guatamabuddh

The Eight Fold PathBuddhism does not aim to explain God, creation or eternal concepts. Such truths can only be found within the heart of a person. Whatever one holds within the heart is what is. What Buddhism does aim to do is help us overcome the chaos of this world and point us to a path that leads us to our own spirituality. We are all searching for the same things- freedom from our pain and realizing who we truly are, deep within. The Buddha Siddharthe Guatama, in his contemplation, realized the truth about suffering and the path to liberation from it. This Eight-Fold Path and Four Noble Truths make up the foundation of Buddhism.
Right View
The Four Noble Truths:
1. The truth about suffering is that it exists. Life is suffering. Birth, aging and dying is suffering.
2. Our reaching into the world of dreams, our desire to fulfill what cannot be fulfilled is what brings us our suffering.
3. Only when we have broken the mirrors of illusion can we end our suffering, and
4. the Eight-Fold Path can help us to break our habits of suffering.
When we are able to recognize suffering as it enters our lives, see that our own desires have brought us this pain, and understand that letting go of this desire can bring us peace we have attained Right View.
Right Thought
Reality grows in the garden of the mind. Our world is the fruit of our thoughts that sprout from the seeds of ideas. We must therefore be discerning gardeners, looking carefully at what ideas we allow to take root within the mind. We must be able to recognize which ideas and thoughts are born of desire and which carry the seeds of desire that causes our suffering.
The seeds of suffering that take root within the mind are those of greed, ill-will, hostility, denigration, dominance, envy, jealousy, hypocrisy, fraud, obstinacy, presumption, conceit, arrogance, vanity and negligence. In Buddhism, these are known as the 15 defilements, and the Buddha realized 6 methods for removing such defilements from the mind:
1. Restraining: Restrain from what pleases the senses but bears poison.
2. Using: Use all that we are, all that we have, all there is to cultivate peace.
3. Tolerating: Tolerate all adversity, and never abandon our gardens to the wild.
4. Avoiding: Avoid all that is impure and spoils the soil of the mind. Tend only to what is pure and that which nurtures the pure.
5. Destroying: Remove the defilements by destroying them from the root.
6. Developing: Never cease to develop our skills of peacefulness.
Right Speech
We are often judged by our words. Long after we leave this world, our words shall remain. Words can often be sharper than the blade of the sword, bringing harm to the spirit of a person which can cause wounds that are deeper and last longer than that of a dagger. Therefore, we must choose our words carefully. The Buddha realized 4 methods of speech that bring peace to our lives and the lives of those who surround us.
1. Words of Honesty: Speaking without truth can be a means to our end and to the end of others. Therefore, honesty is always the best policy.
2. Words of Kindness: Speaking words of kindness, we will never be the cause that divides hearts or puts brother against brother. We become peacemakers. Our words are cherished and valued and shall bring peacefulness to ourselves and to those surrounding us.
3. Words that are Nurturing: Words that comfort rather than harm the heart, shall travel to the heart, and bring long lasting peace.
4. Words that are Worthy: Speaking only what is worthy and valuable for the moment, our words will always be found sweet to the ears of others and shall always be considered in a peaceful manner. Words of gossip, untruth, and selfishness do not return to us with peace. The worth of our words is measured by how much they improve the silence.
Right Action
All of our lives we have been instructed to do the right thing. Often we are perplexed with what is the right thing. Ultimately, we must decide for ourselves what is right- but often our judgment is clouded by the defilements of the mind. While upon the Eight-Fold path, we must remember that our aim is to end our suffering. All we do, comes back to us in one way or another, eventually. What may be the right thing for the moment may not be the right thing for the next. Although this moment is the only one that exists, we must not fail to realize that within this moment- the past, present and future are contained. The truly right does not change from moment to moment. Look deep within your own heart, and you will know what is right.
The Golden Rule in Buddhism is: Do no harm.
The Buddha practiced the following code of conduct in his own life:
1. Respect life
2. Earn all that you have
3. Control your desire, rather than allow desire to control you.
Right Livelihood
Often when one begins practicing the ways of Peace, a time comes when lifestyle must be evaluated. In this life, we have the opportunity to liberate ourselves from the cycle of suffering and find peace. We also have the opportunity to help others break free. Does one's way of life support or hinder the ways of Peace? Only the heart knows.
Right Effort
The path is not an easy one. Our habits of suffering are strong, and deeply imprinted in our way of life. It is difficult to maneuver peacefully in a world of chaos. Many of the things that we know we must let go of are things that we have held dearly for we have fought fiercely to obtain them. Our very own self- identity may have been formed with great personal sacrifice. Discipline and diligence is key to persevering on the path. Therefore, our decision to take up the path to liberation must be firm, and executed with right effort. When we have realized the truth of suffering, and are willing to seek liberation with the same tenacity as a drowning man struggles for a breath, then right effort has been attained.
Right Mindfulness
Being mindful of the heart of matters can help us to overcome suffering with understanding. When sitting, laying or moving, being mindful of the following four frames of references are said by the Buddha to help us achieve great understanding, and can even help us unlock the secrets that are within our hearts.
1. The Body: Paying attention to our physical being can help us direct the mind away from the distractions of the world. Focusing on our breath, our movements, our actions, our components, and on the sheer miracle of our physical existence we can arrive at calmness and clarity.
2. Feelings: Paying attention to our external and internal feelings, observing their rise and fall, can help us realize their origination, development and decline. Understanding the nature of our feelings can help us let go and break our habits of clinging.
3. Mind: Turning the mind upon itself, observing our thoughts, can help us realize the origination and aim of our thoughts. With this understanding, we can understand the nature of the mind and overcome our thought habits of suffering.
4. Mental Qualities: Paying attention to our mental state of mind can help us recognize the five hindrances of our mentality (sensual desire, ill-will, laziness, anxiety and doubt). Observing their origination, development and decline, can help us realize how we can overcome them. By observing the origination, the components, the development, and the decline of things in regard to these frames of reference, we can find a deep understanding in the nature of ourselves, and to know our own hearts is to know the hearts of others.
Right Concentration
As we sail through life, the winds of desire push us toward the Ocean of Suffering. But the skillful stand firm in virtue at the helm, directing the rudder of the mind toward peace. Single-minded concentration on the path to Peace (the Eight-Fold path) is right concentration. It is picking yourself up when you stumble and continuing onward. It is recognizing why you have fallen astray. It is recognizing when you are about to fall. It is continuing upon the path without hesitation or doubt. It is never ceasing to develop our skill in the way.
Namaste'
References: The Mulalapariyaya, Sabbasava, Sammaditthi, Satipatthana, Vitakkasanthana, Abhaya, Mahacattarisaka, and the Bhaddekaratta Suttas of the Majjhima Nikaya (the Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha)

London: The Most Expensive City

'This city is too too expensive!!’

