Listen to it

Listen to a story, never told but it also never unfold. One year passing through now, the days of disappearance of an important part of my soul. My silent friend, my brother, in the journey of our souls. We were after all twin souls. He is dead living in a place full of life, I heard they call it heaven. I live here, it is wanna be heaven. What more can be said? Ah live your life! Yeah right! Easier said than done. No one lives their own life. We are all connected, yet disconnected in our cores to our own wholes. May be not all of us.

I remember him, thankfully now, everyday. It has not been easy to come to terms that he is gone, and that the only way he is alive is through my memories of him in this earth plane, as he continues his journey on the other side. So I have practiced remembering him often, as the clouds cleared of my own selfishness, I again find him in the moments of my life. I like remembering him, there was no one more sweeter, calmer and cuter than him, that I have known in my entire life. I do not understand still, why I chose to leave. He was inspiring at every level in his life, just not the way he left me. I don’t want to ever want anyone to do this to themselves. Particularly not me.

No one die like this ever again. Choose life. light. love. Choose light. love. life. Choose love. life. light. Each moment. Never forget. Not any moment in our life. Let’s clear those clouds, for you and for me and the entire human race. I start with food. I eat my food always for him and me. Two meals a day in his name, to remember him and the creator. Amen.



Yes it is an insight, inside. Breath, prana, life, right now. Moving ahead but yet moving backwards and therefore immobile. Past, present and future, right now. How long since you crossed over to the other side? Wait, correction. How long since you decided to cross over to the other side? May be most appropriate is: How long until I see you again? Wait, correction. How long until I cross over and see what you see? Yes, I would like to know what is that you see now that I don’t see and I wonder what is it that you want to feel that I can feel. May be a fair exchange will be that you show me and I feel for you, what say?

Acceptance of what happened comes slowly or quickly and in what manner? I am breathing still. All it takes is breath. Breath in and breath out. Pay attention to it, the whole universe is breathing, the whole universe beats with our heart beat. Death, after all, what it is? Is it sweet, is it scary, or is it what we make it to be? Loosing a younger sibling is like someone chopped off half of your body, half of your life and half of everything that was or could be a part of you. Yet the only fulfillment comes from a constant attempt of regenerating that part, just like when we cut ourselves and white blood cells start working. It doesn’t come from outside, but inside and by remembering the relationship. The experience that it gave us, the knowledge of magic, miracles, prayers coming true, of sharing the love of dance and music. It gave so much to me, this relationship with my sibling, that more than crying on loosing you, I tear up knowing how I learned to identify with what is joy, what is sweetness, what is pain, what is love, and what it means to share laughter, together. I wish sometimes, that I would remember that I also gave you joy as much as you gave me.

I was definitely enamored by you. Your strength was something, that will take me a lifetime to understand. I was born healthy, a normal happy go lucky, annoying mischievous child. You were born with pain, you were born different, and you were born to us.  I do not remember much of my first ten years with you in terms of the regular hospital trips we took as it all happened so fast and so regularly, we tried to take care of you and got used to it as a life process. I remember I worried more for you than you worried for yourself, and I just did not understand why you would not bother to hear me, when I needed you to put that cast on your leg and walk with it. But now I know, you didn’t like it because it hurt you and later as predicted we never got around to heal your leg as they said it should. I don’t know how many times your leg must have hurt and you never told us. How many times you must have said it and that we couldn’t hear it anymore. I really didn’t knew how to help you then, and later also I felt stuck, I couldn’t help you.

The only thing, I knew was to tickle you. It was easy. I just had to give you the experience first, and then do the gesture from far and you would start laughing hysterically. I lied to you, I was ticklish too, but I controlled it, because you could not sense it in your leg. Now, I am not ticklish at all. I wanted to tell you, I don’t know what by doing that. But truly, except that right leg of yours, you were entirely ticklish everywhere else.  It came in handy when we took pictures of you, for sure. I feel extremely guilty sometimes, when I forget and sometimes I feel extremely lonely thinking that I will not see you again ever in that beautiful personality you were born in. I loved you just the way you are and forever, for you were a special soul born to us, and I cannot tell you how much it hurts that I couldn’t figure out anything for you as I didn’t have anything figured out for me either. I am sorry but I tried as much as I knew, but wow! you just had your own story going on there, and boy! I needed to learn from you!!

So I am now. I love you too brother.


Ahh!! Imagine the perspective of a seed. When does a seed first come aware of itself? That it is there? That it is? I do not know! I would like to imagine when the seed was first born! But when was the seed first born is a question for the scientists, intellectuals, philosophers, theologians, Eckhart Tolle, Dalai Lama, mothers and fathers of the world, birds, sky, water, gurus and mystics, and plane jane kind of thinkers.  But what if the seed is seeing only outside, not inside of itself, then does it know it exists or it knows of only the environment in which it exists?

