I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
...

I walked a mile with Sorrow;
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,
When Sorrow walked with me.
~ Robert Browning (1812-1889)

We all need to be aware of our personal calling. What is a personal calling? It is God’s blessing, it is the path that God chose for you here on Earth. Whenever we do something that fills us with enthusiasm, we are following our legend. However, we don’t all have the courage to confront our own dream.

Why?
There are four obstacles. First: we are told from childhood onwards that everything we want to do is impossible. We grow up with this idea, and as the years accumulate, so too do the layers of prejudice, fear and guilt. There comes a time when our personal calling is so deeply buried in our soul as to be invisible. But it’s still there.
If we have the courage to disinter dream, we are then faced by the second obstacle: love. We know what we want to do, but are afraid of hurting those around us by abandoning everything in order to pursue their dream. We do not realize that love is just a further impetus, not something that will prevent them going forwards. We do not realize that those who genuinely wish us well want us to be happy and are prepared to accompany us on that journey.

Once we have accepted that love is a stimulus, we come up against the third obstacle: fear of the defeats we will meet on the path. We who fight for our dream, suffer far more when it doesn’t work out, because we cannot fall back on the old excuse: “Oh, well, I didn’t really want it anyway.” We do want it and know that we have staked everything on it and that the path of the personal calling is no easier than any other path, except that our whole heart is in this journey. Then, we warriors of light must be prepared to have patience in difficult times and to know that the Universe is conspiring in our favor, even though we may not understand how.


- Paulo Coelho

We must love.
I am not speaking here only of love for another person. Loving means being open to miracles, to victories and defeats, to everything that happens each day that was given us to walk upon the face of the Earth.

When Death comes for us
may our lives be already safely stored away
in the minds and hearts and memories of those we have loved,
and in the happiness and well-being of all we have helped,
and may death find no life to take from us...
but shuffle off defeated,
having relieved us only of our dying.
~ Robert Brault

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
...

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
~ Maya Angelou

Two voices spoke to me this morning. One spoke of Kaash flowers about to sprout by the polluted Mandakini sometime soon, and how they would still be beautiful. The other spoke of how a little blue streaked Kali by a lake near had opened her hair after her bath and shut the doors on those who wanted a glimpse of her.

The mind is a strange beggar, you hear things and they take you to places where all conversation is redundant and silence is primal. On a still afternoon I had followed the dirty waters of the nalla into a small clearing where the waters mingle with the forest. Two peacocks stood still, head slightly raised, while invisible animals made love in some secret foyer.

I grew up in a small town, surrounded by natural reserve forests..when you grow up in such an atmosphere, you begin to imbibe the language and colours of the foliage around you somehow, and every once in a while you end up being what others call the tree whisperer.

The cityscape teaches us to colour everything in a particular sameness. We're all dolls of similar shapes, lives, and death-often speaking the same thoughts in different languages. My entire summ...er vacations were spent walking through forests, identifying leaves and roots. The forest teaches you to respect the presence of the unknown, of magic- like a little foolish unnecessary dream in a world full of complications.

Much later in life a friend materialized. Over sporadic conversations, he had said he was writing a novel on pre Biblical era trees that talk to each other in a secret language. It was wonderful to even think about it and believe in it. My friend vanished, but my faith did not diminish. And at times, with little incidents of life here and there,  I'm reminded of the belief in that little bit of unknown yet again.

The last of the flowers have died
the universe of smells too-
Somewhere in the long lost green fields,
Yellow houses with Blue smells -
are the shade of fear recollected.

One of the loneliest battles I have fought on a day to day basis in any locality/neighbourhood is that of saving plants/trees. And since one must be grateful to religion for saving some of the Banyan trees that remain in public domain and the Tulsi plant in households, maybe there should be an urban holy myth attached to every plant instead of botanical names so that they can survive the apathy and cruelty of the general masses.

Sitting grandly, this tree is more than 20 years old and has produced an estimated 2 crores worth Oxygen for free. Calculate the cost it would take to produce it synthetically. The shade under the tree when the foliage is thick( the pic was clicked during fall) is at least 3 degrees lesser than outside its periphery.
The truth is 800 trees versus a set of buildings/road/ human made some other structure is basically a matter of how much money can be made for our politicians from it. As for the sentiments of the people who care for trees, when did that ever make any sense to anyone.

