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As I began to reflect on how our way of living had changed literally overnight when the lockdown was announced in Mumbai, I realised that like most people, I went through various stages of emotions, doubts, and concerns. There were moments of uncertainty, and confusion about the future, the health of loved ones, the suffering around the planet, and concern about the outlook of our family business, our employees… However, early on I was able to distance myself from this constant noise; the diverse opinions and criticism about how the situation should be handled, the influx of information, the endless WhatsApp forwards, and the general sense of panic that I noticed around me.
Just a few kilometers off the Mumbai Harbor, nestled on an island, amidst basalt rock mounds, lay a mysterious complex of exquisite cave temples that whisper a silent homage to the region’s spiritual past. It’s tune inaudible to the nearby metropolis teeming with ambitious commerce, and ceaseless traffic, here the temple walls echo a stark but graceful embrace, and invite the yearning explorer to re-discover a mystical tradition so vibrant in the distant past.
This article is the result of a trip I recently made to Athens, Epidaurus, Olympia and Delphi. Walking through its stunning archaeology, pausing at monuments, and gazing spellbound at its sacred temples, I couldn’t help but ponder what might have inspired such a civilization.
Nursing at her bosom, Greece nurtured such an altitude of knowledge and amplitude of wisdom that it came to be called the cradle of Western Civilization. Herodotus, regarded as the Father of History, lived here. Solon envisioned the origins of Democracy here.
With a burning aspiration and courageous determination, many a youth dares to dream of a better world, driven by the need to take responsibility and participate in bringing about the clearly evident need for change, whether in the realm of ecology, literacy, socio-economic disparity, or the myriad other causes that demand attention in our times. It is fair to say that it is in vogue, almost considered admirable, to stand for a cause, and many aspiring idealists turn to activism to do their share. They ‘like’ facebook pages, sign petitions, write articles, stand their ground in vocal protests outside of parliaments…but rarely does change really manifest, prompting a sense of disillusionment at the failure of invested efforts. When asked what their “actions” accomplished, they withdraw saying, “at least it brought about some awareness,” as if the cause at hand were not already well known.
There is no point in compiling yet again a list of the situations afflicting everyone all over the world, because the media have already taken it upon themselves to broadcast them, and because, by repeating them, we only make the evils bigger without finding solutions.
When I was very young, I came across a book called The Prophet, by poet, painter, thinker, but perhaps above all, a philosopher, Kahlil Gibran. I clearly remember a sense of mystery; the existence of truths about myself, beyond the known. I did not know what I was searching for, but it awakened in me a desperate thirst to know myself. I had set off on a journey, and Kahlil Gibran’s works have been a shining light ever since. Gibran was born to humble beginnings in 19th century Lebanon, in a world torn by war.
Extracts from an evening hosted by New Acropolis Culture Circle. Philanthropy can be a bridge between the ideal of fraternity and its material manifestation. Imagining a better world, with a greater sense of fraternity is intuitively appealing to many. Yet, to make a personal sacrifice in order to create that better world, is the choice that we make less often than is needed.
In this light, it is relevant to ask – what drives one to share with that urgent sense of duty? Does one need money and power to be a philanthropist? What is the relationship between our choices and our identity?
Concerns about all sorts of issues are increasing around the world, survival is becoming more and more difficult in many countries, and confrontations for the most absurd reasons are on the rise, however important they may seem to those involved. Yet, in spite of all of this, there is a growing desire to achieve a better level of health.
Of course, this is not the case everywhere in the world. How can one desire good health when there is no food or water, when terrible epidemics strike with little apparent cause?
During the Renaissance, while Europe was experiencing a gigantic shift of ideas in almost every aspect of knowledge, in India, was born a man who, as Emperor of Hindustan, would use his indomitable courage and a restless search for wisdom to weave a similarly audacious social, political, and spiritual vision in the Indian subcontinent. His name was Abu’l-fath Jalal-ud-din Muhammad Akbar.
Born in Mumbai, trained in Moscow and London, Fali Pavri is the Associate Head of Keyboard and the Professor of Piano at the Royal Conservatoire, of Scotland. He joined a New Acropolis Culture Circle audience in Mumbai through a video conference call, from Glasgow, where he both spoke and played for us, passionately, from his heart. Here are excerpts from the insightful conversation…
The term “progress” derives from the Latin “progressus” which means, quite simply, the action of going forward. It is a mere illusion of the senses, intoxicated with hope, the supposition that every forward movement is synonymous with improvement, happiness and joy.
The arithmetic progression of 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. does not mean that 2 is better than 1. If we humanize the process, it is evident that everything will depend on the quality rather than the number, for only a fool would prefer to be given two beatings instead of one.
In the wee hours of the morning, Emperor Akbar awoke to the sweet melodious singing of Haridas, guru of the celebrated singer of his court, Tansen. Haridas had been singing a dawn raga. Overwhelmed, Akbar inquired why Tansen was not able to sing like his guru Haridas. Tansen replied that there was one big difference between him and his teacher; while he sang for his lord Akbar, The Great, Haridas sang for the Lord of the universe – God.
A wise man once said, “One close real friend is better than ten distant and estranged brothers.” Does true and unconditioned comradeship still exists in the 21st century? How different is real friendship from having casual friends or from “Facebook Friends”? Can this kind of lasting and profound friendship be found? How and where?
There are many kinds of friendships, some casual, some romantic, some are pleasant like flowers that bloom for a day or like a summer cloud, but some rare ones are as firm as an oak. These rare relationships do not depend on passing needs or on momentary interests.
Eight centuries ago a culture of mystical Islam suffused the lands extending from modern day Turkey (Anatolia) to modern day Afghanistan and Iran (Khorasan); it was called Sufi Islam. Etymologically, the word ‘Sufi’ is derived from the Arabic word safa, meaning purity. Mystics of the order created a path towards attaining self-knowledge and god-realisation in their desire to reunite themselves with God. This phenomenon was cradled and nourished by great intellectual, artistic and philosophical icons of the time; foremost among them was Jalaluddin Mohammed Rumi.
This article serves only as an introduction to the legendary origins, metaphysical purpose, and the traditional form used in the practice of Qawwali. It would be impossible to capture the cultural nuances, complex history, and social impact of the genre in this brief work, but I hope to share some principal themes that have emerged from my own amateur investigation, to help the reader embark on their own exploration of this magnificent Sufi practice.