This outburst is from Francoise Simard, a Canadian tourist who came in to London for a week’s holiday directly after a four-day stay in Paris.

'Paris is the city in the world that has the most tourists every year, but I found it much cheaper than London.’ Her tone is authoritative as if there is no doubt whatsoever in her mind.

Asked for specifics, she points to the hotel rates. 'What you pay in Euros in Paris, you have to pay in pounds in London.' And it’s not only the boarding. 'They provide a continental breakfast for seven pounds and it is only a three star hotel. In Paris they are much more reasonable.'

Did she take up the issue with the management of the hotel? The hotel has an impressive façade and lobby and is well located being just off Belgrave Road within walking distance from Victoria tube station. ‘As a matter of fact, I did,’ she said. ‘I told them the breakfast was too expensive and I would eat out.’ And their reaction? ‘They just shrugged. “It’s only seven pounds!” they said.’

Karen Laljani, a visitor from Brussels agrees with Francoise.

'I went to see a movie in Leicester Square,’ she says. ‘I could not believe the price of the ticket. Nine pounds for a movie!! I have to compare it with Brussels where I go to see movies at the Heysel the biggest movie complex in Europe. I pay only five and a half euros over there.'

Nasser Zakr came into London from Milan. He had contracted an eye infection and went across to a clinic in Victoria Station. He was shocked when he was asked to pay 69 pounds for an examination that took barely three minutes.

'The doctor felt there was no need to see a specialist, but I still had the problem after four days and when I went to see him the next time there was no discount. Another 69 pounds. I ended up paying 138 pounds for a routine examination and I'm not sure if there have actually been any benefits, come to think of it.'

But Medicare is expensive all over Europe. Not so much, claims Nasser, a seasoned traveler whose work takes him to different European cities. He explains: ‘I flew in from Paris actually where I had some work and the examination at the De Gaulle airport cost me only thirty-two Euros.’

According to a survey done by Merer Human Resources Consulting in December 2005 Tokyo and London are the most expensive cities in the world. The survey measures the comparative cost of 200 items in various cities chosen for the survey.

Whatever the truth of these claims be that London is currently the most expensive city in Europe, the crowds at peak tourist areas would seem to suggest that it doesn't deter any one from coming here.

"Will the passengers please fasten their seat belts," said a soft voice over the intercom. And I slid one end of the belt into the heavy metallic slot, sat back, and peered through the window of the Royal Nepal jet.

The runway was clear and there was an Airbus 310, three Russian-made helicopters and a Dornier-aircraft near the control tower of Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan International Airport. Some people waved from the tower. It was one of those early-morning mountain flights that are run 'provided-the-weather-is-good' as they say in tourist-brochures.

My seat was right near the port wing and I could get a fairly good view of the engines coming noisily to life. The jet taxied lazily down the southern end of the runway, swerved around and sped towards the north gathering momentum till I could finally feel a hollow in my stomach. We were airborne.

It was a steep climb and the blue mountain front was looming close. You could even spot the trees growing on the mountainside. But in a moment we left it behind. I was thrilled at the picturesque panorama of Kathmandu Valley with its pretty brown terracotta houses and prominent pagodas, which receded beneath as the jet banked almost languidly in an easterly direction.

The first mountain that caught my eyes, was the conical snowbound Langtang Peak, which was gleaming in the early morning sunlight. By the time Dorje Lakpa loomed on my window, the aircraft had attained its ceiling height of 30,000 feet. Dorje Lakhpa in Tibetan means "thunderbolt hand". Nearby was another splendid peak, the 19,550 ft. Choba Bamare, reigning in splendid isolation. Choba Bamare rose in the distance and seemed to fizzle out towards the east.

I sat tight in my seat, oblivious of the 50-odd passengers in the aircraft's cabin, lost in a world of snowy fantasy, and marveling at the thought that we were less than fourteen miles away from those Himalayan giants, and feeling snug inside the pressurized cabin. Over the monotonous whirr of the Yeti's engines, the captains voice boomed through the intercom: "Attention ladies and gentlemen, the big peak to your left is Gauri Shanker."

The 23,442 feet Gauri Shanker, which is part of the Rowaling Himal Chain, was bathed in a ghostly mantle of snow and dominated the scene. This was indeed the Mount Olympus of the Orient, I said to myself. Gauri Shanker, the legendary abode of the Hindu God Shiva and his consort Parvati.

The Melungstse massif appeared to be blanketed with snow and looked smooth and even: like a tent covered with snow, except that a depression existed between Melungtse and its sister peak Chobutse.

Chugmago, Pigferago and Numbur impressed me with their virgin and silvery summits--looking placid and serene.

My thoughts drifted to the ageless Himalayas and their eternal silence. But my Himalayan reverie came to a momentary stop, when a tall and petite air-hostess came offering orange juice at a cruising height of 30,000 feet. It was a toast to the Himalayas.

From the 26,750 ft. Cho Oyo onwards, the Khumbu Range began to show their undisputed supremacy, since this range boasted of the mightiest of the mighty among mountains. As the jet flew past the 25,990 ft. Gyachungkang Peak, I was pleasantly surprised to find the steward come over to my window, point out small dotted structures against a rugged mountainside and say, "There's Namche Bazaar." I was amazed. Namche of the mountaineer's delight, and the home of the Sherpas. Namche, the village that has become a byword in mountaineering and trekking circles throughout the world--lay below us.

The jet lost height gracefully to give the passengers a closer view, and the snows looked hauntingly beautiful from the port side windows. The warm sunlight filtered through smack on my face. Its warmth was reassuring.

