2012: The Tipping Point

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsx2012TP

Once in a while, i amuse myself with this during the daily puja.

Sorry about the grainy video.  The few drops of water on the shivling flow slowly down the incline of less than 5°; once it goes over (at 11 sec in the 21-sec video), the gomukha (platform) starts vibrating!

As the water moves a bit, you can see the surface tension of the water holding out against the gravity.  The incline is less than 5°, but gravity is acting nonetheless in its insidious manner.  The water breaks a bit and moves forward, but the surface tension acts as a binding force and again creates a smooth water front.  So it's a fight between these two forces.

Feynman writes of a marvelous incident:

So when I was in graduate school at Princeton, I once took it [a little hand microscope] out of my pocket to look at some ants that were crawling around on some ivy. I had to exclaim out loud, I was so excited. What I saw was an ant and an aphid, which ants take care of--they carry them from plant to plant if the plant they're on is dying. In return the ants get partially digested aphid juice, called "honeydew." I knew that; my father had told me about it, but I had never seen it.

So here was this aphid and sure enough, an ant came along, and patted it with its feet --all around the aphid, pat, pat, pat, pat, pat. This was terribly exciting! Then the juice came out of the back of the aphid. And because it was magnified, it looked like a big, beautiful, glistening ball, like a balloon, because of the surface tension. Because the microscope wasn't very good, the drop was colored a little bit from chromatic aberration in the lens--it was a gorgeous thing!

The ant took this ball in its two front feet , lifted it off the aphid, and held it. The world is so different at that scale that you can pick up water and hold it! The ants probably have a fatty or greasy material on their legs that doesn't break the surface tension of the water when they hold it up. Then the ant broke the surface of the drop with its mouth, and the surface tension collapsed the drop right into his gut. It was very interesting to see this whole thing happen!

~~~*-*~@~

Last morning, i was trying to do the same thing, but ended up having a mysterious XP.

The water moved very slowly.  It went creep, creep, creep, but nowhere in particular.  Less than ten mm in more than ten minutes.  It felt like an advancing glacier.

So i reverted to reading Chapter 49 of the Shri Sai Satcharita.  Since i had to remove my specs to read, i was a bit worried about seeing the water going over.  But the water stayed put.

So i added five more drops to the mix.  There was a sort of a mark on the gomukha but the waterline stayed the same distance.

In the meanwhile, i read the Discourses of Brahmachaitanya for the day as well as Chapter 4 of The Gospel.

When i finished and wore my specs back, the waterline had hardly moved, so i thought that gravity was beaten for the day.

Just a few seconds later, the waterfront plunged forward and even the shivling started going down with it!  I had to move fast and tip the gomukha to a horizontal position but not before the water sailed over.

All during this XP, i was thinking of the changing dynamics of a system.  As a system undergoes changes, it keeps trying its best to jiggle back to an equilibrium state.  But after a point, it sort of can't do that.  Even when you think the system has sort of stabilized (as i was thinking at the end), it might just be preparing for an explosion (as it eventually did).

~~~*-*~@~

Since it's a holographic universe (small-scale events mimic those on a larger scale), i think mankind is in a similar situation wrt Mother Earth, which is trying its best to adjust to the depredations of man.  It's impossible to tell when the tipping point has been reached.  Everything might seem stable for the moment, but it's probably just the lull before the storm.

Recently, one of my pals sent me a link that the figurative 2012 has been postponed.  But, IMHO, that's impossible to tell.

AFAIK, i am keeping my eyes & ears peeled for the trigger event, according to Cayce: Eruption of Mt. Vesuvius or Mt. Pelée.  From Reading 270-35, given on January 21, 1936:

If there are the greater activities in the Vesuvius, or Pelee, then the southern coast of California—and the areas between Salt Lake and the southern portions of Nevada—may expect, within the three months following same, an inundation by the earthquakes.

No wonder, then, that the entity feels the need, the necessity for change of central location. For, many portions of the east coast will be disturbed, as well as many portions of the west coast, as well as the central portion of the US.

There will be upheavals in the Arctic and Antarctic that will cause the eruption of volcanoes in the torrid areas, and pole shift.

