Dr. Padma Subrahmanyam organised by Drishti Arts Centre, the fifth World Coffee Conference (thanks to my friend Ananth Bhatt), and a lovely eighty-fifth birthday celebration of my great-uncle Sri R Vasudevan that included a superb concert by the musician-surgeon of our family, Dr. Mukund Jagannathan.

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Despite some challenges, the home situation was stable. My mother and my grandmother moved to an apartment next to my place and my father and brother regularly visit. I became one of the Trustees of our family trust and that means greater opportunity to help the community. I have also been involved in some consolidation of my finances so that I won't have to worry about money after 2024. I echo the sentiments of Jack Reacher in Gone Tomorrow (2009) — “I'm a rich man. To have everything you need is the definition of affluence.”

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There are times when our family and friends perform an unexpected act of kindness that leaves us fumbling for words. My grandmother's younger sister, Smt. Shanti Rangarajan, aged 89, made a trip all the way from Chennai to Bangalore (with her daughter Deepta) to spend time with my mother on her 66th birthday, given that she was just recovering from her surgery and was home-bound.

When I was in Mumbai earlier this year, I happened to ping my BMS College classmate Anshuman Borah, who emigrated to UK some years ago. He immediately wrote back saying that he was in Pune to sell his flat. I had been in Pune that very morning; distraught at having missed catching up with him, I called him up to berate him for not telling me earlier. He immediately said, "I'll come to Mumbai tomorrow. Just send me your location and I'll be there to pick you up." Sure enough, the next morning he took a taxi from Pune all the way to Mumbai just to meet me. We had a nice lunch and spent five or six hours before he took a taxi back to Pune. (And there were times in college when we have shared a jhal mudi costing Rs. 10 because we had run out of cash!)

Anu and Chandra (technically my mother's generation but more like friends/cousins to me) generously offered me a carte blanche to pursue whatever projects I wish to, without fretting about the monetary implications. Their gesture has inspired me to work even more towards a larger cause, especially in the fields of culture, literature, music, and education, which are of common interest to us.

Prof. L V Shanthakumari has been a mentor-guru-adopted grandmother to me and many other friends. Earlier this year, she was visiting her younger son Sri Niranjana who lives across the town from her, in faraway Marathahalli. Our ancestral house in Halasuru is almost the mid-point between her house and her son's house, so I requested LVS madam to consider visiting us for lunch. She graciously agreed and visited us with Niranjana, who incidentally lived in the same neighbourhood many years earlier! My family and I were thrilled to host LVS madam and we spent a lovely afternoon together.

My cousin Arun was slated to visit India in August along with my aunt and uncle. I was planning to borrow my father's car so that I could take Arun around. Right at that time, my good friend Chandrashekhar told me, "I just bought a new car and there's the old one languishing in my place. Just take it and use it for as long as you want." Thanks to Chandru, I was able to drive around Arun and later had reliable transportation for myself, especially during some of the busy months of the year. After relying on public transport for more than a year, this came as a real boon.

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My good friend Arjun Bharadwaj always teases me of excessively indulging in what he playfully dubs "Eating-Outing-Meeting." While I am an introvert by temperament, I often step out for these E-O-Ms for a dose of enrichment. Outside of my books and my music, I find nothing more enjoyable than a meaningful conversation with friends and savants.

It has been my great fortune to have come in contact with so many greats of our time—and in some cases, even dine with them and travel with them.

One of our Saturday morning meet-ups took place on Church Street with SRR taking us (Vighneshwar Bhat, Sandeep Balakrishna, Arjun Bharadwaj, and me) to Select Book Shop, which was started by a friend of his. Later he took us out to lunch and simply refused to let any of us pay.

Ambi (my uncle, Dr. Koti Sreekrishna) visited India earlier this year and even stayed with me for a few days. I had a great time with him, discussing everything from the ridiculous to the sublime—often through the course of a meal in a nearby restaurant. I also had the chance to drag two of my friends (Arjun and GS) to meet Ambi and his elder brother Kanna (my uncle, Sri K Srinivas) at their ancestral house. The conversations, mostly revolving around the the great epics of India, were memorable (with some of it secretly captured on video and clandestinely posted on Facebook by Ambi).

My cousin Arun visited India in August and stayed with me. It had been years since we had met and there was so much to talk about. It was really inspiring to see his focus and his ability to grasp new ideas. I introduced him to a bunch of my friends and we all had a memorable time. Cousin Anita could not visit and was sorely missed, but she had just had a baby (my second nephew, Jayanth).

Arjun and I visited Mysore to meet Dr. S L Bhyrappa, who graciously invited us to lunch with him. Following that, we proceeded to Pandavapura to meet Mr. Anke Gowda, who has the largest personal collection of books that I have seen (over 1 million books). We were thrilled to visit his library as he enthusiastically showed us around. He has been collecting books for some seven decades with his meagre salary, driven by intense passion and devotion to literature.

Through the course of the year, in addition to the regular meet-ups with my friends, gurus, and family, I had the opportunity to meet a host of interesting people: Sri Prafulla Ketkar (Chief Editor, Organiser), Sri Shivaswami (Bhagavad-gītā scholar), Dr. Manohar Shinde (Founder, Dharma Civilization Foundation), Dr. Shekhar Borgaonkar (my father's college classmate and old friend), Dr. Kanniks Kannikeswaran (musician-composer-educator), and the dedicated people who run Rashtrotthana Vidya Kendra at Hagaribommanahalli, among others.

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It is a co-incidence that the year began with a trip to Ellora and just as 2023 came to an end, during the course of our Madhya Pradesh road-trip, the first destination was Ellora. It was wonderful to visit that puṇya-kṣetra twice in a calendar year.

In addition to visiting Solapur, Sambhajinagar, Pune, Mumbai, Karwar, and Chennai, I went to Valparai (Tamil Nadu) for our annual boys' trip, with more friends joining the fray:

I spent the last days of the year on the road: traversing 3,800+ kilometres (Bangalore-Ellora-Maheshwar-Indore-Ujjain-Vidisha/Sanchi-Udayapur-Khajuraho-Bedaghat-Bangalore) in nine days with five of my friends and a shoe-string budget.

Among the many highlights of the trip was visiting Ahalyabai Holkar Smarak at Maheshwar.

To see her humble dwelling and to contrast that with her unparalleled achievements was an inspiration. These are the real heroes of our land and it is a sin to forget them.

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Sri C R Sathya, the grandson of Prof. A R Krishnasastri and a remarkable space scientist (and writer) in his own right died earlier this year. He had been a great support during the time I co-translated The Essential Mahabharata. Not many people know that the gentleman on the right side of this iconic photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson is C R Sathya:

A few other greats who breathed their last in 2023 include Sri Siddeshwar Swamiji; the great gamaki Sri Chandrashekar Kedilaya; Wayne Shorter, the legendary jazz saxophonist; Sri B K S Varma, the painter par excellence; and iconic filmmaker Sri K Viswanath. I had the great fortune of meeting and interacting with both B K S Varma and K Viswanath some years ago.

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The changes around us end up affecting us in some way, directly or indirectly, unless of course we are really cut off and have isolated ourselves from society. In this vein, it might be instructive to broadly look at some of the events from 2023.

India has marched forward under the visionary leadership of Sri Narendra Modi, who has never failed to impress with his tireless striving for a better future.

India is now the most populous country with a host of internal problems, largely fuelled by predatory ideologies, be it the clashes between the Kuki and the Meitei or the Nuh violence or even the denigration of Sanātana-dharma, which is the most inclusive religio-philosophical system in the world. Despite this and some of the self-inflicted wounds to the economy, the country witnessed the manner in which challenges were masterfully met, be it the organisation of the spectacular G20 or the rescue of 41 miners trapped in the Uttarakashi tunnel, be it seamlessly shifting to the new parliament building or sending Chandrayaan III to the moon.

After the demonic attack that took place on October 7th, 2023, the world is slowly realising the danger of the bloodthirsty death cult masquerading as a religion. More and more countries are rejecting the pseudo-liberal ideologies of the left and are instead moving far right, which is also dangerous in its own way. Coupled with this, we are unsure of the impact of Artificial Intelligence on the future of humans. And somewhere amidst all this chaos, unknown men are quietly doing their work. And that brings me a great deal of peace.

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Thanks for reading this far, and with this I wish you and your family a wonderful new year! I hope it will be filled with joy, good health, prosperity, and moments to cherish. May your dreams come true!

— Appendix

I wish to share some of the fantastic accomplishments of a few people in my circle. It is, as always, an ad hoc list that I have prepared on the spur of the moment. I might have missed out some but those that I have listed are certainly notable:

Brahmin Genocide is an important topic researched by Sri Balaji Mahalingam (who writes under the pseudonym Asi) that brings to the fore an injustice that has pervaded our society in the last couple of centuries and must be immediately rectified if Hinduism is to survive. The first edition of the book was sold out in just a few months and he is now working on the second edition.

The seventh century CE Sanskrit play Bhagavad-ajjukam was documented by Nirupama and Rajendra with support from Sudha Murty, Śatāvadhānī Dr. R Ganesh, Praveen D Rao, Arjun Bharadwaj, et al.—see the Introduction and the complete play (with subtitles).

Bhāratīya Kṣāttra Paramparā (Hindi translation by Prof. Dharmaraj Singh Vaghela) Earlier this year, when the book Kṣāttra was released, I gave a copy of the book to my uncle Prof. Vaghela. The very next day, he called me and said that it is an important book which must reach the Hindi heartland and offered to translate it into Hindi. Dr. Ganesh immediately gave his consent. In a matter of months, he finished the translation, which is now appearing on www.prekshaa.in as a series and will soon be published in book form.

My good friend and former colleague Arjun Bharadwaj has come out with two remarkable books this year: the first, titled Nayana-Savana (co-written with Śatāvadhānī Dr. R Ganesh), which is a creative appreciation of some of the major productions of the legendary Dr. Padma Subrahmanyam and the second, titled Indian Perspective of Truth and Beauty in Homer’s Epics, which is worthy of a D.Litt. no less.

S R Ramaswamy's latest work titled Sāhitya Sānnihitya is an anthology of book reviews and writings on literature.

Saṃskṛti is a reprint of a charming little book on culture with essays by littérateurs including Devudu Narasimha Shastri, A N Murthy Rao, A N Krishna Rao, Masti Venkatesha Iyengar, and C K Venkataramayya.

Prekshaa Pratishtana has brought out a lovely introductory video that summarises its vision and objectives. They continue to publish many books every year and maintain an ad-free online journal (www.prekshaa.in) with authentic content on Indian heritage for one and all.

My cousin Arun Prasad continues to do remarkable work with Ambuda, the online digital library for Sanskrit.

The best of Śatāvadhānī Dr. R Ganesh's writings in Kannada have been compiled in two volumes with the title Rāga-bhāratī.

Dr. G Sudesh Kumar, a close family friend, recently authored a coffee-table book titled History of Sri Parakala Mutt.

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What does your child want to do when he grows up?

Years ago, as a twenties-something kid, I offered parenting advice to my college senior Jo (older to me by a decade and already highly accomplished in her chosen field) and without batting an eyelid she said, "Hari, I too was an expert on parenting until I had my own child!"

I always recall her words when I am tempted to offer unsolicited advice to young parents. I refrain from giving advice to people but sometimes I find it difficult to remain silent when family members or close friends are taking the longer route—and I feel that I can offer immediate assistance that might make the journey easier for them. It could well be an aggrandized view of my perception but if it turns out to be helpful to them, what’s the harm?

I furtively enter the risky zone now. Offering counsel unasked. About parenting. Despite the fact that I have spent close to half my life living alone and have zero experience raising a child. Despite not being an expert in any field and offering a limited, South India-centric view. What I miss in erudition and experience I daresay are made good by my perspective, which is unattached and counterintuitive.

After having lain bare all these disclaimers before you, I shall proceed to share some ideas and opinions that some of you might find valuable.

It might help if you read this with an open mind.

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When your son or daughter reaches high school, a pesky question raises its ugly head: What should my child study after twelfth? In other words, what kind of profession will he pursue after his education? Or more specifically, will he make loads of money pursuing the said profession?

If this question is asked early, it results in enrolling the child in intense tuition classes from Class 8 (typically in the sciences). And in most other cases, it is nearly impossible to avoid this question after the Class 10 board examination results are out.

If the Class 10 results are favourable, you gently coax your child into taking science (possibly Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics, and Biology, so that options are open); if not, commerce—and worst case, the arts. Having taking science, if his Class 12 results are favourable (perhaps after his traversing a grisly array of tuition classes and mock tests), you sell the idea of taking engineering or medicine; if not, a BSc. in Physics, Mathematics, or the life sciences (invariably followed by an MSc. and a PhD. as well). Even in engineering and medicine, you have a hierarchy of choices that eventually leads to a master’s degree. And having taken commerce, if your child has done well in Class 12, the next step is a Bachelor of Commerce alongside preparing to become a Chartered Accountant. If your child takes arts and does well, he is expected to study law or at least a master’s in psychology or English. The Indian antidote to an “unimpressive” bachelor's degree is a Master's in Business Administration (MBA). In most cases, it is deemed useful to have an MBA as a backup. Compounded with these calculations is the question: Which college is best suited for the purpose? In India or abroad—and if the latter, US or Europe?

What, pray, is the grand outcome of all these machinations?

A well-paying job that eventually leads to a well-endowed spouse.

When parents say that there is “scope” in a certain field, what they mean is that their child will get better salaries, which seems to directly translate into finding the right partner for marriage.

Now, I have a few questions for you:

Are these calculations and machinations effective?

Will this approach ensure that children land up with high-paying jobs and good partners?

Will this approach work over the years? And across generations?

Are the children able to manage expectations well?

And more importantly, are they happy with their lives?

If you answer “Yes” to most of these questions, the “go with the flow” approach has indeed led to the ultimate objective and it is unlikely that the rest of this piece will strike a chord with you.

If you answer “No” to most of these questions, then you might agree with me that there is a more rational approach to this question than the arbitrary one people typically follow.

To arrive at that, we must look at life as a whole.

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What are the parameters that determine a good quality life?

These are so widely known that it might appear silly to enumerate them. At the risk of reiterating the obvious, I shall list out ten things that are essential for human life. It may be easier to think of them in pairs: Health and Wealth, Work and Leisure, Nature and Culture, Ethics and Altruism, People and Self.

Under each of these parameters, I’ve listed a few questions that you probably ask yourself already—or will do well to ask yourself at some point:

Health: How is my physical and mental wellness? What am I doing to ensure that I am healthy—walking, yoga, exercise, sports? Do I have strong immunity? How is my emotional resilience? Can I walk a mile or climb a flight of stairs without panting? How often do I fall sick, and with what ailment? Have I been able to find a solution to typically recurring maladies?

Wealth: How is my financial stability? Do I have sufficient liquid funds? What about assets, investments? How is my risk appetite? Have I made provisions for emergencies? Do I have health insurance? Do I have a well-designed financial plan? How many months can I survive if I lose my job?

Work: Have I attained expertise in some field? Am I able to add value to people’s lives and thereby generate revenue from the marketplace? Do I have the basic work ethic of hard work, focus, adaptability, clarity of thought, market awareness, innovation, etc.? Am I constantly upgrading my knowledge in my chosen domains?

Leisure: Do I spend moments of recreation either with a hobby (arts and crafts, gardening, swimming, reading, socialising, etc.) or with pets or nature? Do I have sufficient time away from the screen?