The 23,443 ft. Pumori Peak seemed to be soaring in the distance, and that was when I began to ogle at the familiar 25,850 ft. Nuptse peak. Then suddenly, like a revelation, I spotted the giant amongst them all: the grey, imposing triangular massif that was Mount Everest to the outside world, Sagarmatha to the Nepalese and Chomolungma – "the Goddess Mother of the Earth" to the Tibetans. There were flecks of snow to be seen along the ridge of the highest peak in the world. A trail of vapor was emanating from its limestone summit.

Far below the magnificent Ama Dablam peak struck me as trying to reach for the sky. But I had eyes only for the mysterious, grey and foreboding Everest massif. I recalled Mallory's words: "There was no complication for the eye. The highest of the world's mountains had to make but a single gesture of magnificence to be lord of all, vast in unchallenged and isolated supremacy.

The peaks Lhotse, Chamlang and Makalu continued to fascinate me. I felt thrilled to my marrow as the knowledge that we were flying over the highest mountains in the world sank into my head. I noticed that the Himalayas occurred as narrow ranges, prominently longitudinal and that the highest Himalayan chains below us were not massive elevations but narrow ridges.

Towards the north, as far as the eye could see, was the barren Tibetan Plateau: rightly dubbed the Roof of the World. I was astonished to note that beyond the Everest massif's central chain there were no Himalayan ranges. It was the limit--the last frontier. The bleak Tibetan Plateau seemed to blend with the horizon towards the north.

I could not help feeling nostalgic as the jet turned for the homeward flight. I peered at the blue Mahabharat Mountains below and the Siwalik Hills a little further south--and the extensive, fertile Terai, which blended with the azure sky. While the major 'snows' were still visible on the starboard , it was fascinating to see the hanging-valleys, aretes, cwms and magnificent glaciers directly beneath the port windows. It reminded me of a trip I had made to the Swiss alpine town of Grindelwald, where the tongue of the glacier licks almost the town. Occasionally, as the jetliner sped by, the mountain-tarns would catch the sun's rays on their crystalline surface, thereby imparting blinding flashes of reflected light.

It must have snowed the previous night, since the neighboring hills, which were normally beyond the zone of perpetual snow, were also covered in varying degrees with fluffy blankets of virgin snow. One couldn't help being overwhelmed by the ecstatic and exotic beauty of these high snowbound wilderness areas that we were over-flying.

Continental music began to seep into the pressurized cabin and the lithe and beautifully swarthy air-hostess came down the aisle gracefully handing the passengers miniature khurkis (curved Gurkha knives) as souvenirs, with the usual compliment of sweets.

I could feel the captain easing off the throttles and saw the spoilers on the top surface of the port wind rising up slowly, in a row inducing a drag and causing the jet to slow as it touched town at Kathmandu's Tribhuvan Airport.

Life and Living in New York (In the Twenty-first Century)
We visited New York twice since September 11. Each time it was a different experience for us. We were apprehensive about our son, Jaideep, living in New York, who was an eyewitness to the events of September. In December, there were some trepidations and tensions that were palpable among New Yorkers. Spring of 2002 seemed to have changed all that and ostensibly there is little memory of the disaster of September 2001. The city has rejuvenated itself in the true spirit of spring. These are two accounts of our visits to New York in December 2001 and April 2002.
December to remember – Three months after the Attack
I tend to agree with the old cliché that there are these United States and then there is New York. It is a special place indeed. The life in the big city is as vibrant as ever. The events of September 11 seem to have been all but forgotten, at least on the surface to a casual observer. People, I am told, still tend to be nervous when some fire truck goes screeching down the street with sirens blowing. It surely reminds the residents of that day of infamy in their history. But life seems to have returned to a normal state, for the most part. William Shakespeare said that life was as tedious as a twice-told story. But he was not thinking of New York, where life is the life-blood of the city.
It is December in the Big Apple and there is no other city on the planet that is more beautiful in December. The colorful display of lighting in mid-town and the spruced up decorations of the shops are breathtaking sights. The weather during the first week of December was a complement to all the hustle and bustle of life in the city. Especially this year, the gods have to be smiling on the city. The New Yorkers need a break and even providence is aware of this.
In many respects it is the New York of the old. Masses of people everywhere. Crowds pushing their way through, for no apparent reason, always in a hurry to get somewhere, anywhere. With rudeness that comes so naturally to the impatient people, nothing has mellowed as I had foolishly expected, since the events of September 11. Where else would you see a runaway cart filled with store goods careening down the sidewalk and people dodging to avoid being run over? And the storekeeper calmly retrieves the cart without a word of apology! A dozen lemons slip out of their crates and roll on to the sidewalk and spread people helter-skelter. Again no apology from the owners. Hey, this is New York. When we tried our chance at getting tickets for a long running Broadway show, the petulant lady at the window sniggered and seemed to be saying (using an unmistakably New York word), “What a Shmuck! Doesn’t he know that OUR show is sold out for the next hundred years? He must be from out of town!” Irksome characters are to be expected in New York. On these respects, nothing much seemed to have changed in the city. Without these traits New York would lose its identity.
The city is bustling. Business is as usual. We were not able to see the skating rink at Rockefeller center because of the stifling crowds. We were satisfied with seeing the famous spruce tree lit with glorious colorful lights. The window dressings and the grandiose decorations were breathtaking. It was heartening to see parents with little children in strollers trying to maneuver the crowds. I, surprisingly, did not mind the crowd. Psychologically, it was an uplifting experience to see and mingle with the masses than to see empty streets. I felt a kind of camaraderie with the crowd. The restaurants were doing brisk business. Jaideep, our son has now moved to an apartment in the Upper East Side and here is where true New York action is, if one considers the number of restaurants and century old museums. Each block has three or four restaurants and they are of all ethnic background one can imagine. I saw three Indian restaurants in a row on one street! Business is brisk indeed. Every third store seemed to be a florist and garden shop showing off its ware of brightly colored flowers and bouquets. The museums are adjacent to central park, and are only a few blocks from Jaideep’s apartment.
The first night we landed in New York, we went to visit Jaideep in downtown at the place of his work. He works in the financial district and puts in many odd hours of work. I jokingly told Rathna that we perhaps lost our son to the dungeons of financial world in New York. By the time we left I believed my own joke. He certainly works many more hours than I did when I was a surgical intern in New York, a quarter century earlier. And that, I thought was inhumane and cruel. Anyway, we consoled ourselves that he is young and should be thankful for the opportunity to work as hard as he does. This can only bring good results in the future. Fortunately, he thinks so too and this makes work easier to endure.
We took the train, packed like sardines. Little did we know that we would surface on the corner of Fulton Street and Broadway, which is next to Ground Zero. The massive rubble that used to be World Trade Center is now a shrine. People come to see the sheer destruction and the colossal work in progress through day and night, under bright lights, and watch in awe. It is a tomb, perhaps ten stories high, where more than three thousand bodies are still buried. The most hardened and stoic person can expect to get emotional at the spectacle. An old church at the corner serves as a place where the loved ones leave pieces of memorabilia of the innocent people who lost their lives on that fateful day. This only adds to the sanctity of the shrine that used to be called World Trade Center. Life certainly is not normal here now. Half the apartments in the downtown area are empty and the businesses that were forced to close still have not returned. But it is only a matter of time before the so-called Ground Zero and the Battery Park City are rebuilt as monuments for all the lives lost. It reminded me of the old adage that life goes on within you or without you! Life must and will go on.
The Guggenheim museum had an exquisite exhibit of Norman Rockwell retrospective. It was a wonderful collection of his paintings that celebrates life and its little instances. Only a keen observer of such nuances like Rockwell could bring these emotions to life in life like paintings. It was fitting to see such a praise of life in the aftermath of such destruction and death. ‘What a fine comedy this world would be if one did not have to play a part in it’, wrote 18th century French writer Denis Diderot. Norman Rockwell seems to defy this and say that the little things in life with its little characters make life pleasant and bearable, even when one is forced to be a part of it. Rockwell proves that life is not a tragedy even when seen in close-up.
Yes, we did manage to see a Broadway show. We got great seats for the matinee and saw ‘Les Miserables’ (popularly called Le Miz). If you have not seen this show in New York, I urge you to do so. Make a special trip if you need to but please see it in New York. It is the heart-wrenching story of a convict who unfairly spent nineteen years in prison doing hard labor for a petty crime before the French Revolution. He had made up his mind to change his ways and love and help people around him. It is a celebration of goodness of life. ‘As our life is short, so it is miserable, and therefore it is well it is short’ wrote Jenny Taylor, the seventeenth century Anglican theologian. Le Miz shows one how to make the best use of the short life.
We are now back home and we are glad to be home. One may have vacationed in Paradise but is always happy to return home. But the experience in New York, despite the oddity of it all, was enchanting. I always had a soft corner for New York. Now I am convinced that New York is where life is celebrated at its best. The company of our friends, especially Marge and Phil Tassi from Flushing, makes New York a major attraction for us. Their grace, dignity and their infectious love of life are more reasons why our trip to the Big Apple was a worthwhile adventure at this time. With friends like these and our son living in there, New York beckons us again.

