Wanderings Windows & White Paper: Wakefully Alone

By Aananda Teertha

The book, Wanderings, Windows, and White Paper, is not a storybook but a book of stories, poems, and a few drawings. Each of the stories is unique, but they connect to translate a wholesome idea of oneness. The plot and the presentation are simply incredible. The characters are nameless, known along the story as per their activities or simply as wanderers. They show up themselves to share a thought, a very new one, and ignite a new set of thought waves that refresh the whole thinking process of the reader instantly. A hidden potency in each sentence to recharge the reader with a gentle jolt is notable. The whole book celebrates the aloneness as the hidden source of power generation, mentioned throughout the book as ones own Self or Presence.
The language is purely unique, original, not from the intellect nor of the heart or of the mouth, but intuitively poetic. A philosophical travelogue, a well-knit mystic bunch of short stories in a single thread of experiencing, with the fragrance of compassion that takes the reader away from the entangling hands of lines and space to a settled pause. And throws light on the beauty and courage, up on the midroadmoving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Oct 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781482813418

Aananda Teertha

Author Biography 300 words. Born on October 28, 1970 in Munnar, a mountain town situated in the State of Kerala, in the Southern part of India, the author as a child naturally drifted towards the call-within. After the college studies, he goes to one of the coral islands of Lakshadweep, Androth, as a Mathematics teacher. Parents’ liberal and graceful attitude and the mundane life-course encouraged him to explore his own self, honestly. He leaves the island in search of the island within; and soon, finds himself by the banks of the river Ganga in Rishikesh. There, after adopting the name bodha chaitanya, he was initiated into the Hindu monastic order. Ten odd years of wanderings in the Himalayas, staying in Gangotri, Uttarkashi, Pushkar culminate as Sanyasa, the highest renunciation, in the year 2008, from the scholar-teacher of Vedanta, Acharya Swami Vishnu Teerthaji Maharaj . For the last two years, he has been staying by the river Ganga, in the Himalayan town Uttarkashi, in Aanand Ashram. People recognize him as Aananda Teertha by his Sanyasa name. Aananda uses Adi Sankara’s Masterpiece metaphor, rope and snake with a sweet creative twist. Here the snake & rope is used as a ladder to re- cognize the oneness as none other than one’s own self, I. Snake, rope and & in the book, symbolically denote the three states, or cause and effect; by negating which one lands up abruptly on his reality as I. Negating the duality by a subtle internal reflection and simultaneously asserting the negator as the I is the practice in nutshell. wanderings, windows & white paper is the echo of his footsteps of those external but internal wanderings.

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Copyright © 2013 by Aananda Teertha.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Foot Prints: Cover Courtesy: Raghav Deosthale

Symbolizes the spiritual journey; wanderer and the path.

