If we could take a 'sky elevator' to the moon, rising above the clouds in a lift, wouldn't that be amazing? Wouldn't it be an experience that lifts us above all our stress and day to day worries? 

During the Mughal era, whenever the urban dwellers of Shahjahanabad would get fed up with their worrisome life full of urban struggle, they used to take a getaway trip to a close by hill station. They would walk for couple of days, stopping by at some of the famous eateries in between to enjoy the delicacies, talk for hours over a hookah till the stars would come out, then sleep in a camp on someone's farm, and then reach the hill station and camp there for several days. They loved the hilly terrain of that place. It was always windy there, making them forget the summer heat of Chandni Chowk. 

That hill station was called Mehrauli. 

People walked for two days so that they could enjoy the scenic landscape of Mehrauli and the beautiful Qutub Minar in the centre of it. 

Now it can be reached in 30 mins in a metro from Chandni Chowk.

The people who take that metro route don't even glance outside the glass windows to marvel at the hilly terrain of Mehrauli. They are busy texting someone at work or listening to music that makes them forget the tensions they have. 

That metro ride would have been a wonderful thing out of fantasy to the urban citizens of Purani Dilli 400 years ago. 

It is now a 'stressful commute' for the people of our time. Commuters rarely glance outside at the passing by Qutub Minar and the scenic landscape of Mehrauli. 

A thing of fantasy for one era could be a thing of indifference for the people of another era. 

Everything gets normalised. Even the remarkable things. 

Will the person taking a sky elevator daily to go to her office on the Moon be marvelling at the splendid beauty out of her glass windows? Or would she be listening to music while lost in her own thoughts of grapelling with adult life issues? 

Would she glance at the stars and earth passing by outside? 

Our Strategy professor, Dr. Vivek Suneja, is a very philosophical & spiritual person. He combines everything from Quantum Physics to Chanakya Niti, Descartes to Buddhism, Free Market Economics to Bhagwad Geeta and gives a different perspective for us to look at things. In his last lecture of course, he gave us a test:- 

Frame any question of your own and answer it. 
(He gave an optional question for those finding it difficult to frame a question).

We had only 15-20 mins to frame question and answer. This was my question & answer:
(I took a photo of my answer sheet :p )

What is difference between Life and Existence?

We are all given life, we did not ask for it. Humans usually value more what they 'earn'. If you work hard to earn a loaf of bread, you are more likely to value it than if you were given it without asking. But life we get without 'earning' (even if you believe in Karma, its not like we actually remember how we 'earned' this life :p ). Is that the reason why most of us waste it or don't value it enough? We while away our life lost in the things we see and feel. We experience life through senses given to us. But why is it that we get lost in the senses itself? Its addictive. The smell of flowers, the sight of things we love, the touch of our sexual partner, the aroma of home made food . . we get addicted to all these sensory stimulus.

But is it wrong to get lost in these senses? Nothing wrong maybe from one perspective. But my mind begs to differ. In my perspective, that's mere existence. The senses are a tool to be used for aid, they are not the core of life itself. The senses give the ability to feel, like in most organisms. Its only when we feel something that we believe in our own physical existence. That's how we distinguish between a dream and reality - by pinching ourselves. Hence, living just in senses is only physical existence. Its not what is Life.

But does our life rely only on senses? Its said that a unique trait which humans have that most of other species don't is - Imagination. We can imagine and see things despite closing eyes. Hear, talk, listen, smell, taste . . feel . . all in the mind. So do we even need the senses to feel those experiences which reassure us of our existence? Or can we do without them and live in the mind? So are we really lost in our senses or our mind most of the time? Mind I guess, for I am still lost in the taste of the dairy milk chocolate I had a while back.

If we are a slave to our mind,  we acknowledge the identity of our mind as separate from 'ourselves'. We are not the same as our mind. The senses feel, the mind thinks. So are we controlled by our thoughts? Are they 'our' thoughts? I can't voluntarily command my thoughts the way I control my hands and legs. If we have no control over origin of thoughts, where do they come from? I'm not sure too. But if the mind plays by its rules and we can't control it or the thoughts, then is a life lived in the mind (and for the mind), truly a life? Mind is an infinite canvass- an illusion which astonishes us with the images it conjures up. 

So, living by senses only is mere existence in physical world; living by thoughts is mere existence in virtual world. And most of us live our life with a mixture of these two. 
We mostly, merely exist. 

The true experience of life . . living . . is in the absolute. The omnipresent energy/ consciousness. Living is 'Here and Now.' Beyond space-time. 

It was June, 2010. In Pune.