Calcutta Kal Bhi Rahega

Calcutta Kal Bhi Rahega
12 minus 4 is equal to 8 and between you and me even the damn foolish will say it is so but when Baadshah Akbar asked this question, Birbal, the wisest of his “nine gems”, replied that when 4 is taken out of 12, the result will be zero. Akbar, as stunned as you, asked as to how could it be possible and the explanation was: “His Highness! From 12 months of a year if 4 months of rainy season are taken out, nothing will grow and all will die. Thus it is zero”. So, chaps! This is the matter of essence. It is really difficult to imagine what India will look like if Calcutta is brought to no account.
Calcutta has a grave meaning for India .. not just a city. India without Calcutta will be India without its National Anthem – Jan gana mana adhinayak jay he Bharat bhagya vidhata. This beautiful and all-embracing poetry was written by Rabindranath Tagore, India’s first Nobel Prize winner in the field of literature. India without Calcutta will even be India without its National Song – Vande Matram by Bankim Chandra. Vande Matram is not merely a serene patriotic song with beautiful Sanskrit words depicting Mother India, it was the “mantra” of revolution which inspired thousands of brave sons of India who stood against the British and fought with exemplary courage. Those days this song was banned and anyone even uttering ‘Vande Matram’ was whipped by the British police. India without Calcutta will be India without Mother Teresa, another Nobel Prize winner of India whose Missionaries of Charity are still promoting the message of love and mercy in the nooks and corners of the world. India without Calcutta will be India without Satyajit Ray and Mrinal Sen and dozens of the glitterati of Indian Cinema whose contributions are immense and unforgettable. India without Calcutta will be India without ‘Rosugullas’, the king of the Indian sweets. If ‘Vande Matram’ became the vexing point of the British, ‘Rosugullas’ always allured them. India without Calcutta will be India without Howrah Bridge – a marvel of bridge technology for ever and an object of such appeal, not unlike the bridge on Thames in London, that a number of Indian films have been inspired by this. One film was even named after it – Howrah Bridge. India without Calcutta will be India without Tram and Underground Railway, hand-pulled rickshaws, sophisticated Babu Moshays (a typical Bengali gentleman is often referred to as such), enchanting greeneries, twisting Tista river, charming girls, artistic people, great intellectuals and .. and … So stop imagining.. India without Calcutta will be a sleep without a sweet dream.
Situated in the far east of India, the metropolitan city of Calcutta has seen the history of this country being written. For the native Bengalies, it is Kolikata or Kalikata and there are many myths surrounding its magical name. There is, however, perhaps no authentic explanation. My elder sister has another story which she told me when I was a child. Once a man was passing through a jungle near the Hooghly river when he was attacked by robbers who cut his throat. People flocked in crowd next morning and sighed over the sad death of the wayfarer. A royal band was en route and as the king stopped near the crowd, he saw the tragedy and asked “kab kata?” (when beheaded?) and he was informed that “Kal Kata” (beheaded yesterday). So it became ‘Kalkata’ or Calcutta as pronounced by the British. I am sure my sister was relating a hearsay but we would together talk about Calcutta with much wonderment.
We were in Bihar (an Indian state) and Calcutta was the nearest city we could think of or know about. I grew as a child depicted by an English poet. The child was a poor village boy and had never seen London but people talked about London – its theatres, its dazzling culture, its polished people, its sexy tints of life, its art and literature, its landmarks and panorama and everything. In the child’s mind, London imprinted an image that he lovingly cherished. He thought there the roads are like silver and buildings are of gold. Then he grew up and once he visited his dream city London. There was nothing like that, his dreams collapsed, his hopes shattered.
When I first visited Calcutta, I was only 10 years old and I still have some faint memories of the beauty of Victoria Memorial, the Kalighat temple, the Zoo and the Museum and I remember how excited I was to ride the Tram rails. They never stopped or just stopped not to stop and people had to jump inside and quickly get down when the destination came. Since then Calcutta has changed though I have never visited and I don’t want to visit lest my dreams collapse, my hopes shatter.
So, I was talking about this magical name of Calcutta. In my opinion, the name ‘Kalikata’ is due to Kali, the goddess incarnation. Bengal has been one of the leading centers of the devotees of ‘Shakti’ (female embodiment of Supreme Power) and ‘Kali’ is the most adored divinity in this part of the world. Whatever it may be, it is sufficient to say that this name existed even in the Mughal time in India but in early 17th Century it became famous as the East India Company was first established on the banks of the Hooghly. The city became even more famous in 1756 A.D. when Siraj-Ud-Dawlah, the last independent Nawab of Bengal, captured the city and was soon defeated by Robert Clive. Warren Hastings was the first Governor-General of British India and he was charmed by Calcutta. He decided to make it the administrative headquarter of East India Company. By this time, a new leaf was turned in the Indian history. Clive and Hastings had already sown the seeds which sprang forth and turned into an unshakable tree overshadowing its branches all over India, devouring a number of kings and rulers and paving the underground way for expansion of the roots of British empire. So, if Bombay is the Gateway of India, Calcutta proved to be the Entrance. Soon it developed as the capital of British empire and became the political and economical ‘nerve-centre’ of India.