Peanuts

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsxPeanuts

Last month, there was one more intriguing reference to the potential of the peanut:

The Peanut Solution

Like most tales of great invention, the story of Plumpy’nut begins with a eureka moment, in this case involving a French doctor and a jar of Nutella, and proceeds through the stages of rejection, acceptance, evangelization and mass production. The product may not look like much — a little foil packet filled with a soft, sticky substance — but its advocates are prone to use the language of magic and wonders. What is Plumpy’nut? Sound it out, and you get the idea: it’s an edible paste made of peanuts, packed with calories and vitamins, that is specially formulated to renourish starving children. Since its widespread introduction five years ago, it has been credited with significantly lowering mortality rates during famines in Africa. Children on a Plumpy’nut regimen add pounds rapidly, often going from a near-death state to relative health in a month. In the world of humanitarian aid, where progress is usually measured in subtle increments of misery, the new product offers a rare satisfaction: swift, visible, fantastic efficacy.

More on the Plumpy-nut.  And one more strike for the humble peanut.

Incidentally, why are so many peanut-based products available in the US?  I found the reason in one of my all-time favorite stories called Beyond Fame and Fortune, which was featured as the Book Section in 50 Golden Years of the special RD issue in 1972.  It was written by Lawrence Elliott, who also wrote that hilarious The French Correction.

George Washington Carver (GeoWaCa) was born and rescued under trying circumstances.  He was one of the few to be educated.  At school, he learns that cotton, the staple crop of the farmer folks around, was drawing all the nutrients out of the soil. So he suggests that they grow peanuts, which would return the nitrogen back to the soil.  Needless to say, the farmers heed this advice from their educated friend.  But GeoWaCa doesn't budget for one crucial thing: a glut of peanuts, which sends the price crashing and no hope for anyone to recover their investment on the crop.

Totally taken back by this market dynamic, GeoWaCa goes for a walk in the forest and talks to God, a special talent of his.  Mr. Elliott writes:

Years later, Carver told the story of this, his single most crucial undertaking, in a speech in Manchester College, in St. Paul, Minnesota.  Groping for solace that October day, he had walked through the predawn darkness of his beloved woodlands.  As he searched for the first glimmer of the new morning, he had cried out, "Oh, Mr Creator, why did You make this universe?

"And the Creator answered me, 'You want to know too much for that little mind of yours.'  He said, 'Ask me something more your size.'

"So I said, 'Dear Mr Creator, tell me what man was made for.'

"Again He spoke to me: 'Little man, you are still asking for more than you can handle.  Cut down the extent of your request and improve the intent.'

"And then I Asked my last question, 'Mr Creator, why did You make the peanut?'

"'That's better!' the Lord said, and gave me a handful of peanuts and went with me back to the laboratory and, together, we got down to work."

Inside the laboratory, Carver closed the door, pulled on an apron and shelled a handful of peanuts.  That whole day and night, he literally tore the nuts apart, isolating their fats and gums, their resins and sugars and starches.  Spread before him were pentoses, pentosans, legumins, lysin, amido and amino acids.  He tested these in different combinations under varying degree of heat and pressure, and soon his board of synthetic treasures began to grow: milk, ink, dyes, shoe polish, creosote, salve, shaving cream and, of course, peanut butter.  From the hulls he made a soil conditioner, insulating board and fuel briquettes.  Binding another batch with an adhesive, he pressed it, buffed it to a high gloss—and held it in his hands a light and weatherproof square that looked precisely like marble and was every bit as hard.

For two days and two nights he worked, dismissing the worried students who tapped at his door—"Are you all right, Dr Carver?" "Yes! Yes! Please let me be." He felt himself to be in God's hands, the mortal instrument of a divine revelation.

Later he would say, "The great Creator gave us three kingdoms—the animal, the vegetable, and the mineral. Now He has added a fourth—the kingdom of synthetics." And years afterwards, when the new science of chemurgy had been identified as an attempt to create wealth from the dormant power of the soil and air and sun, men would say that George Washington Carver had been a chemurgist before the word had been invented.

But none of these lofty considerations even occurred to Carver on that October night in 1915 when he finally sagged back to his workbench, trembling with fatigue. He knew only that with God's guidance he had made it possible for men to use every peanut harvested, and that if the crop trebled—as it was to do in a scant four years—every farmer would still find a ready buyer in the marketplace. Wearily he walked into the chill sunrise to offer his devout thanks.