तुम्हारा आगमन

तुम्हारा आगमन है
जब नांदी पाठ करते
दक्षिणावर्ती शंख से तुम्हारे नयन
प्राणों को बना जाते हैं स्वस्त्ययन...
तब उत्सव वस्त्र धारण करता हुआ काल
सप्त द्वीपों को पूरने लगता है दैविक मन्त्रों से

जब कोमल दूर्वा-सा तुम्हारा नारायणीय स्पर्श
उकेर जाता है आप्त श्रुति
तब ग्रह पथ गूँज उठते हैं
औपनिषदिक अभिवन्दना से
हाँ प्रिय
तुम्हारा आगमन
एक अनवरत घटित होता अनुष्ठान है
तुम्हारा स्वर उद्गीथ होकर
उपदिष्ट करता है
और
दिशा दिशा किरणमय हो उठती है
पुण्यशकुन महामंत्रो से

I believe we all have a right to peace love and honesty.
I believe we all have an intrinsic need to be happy and loving. More importantly be and feel loved.
I believe that we are all born for a purpose and our earthy journey is only to find and fulfill that purpose.
I believe we are all capable of being humane and humanly imperfect.
I believe that each of us have a responsibility to nurture and foster collective understanding and mutual acceptances of individual differences and religious affinities.
I believe not in ONE. I believe in everyONE.
I believe not in a power above us. But in a power within us that enables us to rise above pettiness and narrow mindedness.
I believe that earth is a mother nurturing and nourishing beings constantly but will not be able to continuing doing so if her oceans are filled with the blood of humans and the sea filled with the ashes of the dead.
I believe we all have a conscience and that given the right environment we will only do good ,see good and be good human beings capable of compassion and empathy.
I believe that each one of us belong to a collective entity called human beings and that our evolution begins from being a good human to an evolved being.
I believe that all Gods are one. We call the different names but the principles are the same. Love, Compassion, Integrity and collective Consciousness.
I believe that there is no such concept as a non believer and a believer. We are beings. That's it.
I Love You.

Everyone sees the unseen in proportion to the clarity of his heart, and that depends upon how much he has polished it. Whoever has polished it more sees more - more unseen forms become manifest to him.  -Rumi
Reminding me of us. Of being together. 

NOTHING.
No dreams
No desire.
No doubts.
No words.
No worries.
No thoughts.
No turmoil.
No fear.
No angst
No regrets.
Just breaths.
And a lot of love.
In nothing I find everything.
In one second I learn the whole.
Myself. My soul. Still and silent.
Thanks to my Guru.
For the light.
Being in me. 

I have a theory about a 'certain kind of love'. A kind of love that instinctively arises in the center of one's heart and never ever extinguishes. Never changes. Never alters. No one can control it or contain it. No force on earth or heaven or the realms in between can stop it or understand it. A kind of love that stays long after the object of its affections have either left or rejected that particular love. This is love that is born out of no reason or motives. it cannot die or dissolve under any circumstances or situations. Even if it remains unrequited or rejected or unexpressed, it does not go away in the heart from where it first originated. It does not change its nature or its intensity. A fixed light that shines until eternity. A love that in all its features and characters, takes on the value of infinity.
I have a theory about this particular love.
That, it becomes a rare diamond in the crown of the universe. It becomes a star that shines down on all lovers who find and fight to be with each other. On soul mates that keep their promises to each other. I believe this kind of love that does not get translated into the heart it is meant for, goes back into the universe to provide strength and hope for all others. This love becomes the most precious love that sustain the rest of the world. Such love is never lost. Such love cannot lose. over time, space and distances, both physical and non physical, this love travels, it winds its way in the heart of every poet, into the verse of every song, into the brush stroke of every painter and artist of the world. This love silently makes it way into every corner of our universe until it finds its way back to where it was meant to go in the first place. That is why some of us are born and reborn. And some of us are not. Love which has not yet been able to reach its destination, keeps getting reignited and reawakened. Love that has been unreciprocated gets replicated. Such a love has no place to rest, so it roams with hope. Forever. I believe this about a certain kind of love.
Else why don't i see the Krishna ? Where is he, the Shiva ?
If any one of you see the brightest star in the sky , know its one such love ! Divine One.
Probably he has come to me as B living in B. 

I saw a young man
kneeling on the road,
saying sorry to a bunch of ants,
some he'd killed whilst striding along.
"I didn't mean to, believe me,
I was just careless while I walked,
you're as important to me,
as are the trees and the stars."
I wondered if it would do
if I consoled him of his blues,
of the nature of life and death,
how the cycle would include him too.
But something held me back,
discretion or intuit,
and I moved on, my mind full of men
who cared, and those who could not.
Last I saw him, he was engaged,
in seeing the breeze find its way through the leaves;
I joined him in his silence,
closer, for sharing a common grace.

while i was under that big majestic tree behind my building with the bright sun overhead whose rays were falling on me sieved through the thick canopy of the gorgeous green peepal leaves, i was feeling like i am standing in some heavenly place and God is showering the blessings. and at one particular moment while speaking about something, i felt like being there for deep and long, very close. 

There might be better days than this
but none as beautiful.
I have a blade of grass in my mouth
and the whole sky to taste.
There was a fragrance
which seemed to love being around me,
and the sun just let the cool breeze be.
I was that bird who was flying in between the clouds,
I was that cloud which drifted, it's mind unmade,
I was that girl who read the sun.
Such days, such times.
I would like to be like this day -
uncluttered, loose-limbed, uncaring, unburdened.
I would love to be like today-
light, happy, with the blade in my mouth,
and the whole sky to taste.

