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TEACHINGS FROM THE ETERNAL SONG, THE BHAGVAD GITA

REASSURANCE FROM THE LORD

Lord Krishna is infinitely merciful.

In reply to Arjuna’s query about the Lord’s incarnations in this world, He says,

“Whenever there is a decline or degradation of Virtue and Righteousness in this world, I shall make my appearance to set things right again.”

“For protection of the righteous and good people and for elimination of the wicked, I shall take birth again and again,as often as required.”

Lord Krishna also demonstrates that He is truly an Infinite Being when he says that all paths taken by the believers are acceptable to Him.

Whomsoever you worship, in whatever virtuous manner it be, the prayers end up at His Lotus Feet.

Thus the merciful Krishna declares that all paths lead to Him ultimately.

HARI OM.


Based on His Teachings in Chapter 4 of the Bhagvad Gita.



THULABARAM

There is, in the Lord's Abode in Guruvayoor,
A common balance for weighment of offerings.

It's called Thulabaram.

Only, it is anything but common.

A priest there is entrusted the task
Of weighing the offerings you committed
To Lord Krishna.

It may be a few kilos of some vegetable
Or fruit, grains or sugar or what you will.


But it got to be necessarily what you committed!

For,

Have seen with my own eyes
The priest struggling to weigh
A couple of kilos or maybe three
Of a certain vegetable, think it was yam.

But it simply wouldn't balance, though he
Kept on heaping the yam on it!

Then, on the priest's asking,
The devotee said he had thought
Of a different vegetable, maybe raw banana,

But had settled for yam since he couldn't
Get the banana.

The priest quickly removed the yam
Asked the devotee to be back
With the vegetable committed!

Only then, the priest said with conviction,

The weighment would happen.

It’s my life.

"It's my life," the young ones claim,
And someone has even sung it, they say.

"We will lead our lives as it pleases us,
No anyone shall have any say."

That's fine, quite right too, I dare say,
It's your life, no dispute there.

But it would help to sit and ponder,
And words of mine to remember;

" Can you even get a slice of bread,
A drink, or think whatever you will,
Without the effort of ‘others',
Without the Will of a Power above?"

Our fortunes are all intertwined,
Now more than ever,
Any action of yours, good or bad,
Can find its echo far and near.

Therefore
Young ones:
I would rather sing,
" It's our lives."

WAY TO GOD'S HEART

God whispered in my ears,
“Shhh! Do you have money to spare?”

Thrilled, I replied in haste,

“Yes, my Lord, how much do you want?”

“I need nothing, you fool!

So go not to any temple of Worship
With your donation.

Go there, to yonder starving child,
Feed him a few morsels,
And to that man in rags there,
Get him some decent clothing.

Go out into the world,
Do whatever good you can,

That way you will realize true wealth
And the route to my heart.”


MY VENTILATED EGO

Time was when my ego was robust and strong,
And proud of its own solid, impenetrable quality,
And its sheer heaviness, though not physically visible;

That was way long ago.
Then I used to feel the weight of the ego in my head,
And feel, like Atlas, as though carrying a constant burden.

Others used to sense it too, and a few to suffer from it- from the weight of my ego!

After many years and experiences that
Lead to what they term as ‘maturity’,
There is now a palpable difference.

The ego, like anything else material, has aged,
Many a hole has been punctured in the non-material ego
By wordy barbs and by sharp shafts of cruel reality,
And by the influence of other people’s egos.

Hence it is now a well perforated and airy ego.
It is much lighter now.
It is well ventilated because of the holes,
And no words or actions can cause any further damage,

Because they pass right through.

I am enjoying my perforated ego every day now.

It's so nicely ventilated.






WEAK STRENGTH

The ego is flattered and thrilled to the core
When people say that I am oh –so- strong
And have a broad and generous shoulder
For the weak ones to cry upon.

If only they knew about my heart’s troubled sinews,
And the gashes I endure under my sashes,
If only they knew I feel as much as the others,
That my cold emotionless eyes and firm -appearing jaws
Are but fronts put on by a puffed up ego
To retain the image of the Herculean man.

Where will I turn for solace then,
Whose shoulder shall I weep upon,
When even though a shoulder be thus lent,
My ego will disallow to give vent.