Immortal Talks - A Book Review

“Are you aware that you are not a body? You have a body.” chorused the elder Mahtangs.

 

Introduction:
GENRE: Spirituality
AUTHOR: Shunya
PAGES:160
YEAR OF PUBLISH: 2017 

 

Mahtangs (better known as Mathangs) are the tribal people residing in the forests of Mount Piduru in Sri Lanka. This tribe, similar to the sentinelese, choose to be cut off from modern civilization but they cannot be more different from the sentinelese. Mathangs are the followers of Lord Hanuman and descendants of Vibhishana, the brother of Ravana from The Ramayana. Apart from this, the Mathangs are said to be very spiritual and with good reason. It is said that the Mathangs are visited by Lord Hanuman in every 41 years. Quite interesting isn’t it?
All of this came to light in the year 2014 when a researcher was studying the behavior of the tribe and completely oblivious at the time as to what he was going to find! Fascinating!
Lord Hanuman is said to be among the 7 people who are said to be immortal. It is believed that every 41 years Lord Hanuman visits the tribe to teach and imbue divine knowledge to them. The Mathangs record the teaching of Lord Hanuman every 41 years in a Log book. Fortunately, the log book is now with an organization called ‘Setu Asia’which is trying to translate the book. Okay this was a short introduction to who the Mahtangs (or Mathangs) really are. Now let’s jump on to the book.

 

Summary:

 

The book begins with Hanudas, a devotee of Lord Hanuman, who along with 2 other devotees is following some tribal people in order to observe and try to establish communication with them. Hanudas used to live an elite lifestyle with his family in Toronto and was neither religious nor spiritual. His wife dies in a car accident and later he loses his only son to drugs and paranoid schizophrenia. This leaves him to be completely hollow – ‘like a hoop which lets things pass through it. No sorrow. No pain. No regret.’ It was then that he encounters an unusual scene. He leaves for India and comes in contact with a Guru who gives him the name ‘Hanudas’ and explains to him that it was not a hallucination indeed. Gurudev explains it was because only pure souls can experience that. He explains that Hanudas encountered such a scene because after his son’s funeral his mind was absolutely blank, completely free and detached from everything the external world has to offer – 
‘Your soul, like the majority of humans of this era, is asleep. Your soul awoke for a brief period of time on the day you buried your son’
After that moment he experiences a divine epiphany and leaves to wander – in search of nothing – in a pursuit to awaken his soul. He eventually feels that he has reached his destination when he comes across this tribe known as ‘Mahtangs’. He along with 2 more sages tries to approach the tribe but are rebuked by the leader and hence finds himself following and observing the tribe. Very soon her deciphered the meaning of the set of seven symbols he had collected from the Mahtangs. It translated as follows: ‘The immortal Lord Hanuman comes every 41 years to impart supreme knowledge to his disciples, the Mahtangs’. Over the course of next several months, he collected thousands of such symbols, or the puzzles wherin lay enshrined the entire knowledge Lord Hanuman imparted to his disciples.
He, with the help of other sages, deciphered these puzzles and documents them. These finding are henceforth explained in the form of different chapters in this book.

 

My Review:

 

