Life, it seems, in that finite number of pulses we are accorded as we pass from one moment to the next, one point of time and spatial existence to the next is a deepening awareness of life itself, of being alive. To ascend is to exist each moment, at the focal point of the greatest convergence of energies and awareness , indeed what is awareness but the purest form of energy itself, the self. To touch each soul, to feel each connection to the maximum.

Fever and chills.

It felt wonderful to be asleep in the grass under a blazing noon sun. Though Im not sure if that was a good idea, since the chills and fatigue are worse now. On the other hand I wish I was still lying there, dead to the world. And the earth could have cleaved in two and absolved me of this painfully throbbing head.

Im liking this band.

Lily Pad's poem.

My opium

Sometimes when a person is hurt all that is needed is an acknowledgement. That sincere and compassionate 'yes, I understand', a very simple statement, heals enough for them to move on. It is the only helping hand one need provide.

Your presence in my heart seeps out to envelope me like a fragrance, a flame that devours my self and all boundaries. This particle of love, this moment - ceaseless as time, free as space.

Your love is the peach you hold out so easily to me, warm, ripe as the color of fall. It is the sun I smile into, the lake I slake my thirst in.

Resurgence

A certain vigor fills the air,
a misty awakening
of the earth,
from the quietness of winter,
the first line of verdant green
tweaking out to cover bare limbs.

Spring is suddenly here
in continual, fragrant vitality
and petals of cherry blossoms-
innumerable pieces of happiness-
skim with breezes
to a blue heaven

A poet translates earth to heaven
the prophet transforms.

That she is a beggar woman registers with some surprise for nothing in her gait and demeanor calls attention to the fact. So it is with the lack of a familiar sense of irritation that I look closely at her. The hard sparsity of her life has lent a starkness to her features, there is a smoothness that the eye glides over marred only a by a deep crease in her forehead between her eyes, from too much glinting into the sun perhaps. A sun that has baked and kissed her skin to a dark gloss and burnished the hair to a rich red-brown. The delicately arched brows and sharp nose, the prominent cheekbones and perfectly formed mouth, and the three green black dots tattooed on her chin to form an inverted triangle, all seem as though chiseled out of stone. So perfect they blank out the mind in appreciation of their beauty and by extension render the child on her hips featureless.

What did the men see, that looked at her? Did they see past the mere dark skin, not quite the lustre of coal, past the mended, faded clothes , past the bones and the flesh that carves her shape, past their own insensitive brute lust to the deliciously wrought face, the sharper intelligence one presumes in the shape of the skull and the eyes? There is no apology in her brown eyes, nor defiance. Anger, pleading, a defensive pride are all absent.

What in your life has shaped your fate? Does fear mould your desire and you make do with the comfort of familiar faces amidst a restless movement that spans the lands? When did resignation and apathy start creeping in to stamp out those simple dreams you once fiercely wished, and you quietened the heaving of the mind to a more malleable acquiescence of your lot? In the society you are in, there is no other way. Yes, I know.


To the memory of a gypsy woman , one of the most beautiful women I have seen to date.

rapture

There are times when certain spaces within are sated with an almost unbearable sense of beauty, as when the plane takes off into the dusty pink and later blazing red of a sunrise horizon. To look down then to see a radiant white orb silently keeping pace - a reflection of the moon one cannot see- in still waters colored by the freshly wakened sky.

And all that is, is a continuation of an earlier song of measureless moments that already occupies my heart, stretching it taut as though the being were but translucent shimmering strings each made to resonate with your heartbeat. A soul laid bare by the majesty of your presence, every nuance of grace colored by the depth of love and compassion in your eyes and the benevolence that fills the curve of your smile.

In all the hullbaloo of Christmas, I wonder if the very essence of what we are celebrating has not gone missing? Thanks to all the entrepreneurism, the commercialisation of the celebration of Christ's birth. Empires - religious, political, financial- have been built on this. How can a prophet's message, which was the way he lived his whole life, be used by and lost to something so mundane as materialism and greed. And how do we not have the simplicity to fight it? All it take is for us to live our lives according to our hearts and conscience.

Take a few minutes perhaps, to reflect in our own thoughts, and not through the words of a preacher or a movie, on his birth in a cowshed and how he lived with compassion to all. I told my kids and others' some stories that I remembered about Him. It is enough to bow for a second with all your heart and soul and mind than do attend hours of prayers, is it not? You absorb more in that one second his essence than in years of study. Or so it seems to me.