Nature: Am I eco-friendly? Do I spend some time with nature? Do I think about the environment before taking minor or major decisions?

Culture: Do I have a strong cultural identity? Do I practice a certain faith? Do I wear the clothes, speak the language, and eat the food that is part of my culture? What about music, dance, ritual, celebration, etc.? Do I know most of the cultural practices and customs of my particular community?

Ethics: Am I aware of the laws of the land? Do I have a moral compass? Do I have the basic traits of integrity, compassion, purity, self-control, and freedom from anger, violence, jealousy, greed, etc.? Am I fulfilling all my duties – at the level of self, family, workplace, and society?

Altruism: Am I helping people in need? Do I give money to charities? Do I spend time with people to mentor them?

People: Do I have a good family life? Have I built deep emotional connections with my immediate family members and close friends? Have I inculcated good values in my children? Do I have a strong social network of relatives, friends, colleagues, and associates?

Self: Am I clear about my expectations (from work, from family, from friends, etc.)? Do I have a good estimate of my abilities and opportunities? Do I have a well-designed plan for self-improvement? Where do I see myself in the next three, five, seven years?

You can add to this list, or perhaps even prune it—but I think you will mostly agree that collective human wisdom has more-or-less shown us that these details are important if we want to lead a good quality life.

Given that life comprises so many factors, do you think it is wise to emphasise marks–money–marriage at the cost of everything else?

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Let’s go back to our initial question: What should my child study after twelfth? An oft-ignored parameter in providing an answer to this question is: What is my child’s svadharma?

For those of you who have not heard this Sanskrit word, sva-dharma means “that which is aligned to one’s temperament” or, in this case, “a profession or activity that is best suited to a person’s innate abilities, interests, and training.”

Svadharma is a function of the individual—and not of money, potential spouse, fame, or any other external factor. The opposite of sva-dharma is para-dharma, which is, in this context, “a profession or activity that is not compatible with one’s abilities, interests, and training.”

Often, paradharma is quite alluring to pursue and that is the reason Krishna warns Arjuna in the Bhagavad-gita—not once but twice—that it is best to follow svadharma. In fact, pursuing paradharma can be dangerous because it takes into considerations factors other than the individual (glamour, money, fame, etc.)

When the question “What is my child’s svadharma?” is posed to you, these are some answers you might give:

I myself don’t know what my svadharma is; how the hell am I going to guide my children?

My daughter has no idea what she wants to do. She will do what her BFF likes to do.

It’s easier said than done; how in the world should I find out what my son will be interested in for the rest of his life?

My children know what they want to pursue but they have no talent.

My son excels at a skill that is socially “not so cool” but will generate decent wealth; will he ever find a girl to marry?

My daughter is clear what she likes but she can’t earn a penny doing that; how will she survive?

Obviously a short essay cannot solve all problems of growing children but I can present some general findings of great thinkers that might be relevant to you. But before that, let me share my personal experience of trying to find my svadharma and how my parents facilitated the process.

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As a seven-year-old child, when my father’s friend Ganesh Pai asked me what I wanted to be, I wrote “Magician” on the piece of paper he gave me. Clearly I was influenced by him at that time because he was a performing magician and I was impressed with magic tricks.

I joined Sishu Griha in Class 2 and all through my school-days, teachers were excellent to the extent that there was no subject that I was averse to—just subjects that I was drawn more to than others. More often than nought, I was pulled up for my fanatic interest in certain subjects rather than bad performance.

During my middle school years, I was obsessed with studying about the human body—the components of blood, heart hormones, functioning of the brain, the incredible power of the liver, and so forth. And coupled with my infatuation with Sherlock Holmes, I thought Forensic Medicine would be the perfect field for me. During my high school years, I began going to my aunt Geethamani for Mathematics lessons and since she was an excellent teacher, I began taking a deep interest in Math and Physics. By the time I reached Class 10, I was star-struck with astrophysics. This mania continued through my pre-university days. I would go to the J N Planetarium in Bangalore to attend classes, I frequented the Indian Institute of Science and Raman Research Institute to listen to special lectures, wrote e-mails to astrophysicists in the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (and even got a response!), gave a presentation in the St. Joseph’s College Physics Club about Gamma Ray Bursts, and used all my internet allowance looking at images from outer space instead of drooling after supermodels in bikinis.

After I finished Class 12, I wanted to take a year off. While my mother was sceptical about it, my father actually welcomed the idea. I told them that I want to take the time off to explore subjects that I had been dabbling with – philosophy, languages, music, graphology, literature, public speaking, photography.

During my sabbatical year, I enrolled for IIT-JEE coaching (mostly as a subterfuge but I learnt a lot during my time at BASE), met scientists and engineers to discuss about my future plans (who unanimously suggested that I take up engineering if I was really interested in science), spoke to some of my relatives about it (who largely suggested either computer science or mechanical engineering), and basically gathered data about what would be the next course of action for me. My parents initiated some of these interactions and in other cases, it was my own interest.

Finally, I decided, for better or for worse, I would pursue mechanical engineering. Engineering meant that my classmates would be a better bunch than if I did a BSc. in Math or Physics; mechanical engineering because I liked drawing and machines (plus I was accounting for the slump in the software world as a result of 9/11).

I liked a few subjects like Engineering Mathematics, Machine Drawing, and Organisational Behaviour but in general, I got bored of engineering after two years. But having taken up the course, I completed my degree in the stipulated four years. When I realised that mechanical engineering was not my cup of tea, I took a job as a software programmer with Infosys because I learnt that they taught coding from the basics—and at their cost. After getting trained in the basics of programming followed by a specialisation in Java over a four-month period in their remarkable Mysore facility, in less than three months I got bored of working as a coder. But I had signed a bond that I would work for a year, so I stayed on till December.

In the years that followed, I must have dabbled in no less than five different professions—and even then it wasn’t easy to pin-point what I really liked to do for the rest of my life.

What I did realise at some point was that my reaction to things were often in binary. There were things I was obsessed with that gave me great joy and there were things that I got bored doing that I couldn’t sustain even if it was irresistibly lucrative. I liked to be free, read a lot, play the violin, and spend my time with smart people—it mattered little how much I earned, what others thought about me, if I would get recognition, or impress a girl.

In the quest after my svadharma, I seem to have been creative (sometimes unwittingly) and the reason I attribute to this creativity is that I was not afraid of taking a chance, going wrong, experimenting multiple times. Clearly, we can’t come up with anything original if we are not ready to make mistakes (See Ken Robinson’s book).

While this goes to show that one’s svadharma need not necessarily be physics or law, armed forces or music, most parents would like to know what exactly their child wants to pursue—and if that choice is a prudent one.

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Professional life requires certain basic life skills that include hard work, focus, resilience, meticulousness, networking, problem-solving, decision-making, and so forth. Irrespective of the profession, these fundamental skills are necessary. Either the parents or the teachers or a third party “life coach” can teach these skills. Without this, knowing your svadharma doesn’t amount to much.

It is only over and above these basics does the awareness of svadharma matter. While there is no easy way to identify svadharma, there are a few things that you can easily do.

During the summer vacations after Class 8 (an optimal age, when he will be 13 or 14), give the following brief to your child:

A. Introspection – Stage 1 Take a sheet of paper, write the date, take an hour off, and answer these questions: What activities in the last week, last month, and last year did I really enjoy the most? In those activities, was I particularly good at something? What are the things I am able to do easily that people around me find difficult?

[Note to parent: Feel free to add/subtract questions that you find relevant. Also, if you can rope in one or two more children (no more than four)—your sibling’s children or your child’s classmates—to do this as a joint project, it might be more exciting for them.]

B. Aptitude Test There are several aptitude tests and strength-finder quizzes available online and offline. I will identify a few for you. Try them out over the next week.

[Note to parent: Go online and pick a few aptitude tests. Don’t hesitate to pay a small sum for it. In addition, you may also consult a career coach at some point.]

C. Discussions with Professionals Have you identified a few areas of interest and ability? I will introduce you to a few of my friends who work in these areas. They are professionals who are successful in their job and have a passion for it. I will take you to meet them but I will not speak. You have a free-wheeling conversation with them about their job. Also ask a few specific questions: Why do you love your job? What does your typical day look like? How is life for a fresher vs. life after a decade of work? What are the high-points and low-points of your job? What would you do if you were not in this profession? How would you adapt if AI were to take over your job? After every discussion, write down three or four things that stood out from the discussion.

[Note to parents: Needless to say, you must identify the right people. Never mind if it is not a direct contact—if need be, pull your friends’ contacts or request your father-in-law. Also, feel free to tweak the questions. Here again, it might be more efficient if two or three children went together to meet with the professional and then later discussed amongst themselves about the interaction.]

D. Introspection – Stage 2 In the last two weeks, you have spoken to five professionals and written down some things that stood out. Now, take a sheet of paper, write the date, and answer the same questions you first answered. Are there any differences in your responses?

[Note to parents: Scrutinise the two introspection pages. Can you see a difference? Think about what are the next steps that will help your child think about this by himself. This exercise should ultimately lead to your child taking responsibility for his choices.]

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We all have some innate abilities and interests. If we build a certain kind of intelligence that is aligned to our innate abilities and interests, that will translate into expertise through training; this will make us valuable in the workplace.

Intelligence is not static but is constantly developing (See Geoff Colvin’s book). Intelligence is of different kinds: logical/analytical, verbal/linguistic, spatial, body-kinaesthetic, musical, inter-personal, intra-personal, and naturalistic. (See Howard Gardner’s book). Once you help your child identify the type of intelligence he has and wishes to develop, find a mentor/guru who can help your child.

As your child develops his specific intelligence, he should also be on the lookout for the different professions where his skills can be used. This increases the possibilities of finding a good job – one that pays well, helps him improve as a professional, consists of good co-workers, is not too far from home, puts him in a state of flow (See Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s book), etc.

If your child has multiple interests, help him hone different types of intelligence such that the possibility of his finding a good job increases. He might also end up starting an enterprise with his friends. Or at least he will have a solid hobby that makes his leisure much more active (e.g. painting, cycling, singing) rather than passive (e.g. watching a film, eating, going for a drink).

Is there any guarantee that all this will work? No, but at any rate I think this is a more rational way to approach the problem than the “go with the flow” one. Having a plan is better than having no plan. Having a well-thought-out plan is better than having just a plan.

“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.” —John Lennon

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Reading List for the Parents

These books are in no way meant to be authoritative texts on the subjects nor are they exhaustive in any way. I just made a quick list of books that I have gone through over the years that I found useful (and also sneaked in a few books that I have worked on!) You can peruse through the ones that tickle your interest.

Health Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life by Héctor García and Francesc Miralles

Wealth The Psychology of Money: Timeless Lessons on Wealth, Greed, and Happiness by Morgan Housel

Work Talent is Overrated: What Really Separates World-Class Performers from Everybody Else by Geoff Colvin Multiple Intelligences: New Horizons in Theory and Practice by Howard Gardner Flow: The Psychology of Happiness by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

Leisure Shallows: How the Internet is Changing the Way We Think, Read and Remember by Nicholas Carr Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain

Nature Walden by Henry David Thoreau

Culture Indian Culture by S Srikanta Sastri translated by S Naganath A Concise Encyclopaedia of Hinduism (3 volumes) by Swami Harshananda

Ethics Your Dharma and Mine by Shatavadhani R Ganesh translated by Hari Ravikumar The New Bhagavad-Gita translated by Koti Sreekrishna and Hari Ravikumar

Altruism Altruism: The Science and Psychology of Kindness by Matthieu Ricard

People Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson by Mitch Albom Shiva Rama Krishna by Shatavadhani R Ganesh, adapted into English by Hari Ravikumar

Self Man's Search for Meaning by Victor E. Frankl Finding Your Element: How to Discover Your Talents and Passions and Transform Your Life by Sir Ken Robinson with Lou Aronica The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch and Jeffrey Zaslow

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Acknowledgements: This essay is a result of an intense discussion I had with my friends Somashekhara Sharma and Srishan Thirumalai a few days back. Thanks to them for their observations and inputs, particularly Soma who went through multiple drafts of this essay and gave me great suggestions. When I shared this piece with my parents—Dr. M V Ravikumar and Prof. Hema Ravikumar—they wrote back saying something to the effect of “Good to know that we raised you boys the right way.” Much of what I have written are drawn from my observation of how my parents raised my brother and me.

[hrk4]

The year that was...

Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face With stars to fill my dreams I am a traveller of both time and space To be where I have been To sit with elders of a gentle race This world has seldom seen They talk of days for which they sit and wait [When] all will be revealed — Opening lines of the song ‘Kashmir’ (1975) by Led Zeppelin

As a high school student, I was fascinated with astronomy. Every trip to the planetarium evoked in me such wonder, such joy that my measly earthly problems would fade away like a fart in the wind. By the time I was sixteen, I had decided to study astrophysics as my major. Destiny willed otherwise but those early years spent in the company of the cosmos gave me an infallible device to face the trials and adversities that life would put me through every now and then: Zoom Out. Whether it is a political crisis faced by a continent or an irksome bout of cough afflicting an individual, it just makes sense to see the bigger picture. Play around with the space-time coordinates and suddenly you find yourself seeing the problem from a completely different perspective.

Easier said than done.

Therefore, we seek support to put precept into practice: Travel. Books. Music. A resource upgrade. And most important of all, the company of the wise—of those “elders of a gentle race.”

In Chapter 13 of the Gita, enumerating various parameters that constitute Wisdom, Krishna mentions: “…जन्म-मृत्यु-जरा-व्याधि-दुःख-दोषानुदर्शनम्” (…janma-mrityu-jaraa-vyaadhi-duhkha-dosha-anudarshanam), which means Insight into the limitations and tribulations of birth, death, dotage, disease, and pain that comes by constant contact with these malaises of life.

Mere connexion with these experiences does not suffice to bestow upon us that deep insight; there is hardly a human anywhere who hasn’t been dirtied by these scars, but only a handful come out of it cleansed, revived, enlightened.

My 2022 had more than a fair share of vicissitudes and vexations but I would be ungrateful if I discount the immense assistance received from family and friends, travel, books, music, and the company of savants. I would also be nearsighted, nay sightless, if I fail to notice the many things that did go my way.

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I was an ecstatic witness to the unfolding of two historic book projects – i. the publication of a mediaeval era manuscript (with translation, notes, and a scholarly introduction by Arjun Bharadwaj) titled ‘Sangeeta-darpana,’ which was a family heirloom of the legendary dancer Pt. Birju Maharaj (it had been his life’s dream to bring out the ms. and he lived to see the final draft and even composed a Foreword for the same). ii. a Festschrift volume for Dr. S R Ramaswamy titled ‘Deepa-saakshi’—with over fifty essays—put together under the guidance of Shataavadhaani Dr. R Ganesh. This led to—via a sort of domino effect no doubt—the publication of a two-volume anthology of original English Essays and Speeches of SRR (Vol. 1 comprises essays on literature, culture, and eminent personages while Vol. 2 contains writings on environment, economics, and swadeshi).

A few other books that came out in 2022 that I had the chance to behold, sitting in a front row seat – ‘The Dewans of Mysore’ (English translation of Vol. 4 of D V Gundappa’s Art Gallery of Memories done by Karthik Muralidharan et al.); the reprint of two of Rallapalli Anantakrishna Sarma’s books after a period of some fifty years – ‘Sahitya mattu Jeevanakale’ and ‘Gaanakale;’ SRR’s monograph ‘Drashtaara Savarkar;’ ‘Pratibhaadootam,’ a brilliant khanda-kaavya by Dr. Ganesh; and the ‘BWW Bangalore Anthology’ (edited by Bhumika Anand).