travel

For most people, at least in the westernized world, December is the time of mad preparations for the upcoming holidays. Here in New Zealand, it's also the time for getting reading for the big summer break, bringing back the BBQ, and of course Christmas parties. So while most of the world is covered with blankets of snow and cold climate New Zealand basks in glorious sunshine. This makes it the best time to visit New Zealand and enjoy her many splendors.
Getting around the country is relatively simple. Cycling, hitching and driving hire cars or campervans are all popular and there are many all-inclusive conducted coach tours on offer. Finding accommodation is easy and it’s only during the high season (December-February) that you need to book well in advance.
New Zealand's main scenic highlights can be seen on an intensive two week itinerary but really you need at least four to six weeks to gain the most benefit out of your visit down under. This allows time to explore some of the fascinating wilderness areas, including the unspoilt native forests and dramatic alpine and coastal areas. A surprising one third of the total land area is conservation estate, protected by the Department of Conservation. Access for bushwalking, kayaking, tramping, climbing, hunting and saltwater fishing is absolutely free. Fresh water fishing and hunting require permit applications. Permits, wilderness hut passes, local maps and guides can be obtained for a small charge from Conservation offices.
Here’s a list of my favorite Holiday Destinations of New Zealand:
Bay of Islands
The Bay of Island’s natural beauty is a sight to behold. It is one of the most beautiful New Zealand travel destinations. This aquatic playground, lavishly furnished with 144 islands and a myriad of secluded beaches, keeps visitors entertained for days. Every bay, shore and cove has a story to tell. The townships of this historic bay are alive with memories of the area’s colorful history. Visitors can explore the well-preserved Maori and European relics of the past. The Bay of Islands is considered to be the birthplace of New Zealand as a bi-cultural nation, and today you can see how Maori culture and lifestyle have adapted to modern times.
Lake Taupo
As the largest fresh water lake in Oceania, Lake Taupo is a dominating presence in this region. At 616 square km, it is as big as Singapore Island and was created in 181 AD, by one of the largest eruptions the world has ever seen. Volcanic action created a landscape of bubbling craters, mud pools and steam vents ensuring visitors are aware of the regions turbulent past. Maori mythology is richly interwoven with the landscapes creation.
Martinborough
Nestled in a river valley beneath the Tararua and Rimutaka mountain ranges, the Martinborough area produces some of the world’s top wines, particularly the Pinot Noir variety. The boutique scale of the village, with its leafy square, numerous restaurants and heritage architecture, has made it a popular retreat for people wanting to get ‘off the beaten track’. With many of its boutique wineries in walking distance of the square, it has become popular with wine lovers.
Rotorua
Rotorua's reputation as the ‘natural spa destination of the South Pacific’ began 160 years after word of the Pink and White Terraces spread worldwide. Visitors were drawn to the area for its natural therapeutic waters. Today, Rotorua is undergoing a renaissance in the range of spa treatments on offer. It’s a unique chance to refresh and revitalize body and mind. From the moment you enter the region, it’s apparent you’re in a geothermal wonderland, close to ‘The Spirit of the Earth’. Sneaky threads of steam issue from parks, pathways and streets, and the occasional scent of sulphur wafts through the air – a hint of what's in store. Minutes from the city centre, geysers of steaming water roar from the ground and pools of bubbling mud gurgle.