Happy Holidays to everyone! and warm wishes for the next year, that it may be filled with happiness and peace, satisfaction and love.

image by All Posters

At peace

Last night death overflowed the murky corners of this sterilised room
and drew lingering trails of pain over the windows of a orange pink dusk.

I wondered, closing my eyes to the malaise, if I would be allowed
to behold you just once more with this heart still unblemished.

Would you not, in the searing point of your love
set aflame this shroud that encapsulates me?


And I wake - to a pool of liquid grace
that bathes my face and fills my cupped hands.


In the dark hours while I was unknown to myself,
before this disease could touch my depths,
you have pulled me closer into your embrace ...
your breaths have become my life
flowing through my hands and feet, heart and soul.

"There is such beauty in you as I've never seen before"
the night-attendant tells me in the morning,
standing by my bed her gaze arrested,
"the light in your face surrounds you."

and I rush to the mirror to see
if you have indeed filled me so obviously.
It is not me she sees,
it is You in my hollowed being.

Hi everyone, thank you so much for your lovely comments and understanding a mother's joy in this. :) I so enjoyed reading all of your comments. :)

I am ofcourse awaiting her next stroke of creativity and another cute 'masterpiece' for me to treasure :) . I have whole folders full of the kids' work. Which scribbles to throw away? Even the most ordinary ones seem like a treasure, who knows if that eye will be exactly the same huge shape again, or the faces the same wide eliipses and big smiles.. or the the elephant as cute... so....
But thankyou for all the love.

And..ah... dont mind me, I'm just most willing to be swept up by all the tiny moments.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Last night, I stepped out yet again
to feel the wet dew beneath my feet.
And breathed once more; your fragrance,
rising in eddying mists from the cool earth.

It was you that filled this night completely.

The moon hidden in the the earth's shadow
Was your face - rapturously calm.
It rose in my vision for just an instant
- a hundred times more luminous
- a thousand times more soothing.

Like the wave that gathers exulting force,
I waited and asked you, imploring you
to live with me again; in my breath,
in the spaces within the rhythm of my heartbeat.

And You answered - with your silence.

It is this silence cloaked within I carried to sleep.
My digressions - away from your warmth - I admit to
- if I shiver, it is because you do not answer my Beloved!
- if I am warm, it is only the intensity of my longing.

An inspired young man

His motto reads:

There are only two options,
Either 'you Change' or 'Change the system'

I chose the second one!!!!

Changing the system when the system has been a stagnating muddle of corrupt politicians , out dated practices, prevalent social apathy and caste politics is not merely analogous to the biblical David vs Goliath - it is high near impossible. But that is what Rakesh Kumar, a young twenty five year old working with Oracle of Hyderabad has set out to do. His latest victory, a tiny win in a huge battle that hasn't even begun can best be encompassed by Neil Armstrong's famous words.

Andhra Pradesh, which is the state I come from as well, has had a very high rate of farmers' suicides, due to debt. The conditions of drought, out dated farming practices, poor quality of grains that were supplied by the government, (which were not resistant, and yielded very poor results) have piled up miserably over the years. The figures had been modified by the government, and the documents that Rakesh had obtained by doggedly pursuing the case against bureaucracy and threats for six months prove this. Some cases have been falsely categorised as non genuine, (some were of course not genuine), the support funds that were allocated have been eaten up, and the little that goes to the farmer's families is issued after the officials have been bribed, etc. The issue is much larger and I would like to do another post on that soon.

The RTI (right to information) petitions he had filed and pursued in this and other cases have drawn attention to this simple tool as a way of checking corrupt government practices.

http://www.hindu.com/2007/07/04/stories/2007070462100600.htm
http://www.hindu.com/2007/07/04/stories/2007070462100600.htm

Yes, it is a very small victory perhaps, but consider this: with the huge number of newspapers and channels none have been interested in pursuing the farmer issue, the drastic measures that they have resorted to. What use progress and wealth if we cannot support our backbone? And the apathetic lack of vision that is so prevalent in Indian society nowadays is reflected in the reactions that come from friends and relatives and the criticism from society in general as well, ".. lets just live our lives comfortably, why go head on with people like that? okay, so you have the information, what is the use of it all?" And the caste politics he has to deal with. The chief minister is a Reddy and so is Rakesh. One of the things he also gets to be criticised is about his disloyalty to his own caste.. "Why are you raising your voice against one of our own?"