The religion – Hinduism (it actually is Sanatan Dharma) – is the oldest religion that exists today. It is the only religion in which even if you are an atheist, you are still a Hindu. It is the choice of the seeker whichever and whatever form of god he/she wants to embrace. Even the belief that he/she does not believe in god is a form of belief and hence that person is still a Hindu. It is a religion which is based on the practice of looking for the absolute truth which involves science more than anything. I will not be exaggerating when I confidently claim that all the things that modern science is discovering now has already been mentioned in the Vedas and Upanishads many thousands of years ago. It is more of Spirituality than a ‘Religion’ in the truest sense and is far different from what is perceived by the masses. It is a way of Life. And this is clearly evident by the contents of this book.
The book is written in a very simplistic manner which enables the reader to understand even the most complex workings of the truth of what the soul is, what is life, the movement of the soul from one body to another, the life and death cycle, the Karma-Desire, etc. If I have to describe my experience of reading this book in one word, I will choose – enlightening. The way in which everything was explained is very simple and effective. The reader is able to imagine every scene as if it is happening right before their eyes. The way in which everything is explained is extraordinarily simple, effective and quite enjoyable at the same time. The prologue of the book describes how Hanudas comes to find all the symbols and puzzles and the rest of the book in chapters and in the form of stories of the same tribe explains the subtleties of the extraordinary way in which the universe works, who we are and how to get out of this endless cycle of birth and death in Maya. 
Those of you do not know, Maya is everything you experience. It is everything that you sense i.e., see, feel, hear, taste, touch. Maya is said to be an illusion. It is the physical world which follows the rules of space-time and the human soul which is stuck in this Maya thinking that it is the only reality experiences endless cycle of birth and death. The purpose of the human soul is to break this cycle and attain Moksha viz., unification with the absolute – the Bramh.
The book along with this also explains what the soul really is. How it goes from one body to another and what it experiences when it is out of a body. Not only this, the book also explains the type of souls there are, what are the characteristics of the soul which resides in birds, animals and humans. The struggle between the soul to be free from the shackles of birth and death and the limitations posed by the human body which understands this world to be the only reality and the Karma-Desire scale of balance is beautifully explained in one of the chapters titled ‘The Mermaid’ in the form of a story.

 

I definitely enjoyed reading this book. I’d say that it must be read at least once in the lifetime irrespective of which religion, caste or sex you belong to. Read this with an open mind because as the Vedas says, there is only one absolute truth rest everything is different realities varying from person to person.

I Am Not Alone

via I Am Not Alone

This might sound strange, coming from someone who spends a lot of time alone, writing, and maybe this is the inescapable truth about writers: we spend a lot of time alone, in quiet rooms, contemplating worlds that exist only in our heads, but I don’t feel lonely.

I am alone, but I don’t feel lonely anymore.

When I was younger I used to think that if someone would tell me that I could write a great novel, something people will still be reading a hundred years in the future, and all I had to do was live my life in obscurity, I’d accept. I thought great things require a sacrifice, and I wasn’t so sure what the most important thing about being a writer actually was.

It wasn’t until much, much later that I realized what writing was all about, and I’ve expressed this view many times here: we write because we want to reach out to others. We write with the hope that our words will mean something to someone else other than ourselves.

I am able to reach out to people, I am able to present the world my ideas and dreams and stories, and for that I am grateful. In doing this, I don’t feel alone anymore. If even a single one of my posts or stories or essays made you feel something, or made you realize something about the world we live in, then that makes me happy.

There are a couple of simple rules when it comes to writing: never stop writing, and never be afraid to share your writing with the world. It doesn’t matter how, just do it. And out of all the billion people in the world, if just one loves your writing, that’s more than enough, more than you could ever ask for.

When I decided to self-publish my stories (and write this blog) I made myself a promise: that I wouldn’t give up, no matter what. I didn’t quit when I sold three copies of my short stories during the entire month of May 2012, earning a total of $1.05 before taxes, I didn’t quit when it seemed that no one was interested in reading my blog posts, I didn’t quit when I figured out that I couldn’t possibly afford to launch an online magazine.

But at some point, sooner or later, I would have if it weren’t for the tremendous support you folks have provided. It’s you folks who kept the flame alive, who kept me fighting even when I felt like giving up. Because, believe me, we all have our moments, when we feel that the entire world is fighting back.

I’m not going to lie. Sales have been below average these past months, so I had to rely on contributions from those of you who believe in my dream.

That’s why I want to thank Elizabeth, Eduardo, and all the others for donating, for taking me closer to reaching my goal, and along with it, my dream of becoming a professional writer.

$4,600 left to raise in order to reach the goal for this year. To be fully funded, to have no other worries but to write, to produce as much work as possible, be it blog posts or fiction.

If you’d like to help me out, you can donate any amount you see fit via PayPal here.

Also, you can purchase reblogs from my e-store here.

Fun fact: I sell five reblogs a month because the amount raised is enough to pay for bills and stuff. Right, three more need to be purchased by the end of the month.