I was member of our college cultural group ‘Art Circle’ and every year we participated in a highly prestigious Marathi theatre competition ‘Purushottam Karandak’. That year, I had auditioned for the lead character’s role. The scene given for audition was that of when the character, who lives in a hostel, is told news of his father’s death. I didn’t get the role because the director thought my reaction to news didn’t feel ‘real’. I really wanted that role.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
6 months later: 23 Jan, 2011. Evening. Pune.

It was Sunday and I was in college along with some friends practising for a dance competition. After few hours and several calls by mom, I returned to my room around 10pm. My mom was living with me from last 3 months after I fell seriously ill and was allowed only boiled homemade food to recover. So she shifted to Pune temporarily, while my father was alone in Nasik, eating mess food. Quite a role reversal.

I was watching movie while having dinner with my mom. She didn't enjoy it much- she was constantly saying something about dad not answering her call. I was too engrossed in the movie to pay much attention. My dad was on his way back to Nasik from Pune, along with 6 of his friends in Toyota Innova, and was expected to reach around 1 am in night. So I just told her that he will call back when he reaches home. And anyways she had spoken to him at 10 pm when they had stopped for dinner at a famous highway side restaurant called ‘Daulat’. She seemed worried and went to sleep without watching the movie ending.

I slept around 12.30.
Suddenly my mom’s phone rang in the night, and she dropped it on floor while picking it up in darkness. The phone’s battery came out. I picked it up but mom said that it was 1.30am now and it must have been dad’s call- he must have reached home- so I should call him first from my cell.

So I called. The voice that answered my dad’s phone did not belong to my dad. It was a rough and loud voice.

Me: “Who are you?” (I thought he must be one of my dad’s friends who were in car with him)
Him: “Who is this?”
Me: “This is Rasik Pansare. And the phone you are holding is of my father, Shivaji Pansare. Who are you??”
Him: “I’m a police officer from Ghargaon. So you are son of Shivaji Pansare?”
Me: “Yes. Why?”
Him: “He is dead”

Life was sucked out of me. Like something had hit me hard in the lungs and stomach. Couldn’t breathe. My senses stopped working. Mom was asking me what had happened. She hadn't heard and didn't know who I was talking to. I looked in her eyes. She is a very sensitive, soft-hearted person who can’t bear a sudden shock. She cannot handle it. I feared she might get a heart attack or something. I feared for her life now. I already had lost all my senses and my heart had shut itself down to emotions. My mind had gone blank, devoid of any feelings, like a robot. Must be a defensive mechanism.

I blurted on phone: “What??”

The officer said there was an accident- a drunk truck driver had hit the car- and 5 of 7 people in it were dead. He asked us to reach government hospital at a place called Alephata on Pune-Nasik highway. We didn’t have any vehicle or relatives in Pune. And we had to travel 100 kms in the middle of the night. Urgently.

I was still looking at my mom and all these and several thoughts had raced through my mind in a fraction of second. She was priority now. She was already shivering with fear of not knowing what’s going on. I decided then & there that I won’t tell her immediately. I feared for her and was worried if we would make it to hospital on time.

I told the police we are coming.
I cut the call. Didn’t know what to tell mom. So just told her that there has been an accident and we need to rush to hospital. I hoped she would assume he is still alive and wouldn’t break down at least until we reached the hospital. She asked whether dad was alright. I told her that the police didn’t give any details and has just asked us to reach as soon as possible. We packed a bag in 2 mins. I wore my favourite Red shirt- the one that I had bought along with the only shirt I had ever gifted my dad. I knew this trip will end with our stay in Nasik for a long time. So I secretly packed some clothes and other essentials for mom too.

I had called up my college friends who arrived in 5 mins. I was unable to even tell them the truth. They helped us search for a rental car. No driver was ready to take us. Even for a lot of money. They had several stupid reasons- and none agreed to drive. We tried at 3 different well known Taxi stands and car rentals in Pune. Not a single car/taxi would agree. Meanwhile a family friend we had called up arrived and agreed to drive us. I asked my best friend Vinit to come with me. I felt like I needed someone to support me, while I was supporting mom. He hopped in the car without a thought, even though he had come out in the night just to help me find taxi and had nothing more than his wallet on him.

In my rush to arrange a vehicle, I had simply forgotten that I should tell all my relatives. The first uncle I called up, Mr. Gite, told me he will call others. Soon the news spread across friends and family. All were rushing towards a hospital in the middle of highway from Nasik, Mumbai, etc. But no one knew that my dad was no more. And I simply couldn’t find the strength to speak those words out. Shubham messaged and asked me, what had happened to dad. He was in Mumbai at grandpa’s place and nobody could tell him what exactly had happened. I stared at that SMS for a long time. I love my brother the most and felt he should know what happened. But I couldn’t speak so in front of mom in car and telling something like this by SMS was not the right way. I had never felt so helpless in my life.