The Vedic seers of yore envisioned life as a grand celebration. Looking back at 2022, there were quite a few celebrations I was privileged to be a part of –

My uncle Seshadri turned eighty-five and my cousin Balaji had organized a lovely get-together in Om Shanti—a century-old Malleswaram bungalow and one of the last bastions of the delectable days of the Garden City; and my uncle, one of the last of the old school luminaries “whose passions not his masters are / whose soul is still prepared for death / Untied unto the world by care / of public fame or private breath,” as Sir Henry Wotton would say.

Bill Melton, the founder of The Melton Foundation, and someone who has greatly inspired me, turned eighty and the MFers celebrated it online.

In July, my guru Dr. L Subramaniam turned seventy-five and he insisted on spending the day at home with his family, sans all ostentation. It was my good fortune to be invited to spend the evening at his place with his children and grandchildren. Warm reminiscences of the days past accompanied by the merry bellowing of his grandson (constantly chaperoned by his big sister) and gourmet Japanese cuisine filled up the evening.

In September, my niece Mahathi got married in a grand ceremony spread over three days—and it was lovely to spend time with relatives, many of whom I had not seen in years.

Dr. S R Ramaswamy—who is much more than a mentor to me—turned eighty-five and his family-friends-admirers held a grand celebration (much to his chagrin) at the Gokhale Institute of Public Affairs, which has been his karma-bhoomi since 1945.

The friend of friends, Sri Ramachandra K B S turned sixty this year and our study group came together to celebrate it by causing him as much embarrassment as we could.

In December, my guru—sorry, vidvan-mitra—Dr. R Ganesh turned sixty and the day happily coincided (or perhaps it was by design?) with another event that brought many friends together.

In addition to formal celebrations, I enjoyed numerous get-togethers with friends old and new, young and old, living abroad and in the neighbourhood.

A particularly memorable meeting was thanks to my mother, who took me and my brother to meet the very first person who saw us on this planet—i.e., my mother’s gynaecologist Dr. Lalitha Bhaskar, who continues her practice in the very same nursing home in Malleswaram.

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“Travel is fatal,” said Mark Twain, “to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness…” and should that be the case, I hope I have been the victim at least in some measure. At the very start of 2022, I was off on a tour – to Dharamshala, McLeod Ganj, and Palampur. Among the many highlights of the trip was a visit to the Norbulingka Institute, a residential school for Tibetan arts. The serenity of the place was only matched by the intensity of training by the students.

In June, LS sir was invited to play at the opening of the prestigious Moscow Jazz Festival and his manager was unable to travel with him for some reason—and sir asked me if I would like to go with him to Russia. The Indian Embassy had invited him and I was assured that it would be safe to travel! The open air show went really well—with thousands of music lovers standing in pouring rain listening to LS sir play. After the show, we went to see the Bolshoi Theatre and the following day, we went to the Tchaikovsky Museum in Moscow.

Being a huge fan of Tchaikovsky, LS sir wasn’t satisfied with the visit to museum; he wanted to visit Tchaikovsky’s house, which was in the outskirts of Moscow. Our local guide told us that we might miss the flight—but sir wanted to go. And on the way we realised that it was the weekly holiday and visitors weren’t allowed into the Tchaikovsky house. But they made an exception for Dr. LS, which meant we basically had a private tour of the place. And sure enough, we reached in time for our flight back home as well.

In addition to a few day-trips to different temples (Belur, Halebidu, Kolar, etc.) with friends, I also visited Hampi—thanks to Nirupama and Rajendra, who had a grand performance for August 15th at Hospet. For Dasara, my friend Shreehari and I went to Mysore and spent a charming weekend with our friends Kiran and Ajay, who had even made minute-to-minute plans for what we were to do (which, sadly, failed miserably; clearly, they had been unaware of my rapacious capacity for lethargy). For the year end, as always, there was a boys’ trip (this time, to a beautiful British era bungalow outside Munnar).

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The German poet Goethe famously said, “Tell me who your companions are and I’ll tell you who you are. If I know how you spend your time, I can tell what will become of you.” 

At least we must strive to spend time wisely and with wise people. In my life, I have been singularly fortunate to come in contact with great minds. ’22 was no exception.

Sometime in late January, LS sir called me and said, “It looks like my concert schedule is getting back to the pre-Covid days starting from March. I have a few big tours coming up. So, why don’t you come and spend a few weeks with me in February. You won’t have any distractions—you can just focus on violin practice.” On two separate occasions, I spent a few weeks at his place; mimicking the guru-kula-vaasa of old. This is where the student really gets to see the life of the guru from a broader perspective. LS sir had been anointed aasthaana-vidvaan of the Sringeri Mutt and he had to play a concert there. To watch him prepare for the concert was a masterclass in itself. It was possibly the first time he was playing there and he was so particular about not disappointing even a single member of the audience—and I realized that if he demands a certain intensity of practice from his students, he applies a far more rigorous standard to himself. In addition to learning a few lessons about assiduous practice, I also gleaned a lot of interesting episodes from his younger days. The conversations with Kavita ma’am about old Hindi film music are also cherished memories of mine. On one of the days I was there, I got the chance to meet the Salil Chowdhury’s daughter. Also, through the course of the year, I was able to assist LS sir in the preparation of his book of Carnatic compositions, which will come out in early ’23.

For several years, every Saturday morning in SRR’s office there is a gathering of friends—facetiously dubbed ‘Anubhava Mantapa’—and the conversations wildly swing from the ridiculous to the sublime, peppered with rib-tickling humour and long disremembered anecdotes. When I was asked to contribute an essay about SRR to the Festschrift volume, I thought it might be worthwhile to attend a few of these Saturday sessions. What started off as a self-imposed research assignment became a sacrosanct ritual. SRR’s casual utterances during the course of these meetings has proven to be no less than revelations to me.

Thanks to my friends Nirupama and Rajendra, I got the wonderful opportunity to meet Dr. Padma Subrahmanyam and interact with her. It was fascinating to catch a glimpse into the way she looked at things.

In addition to my recurrent discussions on a variety of topics with Prof. L V Shanthakumari, Dr. Y S Rajan, Dr. R Ganesh, and Dr. Manoj G, I had the opportunity to interact on more than one occasion with Sri Ramakrishna Rao (retired entrepreneur and senior VHP kaaryakarta) and Dr. Vaman Acharya (industrialist and former PCB chairman). I also got introduced to a few other remarkable individuals – Sri Nagesh Hegde (journalist and science writer), Prof. Swaminathan (founder of Tamil Heritage Trust, former IIT-D prof.) and Sri Sampathkumar (social worker, formerly a senior executive in TCS).

One of great archaeologists and scholars of our times, Dr. R Nagaswamy passed away in early 2022. A few weeks before that, he had called me and had spoken about his grand vision to bring out a book on how the Raamaayana has influenced the lives of the common people in different States—and he wanted to have this ready by the time the grand temple at Ayodhya was completed. Although his dream did not materialise, I was amazed at the energy and enthusiasm of a nonagenarian savant.

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Death and disease loomed large in 2022. Three elders from my mother’s mother’s family breathed their last—first my grandmother’s sister, then her sister-in-law, and most recently her brother-in-law. The last of the three—Sri S Rangarajan—worked in the ICAO and had travelled to more than a hundred countries during the course of his career, meeting various global leaders and diplomats (including the notorious Idi Amin). Over the past decade, I would meet him at least once a year, if not more, and always learnt something new. It is a great blessing to his family and friends that he wrote his memoirs during the last three years and the remarkably gutsy man he was, he completed it before he died. The first volume of his multi-volume memoirs was published a few weeks before his death and days before he passed away, he signed copies for a few friends and relatives. I was fortunate to receive a signed copy.

The medico-geriatric situation in my own home has been rather bleak with my mother facing a serious health issue and my grandmother (hitting ninety-six soon) dealing with memory loss and lack of will to live.

I suppose that like joy, sorrow too brings people together and that must be seen as the silver lining. In the course of all these travails, I spent quality time with many of my relatives.

But the news that really hit me hard was that of the sudden death of a close family friend who was a few years younger than me. He had come down from the US for the winter holidays and succumbed to a health condition that abruptly turned serious. These are times when we are rendered speechless even to question Destiny.

# 

In other news, I completed twenty years of driving and as a gift to myself, I sold my fifteen-year-old Royal Enfield Bullet and started using public transport. This, however, didn’t increase my exercising/walking—something I wish to change in ’23.

Although I did play a chamber concert in a friend’s house, the time I could give for violin playing was below par. Yet another thing I wish to majorly remedy in ’23.

What I did do consistently was solve cryptic crossword puzzles on a daily basis—and I hope to continue that unhindered.

I gave a three-day lecture on the first few volumes of DVG’s Art Gallery of Memories at the Gokhale Institute and will continue speaking on the topic in April this year. I also gave a couple of lectures on the Gita.

As I enter my fortieth year in some time, I have taken steps towards retirement. By the time I hit the milestone in 2024, I hope to be rid of all pressures—work, goals, money, achievements, etc., the ultimate goal being ‘यथा दीपो निवातस्थो नेङ्गते’ (‘yathaa deepo nivaatastho na ingate’)—a lamp that doesn’t flicker when sheltered from the wind.

# 

Thanks for reading this far! In the Appendix, I share nine books (and a website) that have been the labour of love undertaken by people whom I have been closely associated with. It is just a glimpse of the remarkable things that people in my circle are doing—it is neither exhaustive nor diverse nor in any order; just a quick list that I could draw up in the course of an afternoon despite my failing memory and social media abstinence.

Wishing you and your loved ones a happy new year! Hari

Appendix

A Passage Through India An anthology of nineteen episodic essays on Indian history covering a period of over a century before 1947. This is a translation of two Kannada books by Dr. S R Ramaswamy undertaken by Prof. Vedavyas M G and Paresh Nadig.

Mannina Kanasu Dr. Ganesh has written over sixty books on a variety of topics related to Indian culture and heritage but this is his first published novel. Combining the plot-lines of Bhasa’s Svapna-vaasavadattam and Shoodraka’s Mricchakatikam, he takes the reader on a journey to the past, painting a vivid picture of India some twenty-five centuries ago.

Prekshaniyam This is a remarkable anthology of essays on classical Indian theatre and dance by Dr. Ganesh, translated into English with additional notes and detailed indices by the multifaceted scholar Arjun Bharadwaj, who has given the dance world two noteworthy treatises in 2022.

Eye-opener Having worked in the Avoidable Blindness space for over two decades now, my father Rtn. Dr. M V Ravikumar co-wrote (with Dr. N Ramesh) a treatise on the history of community ophthalmology in India, which was released during a national conference in May ’22. Incidentally, he was also honoured on the occasion. In addition to this, he wrote two short monographs, one on our ancestral house (Home Sweet Home) and another on his personal journey in social work related to eye-care (From Darkness to Light).

India’s Heroes My young friend Aditya Kashyap—all of twelve years old, and a resident of Dubai—is a huge fan of the Indian Army. Deeply inspired by the courage and sacrifice of our soldiers, he wrote poems about each of the Param Vir Chakra winners and his parents have brought it out as a book. It is no surprise that he was felicitated by the Indian Army and also our Defence Minister.

Sudha-suparneeyam A kaavya in beautiful Halagannada (classical Kannada) by Neelakanth Kulkarni on the life of Garuda and his fantastic adventures.

Stri-parva A novel by Ganesh Bhat Koppalatota on the episode from the Mahaabhaarata that will hit the stands very soon.

Proshitapriyasamaagama A classical Kannada translation of Oliver Goldsmith’s The Hermit by S G Narasimhacharya along with word-for-word meaning and notes by Gautham Dikshit. This work also includes a lovely translation of Longfellow’s A Psalm of Life (rendered into Kannada verse by Dr. Ganesh).

Memories Never Die Sripriya Srinivasan’s English translation of a Tamil book by Dr. Y S Rajan and Dr. Nazeema (Kalam’s niece) that reveals unknown facets of A P J Abdul Kalam. It will be published in early ′23.

Ambuda A remarkable digital Sanskrit library started by my cousin Arun Prasad that hopes to change the way Sanskrit texts are archived online.

[hrk4]

The year that was...

Dear Friends,

Season’s Greetings!

2021, in many ways, represents—at least to me—coming out of a bad dream. Lines between illusion and reality appeared blurred so often that it became difficult to know what was real and what wasn’t. Doubtless, in a Vedantic sense, knowing Reality is far from easy but even in a simple, worldly sense, it became tedious this year. I can’t say that it was a bad year for me – I learnt a great deal, got many things done, experienced many moments that I will cherish for long, and overall had loads of fun; yet, somewhere deep in the recesses of my heart, plaintive strains of melancholy are associated with 2021: the virus from Wuhan spreading its ugly tentacles further and riding on the successive Covid ‘waves,’ governments all over the world becoming increasingly authoritarian and fear-mongering; scientists, doctors, researchers, pharmaceutical companies, and international organizations losing credibility by the hour; the incessant rains and ominous climate in South India disrupting daily life and local travel for nearly two months; the fundamentalist forces of organized religion continuing their ghastly parade of ‘civilizing’ the heathen; the media’s disgusting display of ignorance coupled with distasteful propaganda; the noise of the woke warriors growing louder and more cacophonous as they go farther away from human nature and societal reality – the list is long and dreary, we are left weak and weary. Misery, dullness, fury, confusion, fear, distrust, helplessness, and many such emotions lie hidden within, emanating a bad odour whose source seems untraceable. Perhaps the force of the intellect may track down the source and destroy it or the sweet breeze of time will soften the stench.

This somewhat morose start to my New Year jottings might seem discordant to those who know me well. Even my bitterest critic will not deny that I am a cheerful guy. All my life, I have toiled to keep out the pesky parasites of Cynicism, Obsession, and Self-doubt – and if at all this has been possible, it is owing to the great gifts I have received without the slightest effort, as an untutored aspect of my personality: Enthusiasm, Detachment, and Self-confidence. This naturally has led to sustained happiness in my life.

Yet there are times when we are tested in the roughest of ways and it is only when we come out triumphant against all odds does the victory become truly worthwhile. The fact that we are placing our foot into 2022 itself bears testimony to our having defeated the monster of 2021.

There are times when you look back at your life and recognize that you have been a part of a historic moment but it is a great blessing to recognize it while being in the moment. In 2021, I was fortunate to be a part of three iconic projects, in different capacities: designer, translator, and witness.

#1. Mastering Varnams is a remarkable work by Dr. L Subramaniam that contains not only the notation of thirty varnams but also additional information for violinists regarding fingering techniques and insightful observations by the great maestro on various ragas. He has published it in two versions – one with Indian notation and the other with Western staff notation. Accompanying these books, he has recorded all the thirty varnams (most of them in multiple speeds) for the benefit of music students. As the designer of these books and a sort of research assistant to him, I had the great opportunity to be a part of this work from the conception stage until completion. It is impossible not to be positively inspired by LS sir’s commitment to work and his unalloyed passion for music even after being at it for more than seventy years!

#2. The Essential Mahabharata is a modern English translation of Prof. A R Krishnasastri’s Kannada classic Vachana Bharata, which I undertook along with my good friend Arjun Bharadwaj. After four years of tireless striving, we brought out this work in August. It was published by Prekshaa and was made possible by the help and support of many friends. In particular, I must mention the kindness of Scientist-Littérateur C R Sathya, Prof. ARK’s grandson and one of the copyright holders of the work. Not only did he graciously grant us permission to translate his grandfather’s work but when Arjun and I went to meet him with the printed copies of the book, he sprung a surprise on us by formally honouring us with garlands and shawls. We were humbled to say the least.