The Unknown Ashoka
Ashoka Maurya, described by H.G. Wells as the greatest ruler the world has seen, is best known through his rock edicts and the Pali chronicles of Sri Lanka, Mahaavamsa and Deepavamsa, of the 5th century A. D. These chronicles belong to the Theravada school of Buddhism and stress Ashoka’s role in propagating it by dispatching missionaries to Kashmir, Gandhara, the Himalayas, Maharashtra, Suvarnabhumi in South-East Asia, and his own son Mahinda to Sri Lanka. A very different Ashoka comes before us in the Sanskrit Ashokaavadaana, a 1st century A.D. work which was translated into Chinese twice: the A-yu wang chuan around 300 A.D. and the A-yu wang ching circa 500 A.D. It is essentially a Hinayana text and its world is that of Mathura and North-west India. The emphasis of this little known text is on exploring the relationship between the king and the community of monks, the Sangha, and setting up an ideal of religious life for the laity, the common man, by telling appealing stories about religious exploits. The most startling feature is that Ashoka’s conversion has nothing to do with the Kalinga war, which is not even mentioned, nor is there a word about his belonging to the Maurya dynasty. Equally surprising is the record of his use of state power to spread Buddhism in an uncompromising fashion. The legend of Veetashoka provides insights into Ashoka’s character that are not available in the widely known Pali records. We find here the intensely personal reason for Ashoka adopting non-violence: his use of state power to propagate Buddhism by slaying non-believers led to the death of his own sibling. The Sanskrit Ashokaavadaana shows that the main springs of Ashoka’s conversion and the subsequent acts of welfare lay in his intensely personal anguish. It is this work that brings Ashoka intensely alive before us as a king with very human ambitions and passions, with greatness and flaws--a very different Ashoka from the shadowy do-gooder of the later Pali chronicles.1
The Gift of Dust
It was in the days when Buddha, the Blessed One, was living at Kalandakanivaapa in the forest near Rajagriha (today’s Rajgir in Bihar) that one morning he put on his triple robe, took his begging bowl and, accompanied by monks, proceeded to Rajagriha for alms. As he set foot on the threshold stone of the city-gate, wondrous things began to happen. You see, whenever a Buddha, a fully enlightened soul, sets his foot on the indra-keela of a city with a firm purpose in mind, miracles occur, it is said:
A ship rolls to the wind’s force; so too the mountain-ranged earth begirt with the ocean and adorned with towns and villages, sways at the touch of the Sage’s foot. The ground becomes level; the earth becomes faultless, free of stones and thorns by the Buddha’s power. The blind, the dumb, and the dull all regain their senses and musical instruments play though untouched, delighting all.
The citizens cheered the marvels with a roar like that of a storm-tossed sea with its crashing waves as the city was filled with the radiance of his presence.
Coming to the main road, the Buddha saw two little boys playing at building mud houses. One of them came from a well-to-do family and was named Jaya. The other’s name was Vijaya. Jaya and Vijaya saw the Buddha, and were deeply impressed with the resplendent appearance, his body adorned with the thirty-two marks of the Mahatma. Jaya thought to himself, “ I will give him some ground meal” and threw a handful of dust into the Buddha’s begging bowl. Vijaya bowed low, making an anjali with hands folded. This gift of a handful of dust is renowned thus:
He saw the supremely compassionate self Existent Lord whose body radiated a halo a fathom wide; resolutely, with firm faith he offered a handful of dust to Him who abolishes birth and old age.
Having made this offering, Jaya formulated a pranidhaana, a firm resolve: “By virtue of this offering, may I become kind and rule as a chakravarti over the earth and thus worship the Buddha.”
The Buddha, understanding Jaya’s character and resolve and recognizing the sincerity of his aspiration, accepted the proffered fistful of dirt and smiled.
The smile of the Buddha was, as always, followed by rays of light--blue, yellow, red, white, scarlet, crystal and silver—that spread the message of liberation from rebirth and suffering throughout the cosmos and re-entered his body. The spot at which they vanish into his body indicates an important event in the future. On this occasion, the rays circled the Buddha thrice and vanished into his left palm. Then spoke Ananda, his faithful disciple, “It is never without reason that Tathaagatas smile. Dispel our doubts, O foremost of men whose speech is like thunder, and reveal what will be the fruit of the gift of dust.” The Buddha replied,
A hundred years after my death there will be an emperor named Ashoka in Pataliputra. He will rule one of the four continents and adorn Jambudvipa with my relics building eighty four thousand stupas for the welfare of people. He will have them honored by gods and men. His fame will be widespread. His meritorious gift was just this: Jaya threw a handful of dust into the Tathaagata’s bowl.
The Birth of Ashoka
At this time, the King of Rajagriha was Bimbisara. Nine kings after him came Bindusara, who reigned in Pataliputra as the successor of Nanda.2 He had a son named Suseema. During his reign, a Brahmin of Champa city had a very beautiful daughter of whom the astrologers foretold that she would marry a king and have two famous sons, one of whom would rule over a whole continent while the other would turn to the religious life and attain liberation. When his daughter was of age, the Brahmin adorned her with all the ornaments he had and offered her in marriage to King Bindusara who accepted her in his inner apartments.
The maiden’s beauty excited the jealousy of the queens, who feared that if the king took a fancy to her, he would never look at any of them. So, they taught her the barber’s art, and sent her to groom the hair and beard of Bindusara. So good was she in her work that he would relax and fall asleep during the grooming.
Very pleased with her, Bindusara one day asked her what she would like most of all. She asked for a son. The king was astonished and exclaimed, “But how can I, a Kshatriya monarch, marry a barber girl!” “Your Majesty,” she replied, “I am not a barber girl, but the daughter of a Brahmin. My father gifted me to your highness as a wife.” Finding out who had taught her the barber’s art, the king passed orders that she would not do so any longer. Instead, as his queens had feared, he installed her as his Chief Queen.
In due course, this chief queen—who goes nameless in the tale--gave birth to a son. When asked what she would like him named, she said, “When this child was born, I became ‘without sorrow’.” Thus, he was named A-shoka. Later, she gave birth to a second son, whom she named Veetashoka, since he was born when sorrow had ceased (vigate-shoka).