Oh, and you can also purchase an e-book bundle from my e-store here.

Whatever you decide to do, whether you support me or not, I want you to know that I wouldn’t be able to write without your help.

Once again, thank you,

Cristian Mihai

Travelling down your memory lane

How do I begin to tell you

of how I feel about you?

I found you out of the blue,

when I was down, thought I was through.

I miss what we had,

it was just months ago,

and I will forever cherish that time spent,

precious, before we had to go.

I had no idea at that time,

that my heart will become so close to thine.

It still is, though I am alone, again,

travelling down your memory lane.

The life with my sister

 

Hey Dear Sister,

Warning: Not limited to just praises. LOL.

It does not seem so long ago that we were fighting and bickering over who gets the remote of the television so that we can watch our favourite programs when I visited you to get away from all the craziness of Engineering college only to land in yours. Which consisted of constant differences in our opinions. You with a flexible and fun loving view of leading life and me with a stoic and a rigid view filled with rules to be followed for every small thing. Or shall I say, me with a very introverted nature and you with an extrovert nature. It certainly was no picnic for me. Then there were disagreements, there were our fights, our wrestling for the T.V. remote and, though less frequent, asking for your pretty friends phone numbers (*smile). In other words, you were the complete opposite of me. I had been exasperated, resigned, infuriated, confused, bewildered and very annoyed at times.

And now, you are married. You have become a woman, a wife, a source of inspiration and a beloved partner of someone - his constant companion in everything in this tumultuous journey of life. And let me tell you it is still not easy for me, au contraire, it is now more difficult because now I do not remember the times that I have been angry at you, fought with you or secretly ate the portion of the chocolate that was supposed to be for you (*grin). No! Now all these things seems so petty that they do not matter to the least.

In fact, what appears to be real and what appeals now most to the soft and delicate part of my nature are the memories of you putting cool wraps on my head during high fever, or reminding me in almost a scolding way to take my medicine which I got from Red Cross Hospital,  or making maggi for yourself but still sharing with me a portion of it, or going out to eat at - 'Sagar Gere' or 'Dominos' or whatnot restaurants there were - with me in the evenings, or making macroni for me which you know is my favourite only when you make it, or patiently listening to me ranting about the evil deeds of my ex-girlfriend, etc. the list goes on and on. Everything matters now, every small little thing that appeared to be trivial at that time now holds a certain emotion with it. And that's how life goes on, happiness and good memories happen by the accumulation of small things in life, so never miss them. Also, in addition to that, the most important thing in any relationship, more than love itself, is Respect for each other, rest everything follows. This is a little piece of advice that I give you with all my love for in the beginning of this grand and awesome journey you two are going to embark upon together.

I do not know how many times we will be able to meet in the future, we both are going to be very busy from this point forth. So, I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you what all this meant to me, what you mean to me (I am getting a little teary-eyed here, silly old me). You are my little sister after all. I may now open the gate of your home when I visit Bhopal and not meet with the shrill  yet warm with concern greeting of yours that "You're here". You are beginning a new journey in your life, a journey you may find gratifying to an extent that it may translate into the "meaning of life". Congratulations!

Love you sister!

Love,
Anshu

P.S.: I will still disturb you sometimes with my poetries being published and anything new I write.

P.P.S.: Give my greetings to Abhimanyu and wish him my best.

My post "Fearless" published on Spillwords.com

3rd one Published

Spillwords.com presents: Fearless, by Shubhanshu Shrivastava - I have a keen interest in literature. I have been reading books novels ...

Source: Fearless

Divine

Love is divine,

Or the divine is love.

As the only truth that exists,

As the ecstacy that persists.

Immortal, of the irremovable signs,

A story of past, yet divine.

Waiting

Upon that bench alone he sits,

along with him sits a few misfits.

Heartache and pain,

coupled with unbounded love infused in his every grain.

Twisting & turning,

they take him about,

onto a journey riddled with doubt.

He knows not where, which way to turn,

to rid himself of these incineration and burns.

Memories of love puts a salve on the burn,

yet another misfit arrives - feelings of yearn.