उपर का आकाश
अंदर का आकाश
उजाले
अँधेरे
दिल को घेरे
प्रकाश अच्छाई का
आच्छादित करता
संदेह के बादलों को
आत्मा की गहराइयां
उथले तन , गहरे मन
सुबह देखे
आंखें खोले
निशीथ के तिमिर
में भी बसी
है सुन्दरता .

First rains ~

The clouds are finding their place, she said,
they are here for the earth's first rains.
The breeze is up to greet them,
my hair is excited and agape.
Everything finds its reasons,
everything is in a state of amaze,
I wind my way through the traffic,
wondering at life's gait.
Put some music on, my love,
something sad, filled with longing,
the gulmohurs bloom without the rain's touch,
and I the living lie parched and wanting.
Why is my first song for the first rains
nothing but a sigh of yearning -
you are there, the song, so is the river,
but each one emptying what's empty.
Stop the car on the kerb, hold me for a while,
help stop the breaking - what's already broken inside.
The rains will come, and the want:
don't save me, but help me survive.

I won’t beg someone to love me. I learned long ago that there is no use in hopeless pleas of trying to make someone stay. I am too good to chase someone who does not know my worth and I am too wild to keep waiting for someone who doesn’t acknowledge my value. I want to be loved unconditionally. I shouldn’t have to fight so hard for it. I do not have the time to prove to someone that I am worth it. I shouldn’t have to prove any of that; I am worth more than that.

It’s not you. It’s what
I’ll do to you. And I can see it
even now, even clutching
at the air around your body, trying
to bring you closer. Once you get
deep enough so that water
swallows light, there are fish
who dangle iridescent lures
before their toothed mouths.
Now listen closely, darling.
Now follow my voice in the dark.
It’s not me. It’s the way
you’ll open for me, your mouth,
your legs, your raw
meat heart.

"A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or scary animals, but how do I tell them that I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. 
Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes."

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." 

"If you love beauty, it’s because beauty lives within you. If you love art, it’s because you are creative. If it wakes up your heart, a receptor for it already exists within you. Your soul is drawn to the things that will help you unfold your most glorious expression. Give in." —Cynthia Occelli

It’s easy to feel uncared for when people aren’t able to communicate and connect with you in the way you need. And it’s so hard not to internalize that silence as a reflection on your worth. But the truth is that the way other people operate is not about you. Most people are so caught up in their own responsibilities, struggles, and anxiety that the thought of asking someone else how they’re doing doesn’t even cross their mind. They aren’t inherently bad or uncaring – they’re just busy and self-focused. And that’s okay. It’s not evidence of some fundamental failing on your part. It doesn’t make you unloveable or invisible. It just means that those people aren’t very good at looking beyond their own world. But the fact that you are – that despite the darkness you feel, you have the ability to share your love and light with others – is a strength. Your work isn’t to change who you are; it’s to find people who are able to give you the connection you need. Because despite what you feel, you are not too much. You are not too sensitive or too needy. You are thoughtful and empathetic. You are compassionate and kind. And with or without anyone’s acknowledgment or affection, you are enough." —Daniell Koepk

Someone once told me that human beings have three dimensions: how you see yourself, how others see you, and how you want others to see you. The closer the distance between the three dimensions, the more at peace you are and the more stable you become." —Marwa Rakha, The Poison Tree

You have to be the kind of person who can make the best out of a Tuesday. You know those people who live for the weekends? They’re wishing their life away. You have to find something worth living for or else you’ll look back and realize you’ve wasted your life away

You will always be too much of something for someone: too big, too loud, too soft, too edgy. If you round out your edges, you lose your edge. Apologize for mistakes. Apologize for unintentionally hurting someone — profusely. But don’t apologize for being who you are. 

It’s important to remember that when you’re sad you have to nurse yourself and be extra gentle towards yourself. Just like an athlete wouldn’t break an ankle then force themselves to run. They rest as it heals and do not think “I am a failed athelete.” They think, “Right now something isn’t working so I’ll take care of myself until it does.”

Just like a broken bone,sadness can change the way your daily life plays out, and pushing yourself too hard and getting frustrated when you don’t feel better is just like trying to run on that broken ankle and getting frustrated when it doesn’t heal.

In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger—something better, pushing right back. 
—Albert Camus, from The Stranger

"Not everyone can feel things as deeply as you. Most people, their feelings are … bland, tasteless. They’ll never understand what it’s like to read a poem and feel almost like they’re flying, or to see a bleeding fish and feel grief that shatters their heart…"
—Garey, Juliann, Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See

"No other person on this planet was made for you, they were made for themselves. love is all about choices. no one is going to be perfect for you, and i think we need to stop raising everyone on the belief that someone out there, just one other person in the whole world, was “made for you” because it isn’t true. no one is made for you, besides you. 
Other people belong to themselves. if you want to make it work with someone, it’s about hard work, understanding, compassion, communication, and choice." 

