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The Spinning Melody and the Gateway

Reading "The Proof of Heaven" by Dr. Eben Alexander is almost like experiencing the NDE that he went through, to really be at the hospital with him where his loved ones were holding his hand 24/7 while he was in a coma, to be with him while he went through the underground, the gateway and the core back and forth experiencing the bright light and the melodious songs and the angelic being, to be able to hear with the whole being without anyone talking, to be able to see without physical eyes, to not have a concept of time, to feel a divine presence and be overjoyed to the fullest.  I wasn't feeling well over this long weekend. Couldn't go out because I didn't want to spread the flu around. Couldn't watch TV or browse the net since eyes were hurting. Couldn't sleep because, I'd start coughing the moment I was in bed. So though of reading a book that I'd wanted to read for a couple of months. A had finished reading and told me the gist, but I wanted...
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The Other World

"Ankle deep, he waded through the bluebells. His spirit rose and exalted... as he breathed in the sun-drenched air. The glorious day was in its last decline. Long shadows lay on the sward... and from above the leaves dripped their shimmering drops of gold-green light. Moths and butterflies swarmed in merry hosts... flittering here, glimmering there. But, hush. Could that be a deer?" When we were searching for "Tess of d'Urbervilles" in the library memories rushed in, almost overwhelming me.  Memories of school days when I would look at a bookshelf and see different worlds, when Hercule Poirot and Dirk Pitt and Sherlock Holmes loomed larger than life, when the reality of life was less real than those in books,  when my sadness and happiness and mood changes did not depend on what happened in the life I was living but in the lives of characters that I was closely following,  when even though the only place I had been to, other than Bangalore, that too occasionally...
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Makar Chudra – Maxim Gorky

With no offence to gypsies , the name reminds me of some below-the-belt curse in hindi or Malayalam or tamil . some bad name ! but that particular fact would make me not forget this name. it’s stuck to my mind. The story starts with Makar , an aged gypsy conversing with the author. It is dark , the wind is heavy , the campfire is blazing furiously ..yet Makar , smoking his huge pipe , was unfazed. It was as though these heavy conditions never affected him.(reminds me of Vikram-Betal stories of chandamama ! it was dark , the night was heavy , yet Vikram was unfazed. He climbed the tree , pulled the corpse out . as he started walking away with it , the corpse on his shoulder came to life !!!) . Makar is of the opinion that people are born to travel; that there is nothing better than traveling. “ A curious lot people are ; they herd together trampling on each other when there is so much of space-” . he asks why a man should be ploughing a field . “ A man who ploughs land pours his streng...
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