What if? its a great question! What is! a great answer only if we can truly deduce what truly is.  It must be easier for some other tree to tell the seed what is! The seed will be told you will grow up to be a tree as tall as me and you will live forever like me! Or a left over bark of a tree that will tell the seed, don’t worry growing up because world outside is harsh, you will grow tall and then one day they will chop you off! It all depends on who is around the seed, and their perception of the world.  If seed is in a very diverse environment, it will look at all the different possibilities select what appeals the most, and think that is what I will be when I grow up, given the seed knows that it has the power to choose or make a decision. The best choice would be for the seed to look within and think of where it came from and enjoy the bliss of being. Each moment, the seed says, “Haha, I exist, yippie! I cannot wait to see what I will be next.”

Right now a seed is sleeping in mother earth’s womb, it is only aware of that environment. It feels like when it will open its eyes- at that moment it will sprout from the earth, breathing, a fresh little tiny green seedling. That is a new environment for it now. There is a wide open sky and other beings around this new being. What should the seed do to survive? As they say survival of the fittest and then there are some of us trying to fit everyone in the survival. Survive, survive! theorists and believers yell at the seed! and the seed says, “Yes, I am surviving!” And some of us say, “No you have to run in order to survive!”

That’s it we just told the seed that it failed the survival test! Can you see the little green seedling sad because it didn’t fit the standards because of the outside voice’s expectation of the seed, based on their own perception of what it means to survive successfully!

I feel that I exist and that I am happy that I exist should be good enough of a test. Oh but the voices! I wish the whole world would go on if not a day but on an hour of strike. Everyone stop working simultaneously, stop thinking, stop right there and then just experience their own existence for an hour, like a little baby who plays with themselves! (Hey, I got toes, and fingers and they sure do taste great!)

I tell you that hour itself is long for runners like us, may be start with 60 precious seconds! Time out for bliss!

May be don’t try harder, may be don’t try smarter, may be don’t try at all. Just be. You and me will be thankful to thee.

Retrospectively, I wish I knew that this is what is important: to be and not to not to be. I wish I could tell him that, just be. His life and after-life both remain the greatest lesson for me. He remains a guru of me and his legacy lives through me, complicating and simplifying my existence at the same time as I wait to see what will become of me.

In my brother’s name.


A Village It Takes

Mystery remains, but contemplation does not.  Yesterday, I drove my brother’s car to a class I am taking that I hope will be useful in the future to fulfill his dream of becoming a producer and director. My brother is fascinated by the world of movies, Bollywood and Hollywood alike. He also has a great love for music from all over the world, except I think what are called “Bhajans or Chants.”  He listens to all kinds of music and has left a vast collection for me to delve in to understand his taste better. If I compare myself, I like “Bhajans or Chants” more than anything and I like documentaries with a passion. This is where we differ.  On that note, he was listening to Will Smith’s Big Willie Style, its seems in his last hours as I saw in his car.  The cover of the CD has this quote from Will Smith, and seems to be probably one of the messages, may be my brother wanted to convey or may be not.

“It’s always hard when the time comes to do the “thank yous.” I always manage to forget somebody and then I see them on the street somewhere and they scream, “I gave you the best years of my life, and no thanks is the thanks I get!” So in the interest of time, space on the back of this album, and the avoidance of public ridicule, first and foremost, I would like to thank God. I would like to thank Mom Mom, Daddy O, GiGi and my entire family. Like the African proverb goes, “It takes a village to raise a child,” and I’ve been raised by a couple of villages full of people too innumerable to name. But to all of my friends, and all the “villagers” that have helped me, not only with this album, but with my career and life in general — you know who you are. And I want you to know that I’m very clear that no one becomes “The Big Williest” by themselves. And to Trey and Jada, I live, love and work, every second of every day, hoping to make you proud of who I am. I love you.

My father came from a small town, with a village like setting where news about each other spreads like wildfire, or we can say goes viral.  This is where cousins become life long friends and even neighbors are treated like uncles and aunts. May be it would have been a safe environment for him to thrive, may be not. My mother comes from a very close knit family, where every one follows their passion in living their lives fullest.  I often feel that me and my brother found ourselves at the crossroads of these two mindsets within a sub culture while often feeling burdened with as well as rejoicing in the immigration experience here in the USA.

For me the love of both countries is profound, the roots of  “Bharat” (known as India) and the branches of the “USA.” I think my brother felt the same way.  I am hoping to make a bridge for myself, for my peace, for my equilibrium across the Atlantic Ocean, flying over the Indian Ocean and landing in “Bombay Dreams,” somehow to reach over to my brother sitting next to me as I write this, but on the “Other Side.”

