Train of thoughts
I went to the Niskayuna Park for a jog today. It is amazing what a lung full of fresh air can do to one's spirits. It was mostly deserted except for an occassional biker or a skater. The park has a narrow bike trail which stretches for several miles and has the Mohawk river by its side. The chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves were pretty much the only sounds. There were birds of several plumage patterns and an occassional rabbit or a deer. I have always loved to let my mind wander and at times I stop the train of my thoughts and wonder how far I have strayed and attempt to retrace my thoughts. It is amazing how the web of thoughts work and is amusing to realise how interconnected the thoughts are and how one's mind can leap from one set of thoughts to another seemingly disparate set.

How is a "rabbit" related to "Sanskrit" ? Staring down at a little brown rabbit that ran across my path, I started to wonder how fast thay move and how long they live. I wondered what they eat and how they survive the six to seven months of sub zero temperatures. I wondered how the fish in the nearby Mohawk survive the winter when the whole river freezes, it then reminded me that my classmate (Mandarin class) Patrick was going fishing for four days next week. I recollected the stories he told me about how he and a couple of other guys caught and cooked an alligator down in Mississippi or somewhere. I, then started to think of the other stories he told me about how as a kid, he lost his little library to fire. Pat had been to India for four months where his daughter learned to speak hindi. I thought about the different places foreigners visit in India and remembered seeing a book at the Schenectady Public library on Kumbhamela. That reminded me that another classmate of mine - Tashin who is from Tibet, spent a few years of his life as a monk in Varanasi. He runs a Tibetan Gift shop in Albany these days after renouncing his monastic ways. Then I thought to myself that I had met a lot of people in my life who have had interesting stories to tell - Stories from their lives which they may or may not have time to share with others, then I wondered how much or how little I knew about my friends and family ! I questioned myself as to how many stories I knew from my father's life, my mother's, my sister's, my brother's, my wife's lives, from the lives of my dearest friends. I decided that I would share a lot of my stories with my kid (if you don't know already, I am going to be a dad this july :-) )....and then I remembered some of the stories my mother had cooked up to make me study Sanskrit when I was six or seven years old - Stories that really made me study the language for three years (Grades one to three)- Stories of how Gods in heaven spoke only in Sanskrit and how I could talk to them if I remained a good boy :-)). May be, I'll pass these along to my kid and I am sure he/she would grow up some day and laugh at these stories and may want to pass it to the next generation. I hope they add a few twists of their own to make it more interesting and relevant...and who knows, the story might grow in length, might change forms, might look totally different from the original. I may not be around to hear how the story would appear a hundred years from now..but let the stories pass on, as they have always. Along with the story would pass a piece of my thoughts and my mind. Isn't that the way Kunta Kinte's story passed through several generations and finally reached Alex Hailey ? And that finally brought me to one of the greatest stories ever told. I watched this documentary just yesterday on YouTube. Obviously, it was the controversy surrounding it that made me curious.