Here's a condensed version of the above from Google Books:

For the Love of Bhajans

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsxLoveBhajans

The techie was feeling a little tetchy last (Sunday) evening.  I missed the early morning baddy, as we had a late Saturday night with some friends.

Went out for a while in the evening to the Forum Value Mall with WiFi and when we got back, i was really itching to get on to the bike and go around Palm Meadows.

Kick-started the standard cycling loop with Gajanana Hey Gajanana in Sai Sundaram Bhajan Volume 4 (= day 24 mod 10):



I guess i had really missed it as i was soon singing along with a lot of feeling.  As RamK Misraji says:

Bhajan = Bhav (feeling) with jan (people)

Though a whole lot of folks go around with their iPods plugged into their ears, i find that too constraining.  The bhajans are set to full volume in my pouch and, since i am almost always on the move, there's not much chance of irritating other walkers/runners.

Am reminded of Roald Dahl from The Visitor:

The Lagonda moved on smoothly through the night. Now for an opera. Which one should it be this time? I was in the mood for a Verdi. What about Aida? Of course! It must be Aida - the Egyptian opera! Most appropriate.  I began to sing. I was in exceptionally good voice tonight. I let myself go. It was delightful; and as I drove through the small town of Bilbeis, I was Aida herself, singing "Numei pieta," the beautiful concluding passage of the first scene.  Half an hour later, at Zagazig, I was Amonasro begging the King of Egypt to save the Ethiopian captives with "Ma tu, re, tu signore possente." Passing through El Abbasa, I was Rhadames, rendering "Fuggiam gli adori nospiti," and now I opened all the windows of the car so that this incomparable love song might reach the ears of the fellaheen snoring in their hovels along the roadside, and perhaps mingle with their dreams.

Anyway, album 4 has a whole lot of wonderful numbers, including that slow simple favorite, Sai Baba Gita Sudha:

There was hardly any traffic on the roads at that time (8:20 - 9:00 PM) and i had the run of the place in more ways than one.  Most of the cycling was done hands-free, except while negotiating the speed-breakers (have to figure that one out).

Each round takes about 11 minutes and, at the end, i said Hello to the charming Shirdi Sai Baba:

The other night, a group of kids saw me there and tickled me with a "Oh, God…"!  It amused me quite a bit, though i didn't give any outward sign of hearing that comment.

RIP, Mandelbrot

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsxMandelbrot

"Here is a question, a staple of grade-school geometry that, if you think about it, is impossible," ... "The length of the coastline, in a sense, is infinite"

Last morning, saw a news item that Benoit Mandelbrot, the fractal man, was dead at 85.  It also had a reference to a Romanesco cauliflower.

This morning, very unusually in retrospect, PSM sent a set of pictures taken with a scanning electron microscope and #17 was, well, a Romanesco cauliflower!

Googled a bit and this is what i found:

Fractal Food—Self-Similarity on the Supermarket Shelf
…
Nearly exact self-similar fractal forms occur do in nature, but I'd never seen such a beautiful and perfect example until, some time after moving to Switzerland, I came across a chou Romanesco like the one above in a grocery store. This is so visually stunning an object that on first encounter it's hard to imagine you're looking at a garden vegetable…

It was the books of Y Balaji (my elder bro's classmate at Kotak) that instilled in me the love of fractals, as composed by Mandelbrot.  Whorls within whorls and the whole thing repeated till you get something that you can see.

An unusual thing about fractals is their dimension: it's neither one nor two, but something in between.

To Serve without Audacity

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsxAuda

There are no menial jobs, only menial attitudes.

When the cook makes some tea for the maid in the morning, i notice that the tea keeps cooling down until the maid finishes her allotted tasks.  Only when she finishes them does she sit down to enjoy her tea.

When WiFi makes some nice filter coffee in the morning, i can get down to drinking it only when the kids have been given the early-morning milk and the kitchen is spick and span, esp. in front of our Kitchen Goddess.

Heck, am i turning into a servant in my own house?!  But i take comfort in the above quote as well as the thought of Shreyas vs. Preyas.  And, of course, the example of Ramana cutting vegetables in the Ramanasramam kitchen after enlightenment.

Video: Auda Serves without Audacity

Visit to Passport Seva Kendra, Marathahalli

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsxVisitPSKM

Had to renew the passports of my kids and went to the PSK (Passport Seva Kendra), Marathahalli.