As a small token of gratitude, I gifted copies of The Essential Mahabharata to around 100 close friends and relatives (and there are others whom I’m yet to meet and give a copy).

#3. I was a joyful witness to the unfolding of the Deshi-Marga Adavus – a remarkable addition to the movement vocabulary of Bharata-nrityam by the immensely talented Nirupama Rajendra. During the first lockdown last year, she spent long hours coming up with the movements (with active guidance by Ganesh sir) and early this year she video-documented the entire set of 108 movements in the backdrop of the Venugopala Swamy Temple near Krishnarajasagara. I had the chance to see a portion of the documentation in situ and also helped design a small booklet that was prepared alongside the videos.

In November, along with a few friends I started Praharsha Publications, the aim of which is to bring out modern editions of classical Sanskrit works as well as other books on India. The first book that came out from the publishing label was Nectar to the Ears, a translation of select verses from Lilashuka’s Sri-krishna-karna-amrtam. We were fortunate to have the launch of the book and the label in association with Abhinava Arts Centre of Nirupama and Rajendra, who spared no effort in making it a grand show. A special highlight of the evening was a dance performance by Nirupama along with kavya-vachana by Kashyap and vyakhyana by Arjun. The books in the Praharsha pipeline include a new edition of Svapna-vasavadattam, a couple of sixteenth century Sanskrit primers, an English rendition of Vidvan N Ranganatha Sharma’s Amara-kosha, and a khanda-kavya by Shatavadhani Dr. R Ganesh.

Some of the other books that kept me busy this year:

—preparing revised editions of The New Bhagavad-Gita (Tenth Anniversary Edition), Your Dharma and Mine, and The Complete Bhagavad-Gita,

—designing books for my friends (சிவ-ராம-கிருஷ்ணன், ಶ್ರೀಕರ್ಣಾಟಗೋದಾಸ್ತವ, ಸೌಂದರಾನಂದಂ, and Yaana – The Voyage),

—editing and designing a few English translations of Kannada originals: A Passage Through India (by S R Ramaswamy), Art Gallery of Memories – Vol. 4 (by D V Gundappa), and Jivana-dharma-yoga (by D V Gundappa), all of which will be published next year.

In 2021, I reluctantly agreed to give a few public lectures and talks. Although it took a considerable amount of time to prepare for each presentation, I was happy that I learnt more about topics close to my heart and was overwhelmed by the positive response of the listeners. In addition to presentations on the Artha-shastra (Books 8 & 9), The Joy of Literature, and Bhagavad-Gita for Work-Life Balance, I gave public lectures on the great historian Prof. S Srikanta Sastri, Hindu Resistance to Early Islamic Invaders, and The ‘Lost’ Verses of the Bhagavad-Gita (Part 1 and Part 2). I also mentored a group of young violinists from different parts of India (part of the Young Artiste Advanced Mentorship Programme) giving them a few lessons on violin-playing techniques and teaching them a beautiful Tillana composed by my guru Dr. L Subramaniam. Thanks to my friend Skanda, I worked on the script for a few blink videos for Shaale and I hope to do more in 2022.

In spite of varied obstacles—China-virus, mindless restrictions, lousy weather, Bangalore traffic—I was lucky to have had several opportunities to meet my friends, get acquainted with newer folk, and travel to a few places. Some of the highlights: a wonderful trip to Tirupati after several years; a trip to Munnar with old friends and new; trips to Beluru-Halebidu, Chennai, Lepakshi, Mysuru, Sagara, Sakleshpura, and Shivamogga; spending time with some of my relatives who visited from the US (particularly MJ the younger); catching up with old friends from BMS; regular get-togethers and stay-overs at friends’ places; and meeting a few notable personages for the first time (Justice Krishna Dikshit and Dr. Y S Rajan for instance).

I must also recall the wonderful time I spent collaborating with some remarkable people on different projects that I was a part of. Work becomes both enriching and enjoyable with such brilliant and dedicated co-workers – Arjun (on a host of projects including the Mahabharata translation); GS and Srishan (with whom I co-wrote Nectar to the Ears); Mitali (who worked with me on Mastering Varnams); Shreehari (on a couple of assignments); Srinidhi (on multiple projects including a new edition of Svapnavasavadatta); Soma, Vedavyas, and Paresh (on A Passage Through India); Sripriya, Sudarshan, and Vighneshwar (on multiple projects and assignments); as well as the Prekshaa and Samvit teams. I have spent wonderful hours in the company of my friends in the various study-groups that I am a part of – be it while reading the Artha-shastra, Jivana-dharma-yoga, Kumara-sambhavam, Kumaravyasa-Bharata, or the Pancha-tantra. In fact, even the casual conversations I have had with friends like Arun, Bapat, Bhumika, Chandra, Divs, Jayasimha, Karthik, Pratap, Sarita, Shorty, Shreesha, Vasu, and others are fondly etched in my memory. I have been fortunate not just to work and study with extraordinary people but also to be constantly mentored in various ways by savants like Shatavadhani Dr. R Ganesh, Dr. Koti Sreekrishna, Dr, Manoj G, Dr. S R Ramaswamy, Prof. L V Shanthakumari, Dr. L Subramaniam, Sudheer Krishnaswami Kesari, and others.

This year, I was pleasantly surprised and honoured to receive three books in particular – one from Patricia Smith, who sent me a signed copy of her latest book Complements when I sent her a copy of The Essential Mahabharata; the second from my friend Srinidhi who got me an old edition of Vachana Bharata (in addition to many other books); and the third, from a total stranger, one Mr. Mahesh Hangal, who sent me a copy of his book ‘Scribblings’ since he was apparently inspired by Foggy Fools Farrago (the English translation of DVG’s Mankutimmana Kagga, which I co-translated with my grandmother Smt. Malathi Rangaswamy in 2016).

Speaking of books and of people, I am eternally grateful to my friend Vikram and the family of one of his clients who unfortunately succumbed to Covid last year. This gentleman was formerly employed with NAL and was a voracious reader with a huge and wonderfully organized library. His wife and daughters told Vikram to invite his friends to visit their house and take whatever books they liked from the collection. I went there not once but twice and picked up a mini library of some of the finest Kannada books.

As usual, the year had its share of failures and successes. Although I signed up for a drawing class, I couldn’t get past more than a few sessions. The time I allocated for learning Sanskrit grammar more rigorously was swallowed by the reading of Sanskrit poetry instead. My violin practice, although regular, is never enough for me. However, almost daily I spent ten to fifteen minutes solving a cryptic crossword. I started learning Latin with some earnestness earlier this month. I successfully quit reading/viewing the news starting this April. (Since 2016, I have been reading the news only casually but I stopped even that.)

Life has been rather peaceful ever since.

The usual enhancements to make life simpler, easier, more fun, and more focussed have been going on forever in my case. Things are at a stage in my life that I’ve decided to shift gears and go slower. I plan to use more of public transportation, improve work-life balance (for which I have tried to physically create different spaces), and spend my evenings with a little more entertainment (attending music/dance concerts, watching movies or plays, listening to lectures, etc.) I have also begun to think about how the next generation can be inspired to learn more about Indian culture, art, and history. Maybe I will do something about that in the following years.

There is much chaos around us – both in space and in time. We are constantly engaged in frail attempts to bring order to our worlds and reduce entropy in general. It might seem a Sisyphean task but it is important for us never to lose hope. During the second half of April and the first half of May this year, not a single day went by when I did not hear about the death of someone I knew – a family member, a friend, an acquaintance. So much so, if the phone rang, it sounded like the knell of death, and I shuddered to pick it up. And in the middle of that morbid period, except me, my entire family (including my 94-year-old grandmother who was not even vaccinated) contracted Covid but thankfully came out of it without too much trouble. The biggest lesson for me has been that our time is limited and with what little we have, we must turn our minds towards nothing but the best. Life is too short to read bad books or listen to crappy music. If I want to read a book, then I will read a classic. I shall listen to only the maestros. Watch only the best movies. Eat only the healthiest and tastiest food. Be on my best behaviour. Spend time with the best people. Enjoy every moment, for who knows which will be the last?

For the immature scrawl that my year-end letter is,—primarily meant as a reminder to my future self about the growing pains of my youthful years—it is surprisingly awaited and read by friends and family, for which I am deeply thankful.

Wishing you and your family a joy-filled, healthy, and prosperous new year!

Cheers, Hari

[hrk4]

The year that was...

Dear Friends:

Season’s Greetings!

In the celebrated Yaksha-prashna episode of the Mahābhārata, responding to one of Yaksha’s questions Yudhishtira says,

Day after day, countless beings are going to the abode of death; yet those that remain desire to live forever! What can be a greater wonder than that?

2020 served as a grisly commentary to this famous utterance.

Year after year sees birth and death, with the former always surpassing the latter. While the birth of a child causes joy to a small group of people, the death of a person can cause sorrow to millions. 2020 was a ghastly experience for me with regard to death: several individuals who influenced me either directly or indirectly passed away and in my own case, I felt death’s knock on my door—albeit for brief moments—during an irksome bout of tuberculosis that lasted a couple of months.

Some eminent personages—all renowned in their own fields—that I had the good fortune of meeting, engaging in discussions, or collaborating with over the years breathed their last in 2020 – Dr. V Prasanna Bhat (a finance/management whiz and close friend of my father whose cerebral approach to life and meticulousness influenced me in many ways), Subramaniam Chittur (entrepreneur, Rotarian, communications expert, and the man who brought Toastmasters International to India – an organization that proved transformational for me as early as during my high school days), Ranjon Ghoshal (renowned actor/director who was my guide in the world of theatre and a consummate conversationalist with whom I have discussed themes ranging from the Vedas to folk music, from Bengali literature to stage lighting, from advertising to colonial history), Ivry Gitlis (world-famous violinist whose masterclass I was lucky to attend when he visited Bangalore in 2005), Pt. Jasraj (renowned Hindustani singer with a golden voice whom I had the fortune of meeting when he performed with my guru Dr. L Subramaniam during the LGMF), Prof. Roddam Narasimha (one of India’s foremost scientists whom I was fortunate to have interacted with on three occasions, thanks to his nephew and my college classmate Varun Prakash; the eclectic mix of physics, philosophy, ancient Indian science, and Sanskrit that formed the mainstay of all my interactions with him always proved inspirational to me), and Dr. Gayatri Rajapur (an extraordinary musicologist and gottuvadyam exponent who I first met through her disciple and my friend Vinay Kumar, and later got the opportunity to interact on many occasions during the academic committee meetings of the LGCE; I always marvelled at her deep erudition, immense patience, and clear exposition).

2020 also saw the death of famous personalities who influenced me in some way or the other although I never met them: S P Balasubrahmanyam (playback singer, actor, and TV anchor), Basu Chatterjee (filmmaker and screenwriter), Soumitra Chatterjee (actor, playwright, and poet), Sir Sean Connery (actor), Irrfan Khan (actor), Prof. T N Krishnan (violinist), James Lipton (actor, writer, and dean emeritus of the Actors Studio Drama School), Diego Maradona (football legend), Ennio Moricone (music composer), James Randi (conjurer, rationalist, and activist), Sir Ken Robinson (author and educationist), Sankar (artist and painter, renowned for his sketches in the Chandamama monthly including the iconic painting of Vikram and Betal), et al.

Some of the memorable episodes from the BC (Before Corona) days include my debut as a pṛcchaka (in the saṅkhyā-bandha division) in an Avadhāna of Śatāvadhāni Dr. R Ganesh; a trip with my mother to Sosale, our ancestral village; a weekend getaway with friends from my study group; editing/designing the seminal work Prekṣaṇīyam; attending the day-long dance conference Tha-Dheem that included speakers such as Dr. Padma Subrahmanyam, Śatāvadhāni Dr. R Ganesh, Saroj Khan, Rajiv Menon, Nirupama Rajendra, Dr. Rajkumar Bharathi, Praveen D Rao, and Pravin Godkhindi; and participating in Madanothsava, a 1,600-year-old community festival of spring recreated by Nirupama and Rajendra of the Abhinava Dance Company.

The multiple lockdowns in 2020 gave me the opportunity to pursue my activities with greater focus and solitude. On the day of Yugadi (March 25) I started reading the Mahābhārata in the original Sanskrit along with my good friend Arjun Bharadwaj; in the early days, we met up online twice or thrice a week and discussed the chapters we read (he was always ahead of me, thus giving me the much-needed impetus to move forward!) I edited and designed a new version of Ram Gopal Misra’s 1983 classic Indian Resistance to Early Muslim Invaders up to 1206 A.D. (which was published in October). In collaboration with my friends G S Raghavendra and Srishan Thirumalai, I worked on a modern translation of selected verses from Lilashuka’s Śrīkṛṣṇakarṇāmṛtam (which is still in progress). I spent a lot of time practising the violin. The various study groups that I am a part of also saw an upward trend with regular online sessions; while we missed the leisure and the human connection offered by in-person sessions, we were able to save travel time and also accomplish more in the same one hour allocated to the study.

During the later part of May, I contracted a fever that simply wouldn’t go away. Forty-two days without a break it persisted. Pyrexia of Unknown Origin they called it. Following a battery of tests and much speculation by medical experts from diverse disciplines I was diagnosed with tuberculosis of the lymph node. The two months of June and July were largely spent in bed, totally disconnected from all my activities. I sailed through, thanks to the good counsel of my doctors (Dr. Alaka Acharya, Dr. Amar P, and Dr. G L Krishna) and perhaps more importantly, the long-standing support from my parents and my friends. I neither deserved nor desired the unconditional love and affection that I was showered with. I really don’t know how to account for the selflessness of my family and the generosity of my friends. It is a debt that is impossible to repay. And uttering any words of gratitude will only expose my ineptitude.

In 2020, I had the opportunity to speak on a few topics to diverse groups (young professionals, dance students, interns working in the back office of a politician), write a few essays (including one in Kannada, my first), restart my sketching journey, and work on editing/designing a few books (revised edition of Studies in Ancient Tamil Law and Society by Dr. R Nagaswamy and A Tapestry of Pen-portraits by S R Ramaswamy).

I also recall with great fondness the many illuminating conversations I had in 2020 – on music (with my guru Dr. L Subramaniam and with my friends Vivekananda, Ranjani Vasuki, and Kashyap Naik), on Sanskrit literature (with G S Raghavendra, Srishan Thirumalai, and Sudheer Krishnaswami), on multiple subjects related to India and Indian culture (with Dr. S R Ramaswamy, Śatāvadhāni Dr. R Ganesh, Vasuki H A, Vighneshwar Bhat, Arjun Bharadwaj, and Jayasimha K R), on writing and literature (with Prof. L V Shanthakumari, Chandra Shekhar, Sarita Talwai, and Bhumika Anand), on art and artistry (with Nirupama, Rajendra, Sagar Mehta, and Somashekhara Sharma), on politics and society (with Cedric Blair, Karthik Rao, Shankar Venkataraman, Showri H R, Shreesha Karantha, and Vikram Phadke), on history and education (with Dr. R Nagaswamy, Dr. M D Srinivas, Sripriya Srinivasan, and the Samvit team), and a variety of topics (with my family and my friends including Aditya Jeurkar, Chandrashekhar K S, Hrishikesh M K, Pratap Simha, and Srikanteswara).