And so return again like fire after rain,

the same feelings of heartache and pain.

He waits for her to come back soon,

that same person before who left his home.

With whom he envisioned a lifetime together,

with whom he was closer than ever,

Yet he sits there - she does not arrive,

was she real or his imagination alive?

She who penetrated his innermost wall,

she whom he trusted like he never trusted anyone at all.

Still, he sits there, tranquil, abating,

journeying with those misfits, yearning and waiting.

Reminisce

Reminisce

He sat on a bench all by himself,
in the same garden, as before.
Looking at the same blossoming buds,
but not the same loneliness, t'was more.

Now the evening seems quiet and dull,
and the dusk has lost its touch,
there are no more chirping of the birds,
just lipless, unhappy smile of the skull.

Quiet, he sat there still,
to recourse that long way from whence he came,
when there was another - match'd with loving steps,
whose name now he breathes in pain.

A rush was it to have her there,
upon that same ol' dusty road,
like a lake that lifeless stood,
now found a way to gush and flow.

He couldn't believe how he found,
such a soul so pure and full of love.
A fool was he that he could't see,
that old sword of deceit still dangled above.

He wept and cried from inside - so full of grief,
when she left his hand and took another path,
and though he could still breathe the air,
it was so full of despair's wrath.

Something shattered within his heart,
maybe the violins playing cupid's tune.
While she distanced - stepped further away,
with tears he stood glancing at the moon.

How he prayed in his every breath,
to again have that nectar of sweetest love.
But alas! Her footsteps with his along the shore,
were wiped by time's unkind tides above.

She came back to him but was it she?
For it was a mere shadow of what she were.
Her approaches were mere perfunctory ones,
her loving words were mere desultory ones.

And he tried in vain to rekindle that fire,
that once held witness to their glorious love,
of ecstasy and passion that learnt from them,
the meaning of kisses, souls merging hugs.

But indeed a mere shadow it was,
dark and unyielding of her former self.
She never came back from that path she took,
as now he sits on that garden bench; melancholic,
reminiscing of who she was, all by himself.

I miss you then

Whenever newer events arise,
I miss you silently in disguise.
Disguise of an empty smile,
sometimes crooked, mindless all the while.

When I wake to the chirping sounds,
outside my window, all around.
Breaking away from your dreams
All I long then is to hear,
your soft whispers in my ear,
your gentle coaxing for me to rise
to stand up and face the day
with all that's best,
not needed to say.
I miss you then and all minutes to come.

As I slowly, in a daze,
discern tiny droplets touching my face,
it slowly dawns upon my mind
it's raining outside, with a pain.
I wish then to take a ride,
with you throughout, by my side.
We go to the hills perhaps,
a silent, overwhelming, beautiful space,
your sweet kiss and warm embrace.
I miss you, sitting in this crowded yet, a lonely space.

The lonely evenings spent alone,
without your concern, without your scold,
I loose myself in my closed room,
and go to the place where memories bloom.
I miss you then in every breath,
as I slowly drift between disguised smiles and gloom.

Fearless

For those who are sad, in despair, giving up or just disappointed and discouraged. This will help and give you strength, you might be able to relate at least a few lines to your own life.

When crossroads came and I had to,
I always chose the hardest of them all,
they bent me in those twisted ways,
which made me stand apart and tall.

I am glad they did not kill,
and I knew my mettle through the tests,
which came and went as swift,
as the sun and moon's unrest.

I often shivered of the fear,
as crippling as it can be,
to face those demons that stood before,
but struck them nonetheless therefore.

There are far more wiser and braver still,
many people that I know,
gone through even harder times,
but vigilant, in the summers, rain or snow.

But I must not be sad or even shy,
to admit a person's worth.
For I am not less, and can't deny,
I have been bloodied too, and tasted dirt.

So even when the flames engulf,
the consequence of my sweat and blood,
I will not crumble or fall apart to lose,
but get up and rebuild, again by worn out tools.

Even if I am hung to dry,
by fools upon those steady gallows,
I will breathe again, and be heard,
by my thundering roars and bellow.