Luckily, that same uncle, Mr. Gite, being a govt. deputy engineer had put to work his subordinate government servants to find out information from that hospital. Somehow he got to know the complete news and he conveyed so to everyone. Everyone- except my mother, who was travelling with me and already seemed devastated.

By the time we reached hospital, the doctors had already prepared all 5 bodies to be sent to Nasik to their respective homes. So we went home too. And that’s where over hundred people had already gathered. I didn’t have to say a word. Seeing the crying crowd in our bungalow . . . my mom understood everything. And the look on her face was the most heart wrenching thing I have ever felt.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That night completes 3 years tonight. And I never shed a tear that night. Or ever in last 3 years. But many times when I’m alone and unable to distract my mind, I remember those moments when Shubham, I and our dad would do masti having fun together and mom would be worried that someone might get hurt in our masti. And then I remember that night, that call, that rough voice, those words and the look of my mother. And Shubham’s SMS.

We don't own anyone, so we can't lose anyone. What we lose is the experience of being with that person. I miss the experience of being with him.

To My Mom . . .


God Gave Me Life

You Gave Me Reason To Live


God Gave Me Eyes

You Set My Sight Higher


God Gave Me Wings,

You Powered Them Up


So I Could See & Seek Dreams

So I Can Soar To My Destiny


Your Food Nourished My Body

Your Thoughts Nourished My Soul


At Every Step . . You Have Guided Me To Light

Without You . . I Would Merely Exist . .


You Gave Me Birth . . And Sooo Much More

You Are In Me . . .  In My Blood & Soul


In My Dictionary . . You’re The Synonym Of Love

In My Religion . . You’re The Revered God

Feb 2011.
Wrote this soon after dad's accident and posted it on FB along with his edited pic.


~:  D A D  :~




I WONT SAY GOOD BYE OR HOW MUCH I MISS YOU

I WONT SHED A TEAR  . . . I WONT BREAK DOWN


I WOULD STAND UP AND LOOK HIGH

FOR YOU ARE THE BRIGHTEST STAR
 

I WOULD SMILE . . . AND SPREAD JOY

FOR ONLY LOVE CAN HEAL THIS SCAR

 
YOU ARE IN ME . . .

AND ALWAYS AROUND

 
YOU SHOWED ME HOW TO LIVE

NOW EVERY MOMENT I’LL MAKE YOU PROUD


TO THE COOLEST DAD . . .

TO THE MOST BELOVED DAD



MY DAD . . .

Wrote the first para of this when I was playing my favorite swing in my favorite garden (Phalke Smarak) in Nasik. I was 12 years old then and I was shivering with cold in the garden. But I loved that swing and didn't wanna leave it . . . so came up with those first 4 lines to feel stronger.

There was a beautiful garden lamp right in sight straight ahead and I loved swinging in full speed staring at that lamp. It helped me focus. It helped me think of all the things under the sky . . it helped me think about my life. Yeah, I was 12 yrs old only. But ask any 12 yr old and he will tell you how seriously he takes his thoughts & life.That swing with that lamp in front of it . . was my most creative spot. I composed 3 poems at 3 different times while on that swing. I completed remaining of this poem when I was 15 yrs and was going through my old papers and found those 4 lines.

P.S:
My mom had edited the poem for me as my marathi grammar is as good as my handwriting is- Very Bad. I recited this poem at intra-college original poem recitation competition and came runner up. 

Update: For non-marathi viewers
The crux of this poem is that a guy is motivating himself to take up challenges head on and achieve greatness. To stop not, what may come, and mount even the impossible. Its more about believing in yourself as a person with power beyond measure and to remain strong and spirited. The poem inspires through reference of legendary King Shivaji Maharaj and hence the perspective of being a true marathi who is as brave as King Shivaji.
(Note: My father's name is also Shivaji)

Wrote this in my 12th class (17 yrs old) after watching a movie which made me ponder onto my favorite topic . . what is Life?
This is just an analogical take on it after a night full of thinking by the teenage version of me.
My philosophy towards 'Life' has changed after that and its still under continuous evolution . . thanks to Life itself.

~:   L I F E   :~

A  PUZZLE  …

A  HUGE  JIGSAW  PUZZLE
MANY  MANY  PIECES  ,  MANY  MANY  PARTS
ALL  SO  DISTINCT  ,  ALL  SO  DIFFERENT
SEEMINGLY  SO  SEPARATE  ,
STILL  SEAMLESSLY  ,
SYNC  TOGETHER

A  PUZZLE …
A JIGSAW  PUZZLE  .