It was a very enjoyable XP as it was very asynchronous; right up my alley :-)

All the applying can be done online here.  The PDFs downloaded from the site can be filled in offline. Once the data is entered and validated, an XML can be generated and uploaded.  After that, you can get an appointment for a day of your choice.  I chose today as it was the first day of Navratri.

If you have any doubts, you can call up the toll free help line 1800-258-1800 (thanks, Shibu). The folks are quite helpful and clarified the documents to be carried for the renewal:

• Doc 8017: Expiring passports, with self-attested copies (by the applicant) of the first two and last two pages.
• Doc 8067: Annexure H (for minors).

We went to the PSK at Marathahalli about half an hour before the appointment time.  See the PSK on Wikimapia; a screen-shot of which is below: (the PSK is in the middle of the screen-shot above the cross+hairs, as usual)

It's right next to the Advaith Hyundai showroom on Outer Ring Road and has a branch of HDFC Bank adjoining it (you can see the …NK of HDFC Bank in the photo below).

At the entrance (above), you have to give in the AR (Application Receipt) for whatever you want to do (new / renew passport, change of address , etc.).

I couldn't carry the actual AR as there was some bug in printing it (through all the browsers: FF 3.6, Chrome 6.0, and IE 8).  So i carried a print-out of the page from where you print the AR.  The lady checked the same against her master list and gave us a ref. number (406 and 407).  Incidentally, with its high ceilings, 406-407 is one of the best-looking houses in Palm Meadows. Also, 407 is one of those interesting (four) numbers: the sum of the cubes of each of the digits equals the number itself (4³ + 0³ + 7³ = 407).  I took that as a good omen ;-)

Once we were in the air-conditioned room, a person checked that all the docs were in place.  If anything is missing, he suggests that you can get them photocopied in the waiting lounge.  So there's absolutely no issue even if you forget the photocopies, as long as you carry the (fabulous) originals.

Then we got a couple of token numbers (Q6/…) and entered the waiting lounge.  This was a neat place with nice seats and the standard stuff (coffee/tea/biscuits, photocopying machine, newspapers, and loo).

We met a sweet guy called Dr. Dayananda; he lived up to his name: getting joy out of being compassionate.   This is of course what the Master says: "Compassion, love of God, and renunciation are the glories of true knowledge".

We also met a little kid, who reminded us quite a bit of how Niki was when she was that age (see).

Then our token numbers were called and we went into the processing counters, which are divided into three parts:

• A (junior passport staff)
• B (middle)
• C (seniors).

The folks in the A section (~20 counters) do the data validation and form checking.  They took a picture of the kids and ensured that the data was fine, with a second monitor placed in front of us.  At this stage, we were lucky to have taken some extra documentation, which was added to the list only in the morning.  We exited Section A with a docket of dox.

Then we went over to the B section and got the docket verified.

A little bit of waiting and the final seal of approval was given by the seniors in Section C.

On the way out, we met Indranil Baruah (from Assam), who seemed to be in charge.  I was struck by his humility.  He had given some water from the pantry for Marty a few minutes earlier and there he was patiently waiting as we waited to collect the final document at the exit point.  It was a very streamlined XP till then and i told him as much.

Soon we were traipsing out of the building marveling at the smoothness of the entire transaction!

Figuring out a Google Account

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsxGoFigure

I wonder whether there's an easy way to figure out a Google Account, which is a superset of GMail, GoogleMail, and practically any email ID.

There are some roundabout ways to do the same: (say, the email ID that you're interested in CEID)

• Create a Gmail contact on CEID and add any old picture for the same.  If CEID is a Google Account, the Contact manager will prompt you to share the pic with CEID.
• Do a Domain Dossier using CentralOps and check out the mail server being used (the MX records).

For instance:

flipkart.com    IN    MX   
preference:    15
exchange:    alt2.aspmx.l.google.com
    43200s    (12:00:00)
flipkart.com    IN    MX   
preference:    5
exchange:    aspmx.l.google.com
    43200s    (12:00:00)
flipkart.com    IN    MX   
preference:    10
exchange:    alt1.aspmx.l.google.com

These are, of course, involved.

Wondering whether there's a simpler process.

Porch Hogs

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsxPorcHogs

Will a Porsche hog a porch?

The porch in the Palm Meadows Club is wide enough for two cars/vans.