When I run after what I think I want,
my days are a furnace of stress and anxiety;
if I sit in my own place of patience,
what I need flows to me, and without pain.
From this I understand that 
what I want also wants me,
Is looking for me and attracting me.
There is a great secret here
For anyone who can grasp it.
[Shams Tabrizi]

Someone called last night-
A big bird with sweet call
Soft hush and laughters
The Peepal behind this old building,
had spread her legs and bled again.
Neem whisperers lie still
the rain has perhaps stopped.
He did not call and I did not listen-
April receded,
the madness too.
The little Blue Goddess in Mandakini
has tied her hair,
slept through the night
and not woken up.
Hope is a poet in a woman's garb.
Tonight, only memories from a stolen kiss remain-
On everything else rain and more rain smells decadence.


---

We have all hurt someone tremendously, whether by intent or accident. We have all loved someone tremendously, whether by intent or accident. It is an intrinsic human trait, and a deep responsibility, I think, to be an organ and a blade. But, learning to forgive ourselves and others because we have not chosen wisely is what makes us most human. We make horrible mistakes. It’s how we learn.
We breathe love. It’s how we learn. And it is inevitable.

Dear Lord,

Large Loud True

I know its You...

In the shadow of my mind

How you smirk

And how you smile

In the shadow of my mind

How you come

And how you go

In the shadow of my mind

You leap you dance you laugh

You whisper you touch and you reign

You rule in the shadow of my mind

Heavenly love which is blind

And it remains kind

As your blessings

In the shadow of my mind

Sunny side up

Always happy

:)

Taking off

Tread softly on my dreams
Said She
Hush, said he
I felt like holding your hand
When we were together.
And she sought
Hues and shades
Of a tenderness
That fired
Her aching dream.

That had touched her heart
Unknowingly
With bright eyes
And cheery smile
And noble brave ways
To ward off the monkeys
And she sat charmed illogically
With him sitting beside
She hearing not what he was saying
She transfixed, in that ride
While he told her of
Magical Secrets

And later the sporty dreams
Driving in Magic Bus
Sun kissed beaches
She often wondering
If she can ever
Continue the dream
Even after they are awake.

Then
Once upon a time
He did
Promptly proceed
To Tromple
The seashells
Under his feet
Crunch Crunch
It went
Crushed to bits
Calls and words
Ignored.
Aching Heart
Unspoken Unwritten
Emotional Agreement
Broken
Did he ever realize ?
Ever did acknowledge ?
Probably he doesn't even know.
Good, it makes the life simpler.

On line absenteeism
My Alcoholism
Do what you feel is right.
Thanks Gn.

As she lay
Half in trance
Half disbelief
Shocked?
Still shocked?
Shallow Callow waters
Running into a dark ditch
It smelt of pungent rot
Her lot
Reminding excruciating pain
She had been through
Earlier too, in vain.

The Sun blazed now
And in clear light
She saw
He was never
With her in that way.
Though she still feels as her sunray
Even when he had been the only one
With whom she allowed herself to loosen
The Boundaries, let imaginations run
In sun kissed beaches
Building empire together , being one.

Probably was just toying around
The idea of novelty
To begin with.
Probably just the sand dunes

And then she decided
That though she loves
And she adores the sportsman spirit
She now no more has muse.
But a fellow mate walking on the parallel track
To be taken
As it is
Cared for, as it is
In keep with the dignity of friendship
Of Comrade
So letting not the negativity
Dampen the sunny disposition
She put on the smiley in heart
To brave on and check on
And see if it works
Unconditional Affection.

Coz every day is a new day
And every being changes every day
Love, Thanks for the Tragedy
I needed it for my Art.
Lord, Thanks for Lesson,
I needed it for my life.
Heart has its own reason
Of which Reason knows no reason.

B Leo, Rise and Sine
You are such a sunny being
Caring for family and all
With the heart of Gold
May all good you do for others
Come back to you in double fold.

Love has many forms and knows no boundaries.
As they say.
We evolve
Problems we solve
Our Loves evolve
We find our way
Pathway of happiness
Paradise here , our faith strong.

With Mother Earth Goddess
It's- To Her I Belong.

In the ocean of humanity, we can either be a piece of driftwood floating in search of an anchor and a sense of belongingness. Or we can be a drop of infinity. It depends on what we learn to believe about ourselves. What do we want to be ?

" A vain gift, a chance gift.
Life, what have you been given to me for ?".