A  GAME …

THE  TOUGHEST  GAME
NO  RESTARTS  ,  NO  REPLAYS
NO  RULEBOOKS ,  NOR  GUIDELINES
YOU  PLAY  TO  WIN ,  TILL  YOU  LOSE
YOU  DON’T  PLAY  THE  GAME ,
THE  GAME  PLAYS  YOU …

A  GAME …
THE  TOUGHEST  GAME


A  RACE …

THE  LONGEST  RACE
YOU  EAT  THE  TRACK ,
LEAVE  LAPS  BEHIND
DESPITE  A HEADSTART ,
YOU  ARE  MILES  BEHIND
LEGS  WORN  OUT , YOU ARE  TIRED  NOW …
YOU  CAN’T  RUN , BUT  YOU  ALSO  CAN’T  STOP

A  RACE …
THE  LONGEST  RACE


AN  OCEAN …

AN  OCEAN  OF  EMOTIONS
A  RIOT  OF  LAUGHTER , A  RIVER  OF  TEARS
MAGICAL  LOVE , FIERY  JEALOUSY
HOPES  AND  DREAMS ,
LOSS  AND  FAILURE …
THESE  ARE  THE  COLORS , YOUR  MIND  A  CANVASS

YOUR  THOUGHTS  ARE  MASTER ,
YOUR  LIFE  A  MASTERPIECE


ITS  LIFE  -  A  MYSTIC  QUESTION
ITS  LIFE  -  A  SPRING  OF  SURPRISES
ITS  LIFE  -  IT  AMAZES , IT  STARTLES
ITS  LIFE  -  THE  GREATEST  GAMBLE

THIS  IS  LIFE  … 

                            
 -  RASIK  S . PANSARE (Jan 2008)

24 Jan, 2011. Morning. Nasik.

My father was lying infront of me but I couldn't touch him, feel him, speak to him or worst - hear him. I was about to set fire to my beloved father's pyre. Being the eldest, I stood closest to that stack of wood that now covered him. Everyone around me was crying and wailing and mourning. Hundreds of them had gathered – all in tears and shock. The brahmin pujaris were chanting their mantras mechanically. Somewhere nearby Shubham was trying to control his own grief to support mom, trying to calm her. I was standing in white clothes as required by tradition with a burning plank of wood in hand.

I torched the pyre. Went round it with an earthen pot of water. Just the way you see in films. Many of the surrounding eyes were not on the pyre, but on me. But my eyes were fixated on the orange yellow flames. I could feel the fiery, hot flames. The heat was reaching my skin but right now my senses were as good as dead. While the pyre was burning and flames were rising high, there was a fire rising in me. One of his many wishes was that I should do my MBA from a top B-School like Harvard or Ivy League. But a lot had changed overnight. I now couldn't leave India for MBA. I stared hard into the flames. Not a single drop of tear in my eyes. I resolved and promised him then and there that I'll get into a top IIM. Thats the least I could do for him in return of all the good he had done for us.

Later that night my mom said to me and shubham, crying ofcourse, how worried she was about us and now how our future was gonna be. I then told her, my voice firm and cold, about my promise made to dad that morning. A week later I researched about all top Indian B-Schools and created a ranking of colleges customized as per my needs. When I returned to Pune, I put up that list on the wall in my room. I decided to do MBA only if I got a college from that list.

FMS was on the top of that list.
Over 2 years later . . I'm in FMS.

Dreams do come true.
Even after you are no more. Like my dad's dream.

Lets Begin ! :D

I'm very much excited as after years of postponing I finally have a blog for myself!
I have previously blogged for our social club but that experience lasted only for a few posts as I discontinued updating it for some reasons. I'll be glad if you do read that blog . . just like our club, those posts are awesome too!

Also thanks to some of my friends who over the years have suggested me to start blogging. The fact that not one but many of my friends were confident that my posts would be good has been the biggest inspiration to launch this blog.

In Harry Potter world, 'Sonorous' is a magic spell which amplifies someone's voice. The voice will become loud enough to be heard over a great distance and huge crowd. A blog is just like the sonorous charm, in fact even better . . as it amplifies the reach of our thoughts and opinions to a global level. So yeah, this first post literally translates into me waving my wand and chanting "Sonorous!". BOOM. Now the entire world can hear my voice.

Welcome aboard and tighten your seat belts . . I hope to make this a memorable ride!

(Don't forget to click the 'Subscribe' button on the right side to stay updated . . happy reading! :D)