However, this morning there was a repeat of a familiar charade.  An Innova gets in just before i cross the porch on the way out and pulls up to pick up some club guests.  But the way the taxi (yellow plates) driver parks it, i can't get past it.  I have to wait for the guests to get in and drive off.

That got me hot under the collar.  I have told the club guys many times that all it requires is for them to draw a yellow strip down the middle of the porch so that drivers can ensure that it's visible on their right before they get down.  Common sense stuff doesn't work.  Probably the club guys are worried about the, well, aesthetics! Have to wonder what the valets and the doormen are doing while all this is happening.

Reminded me of the synchronous Indian in Temple Hopping:

Thought I should whip off a bit of cash as safety and was trying to park my car in the basement of our Palm Meadows Amenities Complex, when I saw this dude in the Innova blocking the way. Seeing me, he reversed and, after I finished parking, he was back to this position! How the heck am I to get out?

The Catcher writes:

I certainly began to feel like a prize horse's ass, though, sitting there all by myself. There wasn't anything to do except smoke and drink. What I did do, though, I told the waiter to ask old Ernie if he'd care to join me for a drink. I told him to tell him I was D.B.'s brother. I don't think he ever even gave him my message, though. Those bastards never give your message to anybody.

All of a sudden, this girl came up to me and said, "Holden Caulfield!" Her name was Lillian Simmons. My brother D.B. used to go around with her for a while. She had very big knockers.

"Hi," I said. I tried to get up, naturally, but it was some job getting up, in a place like that. She had some Navy officer with her that looked like he had a poker up his ass.

"How marvelous to see you!" old Lillian Simmons said. Strictly a phony. "How's your big brother?" That's all she really wanted to know.

"He's fine. He's in Hollywood."

"In Hollywood! How marvelous! What's he doing?"

"I don't know. Writing," I said. I didn't feel like discussing it. You could tell she thought it was a big deal, his being in Hollywood. Almost everybody does. Mostly people who've never read any of his stories. It drives me crazy, though.

"How exciting," old Lillian said. Then she introduced me to the Navy guy. His name was Commander Blop or something. He was one of those guys that think they're being a pansy if they don't break around forty of your fingers when they shake hands with you. God, I hate that stuff. "Are you all alone, baby?" old Lillian asked me. She was blocking up the whole goddam traffic in the aisle. You could tell she liked to block up a lot of traffic. This waiter was waiting for her to move out of the way, but she didn't even notice him. It was funny. You could tell the waiter didn't like her much, you could tell even the Navy guy didn't like her much, even though he was dating her. And I didn't like her much. Nobody did.

When the Present of the Moment Slips Away

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsxPresent

Last Monday was very unusual.

I got message on message of how the present moment was the only one that mattered.

It started with this note from AHAM:

15. Only with reference to the "present," can the "past" and the "future" exist. The past was present in its time and the future will also take place only as the present at its time. Thus, the "present" alone exists. Ignoring "present" and indulging in the memories of "past" or determining the nature of the "future", is like trying to count without the number "One".

Balan observed that the verse was from Forty Verses on Reality (Ulladu Narpadu).

Reminded me of that quote by Alan Watts:

I have realized that the past and future are real illusions, that they exist in the present, which is what there is and all there is.

Then, the Spiritual Thoughts had:

September 27: Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.

Later in the day, i got this from ARE (Association for Research and Enlightenment):

Edgar Cayce Reading 3660-1:
. . . in the consciousness of eternity, time is not, neither is space. In man's consciousness there appears so much mercy, so much love, that these have been called time and space.

Pretty weird it was!

Venky responded to my Google Buzz on this with:

We have two choices: One is to agree with the present that is happening anyway....OR not to agree with what IS... When we agree with the present the mind rests!!

which reminded me of stable equilibrium:

We should get the mind back to rest asap, even if it shifts, i.e., it should be in stable equilibrium.

Note the smile on the one in stable equilibrium!

The week went great in this manner.  But, by Sunday evening, something happened and the drift started.  There were no tears of joy for the Old Man/Mother and so it went till last evening.

Only this morning, thinking of goppArunachala in the loo, got back a bit of that blissful state.