Thank you for Love

So Love made me
Bit by bit...
It grew me up
And the world took on
Such loving hues

Built strength 

Built rainbows
Built my dreams

And When you are

Built in love
Built by love
Built with love
All you see is
Love

No matter
How dark the sky may be
No matter how hard
The gale may howl
Even when it crumbles down

With lightning and thundering growls
Even when you splinter out
Into shards that hurt
and bleed and pain
Uncared for

Yet even then
You take a breath
Breathe love
Breathe Peace
Breathe light

So love is what holds true
It is the only tangible touch
Those eyes and that smile
The honest truth in our heart
The real divinity on earth

Thank you for Love

" Suddenly I feel that by loving me she has placed a knife in my hand. This is what love does. It heals you. Then it places a knife in your hand. I have always been secretly excited about holding this knife. But I have knifed and been knifed too many times. I am sick of it. I want to fall back on nothing but myself now. So I am throwing away the knife, Suzanne. I am throwing away the knife for you. You throw away your knife too.  "
~ Labyrinths

If we find poetry in the service station and motel, if we are drawn to the airport or train carriage, it is perhaps because, in spite of their architectural compromises and discomforts, in spite of their garish colours and harsh lighting, we implicitly feel that these isolated places offer us a material setting for an alternative to the selfish ease, the habits and confinement of the ordinary, rooted world.”
~ Alain de Botton, The Art of Travel
~ Edward Hopper, Gas, 1940

I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.”
~ John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne

If I speak with the tongue of men and of angels...
... but have not Love...
... I become as sounding brass or clanging cymbal
And if I have the gift of prophecy...
... and know all mysteries and all knowledge
And if I have all faith so as to remove mountains...
... but have not Love...
... I am nothing
Love suffers long and is kind
Love bears all things
Believes all things
Hopes all things
Love never fails
But whether there be no prophecies, they shall fail
Whether there be tongues, they shall cease
Whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away
And now shall abide...
... faith, hope and Love
These three
But the greatest of these...
... is Love

~ A Symphony- Three Colors Blue - Kieslowski.

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look...
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots

Remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

~ If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

“Then from those profound slumbers we awake in a dawn, not knowing who we are, being nobody, newly born, ready for anything, the brain emptied of that past which was life until then. And perhaps it is more wonderful still when our landing at the waking-point is abrupt and the thoughts of our sleep, hidden by a cloak of oblivion, have no time to return to us gradually, before sleep ceases. Then, from the black storm through which we seem to have passed (but we do not even say we), we emerge prostrate, without a thought, a we that is void of content.”
~ Marcel Proust, Sodom and Gomorrah

“The tides of time should be able to imprint the passing of the years on an object. The physical decay or natural wear and tear of the materials used does not in the least detract from the visual appeal, rather it adds to it. It is the changes of texture and colour that provide the space for the imagination to enter and become more involved with the devolution of the piece. Whereas modern design often uses inorganic materials to defy the natural ageing effects of time, wabi sabi embraces them and seeks to use this transformation as an integral part of the whole. This is not limited to the process of decay, but can also be found at the moment of inception, when life is taking its first fragile steps toward becoming.”
~ Andrew Juniper, Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence

Like the dawn
Breaking upon the gentle surface
Of a river
Like the distant temple bells
Or the Muezzin's call for prayer...
From that cloud laden minaret, perhaps...
Like the taste of dew
Kissed hibiscus
Like the sound of her anklets
Upon the desolated steps of the Ghats
Like the silence of light
and how it touches all...
Like the quivering
Of the Sitar strings
Like the unutterable hymns
To Love and longings
Of many kinds, devoid of shape
Or form...
Like the yearning for
The unknown.

“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing yo...ur eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.”
~ Haruki Murakami, Kafka On The Shore.

I got fascinated by silence; by what happens to the human spirit, to identity and personality when the talking stops, when you press the off button, when you venture out into that enormous emptiness. I was interested in silence as a lost cultural phenomenon, as a thing of beauty and as a space that had been explored and used over and over again by different individuals, for different reasons and with wildly differing results. I began to use my own life as a sort of laboratory to test some ideas and to find out what it felt like. Almost to my surprise, I found I loved silence. It suited me. I got greedy for more. In my hunt for more silence, I found this valley and built a house here, on the ruins of an old shepherd’s cottage.

This is a philosophy for stumblers. The stumbler scuffs through life, a little off balance. But the stumbler faces her imperfect nature with unvarnished honesty, with the opposite of squeamishness. Recognizing her limitations, the stumbler at least has a serious foe to overcome and transcend. The stumbler has an outstretched arm, ready to receive and offer assistance. Her friends are there for deep conversation, comfort and advice.
External ambitions are never satisfied becau...se there’s always something more to achieve. But the stumblers occasionally experience moments of joy. There’s joy in freely chosen obedience to organizations, ideas and people. There’s joy in mutual stumbling. There’s an aesthetic joy we feel when we see morally good action, when we run across someone who is quiet and humble and good, when we see that however old we are, there’s lots to do ahead.

The stumbler doesn’t build her life by being better than others, but by being better than she used to be. Unexpectedly, there are transcendent moments of deep tranquillity. For most of their lives their inner and outer ambitions are strong and in balance. But eventually, at moments of rare joy, career ambitions pause, the ego rests, the stumbler looks out at a picnic or dinner or a valley and is overwhelmed by a feeling of limitless gratitude, and an acceptance of the fact that life has treated her much better than she deserves.
Those are the people we want to be.