In my brother’s name.



During the course of over six months, I have learned the benefits of meditation, experienced some benefits of meditation and also often rejected meditation. Often I have wondered why we are not taught meditation in schools and universities as a very important technique to help focus the mind on positivity, peace and progress. To take a minute or two of silence when we are feeling overwhelmed, confused or even experiencing brain-fry, helps us gain inner strength to keep us going in this world of disorganization.  Much more than strength, I feel that meditation can help us get clarity and patience to take one step at a time.

I found this interesting article through Google Search, that makes analogies between driving a car and meditation. Most religions will tell us to meditate on the “Most High,” often we call “God.”  Being part of a Brahmin family (Brahmin means one who seeks the truth), raised in Sanātana Dharma (The Eternal Law), also popularly known as Hinduism, mistakenly considered a religion, I have been given an “open sky” to choose from and find the “one” to meditate on. I am aware of my “shovel,” that I have a “path,” and that I have to lay my “bricks,’ one by one with patience.

Oh what a burden! Do I want a “Purpose Driven Life?” Isn’t purpose, purposeful? Shouldn’t our deeds be purposeless or not focused on the outcome itself. As they say, enjoy the journey more than the destination?

What purpose then philosophy serves, except the ifs and buts? What purpose then planning for your life serves? What purpose then dreaming up your desires serve? What purpose even then achieving goals serves? Other than the only purpose should be the purpose not of you but the one who “created” us!

Sounds all confusing, but this is just a start of revelations to come!! Would “Hallelujah” be appropriate to say here?

It is much easier to meditate on my brother’s life, to remember his little toes, unique design of his hands, his smiles when he was tickled, the easy sunny life that he deserved always and forever. There was no race, no color, no boundaries, no us vs. them in my brother’s life, it was all together. All the puzzles fit together for him naturally, yet not so much for others outside of him.

He was working on his method, and from a little bit I know of his internal universe, I try to connect the pieces together, hoping to create a method for me, in my brother’s name.



If moments are like dew drops, holding memories in them, then definitely my time on earth could look like a rosary made of memories.  We often think that we will not be able to survive a loved one’s passing away, that we would never remain the same, and actually we never even ever imagine that we will ever lose a loved one in our life time. Coping skills become necessary for the survival of the ones left behind.  People who have gone through stress, loss, trauma, abuse, rape, bullying, and experienced their own “ground zero” in their lifetime, may cope differently or use the same method for everything. And then there is grieving, and sometimes time becomes an important factor.  We often hear, “Time will heal you,” or “It will get better with time,” or “Time is the biggest healer.”

Just like a Rosary, helps us remember the “divine memory,” my moments now and then, remind me of my deceased brother.  He may have passed away, leaving us with his memories, but with each memory that reminds me of him, I become strong willed, in my faith.  This is my faith in my existence, that which is related to him profoundly. I see my brother in a lot more people now, he is in the green leaves, he is in the water, he is in the air, and as a matter of fact, he could now be anywhere or everywhere.

He was universal in his thoughts, a simpleton by nature, yet who understood things that I could not. To me life was always with him, not without him. Since I cannot refute the fact, I can definitely defy living without him. I have received strength from my friends during periods in my life where I was struggling, coping with loss, shame, discontentment, and disappointments, but most of all the foundations of my striving in life was due to my brother’s graceful endurance of pain.

And when I think about his pain, that which I cannot fathom, even though I saw him go through it everyday, all I can do is stop for a moment in my life, remember his pain, before mine, be humbled by his strength and then strive on, in my brother’s name.



There is a great mystery, that a lot of us seek, and then there is a great mystery that I seek. Everyday, as I eat, I walk, sit, and sleep, as I breathe and as I see, I remember more and more memories of my brother, and yet more memories revealed to me through others. Together, these like pearls of a necklace, helping me see my brother, from his past, to what his future would have been, to that one moment….that forever remains his never ending present, the last moment when I saw him. This last moment was very much alive, breathing, even though his body was not, and then it all snapped…like a gush of ocean wave larger and more powerful than you, engulfing you with the truth of your own body.

The clock has stopped, but it is still ticking. It is illusion, its maya. Its senseless sensation. Its nothing in everything and everything in nothing. Sense of time, but now…its endless and eternal. There is no rush, for there is eternity at my hand, and yet, I cannot afford to loose time, because I wish to finish my work while I can. To learn what I came here to learn, to inherently ingrain it in my conciousness, so I can learn more and more, until it snaps again, like a gush of ocean wave larger and more powerful than you, engulfing you and reducing your body to absolutely nothing. Zero.

In the past, I was feeding myself for future sometimes, sometime for the present. Today, I had a Strawberry Banana Smoothie, in my brother’s name.