My father turned seventy in 2020 and to coincide with what he terms ‘fifty years of adulthood,’ he brought out his autobiography Doing Well, Feeling Happy, which is really a book about work-life balance and handling crisis with equanimity. He also happened to put together a small book about the amazing human body, a result of his online research, while he was trying to understand the cause for my prolonged fever. Incidentally, during my convalescence period, I wrote a short piece on the Bhaja Govindam, which was also published as a booklet along with the other two works.

I spent the last few days of 2020 with my friends and their family in the sylvan surroundings at Rishikesh, Devaprayag, Lakshman Jhula, etc. The two highlights of the trip were meditating in Vasishta Guha on December 31st evening and white-water rafting on the Ganga on the first day of 2021. To me they represent the serenity and satisfaction one must experience during the conclusion (of a day or a week) and the enthusiasm and energy one should feel during the commencement (of a new day or week).

As for 2021, I have a few plans in terms of what I wish to accomplish and how I should proceed towards my chosen goals. Having broken down the process into weekly targets, I’m going to share that with a few friends so that they will—hopefully—constantly remind me about my shortcomings. I hope to practice the violin 18 hours a week, read 100 books (having bought a Kindle as a Dasara gift), drastically cut down on sugar, sketch occasionally, considerably reduce screen time (both on my mobile and computer), and learn to live more simply with better health and greater empathy. These are all aspirations at present; let’s see how they go as the year progresses :)

Wishing you and your family a joy-filled, healthy, and prosperous new year!

Cheers, Hari PS: Here is a podcast I recorded (in conversation with Mowna Ramachandra) about the musical creations of my guru, Dr. L Subramaniam.

[hrk4]

My Sanskrit Story

I am an ardent student of Sanskrit.

Over the past few years, I’ve been learning Sanskrit in a slow, schizophrenic manner – a few weeks of frenetic study of grammar and literature with long months of lackadaisical, lukewarm engagement with the language, mostly through ‘study circles’ (we’ll come to this later) that I’m a part of. But I have kept at it constantly and never regretted it once.

My earliest exposure to Sanskrit was perhaps at the age of two. Born and raised in a typical Hindu middle-class family, I was taught simple shlokas and stotras. My father took me to Cubbon Park or Ulsoor Lake on Sunday mornings and on the way he would teach me verses from the Mukunda-mala (a poetical work composed by Kulashekhara azhvar, a ninth century king and poet-saint). My grandmother taught me the Krishna-ashtakam (usually during power-cuts) and my mother taught me verses from the Venkatesha-suprabhatam. At age three or four, I became a sort of ‘installation art’ at weddings where elders gathered around me, coaxing me to recite verses from the Mukunda-mala. (But of course, getting children to recite verses is not uncommon in our families. Many of you might have experienced this in your childhood.)

That was it, pretty much: Some stray verses committed to memory and the strong notion that Sanskrit was a great language. In spite of my rejection of orthodox theism, rituals, and outdated religious/superstitious practices during my rebellious adolescent years, strangely, I never lost respect for Sanskrit.

Most of my cousins studied Sanskrit in school but I didn’t have that good fortune. I wanted to learn the language but I didn’t know where to start; for years it remained a pipe dream.

By sheer chance, I got involved in co-writing a translation of the Bhagavad-Gita with Dr. Koti Sreekrishna in 2006. At that time, I didn’t know any Sanskrit. My role was to review and edit the English; after Dr. Sreekrishna produced a rough translation, I would work towards presenting the verses in the simplest way possible. By the time we published the book five years later, I had learnt a few words here and there, particularly when we discussed the meaning of difficult verses.

In early 2011, when the manuscript of our Gita translation was being sent to reviewers, someone suggested that I get the opinion of the renowned scholar, poet, and polymath Shatavadhani Dr. R Ganesh. Until then I hardly knew anything about him. When I phoned him, he spoke in an encouraging manner and I felt like I was speaking with a family elder rather than a celebrity-scholar. He graciously reviewed the manuscript and gave his feedback. I casually mentioned to him about my interest to learn Sanskrit and my helplessness at not knowing where to start. Not only did he give me general guidance but he also taught me some of the basics of Sanskrit grammar like noun forms, verb forms, sandhi, and samasa. More importantly, he taught me the real value of learning Sanskrit in today’s world.

The rest of this piece comprises what I’ve learnt from Dr. Ganesh about the study of Sanskrit coupled with my personal experiences. It might be of value to those interested in learning the language.

~

Why Study Sanskrit?

Given that learning Sanskrit—or any language for that matter—consumes considerable time and effort (and some money), it’s a good idea to think for a moment if it’s actually worth it. Now, the worthiness can be decided only by one’s intentions – Why do I want to study Sanskrit?

In my case, I love learning languages when the opportunity presents itself. The process of learning itself is a great deal of fun for linguaphiles like me. So if you are a language-lover, there’s no need to think any further. Go and learn Sanskrit!

There is a widespread notion that Sanskrit is a sacred language meant solely for rituals and that its literature is entirely ‘spiritual stuff.’ So if you’re someone who likes that sort of thing – tradition, philosophy, scriptures, and so forth – you might be thinking of learning the language. The good news is that you probably don’t need to learn Sanskrit.

If you are just interested in the Vedas and want to connect with the tradition better, you could consider learning Vedic recitation, which is definitely easier than learning Sanskrit. In addition, you can read a book or two on the philosophy of the Vedas or listen to lectures on the topic by scholars like Dr. Ganesh. Even those of you who are interested in philosophy can get by reading reliable translations of the Upanishads and Bhagavad-gita as well as general works on Indian philosophy by scholars like Prof. M Hiriyanna.

There is a feeling among the culturally inclined nationalists that it is our duty to preserve Indian heritage and showcase the glory of India’s past. Triggered by this missionary zeal, some people might wish to learn Sanskrit. This often leads to a narrow interest in hunting for science in ancient India, or in the study of traditional works of polity, economics, architecture, law, or other secular subjects. Again, the good news is that you don’t have to learn Sanskrit to accomplish this.

You can always look into reliable translations of works like Artha-shastra, Manu-smriti, Surya-siddhanta, or Brihat-samhita. You can also peruse through books on Indian history, ancient Indian mathematics, temple architecture, and so on. You could even take up the study of a serious treatise like P V Kane’s History of Dharmashastra. That will satiate your thirst to a large extent.

When something can be effectively translated from one language into another—particularly when the objective is to provide information or teach certain concepts—then there’s hardly a case for learning the source language. If I can give you the exact translation of a verse from the Gita and you understand it without any transmission losses, then why do you have to spend ten years of your life learning Sanskrit?

But there are things that simply can’t be translated. Jokes, for instance, are untranslatable when they employ puns or have strong cultural references. The same goes for poetry, where the structure and the substance are closely intertwined. So if you’re interested to explore the vast landscape of Sanskrit literature—Kalidasa’s masterpieces; the two great Epics (Ramayana and Mahabharata); Bana’s Kadambari; Shudraka’s Mricchakatika; Bharavi’s Kiratarjuniya; Vishakadatta’s Mudra-rakshasa; and many other poems, plays, and prose compositions—it is worthwhile taking steps to learn Sanskrit. Stories about gods and goddesses, romantic escapades, nature descriptions, episodes from the Epics, idiosyncrasies of public life, the history of a kingdom, tales of commoners – all this and more can entertain and enrich several lifetimes.

In addition to being a wonderful treasure trove of literature, Sanskrit is also a window to our past. Therefore, any serious student of Indian history, archaeology, sociology, culture, sculpture, philosophy, and so forth will benefit immensely if s/he learns Sanskrit. Here I wish to make a distinction between one who is interested in Indian history or philosophy or culture and a full-time student of these subjects (like a BA or MA student). Those who are merely interested to know more about a certain era in Indian history can read a book by R C Majumdar or Jadunath Sarkar and be fulfilled. But for students of history, the knowledge of Sanskrit will enable them to read inscriptions, contemporary literary works, and so on, which will prove invaluable for their careers.

However, if you’re looking to improve your knowledge of physics, become better at technology, get a promotion at work, or win an election, you will benefit from doing other things than learning Sanskrit. 

Is Sanskrit Difficult?

A good way to learn a language is like how we all learnt our mother tongues – by listening and repeating, then slowly moving towards understanding and speaking, and then eventually starting to read and write. If you wish to learn Russian, Spanish, or Japanese, this approach works well. But Sanskrit is not a widely spoken language. And our motivation to learn Sanskrit is not so much trying to communicate with other people as it is to read and savour ancient (and modern) literature.

Although there are a number of people who fluently speak in Sanskrit, it is almost impossible to find a person who knows only Sanskrit and no other language. It’s therefore obvious that you don’t need Sanskrit to communicate with others; you can get by speaking Kannada or Tamil or English. (On the other hand, if you’re visiting the UK and can’t speak a word of English, you’re going to be in trouble!)

To learn Sanskrit, you might have to choose an approach that’s different from what’s popularly known as ‘immersion’ in language-learning circles.

There are some people who think that Sanskrit is extremely difficult and wonder if they can approach it at all. In fact, those who are familiar with one or more Indian languages already have the basic equipment to understand Sanskrit. The nuts and bolts of the grammar can give you sleepless nights but it’s probably not as hard as you think.

At the other end of the spectrum, there are people who think that attending a ten-day Sambhashana course or reading a ‘Learn Sanskrit in 30 Days’ book can give you mastery over Sanskrit. That’s a dangerous notion to harbour if you really want to learn the language.

So, the one line answer is that if you’re interested and pursue it sincerely, it’ll get easier along the way, and more importantly, the journey will be great fun after the initial fumbling about.

Learning Sanskrit

Where do I start?

The answer, surprisingly, is: anywhere. Just start. Sanskrit is an ocean and where does one begin to swim in an ocean? Somewhere. Put your feet in the water, slowly get inside, get used to the cold, and before you realize it, you’re already kicking your legs and having a good time.

And that’s what I did: just started at some point.

I would read a verse from the Gita and then read the English translation. I had learnt Kannada and Hindi at school and as a result, many of the words were familiar to me. Reading the translation after reading the original Sanskrit verse exposed me to new words. I committed verses to memory and later replayed them in my mind, trying to check if I remembered the meaning completely.

That said, the most suitable works to start off learning Sanskrit are lucid compositions like the Ramayana or the Pancha-tantra. Get hold of a reliable translation of one of these works (preferably in an Indian language); start by reciting the original Sanskrit verse or prose passage a couple times, then read through the translation, and go back to reading the Sanskrit – this way you slowly make connections between the words and their meanings. Instead of diving into the technicalities of grammar straightaway, spending time with literature will help you experience the beauty of the language.

Three to six months after commencing the study of a Sanskrit work, you can start learning up some grammar – by reading good books, watching online tutorials, or learning from a teacher.

I’m extremely fortunate that Dr. Ganesh taught me the basics of Sanskrit grammar. That set me off on a winding path of reading different aspects of grammar and trying to wrap my head around them. This continues even today. The more I hunt for rules, more the exceptions I find. My advice: Keep aside logic while learning basics. In the initial stages, don’t ask questions; simply accept things as they are. It just makes life easier. Over time, you’ll develop an intuition for the correct form of a word.

All said and done, it’s easy to start but difficult to keep going. What’s the solution for sustained study?

In my experience, learning a language requires both self-motivation and external agency. Unless one is driven from within, no amount of external push will be fruitful; when self-motivation is present, external agency becomes invaluable. For instance, Sanskrit is taught in schools and colleges – this is a push from outside (i.e., external agency). But only those with self-motivation learn the language well and continue reading literature long after they have graduated.

When I met Dr. Ganesh in 2011, he told me about a fortnightly ‘study circle’ he was conducting and extended an invitation to me. I had never heard the term before so I asked him what that was. A group of friends would catch up every other Saturday and read the Raghu-vamsham of Kalidasa. 

I started attending the study circle. This went on for close to a year and I learnt a great deal. Owing to various reasons I became irregular in attending the sessions and after I shifted to another end of the city, I practically stopped going. During the years 2013–16,  I moved around quite a bit and finally I shifted to Malleswaram in November 2016.

There came an inflection point in my Sanskrit study in 2017. Around that time, my good friend Raghavendra G S had started his PhD program in IISc. and my house happened to be a sort of midpoint between the metro station and his lab. One day I casually suggested that we should meet once a week and read a Sanskrit work together. He readily agreed and we started reading the Krishna-karna-amritam (a poetical work by Lilashuka). By the time we finished reading the text in early 2018, a few other friends showed interest in coming together to form a study circle. And so, in April 2018 we formed our Sanskrit study circle and have continued ever since. I also got the opportunity to join a few other study circles and this ensured that my Sanskrit study is ever fresh; over the past three years, not a week has gone by without a few hours of Sanskrit reading (unless I was travelling or unwell).

So if you want to learn Sanskrit, try to find even one other like-minded friend and get started. Even better if you can find more friends – especially those who know more Sanskrit than you. The ideal is a group of four to six, meeting once a week, for about an hour or ninety minutes. (You can meet in person or online – it shouldn’t make too much of a difference.) There are ample online resources and translations available for various Sanskrit works. Start reading a work together. Take turns to read the verses aloud. (Even when you’re reading Sanskrit by yourself, it’s useful to read aloud). Then look at the translation. Discuss. Read the original verse again. Then move forward. In the first few sessions, you may read just three or four verses in an hour but as you go forward, your speed will drastically improve and you’ll start getting comfortable. After a while, refer to the translations only after you’ve made an attempt to understand the original. This will slowly push you to rely on your memory and learning.

And once in a while, when there’s an opportunity to meet during a long weekend, you can take a short poetical work like Niti-shataka or Kali-vidambana and read the whole thing in one marathon session.

There are many possibilities with study circles. In fact, it can prove to be the mysterious ingredient to accelerate your learning. That’s been the case with me for sure. I’ve still got a long way to go before I can say that I’ve learnt Sanskrit but the journey itself has been incredible so far. Dr. Ganesh and friends have been largely responsible for what little Sanskrit I know. And for that I’m ever grateful.

Hari Ravikumar August 2020

Thanks to my friends Pratap Simha (for getting me to write this piece), Arjun Bharadwaj (for his valuable inputs), and Sudheer Krishnaswami (for his review and feedback).

[hrk4]

The year that was...

Dear Friends:

Season’s Greetings!

Ten years ago, in December 2010, for the first time I wrote my reminiscences of the year. It was inspired by a short photo-blog that my friend Aditya J. wrote after his first few months in Seoul, where he had been sent onsite. Looking at my work over the past decade through my writings should have evoked in me some sort of emotional response, be it joy or disappointment or pride or despair or even disdain. I read through all the older posts (which, in total, came to around 10,000 words) and by the time I was done, there was a strange feeling of “Ok, fine, but never mind. What next?” It was not apathy, for I undertook most of those activities with genuine interest. It was also not dissatisfaction, because I’ve accomplished a fair deal in ten years given my limitations and circumstances. It was more an acceptance of what has happened without any sentimental coloring added to it. There was inexplicable sense of detachment; a feeling that these memoirs are those of a familiar character but not me.