The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human.
Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.”
~ Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

Everybody has a little bit of the sun and moon in them. Everybody has a little bit of man, woman, and animal in them. Darks and lights in them. Everyone is part of a connected cosmic system. Part earth and sea, wind and fire, with some salt and dust swimming in them. We have a universe within ourselves that mimics the universe outside. None of us are just black or white, or never wrong and always right. No one. No one exists without polarities. Everybody has good and bad forces working with them, against them, and within them."
~ Part Sun and Moon by Suzy Kassem

"When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in ...life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity - in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.

The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now. Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits - islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.”

Some think love can be measured by the amount of butterflies in their tummy. Others think love can be measured in bunches of flowers, or by using the words 'for ever.'
But love can only truly be measured by actions.

It can be a small thing, such as peeling an orange for a person you love because you know they don't like doing it.

“There are so many ways to be brave in this world. Sometimes bravery involves laying down your life for something bigger than yourself, or for someone else. Sometimes it involves giving up everything you have ever known, or everyone you have ever loved, for the sake of something greater.
But sometimes it doesn't.
Sometimes it is nothing more than gritting your teeth through pain, and the work of every day, the slow walk toward a better life.
...

That is the sort of bravery I must have now.”
~ Veronica Roth, Allegiant

“I think... if it is true that
there are as many minds as there
are heads, then there are as many
kinds of love as there are hearts.”
...

~ Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

What if, instead of constantly seeking to learn, we pause and give ourselves enough space, time and stillness to listen to and absorb the wisdom we could never find in a book?"
~ Dan James

She was drawn to this serious looking man, a raging romantic, an introvert who could put on a crease free suit of a dramatic extrovert at his own will - this face was reserved for the friends who didn't know him well, or maybe at all. His eyes held an intriguing blend of a composed deer-like demeanour and a caged, ferocious beast. He was the kind of man who would make the other women jealous of his own, quite effortlessly with his raw, ruthless, overpowering, aggressive, intense love. His presence in her life was such that he was there with her even when he wasn't. His otherwise strong, intimidating face would hold the most gracious, almost melting looks, his features would contour in to the softest, subtle, comforting, gestures when he expressed his love to his loved one. He sheltered her from his wrath, with a mindful and alert eye. She called him "a man among men" and that made every prick of pain seem worth it. She was devoted to him, and he reciprocated with an honesty in his love which left her breathless. Her skin would often break into ripples, simply upon his words. He was the man she had waited for and he consumed her like a life granting magic syrup, hungrily thrusting her presence down his parched throat.
All consuming Maya.
Shiva- Shivaaa- Shakti.

“When we fall in love with someone there's a moment when we take a picture of that person, an emotional image, that we carry with us forever. If we're lucky, if we're very, very lucky, the person we fall in love with will always resemble that photograph”
~ Jim Geoghan, Light Sensitive

The Vermillion

That night
When you ...
Made me Yours
You tagged
Me.

Red vermillion
In the parting
Of my hair,
A happy bride, Yours,
Tagged for Life.

Little did I know
That I was being
Swept into a vortex
Of what I had to be
To be Yours.

In your precious keeping,
In your precious terms,
To be prepared and worthy
Of bearing your tag.
Busy B

Instead
Couldn't You tag me
With just your Love?
The red vermillion
Would then blossom

Into red Gulmohur,
On a luscious tree,
Where birds would sing,
Under which
Lovers would seek shade.

So that
Instead of going Down and Under
A shadow of Myself
Where the Tag is more real
Than the real me.

I would
Forever bear
The marking
Of your love
As a blush

And carry
With me
My Love
A happy hue
Unmistakably You

Here in Northern India, the first day of the Hindu Calendar, the new year day, also has one more significance.

The festival of Gangaur.

The holy union of the man and woman is celebrated.

The pious energies of the union are worshipped.

The humans become potential gods

When they aspire for the higher purpose

Of eternal love

Making me remember the concept of Sufism

Of becoming Fanaa

For the loved one

I found myself

When I lost the I

In me

And became you

And then there was no you

And no I

Except

Love.

कहते हैं पार्वती ने शिव को पति रूप में पाने के लिए
एक व्रत शिव से छुपाकर किया था
और तब से उसे गणगौर माता के रूप में पूजा जाता है...
मैंने भी एक व्रत आधी उम्र तक
दुनिया से छुपाकर किया
और उम्र के सूरज के डूबने से पहले तुझे पाया...

कहते हैं मिट्टी की मूरत पर दूध के छींटे देकर
आज भी औरतें उस भभूतधारी सा वर पाने के लिए
गणगौर माता की पूजा करती है...
मैंने भी शक्ति कणों के छींटे देकर अपनी देह की मिट्टी
को पावन किया...
और तुझ जैसा रमता जोगी पाया...

कहते हैं जहाँ पूजा की जाती है
उस स्थान को गणगौर का पीहर
और जहाँ विसर्जन किया जाता है
वह ससुराल होता है...
तेरे स्पर्श को
इस देह की मिट्टी ने हमेशा पूजा कहा है...

आ मेरी आत्मा को छूकर
उसे अंतिम धाम पर विसर्जित कर दे...