Bindusara desired, one day, to ascertain which of his sons was best suited to succeed him as king. Summoning the wandering sanyasi Pingalavatsajiva, he requested him to test the princes. “Very well, your majesty,” said Pingalavatsajiva, “ go with the princes to the Garden of the Golden Pavilion, and I will examine them there in your presence.” Bindusara issued orders accordingly. But Ashoka sat, depressed and angry, in his mother’s apartments. She spoke to him, “ My son, the king has determined to examine all the princes and has proceeded to the garden of the Golden Pavilion. You should go there at once.” Ashoka retorted, “ Why should I? My body is unpleasant to look at; my skin is rough and the very touch of my body is distasteful to the king.” “ Go nevertheless,” advised his mother. Finally, Ashoka set forth, asking her to send him some food later in the day.
As he was leaving Pataliputra, Radhagupta, the son of the prime minister, met Ashoka. Hearing of the test, Radhagupta offered Ashoka the old royal elephant on which he was mounted. Ashoka rode this majestic, venerable mount to the garden of the Golden Pavilion. Reaching it, he took his seat on the ground, while the others were seated on appropriate raised seats. Food arrived for them all. Ashoka’s mother had sent him boiled rice mixed with curds in an earthen vessel.
King Bindusara now asked Pingalavatsajiva to examine the princes and pronounce who would best be able to rule after his death. The sanyasi was no fool. He knew that Bindusara detested Ashoka because of his peculiar skin. Hence he said, “ Your majesty, I will make my predictions without disclosing any name. He who has the finest mount will become king.” Each of the princes, of course, thought that he had the best mount. Ashoka, however, reflected, “I arrived on the back of the ancient royal elephant. My mount is truly the most excellent. I shall be king.”
Bindusara wanted the sanyasi to provide some more indicators. Then Pingalavatsajiva declared that he who had the best seat, the best vessel, the best food and drink would become king. When his mother asked about the predictions, Ashoka replied, “The prediction mentioned no name. It said that he who had the most excellent mount, seat, drink, vessel, and food will become king. The royal elephant’s back was my mount; the earth itself was my seat; my vessel was made of earth; boiled rice with curds my food and water my drink. Therefore I know that I shall be king.” Hearing this, and noticing that Pingalavatsajiva had begun to honor her particularly, Ashoka’s mother told the ascetic, “The king may some day suddenly question you further and press you for a direct answer on the succession. You had better seek refuge in the borderlands and return when you hear that Ashoka has become king.” And so, the wandering ascetic set forth and is not heard of again in our story.
Ashoka's Accession
Some time later, the city of Takshashila rose in rebellion against King Bindusara who dispatched Ashoka to tackle it with a fourfold army of cavalry, elephants, chariots and infantry. But the king passed orders not to issue them any arms. The servants came running to the prince and informed him, “ Prince Ashoka, we don’t have any weapons of war. How shall we fight?” Ashoka declared, “If my merit is such that I am to become king, let weapons of war appear before me!” And as he spoke, the earth gaped open and divine beings rose out of it carrying weapons for his army.
When the citizens of Takshashila heard of Ashoka’s approach, they decorated the road for several miles and went to welcome him with vases full of offerings. “O Prince,” they said, “we had no intention to revolt against you or the king. But evil ministers oppressed us and the tales of our miseries never reached Pataliputra. Hence, we had to rise and banish the King’s evil representatives.” In the same manner Ashoka was welcomed into the kingdom of the Khashas where two great warriors entered his service and thenceforth marched ahead of him, cutting a path through the mountains and proclaiming, “Ashoka will become a chakravarti monarch over one of the four continents. None is to oppose him!” Finally, the whole of the northwest, right up to the sea, submitted to him.
Back in the capital, one day Prince Suseema, the eldest son of the king, was returning from a ride when he met the prime minister. In jest, the Prince slapped the venerable man on his bald pate and passed on. But the wise prime minister thought to himself, “Today he slaps me with his hand. When he becomes king, he’ll let fall his sword. I must ensure he does not inherit the kingdom.” He summoned the five hundred ministers of the king and told them, “It has been predicted by the holy ascetic that Ashoka will become a chakravarti ruling over one of the four continents. When the time comes, let us place him on the throne.” And they agreed.
Soon the people of Takshashila rebelled once more. This time Bindusara sent Suseema, but he could not quell the rebellion. In the meantime, Bindusara fell sick. Hence, intending to install Suseema on the throne, he recalled him and ordered Ashoka to proceed to Takshashila. The ministers, however, thwarted this plan. They smeared Ashoka with turmeric, boiled some red lac in copper vessels and displayed it, saying that the prince was so ill that he could not move out of bed. As Bindusara’s condition worsened, the minister brought Ashoka before him, clad in all finery, and urged the king, “Consecrate Prince Ashoka for the present and we will install Suseema on the throne later, when he returns.” Bindusara’s wasted frame shook with fury as he refused. Then Ashoka declared, “If the throne is rightfully mine by fate’s decree, let the gods crown me with the royal crown!” At once heavenly beings manifested and placed the crown on Ashoka’s head. When Bindusara saw this, he vomited blood and passed away. Ashoka’s first act as king was to appoint Radhagupta prime minister.
Meanwhile, news of the coronation had reached Suseema in Takshashila. Furious at the usurpation, he rushed back to Pataliputra. Ashoka posted his two great warriors at two of the city gates. In front of the eastern gate, Radhagupta set up an artificial elephant so cunningly fashioned as to deceive a casual observer. On top of it, he placed an effigy of Ashoka, digging a ditch all around filled with live coals covered with reeds. The whole pit was camouflaged carefully. As Suseema arrived before the city, Radhagupta shouted tauntingly,” If you can slay Ashoka, the throne is yours!” That provoked Suseema to rush to the eastern gate to fight his half-brother. As he charged forward, he fell into the ditch full of live charcoal and died a terrible death.
Chandaashoka (Ashoka The Terrible)
Having installed Ashoka, the ministers began to take him for granted, considering themselves the real power behind the throne and secretly contemptuous of the new king. This attitude was a hangover of Bindusara’s dislike of Ashoka because of his peculiarly rough and unpleasant looking skin. Ashoka was no fool. To test the ministers’ loyalty and to discipline them, he ordered that all flower and fruit trees be chopped down, but the thorny ones preserved. The obvious analogy with his “thorny” appearance escaped the over-confident ministers. “What is your majesty planning?” they queried, “Should not, rather, the thorny trees be destroyed and the beautiful ones preserved?” Thrice they avoided complying with the orders in this manner. Furious at his authority being flouted, on the fourth occasion Ashoka unsheathed his sword and beheaded the five hundred counselors.
