Memory is unpredictable . One never really knows what we will remember and what we will forget. Which is why nostalgia arrives in unpredictable waves, highlighting something and skimming over others. Recently, I have found myself thinking of how memory works, as I was assailed by nostalgia over a trip to Varanasi, a city I prefer to think of, as Kashi. The nostalgia hit right as we landed at Varanasi airport. The last time I was here, it was 1988, I was 13 years old, the airport was brand new… regular flights hadn’t started yet (I think) … flights landed about once a week, and for the rest of the time, everything was open to those of us who lived in the airport quarters nearby. There were fields everywhere, vast expanses of green… I have vague memories of corn and sugarcane… and being overwhelmed by the vastness of the fields (this was the first time I was in such close proximity to them), and the warm hospitality of complete strangers who lived and worked amidst these fields. I h...
The story of the Buddha normally begins with the story of his birth… sometimes even before, with the omens which heralded the birth of a great soul. Shiv K. Kumar, however begins his story of the Buddha with Siddhartha choosing to participate in an open competition to win the hand of the princess Yashodhara. In doing so, he makes it quite clear that he wants us to see Siddhartha, not just as someone destined for greatness, to forget for a moment that we already know of his journey to enlightenment, and see him as a human, confused by what he sees around him, yet not hesitating to do what he thinks is right.