The morning breaks out
With the smell of rain
And the sound of birdsong...
Post a night 

Which passed by unnoticed
Under the burden
Of texts, those answered
And those unanswered

Yet the morning wore the grace
Of a freshly bathed fragrance
A blushing radiance
A warmth so soft

So tender
Like Love
That trailed kisses
Bestowed by the skies

You and I
At a strange time...
Could have been one
2 variants of an atomic soul
Same yet different
Shaped by different storms
Weathered we are
But we still love the rains
And the whisper
Of the mountain songs,
in resonant tunes
The sea, the river, the road
The freedom of soul
The love of loved ones
The easy let go
The stubbornness
So when I say I love you 
(In my heart ofcourse)
You see, I love that me
Which could have been
Chiselled differently
You'll see
When we meet
Someday
Sometime

Whirling Pool of Pain

She stands
Alone, Yet...
Never Alone
On the brink
Over the edge
Of the Whirling
Pool of Pain

Ready
To let go
Submerge
Subside
Within it
Close out
Completely

And yet
He haunts her head
Every moment
Within her
By her side
His texted and spoken words
Heaving heavy

Even as she drowns
In disgust
At letting Herself down
Hot molten lava
Bubbling
Destroying
Deriding depravity

As She simmers
Alone
Alone
Alone
Over the
Whirling pool
Of pain

Walking down
We see ourselves...
Caught in time.

Mandakini flows
And we too flow
Through life.

Our journeys different
Yet same
At major bends.

We meet, depart
Then meet again
Savouring moments

As we, like the bubbles
We blew today
Form, take shape.

Then vanish in air
And we leave behind
From us to our next

Our Trail they may trace
We hope with some grace
In this Life's maze.

The Shadow of Love


The shadow of your love
Lurks, around me...
A haze, that I carry
With me..
Vaporized darkness
Condensed into dew drops
That appear as tiny beads
Of diamonds, on my
Upper lip, You
And your essence

Sweeping over me
At inconvenient hours
The mystery of you
Slightly maddening
As you keep
Swinging
Appearing
and disappearing
Into my being.

Splashing murky colors
In contrarian shades
Is it love
That you nonchalantly
Shirk?
Do you run from me,
Or the murk
That surrounds You
And the shadows
Make you smile
In my embrace.

My Man of Darkness
Keep spreading your Light.

Tugging at someone's heartstrings is probably the nicest form of bodily harm

These days heart's
a beaten messy organ...
yanked and grabbed
By all and sundry

Sights of babies
In prams pull and tug
Waggly tailed puppies
Being hugest love thugs

Gorgeous words romanced
to heart's content, pitter patter
running rampant in heart, head
Wood-pecking everywhere

Unexpected love and caring
do thaw serene sublimity, arrived
At after much striving unraveling all
sensual equanimity, easily as 1,2,3

Heart of the matter
Matter of the heart
What's in a name, heartstrings
when pulled undo most

At the Children Eye Care Centre today
I found
while strolling my way
Up to the lounge

How powerless and powerful
Can one be
When two little feet, chubby hands
A precocious smile and a pert nose;
Two curious questioning eyes...
Fat cherub wiles
Surround and astound
There cannot be a higher privilege
In an ill famed heaven
Or a much sought after hell
Than a little child's love
Who smiles regardless
Of life's eventual tyrannies.

Even life shows deference to the little and the mighty.

when I saw you
I fell in love
being ripe and
ready
what I was
unprepared for was
your returned
ardor
in
recognition.
B

If not,
Then let this be
One of those rare, irresistible moments
Where caution is thrown to wind,
And adventures loom large...
Making the horizon appear
Something out of a fairy tale;
So tragic, that its magic.

OK?

You
Art the habit
That I must change
For both our bloody sakes.

You don't preach
The virtue of peace
To those who need
No reason
To move in and out...
Of their homeland.

10 sure shot signs to look for when you think you might be stranded around a socially awkward person :
1. If you catch them looking in your direction: they are not staring. They aren't even trying to strike up a conversation. You probably just caught them doing what they do: silently observe their surroundings and everything in it - even people.
2. They're really not looking for conversations, esp with strangers unless they've picked a certain vibe off of from the stranger (INEXPLICABLE connect/attraction) - well then you might catch them looking in the direction of the stranger more than once. Then they're interested, somewhat, yes.
3. Attempts to draw such people into a conversation (unless it's been initiated by them) will nearly always result in startled, staccato responses.
4. Pressing them for conversation will activate their hostile attribution bias. Trust me it will. And it will show itself in the way their body constricts and the slight frown on their faces.
5. They don't like to be the center of attraction unless that is what they specifically want. When they want it, they will ensure it. But suddenly putting the spotlight on them, without their explicit knowledge or interest will result in them feeling all the more awkward even if the attention is positive like admiration, praise etc.
6. Such people have no clue how to respond to compliments. If you push too much they might even say something mildly rude like - please just stop saying that. It's making uncomfortable. - or - I really don't know why you're going on doing this.
Sigh. Lame. I know. But that's how such people are.
7. That book they're reading - it's not time pass for them - it's an important book if they've carried it along with them to an airport terminal, a cafe or a car/train ride. Don't interrupt them by trying to strike a conversation around that book. That book is special to them. You'll leave them feeling very very resentful. The book is there because they don't want to be talking. They want to be reading. And left alone.
8. If per chance they open up - such people can be talkers. If they like you, they can talk your ears off. If. They. Like. You. It's not enough you like them. They should like you back.
9. They are socially awkward. It's different from having chronic social anxiety thought the latter is just the advanced form of the former. But still...
10. If you're loud, garish and bawdy - talk on top of your voices in a public space or squeal too much in your thin, piercing voice if you're ladeej... know you're being judged. Very very judged. Silently. (There might even be a fb post denouncing your existence somewhere, roaming around the great digital universe!:-) )
And that is in 10 points, ladies and gentlemen, a large part of my personality !