For the Love of Music

Qk.ly: http://bit.ly/bsxLoveMusic

The House of Love is made completely of music, of verses and songs.
—Rumi,
seen at the bottom of page 292 of The Life and Teachings of Sai Baba of Shirdi

Earlier this week, i was very impressed with the OPEN article, The Man Who Resides in Music on Mallikarjun Mansur:

Mallikarjun Mansur is one such great singer who can put the listeners in his debt just with the first note.  I have had the good fortune, for the last 35-36 years, of listening to the first shadja (note) of his voice blend into the first shadja of the fine tuned tanpura. This shadja is constantly playing on the veena of his heart. In fact, this veena is Mallikarjun Mansur.
…
Many singers sing – very seasoned and polished. But their voice is not drenched with the melody of notes. The singing does not allow the rasikas to imbibe the notes. The reason that Balgandharva’s “daya chhaya ghe” melted the hearts of the listeners is because of the wetness, that liquid quality of his notes, that beseeching quality. Such singers literally shower music on the hearts of the listeners! This quality of drenching the receiver is very important in any act of giving. Maybe that is why the traditional practice of sprinkling some water on the coins before giving them away as dakshina emerged. The wetness of his notes is a hallmark of Anna’s singing. There are many singers who possess treasure troves of notes. Anna possesses waterfalls of notes. They keep falling and flowing continuously.
…
Someone asked Anna, “Anna, isn’t the pursuit of music full of hardship?”

Anna replied, “Hardship? How can music have hardship? It is my good fortune that I became a singer. In our world, there are no hardships, only pleasure.”
…
As the steamboat recedes from the coast, the coastal world becomes more and more distant. Exactly the same way, the world outside the room became more and more distant. In the inside world were us, that singing man, and that vast ocean of Yaman!

I was in a state after reading this and the photo essay:

He heard me out quietly and asked me for my favourite raga. I was flummoxed, as I had limited knowledge of ragas back then, let alone a favourite. I suddenly recalled a conversation with a friend’s father, when we had spoken about Nat Kamod. Little did I know that I would be treated to a spontaneous performance the very second I blurted out the name. There we were, standing at a paan shop in the middle of a buzzing marketplace, with Vividh Bharti playing in the background, when Panditji began singing the famous Newar Baajo in Nat Kamod. Though I blushed a beetroot red when his performance began to attract attention, I felt a deep sense of honour as well. Here was a musical genius standing on the road singing just for me.

I just had to go up to the study and comment on the article:

Thank you for this and the photo essay; they made me cry.

Bismillah Khan says: Visions of Balaji
| In music, the sur is a clean thing, it is a pure thing. It cannot be deceived and it cannot deceive anybody. It is like a mirror in which you see the world, in which I see my own face when I play. When I start playing, the mind wanders here and there and takes me with it. But all the time I am striving for the assar. But when that comes, when the sur clicks, it is like I am unconscious and the heart has taken over. Sometimes I don't understand who is playing.

Looks like no such preamble was required for Anna.  He hit the ground running, so to say.  After all, sur was part of his name!

PSM wrote back:

Thanks for the article. I am a big fan of Sri Mallikarjun Mansur. Such pure voice - when music is addressed to God alone in total surrender and devotion! It is like God is singing through him!

I did some more re-search on him.  HY Sharada Prasad writes in Pundit Mallikarjun Mansur:

So many of our well-known authors and artists move about with a swagger for they seem to believe that they are indeed colossi striding the scene. They are all the time looking at those who are looking at them. Mallikarjun did not possess a regal bearing. He did not clothe himself in princely robes. He did not care to be the center of attraction. He was content to be inconspicuous. He continued to look like a shopkeeper's accountant. He did not speak like an oracle. He rarely referred to his triumphs. He won not only the  respect but the  affection of his contemporaries. He was wholly without envy. His was an unfailing geniality and lightness of heart. His airs were what he sang. He did not put on any.

~~~*-*~@~

I did some analysis of his name. It adds up to 50, the same as that of Roger Federer and Sachin Tendulkar, the sublime maestros.  Guess it figures.

~~~*-*~@~

Thosar once told me of a guy who was in search of the perfect piece of music. His search went on for many years. One day, they found him in a state of samadhi. There was no coming back; he had gone back home.

As the Master says in The Gospel:

Visit to Vidyasagar
…
"Once a salt doll went to measure the depth of the ocean.  (All laugh.) It wanted to tell others how deep the water was.  But this it could never do, for no sooner did it get into the water than it melted.  Now who was there to report the ocean's depth?"