When I started writing these end-of-the-year e-mails—initially to a small group of family and friends, and later online—there was a need for me to prove to the world that I was indeed doing something of value, especially given that I had quit a mainstream career and was pursuing my interests full-time. It was perhaps a plea, a boast, a shout that was aimed at bringing people’s attention to the fact that I was not wasting my life but actually doing something worthwhile. By the end of the following year, I seem to have realized that it was really pointless trying to prove anything to anybody. However, this cute little exercise in self-awareness was captivating for the sort of perspective it offered me. And I decided to write it again. And again. And again. For ten years on the trot. It is now aimed merely as self-reflection and I post it online simply because there are a few people who have shown interest in browsing through these yearly jottings of mine. Maybe there is yet a self-indulgent streak in me but I suppose this annual drill has a modicum of value.

In the grand—and painfully slow—process of the maturing of the mind, I found (to my utter surprise) that a few precepts that I had known in theory for several years seemed to be slowing blossoming into practice. More and more I moved towards my sva-dharma, my innate nature. I began refusing opportunities, staying away from certain people, avoiding particular institutions, putting a stop to certain activities – basically saying No! to anything that took me away from my natural temperament. I was also privy to several episodes in the lives of my friends where they suffered a great deal simply because they went against their fundamental nature. Only now do I truly understand what Krishna said in the Gita when he said, “The dharma of another is dangerous!” I also began realizing the value of being more inclusive and getting work done rather than trying to do everything myself. I ended up doing something that I had deemed impossible when I was a college freshman.

One accomplishment that I’m genuinely glad about this year is losing fifteen pounds (at least it sounds more than seven kilograms!) Mostly thanks to the persistence of my friend Shreesha and the good nature of people around me who allowed me to act whimsical with regard to food and pushed me to exercise. Another is the publication of the Bhagavad-Gita Audiobook, which appears as a series on Shaale. I had recorded this with Jurgen Nigli and Somsubhra Banerjee in 2015–16 but had somehow not found the time to edit and bring it out. I’ve started publishing it from Gita-Jayanti 2019 and it will run as a series with 20+ episodes (a new episode every Saturday).

This year I was involved with the production of quite a few books, the prominent ones being Art Gallery of Memories – Volumes 1, 2, 3 (by D V Gundappa), Evolution of the Mahabharata (by S R Ramaswamy) and Shiva Rama Krishna (by Shatavadhani Dr. R Ganesh). I designed a bunch of books and also worked on the digitization of portions of some Sanskrit texts. I made my Kannada writing debut with an essay I co-wrote with my friend Vikram for the anthology ‘ನಿರ್ಲಿಪ್ತಿ.’ I got a chance to present a few lectures and workshops through the course of the year for variegated audiences on different topics. I also attended two excellent workshops on Indian temple art and architecture.

My unfinished projects and failed schemes are, quite naturally, far more in number but I’ve learnt not to take those too seriously. One year’s failure is another year’s success. One year’s incompleteness is another year’s discretion. This became amply clear when upon the request of my colleague I prepared my curriculum vitae after a gap of seven years.

In April 2019—along with a group of friends—I completed reading the five-volume pièce de résistance of Bharat Ratna Pandurang Vaman Kane – History of Dharmaśāstra, which runs into some six thousand pages. The study group started in October 2016 and met once every week. We read fifty pages before every session and met every Wednesday night for a few hours, discussing the nuances with rich insights provided by all participants. I continue to be a part of several study groups with friends, which is really a wonderful way to spend ‘social time’ without feeling guilty for having wasted the hours and yet having a great deal of fun. As part of these study groups, I got the chance to read two classics – Macbeth and Parva. महापुरुषसंसर्गः कस्य नोन्नतिकारकः? (When has the company of a great person ever failed to elevate the lives of others?)

A few months after I finished reading the History of Dharmaśāstra, I had the golden opportunity to meet P V Kane’s grandson in Pune (along with my friends Kashyap and Raghavendra). He shared wonderful stories about his grandfather and was glad to hear about our study group that read the entire work from cover to cover. Sudha Murty, the chairperson of the Infosys Foundation had invited the Prekshaa team for dinner to her home and we had a great time interacting with her as well as with N R Narayana Murty and Rohan Murty about a variety of topics related to culture. Along with my friends Arjun and Kashyap, I had the great fortune of visiting Dr. S L Bhyrappa’s home twice this year.

I had the remarkable experience of encountering the works of two great artistes of our time: I saw a couple of dance concerts of Dr. Padma Subrahmanyam, who is a phenomenon in the world of dance and culture. No music, no film, no drama can come anywhere close to watching her perform live. I say this as an ardent connoisseur of all these arts. I got the chance to see the paintings of Sri. G L N Simha and also meet him briefly. A most unassuming man, he has painted some of the finest works related to Indian traditional texts.

2019 was a year of meeting several friends (who don’t live in Bengaluru) and of making new friends. It was also a year of losing many elderly relatives and friends. We can’t avoid old age and death but we sure can prepare for it better.

As always, my year is incomplete without a certain amount of travelling. Apart from trips to Ajanta-Ellora, Belur-Halebidu, Chennai, Harihara, Hampi, Kanchipuram, Mysuru, Panjim, Pune, and other smaller towns and villages, I had the chance to visit two important pilgrim centers – Prayagraj for the Ardh-Kumbh Mela and Kanchipuram for the darshana of Atthi-varadar. Although I’m rather faithless in many ways, it was fascinating to see the devotion in millions of our people. It is rather discouraging when I come face to face with the truth that simple faith of the so-called ignorant masses is what keeps Sanatana-dharma alive and not the kind of stuff that I do. That said, I can’t not do what I do because my joy lies here :)

I look forward to 2020 with a hope to cultivate more focus, more stillness of mind. Can I be happier for longer? How can I be more mindful on a daily basis? Can I live with lesser? How can I best choose my projects? – these are the sort of questions I shall probably be grappling with through the year.

One more year has whizzed past. Perhaps I’m just getting used to the speed. Or perhaps I’m somewhat more confident of slowing down in the future. Who knows what’s in store! I smile as I look towards tomorrow.

Wishing you and your family a joy-filled, healthy, and prosperous new year!

Cheers, Hari

PS: At the start of the year, India’s political situation was rather dicey. The country was going to have the once-in-five-years Lok Sabha elections. PM Narendra Modi had done a decent job during his first tenure (2014–19) and there was not a single leader in any party (including his own) who came close to him in terms of either integrity or skill in implementation. The opposition parties were threatening to unite across board with the sole agenda of defeating Modi. Inspired by what Dr. S L Bhyrappa told me and my friends when we met him in 2018, I called for a meeting of a few friends on Republic Day 2019. We all had the same goal: to get Modi re-elected in 2019. To ensure that we don’t have a hung parliament and to give another chance to a politician who had done something positive after ten long years of absolute corruption, deceit, and anti-nationalism, we wanted to work in our own humble way. Starting from that meeting on a warm Saturday afternoon, we went a long way in our campaign. It was entirely funded and run by volunteers who came together of their accord. What we did in terms of the details is unnecessary here but it came as a huge relief that Modi & co. stormed back into power in May 2019. The extraordinary work that they have done in the past six months makes me feel that everything we did during those early months of the year was worth it. Things are not perfect but at least we can be happy that the best people among the ones available to us have been elected to the highest offices of the country. I don’t know what value I added in the process but the process added a lot of value to me!

[hrk4]

The year that was...

Dear Friends:

Season’s Greetings!

There’s a lovely exchange between Holmes and Watson in The Greek Interpreter where Sherlock speaks about his elder brother Mycroft as having in a greater degree the faculty for observation and facility for deduction. At this point, Watson suggests that his companion was being modest.

“My dear Watson,” said he, “I cannot agree with those who rank modesty among the virtues. To the logician all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to underestimate one’s self is as much a departure from truth as to exaggerate one’s own powers. When I say, therefore, that Mycroft has better powers of observation than I, you may take it that I am speaking the exact and literal truth.”

This sort of cold objectivity might not augur well in social engagements but at the level of one’s own self, it is most meaningful. Broken down to its basic philosophical truth, this statement of Holmes eventually leads to the maxim of old – Know thyself.

In 2018 I was further convinced about the fact that other people are nearly incapable of truly estimating you, your strengths, your weaknesses, and your ideas. Doubtless, there are astute people who can give you specific feedback that is restricted to a certain domain. That’s what teachers do all the time. However, it is extremely rare that someone can understand your mind and soul in all complexity and guide you better than your own experiential wisdom.

Although I knew this theoretically, it needed a great deal of real-life intellectual/emotional upheaval for me to grasp it in my bones. But regrets I have none, for I know well that smooth seas make not skillful sailors. On one occasion too many I was influenced by external factors and found myself trapped in self-made prisons for reasons unfathomable except perhaps that my common sense had taken a long vacation.

I found myself running about, sometimes aimlessly, doing more for others and driven by their agendas, rather than sit back and enjoy myself by doing something that I would rather do. It’s not that I didn’t have a great time in the process (thankfully I’ve reached a point in my life that I can turn down any activity that doesn’t bring me basic minimum happiness). I learnt a lot in due course and also enjoyed it, but many of the things I undertook were driven by outer motivations rather than inner aspirations. Further, even things that I wanted to take up, like reading a book or learning a language, I had to resort to external push (study groups) instead of internal drive (self study).

A pleasant co-incidence—or perhaps a co-related event—was that I was able to motivate about twenty of my friends to take up translations and writing for Prekshaa. For the first time in my life perhaps I actively tried motivating others to take up a task aligned to my agenda!

I translated, wrote, and edited a fair number of articles for the Prekshaa journal. I also edited and designed a bunch of books including The Mysore Hiriyanna Library, a modern edition of the writings of Prof. M Hiriyanna. In bursts, I did some research/reading for some of my upcoming book projects.

This year saw a surge in the number of speaking engagements I chanced upon – talks in Gujarat for the Centre for Indic Studies (one on Creation Songs in the Vedas and another on D V Gundappa’s pièce de résistance), a workshop about books to primary school kids, a talk about philosophy in an elders enrichment center, a presentation on the Arab Invasion of Sindh, a corporate writing seminar, and a talk about the Mahabharata for school teachers. I also had the good fortune of attending a few wonderful seminars and workshops, the most notable one being the recent day-long interaction with Dr. S L Bhyrappa in his hometown, Santeshivara.

My hopes of a solo violin concert career inched forward just a little bit, mostly by means of lessons learnt about how not to play a sabha concert. But I did have the chance to play a rewarding chamber concert at a friend’s house with only a few select connoisseurs in audience, giving me great joy and satisfaction.

One of the areas where I happened to work extensively in 2018 was pedagogy, albeit in different forms. I helped create the syllabus for language learning at a primary school level and the syllabus for a BA (honors) course in music. I helped develop some material for the new venture of my parents: Edu Lead Life, an after-school program designed to teach life skills to young adolescents. I also began working on a rough draft of a history syllabus for Indian schools that presents the history of our country as seen by our own historians instead of a distorted history discolored by the colonial or communist stains of dishonesty.

And as is usual with me, I undertook a bit of travel and some amount of dabbling in new domains. Travel destinations were largely restricted to Karnataka (Banavasi, Belur, Dandeli, Halebidu, Mangalore, Mysore, and Sirsi among others) with a few exceptions – Ahmedabad/Modhera, Leh-Ladakh, and Mahabalipuram/Chennai. I began learning the rudiments of Vedic recitation; did a small role in a Sanskrit play-reading presentation; did some voice-over work for a dance production; started going on occasional morning walks; and was featured on The Great Indian Political Weekly, a podcast that deals with Indian culture, society, and politics. I was fortunate to have some friend or the other accompany me in all of these activities.

Looking back at the last five to six years of my life, perhaps this was the first time I was actually starved for solitude. Look at it another way, I was not hurled into the abyss of loneliness. My friends were with me all the time. This evokes both gratitude and caution within; gratitude for their company and caution to remind me not to get used to it, for dependence on any good thing eventually leads to dismay during its absence. It is a universally acknowledged truth that lowering expectations increases one’s happiness. I always remind myself that good times might not last and therefore it’s a good idea to enjoy the moment without anticipation of something similar in the future – each passing moment merely a pleasant dip in the ocean of time.

I enter into 2019 with a sense of tentativeness given the political situation in India. I only hope that our people use their discretion and vote for a leader with a vision, who is toiling to take us forward; not for a dilapidated yet vicious system that still has its ugly tentacles spread far and wide in the judiciary, media, and academia.

For the first time in seven decades India is showing signs of a grand Renaissance. For the first time after independence, we’re seeing a ray of hope that can take us out of the dark ages that loomed large over us during the tyrannical rule of the Gandhi family. It is during critical hours such as these that good people should support the right leaders. As a student of History, it is my estimation that leaders like Narendra Modi, Yogi Adityanath, and Manohar Parikkar come once in a century and unless we go out and vote for people of their caliber and integrity, we cannot have peace in the land or joy in the home.

That said, my personal vision for the coming years is to spend more time on the inward journey, preferring quiet contemplation over the conflagration of ambition. I hope to steer clear of the autobahn of distraction and travel on foot in the silent bylanes with chirping birds, gurgling streams, and shady trees.

Having just read Hamlet in the original (needless to say, in the delightful company of a few friends), I’m reminded of the advice Polonius gives Laertes. The situation in the play comes close to the proverbial devil quoting the scriptures but the scripture in itself is instructive and illuminating:

...Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch’d, unfledged comrade... Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.

Here’s wishing you and your loved ones a great 2019!

Cheers, Hari

[hrk4]

The year that was...

Dear Friends:

Season’s Greetings!

Standing between the two armies eager for battle, Krishna’s exhortation to his friend in dismay was, in essence, this: Why do you hesitate to do what is most natural to you? Why are you so afraid to be yourself? Why are you combating your own temperament, making a mockery of your hard-earned proficiency, and behaving in a manner singularly ill-suited to what you hold dear? Arjuna’s despondency was a consequence of his own sentimentality and hence Krishna inspires him to return to himself, reminding him constantly of his true nature as a warrior. A twenty-first century Krishna would have most certainly appended a proviso to his famous utterance – “Try to excel in the work and path aligned to your nature, even if it is flawed or less glamorous. It is better than following the way of others. You will never feel guilty if you follow your inherent nature.” In that rider, he might well have illustrated the various machinations of society that detracts from the individual the opportunity to stay true to the Self. At every turn in the road of life, people—even with the noblest of intentions—await the slightest of chances to misguide the traveller, gently nudging him away from the inner path. He is expected to tread the beaten track; he is directed to follow the well-known route.

For someone who has relentlessly strayed from the banal passageways leading to predictable endpoints, I faced a profusion of advice and admonition this year from family and friends, badgering me to recognize, nay embrace, the multi-hued, dazzling avenues that would lead me to some goal or achievement or outcome of their choice, which in turn would be hailed by the people of the world as something that perhaps justifies my existence. I’m glad to place on record that all such attempts have failed miserably and I continue to be myself, treading the inward path wholly aligned to my nature. What is particularly memorable is that I did not react to the advice and admonition with anger or arrogance (I must admit that at times I was tempted to flash the middle finger but such murderous thoughts didn’t last long); instead, I quietly accepted it as a gift that is useless to me but given with warmth nevertheless. I smiled at them, not condescendingly, nor artlessly, but with the awareness that nobody is in a better position than I am to evaluate my mind, and therefore any such attempt is bound to fall short – at least in my eyes. Of course, the dark side of this whole business is that my instincts have driven me—often unconsciously—to be more careful around such people �� the unsolicited advisors and admonishers; this has translated into the unfortunate measuring of utterances and the calculation of gestures – clearly a deviation from the natural flow of the self. Therefore the informal tête-à-têtes with such people are bound to decline albeit gradually and in not-so-obvious ways.