Illustrations: Milan Das, Krishnan

Author Photo: Courtesy: Raghav Deosthale

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Contents

Acknowledgment

Prologue

Wanderings

Life

A Great March

Empty Glasses

Shadow On The Path

Potter On Wheels

Torturing Torch

Live Walk

The Mirage

Ninth Floor Columnist

Bathing In Silence

How Far

The Portrait

A Mango Season

In Searching

Echoing Clicks

Man And His Bag

Dead And Alive

Job And Joke

In The Rain, Alone

A Small Pause

A Blacksmith’s Missile

Two Wanderers

On The Same Old Track

Neither Sleep Nor Dream

Born Painter

Smelling Socks

External Installation

A Young Mind

At The Doctor

Notice Board

Black Bag

Seedless Alms

In A Bus Shelter

Flower Garlands

Hill Of Light

The Reading

The Gambler

A Coffee Chat

Three Stories

Where And Why

Life By The River

A Lady Street Charmer

Relay Baton

Wood Cutter

A Prolonged Acting

Path Making

The Beggar

Certified Musician

Damaru

Wheel And The Flute

Ripples

The Revered One On The Top

White Bed Spread

Elusive Mind

Windows

A Child’s Play

The Music

Reflections 01

The Storyteller

A Cunning Little Girl

Reflections 2

Man On The Top

The Clock Ways

Nature Cure

They And He

The Train Robbery

Shadow By The Way

Train To Nowhere

A Chair Story

Creations

Chair On The Left

Nakedness

Childishness

The Dialogue

The Cow

Repetition

A Shower Of Music

Proof

Writing And Walking

A Rolling Stone

The Robber

Red Coat

The Emptying

Slate And The Child

Beginning Of The Becoming

Rope Tricks

Snake Or The Stick

Three Trekkers

Leaving And Living

The Growth

Music Of Silence

The Last Bus

37Th Mile Stone

Back To The Source

Around The Light

The Game Of Pot Breaking

Seedless Seed

The Rolling Dot

Boat On The River

Chosen One

Ignorant Innocence

A Puzzle

Reflections 3

The Beginning

Rain And The Boy

Experimenting

Father Like Son

Container

Spark That Arranges

The Rat Trap

White Paper

Introduction To White Paper

Practice & Truth

Simplicity Of Courage

Conquered Goal

Miscellaneous

A Desert Song

Difference

Nature

Legendary Walk

An Announcement

From Moment To Moment

Fullness Of Emptiness

Listening And Learning

At Home

King Of The Road

Tune Of Togetherness

Collapse

Moving Goal

The Canvas

Epilogue

to Mataji

B orn on October 28, 1970 in Munnar, a mountain town situated in the State of Kerala, in the Southern part of India, the author as a child naturally drifted towards the call-within. After the college studies, he goes to one of the coral islands of Lakshadweep, Androth, as a Mathematics teacher. Parents’ liberal and graceful attitude and the mundane life-course encouraged him to explore his own self, honestly. He leaves the island in search of the island within; and soon, finds himself by the banks of the river Ganga in Rishikesh. There, after adopting the name bodha chaitanya, he was initiated into the Hindu monastic order. Ten odd years of wanderings in the Himalayas, staying in Gangotri, Uttarkashi, Pushkar culminate as Sanyasa, the highest renunciation, in the year 2008, from the scholar-teacher of Vedanta, Acharya Swami Vishnu Teerthaji Maharaj. For the last two years, he has been staying by the river Ganga, in the Himalayan town Uttarkashi, in Aanand Ashram. People recognize him as Aananda Teertha by his Sanyasa name.

Aananda uses Adi Sankara’s Masterpiece metaphor, rope and snake with a sweet creative twist. Here the snake & rope is used as a ladder to re-cognize the oneness as none other than one’s own self, I. Snake, rope and & in the book, symbolically denote the three states, or cause and effect; by negating which one lands up abruptly on his reality as I. Negating the duality by a subtle internal reflection and simultaneously asserting the negator as the I is the practice in nutshell.

wanderings windows & white paper is the echo of his footsteps of those external but internal wanderings.

Acknowledgment

(first story; rearranged and reworded)

I n my home, we had a car, a public carrier governed by a driver. After taking his daily wages, driver used to give the rest by which our household expenses were met. My father never allowed me to go with the cab because of our social status in the locality and my poor tact in collecting fare from the passengers. According to him, his son was a kind-hearted one, a disadvantage for a professional driver of a public carrier like ours. There was a helper boy to assist the driver in cleaning and greasing the cab.

One day, in the absence of the driver, I was put in his place to take the cab for a trip to pick somebody from their place to our town. Making ourselves ready for a long drive, listening to music from the player, I turned the car to the highway. The boy was sitting in the rear seat, humming to the tune.

It was evening and the schools had just released the children out. In that peak evening hour, all the bus stops were crowded. Since the children come under the concession category, no bus stopped seeing the swarm of children. Tiredness hanging on their faces due to various subjects and the burden of books on their back was visible. In front of us, a bus with a name-board ‘Virgin Mary’, packed to the full, avoiding the kids by skipping the stops was on its stride.

Suddenly a thought to stop and accommodate as many children as possible and drop them at their places on the way, sparked in my mind; which ended up in putting the brakes on: a pause right on the mid-road. In a few seconds, cab was packed and in no time the inside was full with music mixed with the chattering of children and their mixed odor of sweat. Through the rear view-finder the irritated face of the helper boy sitting squeezed in back-seat was reflected. After overtaking ‘Virgin Mary’, the cab moved at a comfortable speed.

The road, like a lengthy rope, lay in front of us. Music from the player had stopped somewhere behind. Dropping the children one by one on their stops, we headed forward to the destination. The evening artwork of sun was seen, announcing the sunset. Only a little girl child of five remained to be dropped.

Looking through the rear view mirror, I enquired from the kid where she wanted to get down. There was no response to my repeated enquiry. A trembling fear crept through my spine. So many thoughts, like the bogies of a black-train rushed through the corridor of my mind. An immediate brake stopped the cab with a jerk. I, with the helper boy got off; after lighting a beedi, boy had gone for relieving himself. Sun was just to slip.

I got into the cab, looking into the sparkling little black eyes of the child in a beseeching manner, asked where she wanted to go and who is her father, repeatedly.

Maybe reading my nervousness, she moved her lips to utter, in an angelic voice *‘Velichamuledath Vishvanadhan’.

Those two magical words, like two drops of nectar, changed me totally. The ‘name’ like a switch, solved the puzzle in a fraction of a second. All my fear had vanished and reminded me that it was the same place I also have to go.

I started the car, placing