PS. And this was fun ! I could do so much more of this. And not just even about me.
I think next I'll write about - your classic sociopath - the god complexed one - a raving nihilist - the insufferable intellectual etc etc !:))

Why poetry, he asked
 It's a bore, it is.
Nary a story nor a twist,
 only feelings told in language arcane.
 Metaphors which compare a sky to a petri-dish,
 and often make me want to throw up!!
All that stuff -
 of feelings cut to spurt blood,
 of love which finds itself in a rut,
 not for me, not for me.
That poem of yours from the other day,
 which made me cry, and lose my sleep,
 what's the use of all those words,
 if they cut so deep, so deep.
I hate the power they spin on me,
 the way they enrapture, then entrap me,
 I liked it when you wooed me, you know,
 but, god, I love you more as your words cut me through.

Ma. The word has been close to my heart.

The word has sustained me for long. The three images that I always had in me were of my mother who gave birth to this body of mine, of Ma Durga whom I would find at our puja grih sitting on the sher with her benevolent aura around, and of mother Mary painted by my mother. I would see mother Mary more often I think -coz it was on the wall  of our living room , with baby Jesus , with closed palms- tip of which were made strangely. I used to look at that painting so often. See it and kind of fall in meditation while seeing it.
There was s time when I used to feel so much anger for all - coz I had seen my mother being violated and harmed by family itself.
There was a time when I used to feel that my mother is not listening to me. I would feel negative and wronged for god knows what reason.
There was s time when I was jealous of the feeling that kinchu didi, my  cousin in bareily is being too close to my ma-  much closer than me.
It was at the same time that I first experienced dizziness in head and dazed off for the first time in my life- it was in nainital.

There was time when through the image of ma Durga I encountered many fears while I was in school.
The first eve-teasing instance that I experienced, the first heart-break that I experienced, the first time I was cheated off by my close friend, all those heart-aches were told to Her. and she soothed me like anything.
While I was away from all in foreign lands and foreign skies and foreign seas, with all white snow and no soul near me - Mother Mary was there in Notre Dame - where I would sit in my evenings telling her all my days work and feelings and what not's. I would sing and I would have tears of joy coz of her. Even in those times when the life seemed so absolutely unnecessary to live, she made me live and  love on, she made me go on and on without giving up, with my head held high.

Shri Krishna Gopal had been the ever present one in my life witnessing all that I have experienced and the Almighty Lord brought me to Ma. Parvathy Ma.

I have been calling her Parvathy Didi. In my heart she has been Ma.
It was Ravi ettan whom I met first. And then Raja Rani. And then it was Di who came. And I was so much overjoyed. And that joy has never left since then.

May I get the capacity and capability to experience the true Bhakti. May I always be on my way to be worthy enough of getting the Almighty's Grace.
I have erred. I have fallen short. I have done mistakes. May all those incidents teach me what I have to. May I start more determined and with stronger mantle, my path of sadhana.
May the sadhak in me live on and on. Ma, may I always find my way though the smooth alleys and blind labyrinths of life.
 
Jodi Gurukripa Hoy, only with his grace

Hola !

Romance is ambient. Night rain is romantic. Music in languages one doesn’t know is romantic. Religious talismans  – that kind of devotion known as bhakti – are romantic. Romance is a woman who spritzes her wrists with something that gives her pleasure before she sits down at her desk to write a poem about the way long loneliness caramelises the way one sees the world. You will not be surprised to know that I frequently buy myself flowers.

I found epiphany on meeting a snail today!

Came across a snail, while it was crossing a path. Decided to pick it us and put it across so that it doesn't get trampled. But you should have seen its fear as I picked it up. It shriveled up.

I smiled. I had seen the reaction many a times when I too had picked up snails and put them across. And when I did so, I saw them shriveling up and retreating into their shell. As they felt uprooted from their elements. There was nothing to tell them that our intention was good. All they could do is feel a loss of natural elements and feel only fear.

Maybe we all are scared of getting rescued!

The epiphany hit me !