In my view, friends are those exceptional individuals with whom you can be yourself, in addition to the unmistakable emotional connection. This is both a function of the attitude of the friends—whether they continually judge you or not—and of your own preoccupation with what the world is thinking of you. The less they judge you and the less you agonize over what others’ think, the more comfortable the relationship. As a silent witness I observed some of my close friends moving far away from me and some of my casual acquaintances moving closer, becoming friends. Through this transitory phase, I tried to remain calm and accept the changing reality, which is inevitable. In such instances, I find solace in recollecting memories with old friends of mine whom I hardly get to meet but every time I do, we start from where we left off, even if that was months or years ago.

When I sat down to gather my thoughts on what the year 2017 has meant to me, more than what my ‘achievements’ were, or even what my ‘learning’ was, my mind was forcibly drawn towards where I stand as an individual; my focus was primarily on how I transformed through the course of these twelve months. ‘Achievements’ implies ego; ‘learning’ suggests an unfinished process; but ‘transformed’ connotes a newer, perhaps better, state of being that has already been effected. That said, to record some of the completed tasks and learnt lessons might be valuable for future improvements, and hence I have found it appropriate to archive them here.

My activities in 2017 were largely confined to the following domains: i. Writing, ii. Music, iii. Research, iv. Design, v. Publishing, and vi. Monkey Business (what my friends at Infy would call ‘इत्यादि-इत्यादि’).

I. I wrote some articles/essays and did a fair bit of translation/editing for Prekshaa Journal as well as for my upcoming books. Apart from having two short stories published (in Indian Review and Cha), I also spent some time writing a detailed outline of my first novel. I taught two courses at Bangalore Writers Workshop and was also a judge at the annual Deccan Herald short story competition. (Lesson learned: Working without constant expectations is both pleasurable and profitable; fretting over deadlines and unfinished projects is counterproductive.)

II. I formally dived into the amateur circuit of Carnatic classical music with an hour-long solo violin concert at Chowdiah Memorial Hall in November. Earlier in the year, I played a couple of chamber concerts. (Lesson learned: If playing in your room is tiring and playing in front of your guru is sweat-inducing, playing in front of an audience is in a different league altogether.)

III. This has mostly involved reading some of the important texts of the Hindu tradition, both primary and secondary sources. This has also meant my taking baby steps into the worlds of Sanskrit poetry, ancient Indian polity and law, history, Kannada literature, and the Epics.

IV. I designed close to fifteen books and four album covers, the highlight being the Prekshaa calendar. I also explored a bit in the area of Indic fonts and hopefully will have a breakthrough soon.

V. For all practical purposes, I didn’t write any book in 2017; I only published books (through W.I.S.E. Words Inc., the Indie publishing setup I run along with Dr. Koti Sreekrishna); eight in all: Stories Behind Verses (by Arjun Bharadwaj and Shashi Kiran B N; in collaboration with Prekshaa Pratishtana), பகவத்கீதை தற்காலத் தமிழில் (by Sripriya Srinivasan), The Song in Pictures (in association with my photographer-friends Anirudh, Anshuman, Divya, Frank, Navneeth, Prathigna, and Skanda), and five anthologies of essays by Prof. M Hiriyanna (a republication of otherwise unavailable classics).

VI. Apart from getting addicted to cryptic crosswords and card magic, I did some voice-acting on stage and voice-over work in the studio. Two short videos produced for Shaale stand testimony to what they’re worth. I signed out of Twitter and LinkedIn. I also spent a few extra hours sorting out my finances. Plus, I started cooking regularly. (Lesson learned: Without all this monkey business, my life will be meaningless.)

It is impossible to write down all the wonderful things I learnt in 2017 but it might be instructive—to my future self, if not anyone else—to document some learnings from my gurus as well as the wonderful artists I had the good fortune of meeting this year:

A. Ever since I was getting ready to perform on stage, my guru Dr. L Subramaniam has been consistently pushing me to improve my art; his focus has entirely shifted from the technical aspect of violin-playing (which was the mainstay during the early years of my lessons with him) and moved to the aesthetic and emotional aspects of music. To give life to every note, to add emotion to every phrase, and to make every performance unique has been his refrain. LS sir has often said: Even if you play for five minutes, it should be something sublime.

B. My entry into Sanskrit poetry and literature has been a direct result of the single-minded prodding, encouragement, and support given to me by Śatāvadhāni Dr. R Ganesh. His emphasis on the importance of familiarity with Sanskrit literature and classical art forms of India—particularly dance—for any student of Indian culture has influenced me deeply. Time and again I have felt that any student of Hindu heritage will benefit by embracing the holistic approach as advocated by Dr. Ganesh as opposed to the numerous other approaches, far more seductive in appeal but piecemeal all the same.

C. Dr. S L Bhyrappa made the astute observation that as a novelist and philosopher, instead of getting affected by a certain individual’s actions (often antagonistic in nature), he tends to go deeper into the psyche of that individual—regarding him/her as a character in a story—and analyzes the more fundamental reason that makes him/her behave in the said manner. In another instance, when Dr. Ganesh asked him during an interview, “What in your opinion keeps a relationship going? What truly sustains love?” he replied with a single word: Mārdava (tenderness, gentleness, compassion).

D. Every visit to Dr. S R Ramaswamy’s office room—rather karmabhūmi—in Chamarajpet is equivalent to reading a pile of books; he teaches us so much, not only by his eloquent speech but also by the force of his personality. When a friend of mine inquired about his fragile health condition, he merely said, “From my twentieth year, I realized that I’m just an āgantuka (stranger, guest, visitor) here in this world.” One seldom finds that sort of awareness—not merely in word, but in action as well. The wonderful paradox in SRR’s worldview is that although he feels like a visitor, he toils with the gusto of a landowner!

E. I have learnt so much just by observing Prof. L V Shanthakumari, an epitome of tranquillity. It baffles me how a person can transcend such pain and yet not make any bones about it. Her presence itself is calming and reassuring but not without a healthy dose of humour and wide-ranging discussion. If only our society had more elderly sages like her.

F. During a conversation I had with Mantap Prabhakar Upadhya, he spoke a great deal about the mind of an artiste during performance. He underscored the importance of art leading to self-forgetfulness; unless the artist can become one with the art, the connoisseurs will not get the ultimate experience. He then told me that when he dances, he doesn’t do it for the applause or for appreciation but as a means of washing off his ego.

G. In my interactions with Nirupama and Rajendra, I found unmatched zest for innovation and a relentless pursuit of self-betterment, not just as dancers but also as human beings. I am reminded of an old saying—One can accomplish almost anything for which one has unlimited enthusiasm—whenever I meet them. When there is absolutely no need to do anything different, when the formula works, and when things are going smoothly, and yet you choose to innovate, that is when you become a pioneer.

H. The continual learning from the extended Prekshaa family—it would be gross injustice to use a term like ‘team’ or ‘crew’—is something that I cannot fully put in writing. I have never seen a more selfless bunch of people, always putting the needs of the organization over their own, making mock of their own travails, and creating an atmosphere of riotous fun without ever subtracting from the tasks to be accomplished. To me, this is nothing less than lokasaṅgraha in action.

2017 started off with a celebration of my mother’s sixtieth birthday (in February) with a small get-together and large doses of music. On the occasion, we brought out her book Sixty Years, Sixty Episodes, a collection of interesting anecdotes from various dimensions of her life. By mid-year, our family was going through a terrible phase with the sudden deaths of members of the immediate and extended family. My grandmother, Smt. Malathi Rangaswamy passed away in July at the age of eighty-five. She was perfectly normal even the previous evening—afflicted by neither a fever nor a cold—and the next afternoon, she was gone. To live according to your terms is rare but rarer still is to die according to your terms. Those who knew her surely felt that with her passing, an era had ended. An old school orthodoxy that had its own warmth and beauty in spite of its obvious limitations. A life of rigorous economy and wise investments. A determination that always placed principles before passions; a firmness, even rigidity, that put faith above joys and comforts; motherly love that knew no discrimination; and benevolence that knew no bounds. The end of 2017 brings with it my father’s semi-retirement from his erstwhile semi-retirement. After a few successful consultancy assignments, he is setting out to write a book chronicling his twenty-year journey of social service in the area of Avoidable Blindness; quite aptly, he has chosen to call the book Eye-opener.

My travels this year were mostly limited to South India—south of the Vindhyas, to be precise,—a place that is my home and that satisfies me more than anywhere else on the planet, with the sole exception of the Himalayas.

The more I read international news and the more I talk to friends living in the US and Europe, the more I’m convinced that as on date, India is—in addition to being so vibrant and diverse—among the safest and sanest places to live in the world; doubtless, we have our own problems but when a population of over a billion is governed by less than a hundred thousand police stations and yet able to maintain peace by and large, then it has definitely something to do with our ‘civilizational maturity,’ as one of my friends put it.

Speaking at the launch of his most recent book, Dr. S R Ramaswamy recalled a wonderful remark by his guru D V Gundappa: “If we were to think that the Supreme [or Destiny or the universe; call it what you wish] bestows upon us those things that we deserve—ex officio—then we would have absolutely nothing. It is because of His immense kindness that He grants us—ex gratia—all the things that we have.” In sum, we don’t get merely what we deserve, but far more than that. And I shall leave you with that thought.

Here’s wishing you and your loved ones a great 2018!

Cheers, Hari

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The year that was...

Dear Friends:

Season’s Greetings!

Show me the store where I can buy time and I shall give you every last cent of mine. Sounds like a quotable quote, doesn’t it? I just made it up. Perhaps it popped out of me while I was frantically attempting to find a line summarizing how I feel every winter. Gasping for breath in an attempt to slow the clock but always falling behind. A predictable failure or a shot in the dark? The race against time is thrilling all the same – won’t you agree?

When I sat down last night to piece together my jumbled thoughts in a bid to write my end-of-the-year e-mail—as I have been doing unfailingly since 2010—I got the feeling that 2016 was an absolute and unforgivable disaster. But I went ahead jotting down all that I had done, hysterically cross-referencing with my e-mails and text messages. After I listed out all the points, I was like, “Actually it isn’t that bad.” Given my predisposition to fluctuate between acute lethargy and furious workaholism—often tending towards the former yet appearing to be the latter—I thought I got a decent haul from 2016. At this point of time in my life, I’m grateful that at least something got done.

I often used to say: When I wake up, I’m ambitious but I when I go to bed, I’m contented, but strangely I never cared to pinpoint the minute or hour when the ambition transitions into contentment. As the years go by, I’m certainly reaching the point of inflection earlier and earlier in the day.

Moving out of Bangalore last September gave me a lot of time not only to work mindfully on things that mattered but also to contemplate on what really mattered to me: Music and Writing, in no particular order. As much as I have deep interest in other fields, these two seem to be the leitmotifs in the past five years. I did a fair bit of both in 2016.

I (co-)wrote about twenty articles – for Prekshaa, Daily O, The Rediscovery of India, Southern Economist, and Swarajya. My short stories appeared in Spark and The Four Quarters Magazine.  I was asked to write a few flash fiction pieces for The New Indian Express. I also wrote a few Math-themed stories for Ever-After Learning (one of which was made into a cute video).

This year, I started working on translations of the Thirukkural, the Narada Bhakti Sutra, the Nyaya Sutras of Gautama, Shatavadhani Dr. R Ganesh’s Bharatiya Kshaatra Parampare, episodes from the first volume of D V Gundappa’s Jnapaka Chitrashale, and a 1965 Kannada novel. They are at different stages of incompletion and I have to probably learn sorcery to ensure that they are all completed by 2017.

In July 2016, we celebrated my paternal grandfather’s centenary. My father decided that I should write a book in memory of his father, which would be launched on the day of the get-together. The idea was to record the family history as well as showcase the joint family concept of the yesteryear. In about three weeks, I whipped out Kutumba: A Journey of Emotions with my family members doubling as research associates.

Even as the ink was drying on the copies of Kutumba in the printing press, I was feverishly at work on the next book. It took another three weeks to design and finalize Do Good in the World. Again, my father’s idea. This book was to highlight the exemplary social service undertaken by my father’s friend (who has become a family friend now) and fellow Rotarian, Dr. Gabriel Minder of Geneva, Switzerland. Gabriel turned 80 in August and we (my father and I) went to Geneva to spend a couple of days with him. Instead of going empty-handed, my father wanted to put together a book about him. Which turned out to be a good idea because Gabriel was delighted.

After the birthday celebrations in Geneva and a quick trip to Rotkreuz to meet my cousin, I went to Germany to spend time with my good friends. I had imagined that my visit would entail sitting around the house, having a drink, engaging in deep discussions about the meaning of existence, and watching a movie or two. Instead I was made to walk, to trek, to cycle. With much skill and tenacity, they extracted suchlike healthy activities out of me. Next time I shall be visiting them in the peak of winter. (To be fair, my kind hosts ensured that I got everything that I wanted; the healthy activities were in addition to that.) From Germany I proceeded to the Netherlands, where I gave a bunch of talks on Hinduism and Indian philosophy. I was fortunate to be invited to speak about Hindu thought at an inter-faith seminar at the Abdij van Berne (Berne Abbey). It was a wonderful experience to meet so many people interested in the traditional wisdom of India. I was also impressed by their openness towards inter-religious dialogue. On this trip I inadvertently ended up playing two chamber concerts (violin solo) – one in Ferney-Voltaire and the other in Rotterdam.

Apart from my back and forth to Bangalore, I traveled to Mumbai, Pune, and Chennai during the first half of the year – all of which resulted in wonderful meetings and unforgettable experiences. I had moved back to Bangalore by the time I was involved in all the rigorous writing, having enjoyed a good eight months in the sleepy town of Chikmagalur in Central Karnataka. Later in the year, I made two trips—one to Dandeli and another to Wayanad—taking me close to the wilderness. Lying on the lap of nature, with a lullaby of chirping birds, I effortlessly ignored all the deadlines that were staring at my face.

One of the highlights of the year was the launch of the book that I co-wrote with my grandmother Malathi Rangaswamy – Foggy Fool’s Farrago, a modern English translation of D V Gundappa’s Mankutimmana Kagga. It was a great privilege and delight to have Dr. S R Ramaswamy (renowned journalist and writer; a direct disciple of D V Gundappa) preside over the book launch and Shatavadhani Dr. R Ganesh (multifaceted scholar and poet; an authority on DVG) present the keynote address. Thanks to Shaale, the event was captured for posterity. After the translation came out, I was also invited to speak about the book in a couple of places.

Another highlight of the year was something that I didn’t do but acted as a cheerleader and a witness. My friend Sripriya Srinivasan took it upon herself to translate the Bhagavad-Gita into simple Tamil using The New Bhagavad-Gita as a guide. She worked with unbelievable alacrity and sent it to me for a review. Ever since it has remained on my desk. I’ve promised myself to have it ready by Tamil New Year. While on the topic of the Gita, I must share with you a charming set of videos that I recently recorded with Koti Sreekrishna titled ‘Introduction to the Bhagavad-Gita.’

In other monkey business that I did this year, I facilitated a few writing workshops, participated in a business plan contest, did a course at the Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies, spoke in Bengali about Kannada literature at the Nikhil Bharat Banga Sahitya Sammelan, joined a team that has been commissioned to work on a book about ancient India, and started taking a keen interest in Tamil literature. I also engaged in several (often useless) Keyboard Wars on Facebook resulting in my blocking a few mischief-makers and generally feeling tired of some people’s rigidity and stupidity (and also my own). 2017 will, sadly, see a lot less of such fighting from my end.

