all power, all glory, all vestitude is in man's hand. in might, not in cries of sorrow. the musk deer, after vain search for the cause of the scent of the musk, will atlast have to find it in himself. look not to him, the lord, to a leader or a savior. Look to yourself. Awake!

—only one can play this game.

we have to be very careful, very aware. every step is to be taken with great care, like on a tightrope. we throw ourselves out at every bit of dejection, rouse our minds at the sight of all the madness around. in that very deviation from calmness we contribute to the madness.

—you don't find amusement in the mundane, the simple, the subtle. a fantasy is required to rouse your ilk. the crowd attracts you—religion and politics, entertainment & social cries. not a moment is spent on sitting still—in total isolation. your shoddy rotten mind always wins.

My book ‘The Great Game: Afghanistan, British India and the Hundred Year War For India’s Northern Frontier’ is now at No. 5 in the Global Bestsellers list in its category on Amazon. And in good company. See: amazon.com/Great-Game-Afg…

and one day it happens—the gate opens up and the light shines through. then there's nothing to do, & nowhere to go. all the hardship settles, the mind settles. one loses himself in his innocence and all calculated cunningness withers away. relaxed & relieved—one is finally home.

step by step—then all at once.

„Was ist der wahre Grund denn nun, Daß der Segen von uns entwich? Die Menschen haben zu viel zu tun, – Sie kommen nicht zu sich.“ Ernst von Feuchtersleben (1806 - 1849)

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we carry a thousand yesterdays.

Raghu Rai. Gangotri, 2004.

we refuse to listen, to sit still, to play with our breath, to take charge of our whole being. the body yields first, then the mind, then the spirit. one who plays this great game once touched by it, never gives away his self to another... yet, we refuse to listen, to sit still..

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