Once, Ashoka went strolling in a garden with his women. It was spring and the trees were laden with blooms and fruits. The king saw an ashoka tree in full bloom, and told his women, “See this is my namesake and how beautiful it is!” He wanted to be caressed by them, but the women disliked his rough skin and secretly mocked his comparing himself with the lovely tree. So, when he fell asleep, they decided to teach him a lesson. They got together, and removed all the flowers and leaves from the ashoka tree, leaving it bare and unlovely. On waking, Ashoka’s eyes fell on the ashoka tree, transformed from the ecstatic look of spring into the naked forlornness of winter. When he found out from his servants that his concubines were responsible, he was so furious that he had his five hundred women burned alive.
Seeing these fearsome acts of the king, the people named him Chandaashoka, “Ashoka the Fierce.” was Anxious that the people should not turn away from the king in revulsion, Radhagupta the prime minister spoke to Ashoka: “Your majesty, it is unseemly for the monarch to work as an executioner. Why not appoint some royal executioners who will carry out your commands?” Ashoka saw the wisdom of this and asked that suitable persons be sought out.
Not too far away, in a small village in the foothills, lived a weaver who had an evil son named Girikaa. This youth not only used to abuse his parents but would also beat up others for no reason and torture insects and animals. Therefore, he was called Chandagirikaa (Girikaa the fierce) by the villagers. Seeing him engaged in these horrible acts, the king’s men enquired whether he was agreeable to become the royal executioner. Girikaa replied with gusto and aplomb. “Certainly! Why, I could execute the whole of Jambudveepa and each would be a delightfully different death!” Asked to proceed to the capital, he told the king’s emissaries to tarry until he had told his parents. However, his parents would not let him go to pursue such a heinous profession. So, Girikaa killed them both and rejoined the king’s party. When they asked him why he had been delayed, he calmly told them, “I had to spend some time killing my father and mother for they would not let me obey the royal command.”
The first thing Girikaa asked of Ashoka, when he was presented to the king, was a building exclusively devoted to the art of execution. And so such a building was built, beautiful to look at from the outside, but housing all instruments of torture. People called it, “ the Paradisal Hell.” When it was ready, Chandagirikaa submitted to Chandaashoka, “Your majesty, grant me this boon: that whoever enters this place shall not leave it alive.” The king granted the request.
Once Chandagirikaa had gone to the Kukkutaaraama vihara where he happened to hear a monk reciting the “Baalapandita Sutra” which describes the five great tortures that beings suffer in hell. Some are stretched out on their backs on red-hot iron floors and balls of molten metal poured down their throats; others are thrown face-down on a mass of flames and branded; some are hacked and chopped with fiery axes into an octagon, a hexagon, a square, an oval and finally a circle; yet others are thrown on their backs on floors of flaming metal, and stakes driven through their hands, feet and heart. Hearing this horrific account, Girikaa was overjoyed. “Such are the five great agonies,” he mused, “and I shall follow the Sutra in implementing these in this life itself. Why deprive anyone of these in this life and keep them in suspense till after death?”
The Conversion of Ashoka
Around this time, a Buddhist monk named Samudra arrived in Pataliputra. He was so named having been born when his father, a merchant, was sailing across the ocean. Having lost his father at the age of twelve Samudra had joined the Buddhist order. That morning in Pataliputra, he unknowingly stepped into the imposing mansion, “the paradisal hell” asking for alms. Once inside, seeing the dreadful sights, he sought to leave, but Chandagirikaa stopped him. “This is where your life ends,” said the royal executioner and was much surprised when the mendicant burst into tears. Replying to his query, Samudra said, “Kind sir, I grieve not for the destruction of this body, but for losing this hard-to-attain existence in which I have been instructed by the lion of the Shaakyas and was hoping to achieve liberation.” Samudra, begging for compassion, sought a month’s delay of the execution. Chandagirikaa granted him a seven-day reprieve; and so Samudra waited, wrestling with the fear of death.
It so happened that early on the seventh morning Chandaashoka happened to find one of the women of the royal household fondly conversing with a youth. Flying into a rage, he sent them to the executioner who ground them with pestles in an iron mortar before Samudra. This horrific death led Samudra to realize the essence of Buddha’s teachings:
The body is as a foam-bubble, evanescent, worthless. Where now is that lovely face, that beautiful body? Only the ignorant delight in this impermanence. In this prison, I’ll cross the ocean of existence.
Striving all through the night, Samudra broke through the bonds of earthly attachments and became an arhat, a liberated being.
In the morning, Chandagirikaa strode up to him and said, “Monk, the night is gone, the sun is risen, the time of your torture has come.” Calmly Samudra replied, “True my night of ignorance has cleared and the sun of my good fortune is at its height. You may do as you wish, my friend.” Unmoved, the executioner threw Samudra into a cauldron full of water and blood, and tried to light a fire underneath. Try as he might, the fire would not blaze. Puzzled, he looked into the vessel and was amazed to see the monk sitting calmly on a lotus within it. He rushed to Ashoka who came to witness the miracle along with hundreds of people. Seeing the king, Samudra divined that the time had come for Ashoka’s conversion.
Miraculously, Samudra floated up in the air and stunned the monarch.For from half his body water poured down; from the other half fire blazed forth;Raining and flaming, he shone in the sky.
With folded hands, Ashoka begged enlightenment and initiation into the mysteries of the Dharma of Samudra. Samudra then told Ashoka how the Buddha had predicted that a hundred years after his demise there would be in Pataliputra a king who would distribute his bodily relics in eighty four thousand stupas. “Instead, your majesty,” said Samudra, “you have built this palace which is hell and where thousands are tortured to death. O king, grant security to all beings, for compassion is the highest virtue. Fulfill the lord’s prediction.” Begging forgiveness, Ashoka proclaimed his faith in the Buddha, in the congregation of believers (Sangha) and in his teachings (Dharma). He also promised to adorn the earth with chaityas housing the Blessed One’s relics.
Samudra vanished; Ashoka, too, was about to leave when Chandagirikaa stopped him. “Your majesty, you granted me a boon,” he said, “that none would leave this place alive.” Ashoka was taken aback at the effrontery, and asked, “What! You want to execute me too!” “Undoubtedly,” replied the unruffled executioner. “But which one of us,” asked Ashoka, “entered this place first?” Chandagirikaa had to admit that it was he, so he was taken away to the death chamber, and the building was demolished.