If I begin to recount the number of failed ideas and flopped projects in my year, it would be like listing out all the disasters of 2016. One doesn’t know where to begin and where to end. Having moved now to the peaceful, old Bangalore locality of Malleswaram, I look forward to 2017 with hope in my eyes, fire in my heart and a smirk on my face. Experiential wisdom tells me no drastic change is to be expected. Whether enthusiasm will overpower experience remains to be seen.

What has been a constant though is my good fortune in having had several opportunities to interact intimately with so many of you, resulting in much learning and joy for me (and hopefully for you too).

Here’s wishing you and your loved ones a great 2017!

Cheers, Hari

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. – Mark Twain

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Publications

Books Srishti (with Koti Sreekrishna) -- 2015 SaPa Baby -- Vol. 3 (designer)  (by Dr. L Subramaniam and Bindu Subramaniam) -- 2015 Your Dharma and Mine (translator)  (by Shatavadhani Dr. R Ganesh) -- 2015 ಸ್ತುತಿ ಸಂಪುಟ (designer)  (edited by Indira Venkatesan) -- 2015 ಬೇರುಗಳು ಮತ್ತು ರೆಕ್ಕೆಗಳು (designer)  (translation of Roots and Wings by Malathi Rangaswamy) -- 2015 Best of the Bestiary (editor)  (with Bhumika Anand) -- 2015 SaPa Baby -- Vol. 2 (designer)  (by Dr. L Subramaniam and Bindu Subramaniam) -- 2014 The Complete Bhagavad-Gita (with Koti Sreekrishna) -- 2014 Lakshminarayana Global Music Festival (designer)  (by Dr. L Subramaniam and Dr. Narayana Subramaniam) -- 2013 The Easy Bhagavad-Gita (with Koti Sreekrishna) -- 2013 SaPa Baby -- Vol. 1 (designer)  (by Dr. L Subramaniam and Bindu Subramaniam) -- 2013 The New Bhagavad-Gita (with Koti Sreekrishna) -- 2011 Roots and Wings (with Naresh Keerthi) -- 2005

Poetry Yoga -- Spark, September 2015

Short Stories Ahimsa -- Spark, January 2016 The Real Education -- The Criterion, December 2015 2007 AD -- The Four Quarters Magazine, September 2015 The Partaking -- Open Road Review, August 2015 The Dishwashers -- Indian Short Fiction, July/August 2015 A Letter to a Carnatic Music Fanatic Friend -- Spark, July 2015 The Nine Crisp Notes -- Spark, June 2015 Monopoly -- Spark, May 2015 Accident -- Indian Short Fiction, 2014 Suicide -- The Affair, April 2014 Budo -- Bangalore Writers Workshop Blog, February 2013 The Interview -- Bhavan's Journal, October 2007

Travelogues A Medieval Holiday -- The Economic Times, Chennai Edition, 9 January 2009 Chile: Where the Land Ends -- The Economic Times, Bangalore Edition, 23 November 2007

Book Reviews The Last Viceroy of India -- IndiaFacts, December 2015 Bitter Truths, Difficult Questions -- IndiaFacts, July 2015

Articles Myth and Reality in "Myth and Reality" -- IndiaFacts, December 2015  Part I. Deconstructing D D Kosambi: Myth and Reality  Part II. Deconstructing D D Kosambi: Numbers Don't Lie  Part III. Deconstructing D D Kosambi: Misrepresenting the Gita Some Strange Inconsistencies in our National Discourse (with Shatavadhani Dr. R. Ganesh) -- Swarajya, December 2015  Part I. Social inconsistencies  Part II. Political inconsistencies  Part III. Inconsistencies in academia and culture The Hindu View of the World (article series) (with Shatavadhani Dr. R. Ganesh) -- IndiaFacts, 2015  1. Introduction to Hinduism  2. Foundations of Hinduism  3. Classification of Dharma  4. The Pillars of Indian Culture: Rta, Rna, Dharma  5. Foundational Texts of Hinduism  6. Bodies of Knowledge in Hinduism  7. Glossary of Terms in Hinduism  8. Hindu View of the World: A Beginning  9. The Hindu View on Freedom of Expression and Public Discourse  10. The Hindu View on Food and Drink  11. Clarifying the Hindu View  12. Exploring the World of Varna  13. A Postscript to the World of Varna Commonsense Karma (weekly column) -- Daily O, 2015 What is Dharma? -- The Frustrated India, July 2015 Echoes from the Music Room -- Saamagaana, June 2015 Does the Bhagavad-Gita Advocate War? (with Koti Sreekrishna) -- Spark, April 2015 Shock Treatment in Bhagavad Gita (with Koti Sreekrishna) -- Bhavan’s Journal, 31 July 2012

(as on 8 January 2016)

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W.I.S.E. Words Inc.

Srishti (2015)

Buy the book in: Canada | France | Germany | India | Italy | Spain | UK | USA

How did everything come to be in the universe? This question has intrigued humans from their earliest days. Even today we don’t have all the answers. Many millennia ago, the seers of ancient India contemplated on various aspects of life. They recorded their experiences in the form of poetry. Their collective wisdom forms the Vedas, the foremost Hindu scriptures. Vedic literature is replete with lucid poems and songs of creation that celebrate the joy and wonder of perceiving the cosmos instead of trying to propose a rigid theory or law of creation. For possibly the first time in English, here is a collection of all the major creation poems from the vast canon of Vedic literature. This eminently readable translation, along with extensive notes, gives easy access to these songs from the past for readers everywhere. This is the definitive guide to the Hindu view of Creation.

Your Dharma and Mine (2015)

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What is dharma? Why is this idea hailed as the greatest philosophical concept of India? What aspects of this dharma apply to everyone? Shataavadhani Dr. R Ganesh, one of India’s foremost Sanskrit scholars, paints a complete picture of dharma with clarity and brevity, drawing from many authoritative sources on Hinduism including the Vedas, Upanishads, Mahabharata, and Dharmashastras. Through the course of this book, he describes how dharma provides us with a perspective to appreciate the best in any religious or secular value system across time and place. It is the universal set that encompasses the greatest teachings of all possible philosophies. By the end, the reader will become aware of the magnanimity and magnificence of the ancient Indian way of thinking and will agree with the great seer Manu when he writes: Among all dharmas / the greatest is self-knowledge. / It leads to immortality. (Manusmriti 12.85)

The Complete Bhagavad-Gita (2014)

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Two friends have a conversation at the outset of an epic war. One of them, Arjuna, is sad and confused in the face of imminent doom; the other, Krishna, decides to cheer him up and clear his doubts. Through the course of their battlefield dialogue Krishna assumes the role of a mentor teaching Arjuna the timeless wisdom of the ‘Bhagavad-Gita’. Krishna’s universal message applies to the whole of human life since it is an extension of his colorful, multi-dimensional personality: god, king, warrior, strategist, statesman, philosopher, charmer, and above all a joyful participant in the game of life. The Bhagavad-Gita is a great place to start if one wants to know about India’s grand heritage, religion, art, culture, lifestyle, philosophy, and spirituality. The Complete Bhagavad-Gita explores the ancient text verse-by-verse, word-by-word and takes the reader on a journey of the Gita like never before.

The Easy Bhagavad-Gita (2013)

Buy the book in: Canada | China | France | Germany | India | Italy | Spain | UK | USA Buy the e-book on Smashwords

Two friends have a conversation at the outset of an epic war. One of them, Arjuna, is sad and confused in the face of imminent doom; the other, Krishna, decides to cheer him up and clear his doubts. Through the course of their battlefield dialogue Krishna assumes the role of a mentor and inspires Arjuna, teaching him the timeless wisdom of the ‘Bhagavad-Gita’. The Easy Bhagavad-Gita is so exceedingly easy that a 5000 year-old discourse feels intimate, accessible, and contemporary. And it is a great place to start if one wants to know about India’s grand heritage, religion, art, culture, philosophy, and spirituality.

The New Bhagavad-Gita (2011)

Buy the book in: Canada | France | Germany | India | Italy | Spain | UK | USA

Two friends have a conversation at the outset of an epic war. One of them, Arjuna, is sad and confused in the face of imminent doom; the other, Krishna, decides to cheer him up and clear his doubts. Through the course of their dialogue, while inspiring Arjuna to do his work, Krishna assumes the role of a mentor and imparts the timeless wisdom that is called the Bhagavad-Gita. For someone who wants to know about India’s grand heritage, religious traditions, philosophy, and spirituality, the Bhagavad-Gita is a good place to start.

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The year that was...

Dear Friends:

Season’s Greetings!

Another year has whizzed past. The time for review and reflection arrives amid reluctance. Some extra days (or months) to complete pending tasks might have helped. Much unfinished business remains. But that’s the way of the world, I suppose. I’m reminded of a song by the Tamil poet Kannadasan:

If every thought became reality god wouldn’t be If we brood over our history peace wouldn’t be A story finished doesn’t begin in the book of god A story begun doesn’t finish in the house of man

From my earliest days, I’ve made grand plans for my life. In 2015, more so. There hasn’t been a week during which I have not had an idea that requires at least a few years to execute. Dreaming big may appear foolhardy in today’s world of S.M.A.R.T. goals but my experience has been different. Shooting for the stars has ensured that I don’t end up with a fistful of mud. Without these impossible ideas, I might have fallen short of even what I am fundamentally capable of (which is possibly why e. e. cummings said, “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are”). I learnt that failures are red herrings, like the irrelevant clues that distract even the most tenacious of detectives. Without my crazy dreams, my abysmal failures would not exist but so wouldn’t my measly list of successes. I might have had a life of certainty, security, and comfort but perhaps not one of wonder, adventure, and joy.

When I first wrote my end-of-the-year report in 2010, my motive was to take stock of what I had done in the year. Writing these reminiscences every December has now afforded me an opportunity to view my life, spread over a five-year period. Some patterns begin to emerge from these annual memoirs. In some areas, I find a mellowing of the personality; in others, I find greater intensity of purpose. While there is a general push towards becoming better, I don’t kick myself about it anymore. An organic development of the self, drawing from various sources, is perhaps how it happens. In the words of the polymath D V Gundappa:

Let the mind grow, learning from hundreds of experiences Let a hundred streams of experience swell the ocean of life Let bodily bindings break Let life join the dance of eternal consciousness

In my narratives, I also find a constant quest for the new and the unexplored. Every year, I have taken up something completely new and ventured outside my comfort zone. This internal stretching of myself has been immensely enriching. It’s arduous to continue pursuing all the areas explored but the voyages bring new insights for everyday living, which is, I think, the biggest boon of embarking on these adventures. In 2015, I turned entrepreneur after starting a company with Shom Biswas with a dream of changing the way Indian literature is shared with the world.

I’ve been fortunate to travel to new places every year, make new friends, and learn more about myself. More books, more movies, more music. Less frustration, less gossip, less complaining. Almost zero television or newspapers. Hopefully next year I can say: more exercise and less junk food, more reading and less social media.

2015 started off on a sour note with rejection after rejection pouring in from every single university I had applied to (in the US) for a master’s degree in writing. For the first time in my life, I failed at something in spite of assiduous preparation. Of course, I have seen hundreds of personal failures in my thirty-one years but this was an instance where I simply couldn’t rationalize it. A failure remains a failure only if you don’t take away the lesson but here I didn’t know what the lesson was. Six months of efforts and a great deal of money vanished like a fart in the wind. And it stank. I felt particularly miserable because so many people had helped me on this journey. Not only had I wasted my time and money, I had also wasted the time and efforts of so many friends and well-wishers. That pained me more than anything else. But the clock cannot be set back and the only way out is forward.

Perhaps that failure helped convert a great deal of potential energy to kinetic energy. I (co-)wrote close to sixty articles, most of which were published. Quite a few of them appeared as part of Commonsense Karma, a weekly column that I wrote for Daily O. Six of my short stories were published (ten others were rejected). My translation of Śatāvadhāni Dr. R. Ganesh’s monograph Sāmānyadharma was released in India in August. The book I co-wrote with Koti Sreekrishna -- Srishti: Songs of Creation from the Vedas -- came out during Dipavali. I was also invited by Shaale to speak about these Vedic Creation Poems on The Sanskrit Podcast. Earlier in the year, I co-edited with Bhumika Anand an anthology of short fiction titled Best of the Bestiary. In March, I embarked on a project with my maternal grandmother to bring out a modern English translation of DVG’s masterpiece Mankutimmana Kagga; we’re hoping to launch it during Yugadi 2016. Another project that is close to completion is the audio-book version of The Easy Bhagavad-Gita with Jurgen Nigli (as Krishna) and Somsubhra Banerjee (as Arjuna). A quirky chance landed me in a Dutch TV program -- my debut in the world of television.

This year, I wrote several Facebook posts during heated religio-political debates with people with varied points of view. In retrospect it was a complete waste of time because most people I argued with knew little or nothing about either religion or politics. They felt that being a left-liberal is sufficient to be right. While they are the ones demanding free speech, they also seem to be the first to take offence to an alternative discourse. An extreme form of political correctness seems to be as bad as religious fanaticism. The bright side was that I wrote a great deal and read up a lot of material to respond to the polemics. I also realized the dangers of people sticking to an ideology instead of adhering to the truth.

By now, the word ‘career’ has distanced itself from my dictionary. I did some odd jobs through the year -- teaching the violin at SAPA, facilitating courses at BWW, helping the Melton Foundation’s Global Selection Team, and being an adviser to the proactive team that runs Pramiti. As part of my work with the Melton Foundation, I traveled to Ghana and to Chile – both of which were memorable and eye-opening. Also, I moved out of Bangalore in September, to spend a greater part of my time in tranquility and anonymity.

We witnessed many disasters in 2015 -- The earthquake in Nepal. The economic meltdown in Greece. The flooding of Chennai. The Paris attack (which was, incidentally, one of nearly 2,800 jihadi attacks that took place in 2015, killing close to 27,000 people and injuring over 25,000). The fragility of human life and material possessions came up time and again. To me, these are just reminders to live more simply and spend time doing what interests me instead of going behind what is socially prescribed. In the midst of all this noise, I still believe there is place for silence and for bliss. It just matters what we pursue.

As always, I have been truly fortunate to have spent so many golden moments with many of you. And I hope it continues. 

Here’s wishing you and your loved ones a great 2016!

Cheers, Hari

amantramakṣara nāsti nāsti mūlamanauṣadham | ayogyaḥ puruṣo nāsti yojakastatra durlabha ||

Every letter is a potential mantra Every herb is a potential medicine There are no useless human beings It’s the user’s incompetence

[hrk4]

Mankutimmana Kagga #794

manasu beḻeyali bhujisi nūru nūranubhavava | honalu nūrī bāḻa kaḍalanubbisali || tanubandha kaḻaci jīvavakhaṇḍacētanada | kuṇitadali kūḍirali - maṅkutimma |794|

--

Let the mind grow, learning from hundreds of experiences. Let a hundred streams of experience swell the ocean of life. Let bodily bindings break and let life join the dance of eternal consciousness!

--

(with Malathi Rangaswamy)

[hrk4]

Mankutimmana Kagga #351

hudugihudadelli paramātmanī tanuvinali | hṛdayadoḷo meduḷinoḷo hubbinirukinoḷo || idanenito tarkisihar enneṇikeyani kēḷu | udaravātmanivāsa - maṅkutimma |351|

--

Where in the body is god hiding? In the heart, the brain, or between the eyebrows? People have debated this a lot. Now hear my view: god resides in the stomach.

--

(with Malathi Rangaswamy)