At the Shiva temple, the priest intones, softly Hanuman Chalisa and Rama goes along. No strain at the notes, a flow of pleasantness in the morning. Old Man takes in white fronted flycatcher, laburnum, yellow copper pods starring the floor, peepal, banyan .... After the prayers, the priest cups grains, scatters them for waiting pigeons and squirrels. The practice is banned by the committee running the temple but the priest breaks the rule ...'Janwar hain, bhooke hain. Are bhai, ek bhook ke liye main puja path kartha hoon... hai na hui baath,' says the priest. He is a green. A quiet green. An unshrill green. Also an Adivaitist. Sankara in Bhaja Govindam talks of Udara Nimittam bhaukrita veshah. For Sankara, life is maya to be rejected; Tuka, Kabir agree. Life is absurd. Its so for Albert Camus with the absurdity being minus god, going by many readings of The Outsider. Today finished with yet another reading. A 2018 Gita. Take out God from the equation and Sankara is equal to Camus, a poet equals a lyrical novelist. Cyril Connolly in an intro to The Outsider, dwells on Camus attitude to death: 'What does eternity matter to me? To lose the touch of flowers and womens' hands is the supreme separation.' 1970s in Bombay was that: a touch of flowers and womens' hands. Bombay 1970 was a celebration. Friend Murali Gopalan always asks me about 70s Bombay. Yes, women, wine, no mine or thine. Cant undress the soul of 70s. It is so at 72 in 2018. Thanks, priest for setting the compass right.
Monday, May 7, 2018
The Outsider
At the Shiva temple, the priest intones, softly Hanuman Chalisa and Rama goes along. No strain at the notes, a flow of pleasantness in the morning. Old Man takes in white fronted flycatcher, laburnum, yellow copper pods starring the floor, peepal, banyan .... After the prayers, the priest cups grains, scatters them for waiting pigeons and squirrels. The practice is banned by the committee running the temple but the priest breaks the rule ...'Janwar hain, bhooke hain. Are bhai, ek bhook ke liye main puja path kartha hoon... hai na hui baath,' says the priest. He is a green. A quiet green. An unshrill green. Also an Adivaitist. Sankara in Bhaja Govindam talks of Udara Nimittam bhaukrita veshah. For Sankara, life is maya to be rejected; Tuka, Kabir agree. Life is absurd. Its so for Albert Camus with the absurdity being minus god, going by many readings of The Outsider. Today finished with yet another reading. A 2018 Gita. Take out God from the equation and Sankara is equal to Camus, a poet equals a lyrical novelist. Cyril Connolly in an intro to The Outsider, dwells on Camus attitude to death: 'What does eternity matter to me? To lose the touch of flowers and womens' hands is the supreme separation.' 1970s in Bombay was that: a touch of flowers and womens' hands. Bombay 1970 was a celebration. Friend Murali Gopalan always asks me about 70s Bombay. Yes, women, wine, no mine or thine. Cant undress the soul of 70s. It is so at 72 in 2018. Thanks, priest for setting the compass right.
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