A very sad state of affairs indeed, but this has been the kind of stagnation that Indian society had fallen into, this communality is something that has been aggravated and played up very well by politicians.

These cases that Rakesh has filed have in general raised awareness amongst people. That is the single most significant thing.. the idea that the government and a politician can be questioned by the common man, and held to account. Something that has so far been left to the media which is in most cases completely apathetic to the regular mainstream Indian society, and many have even refused to cover the issue in spite of the revelations.

In 2006 Rakesh and four other youngsters started an organisation called Bhumi. Funds have come from a few donations and mostly from their own pockets. Donations are welcomed, and the accounts are quite clearly listed on their web page. One of their projects in education is the reconstruction of a school building in a slum area. They conduct health camps, and are also working with other research groups to ensure clean water and sanitation. More can be found out at their inspiring website : Bhumi.in and Rakesh's blog: http://www.rakesh-will-do-it.blogspot.com. They hope that their enthusiasm will spread and youth chapters of the organisation will open up in colleges all over India.


What does he do for relaxation, I ask him and he tells me "Everyday I am at work 9 to 5. Then I come home and head off to Bhumi offices. On the weekends I am busy with our projects, and any free time I get is spent in chasing the RTI petitions I have filed."

An inspired young man quite passionate about his role in changing the system to one that serves better. And I hope his spirit inspires everyone.

Idealism is the simplest and the most practical.. you just need the vision to see the truth.

A Fall Afternoon

Sunlight streams in lazily through the glass panes of the windows filling the room seductively and I give up working to fall forward so I can feel it on my back as I stretch my back and neck. I can feel the luxurious smooth warmth almost as if it were kneading the muscles. Its impossible not to succumb to these drugging photons of light.

There isnt much that can get done now, this is the hour this time of the year when I give up living and just exist, in the glowing quietness of winter afternoons.. The work is put away, the phone lies untouched and oddly, doesnt ring, a steaming tisane with honey cooling down to a warm mellowness resting alongside books on a table next to me, patterns of warm and earthy reds, the houseplants.

My mind is gently numbed until I give up any semblance of activity, even thinking,and give myself up to the elements. If thoughts come, they do so indolently, like a lazy stroll that just stops midstep. Its primarily the senses that are engaged now...the colors that soothe the eyes, the lone jet streaking off into nonexistence, the wispy clouds, feeling of almost snow in the air, the smell of pine cones gathered by small hands and treasured, cossetted in a little basket. The being is slowly eroded just by the two planes of sky and earth, the dark blue and the still fresh green of the ever stretching plain. There's a mist-ical quality to the air in winter, the lacelike branches of the leafless trees silhouetted againt the sheer blue of the sky.

And the sun, above it all, cocooning everything in a golden warmth.

The Goddess

chidagni kunda sambhuta ...
Born of the fire of consciousness

Udyad bhanu sahasrabha ...
the brilliance of a thousand red suns

astami chandra vibhrapa dalika sthala sobhita ..
forehead like the luminous half moon.

Vadana smara manglaya grha torana chillika
To her face which is enchanting as the palace of cupid, her eyebrows are the triumphal arches

navachampaka pushpabha nasa danda virajita..
Her nose is like the newly blossomed champaka flower.

tarakanti tirasakari nasabharana bhasura..
the stars are put to shame by the brilliance of the diamonds in her nose ring

nija smalapa madhurya vinirbhartsita kachapi...
her conversation is sweeter in melody than the music of the celestial veena.

mandasmita prabhapura majjat kamesa manasa ...
The radiance of her smile overwhelms the mind of Shri Shiva.

anakalita sadrsya chibuka srivirajita..
The form of Her chin is undescribably beautiful.

pada dvaya prabha jala parakrta saroruha...
the beauty of her exquisitely formed Feet which are decorated by the red alta is only reflected partly in the lotus.

maha lavanya sevadhih...
The ocean of beauty

Anavadyangi..
From head to toe, every inch of her is faultlessly beautiful

sudha sagara madhyastha...
she is the core and the source of the Ocean of Nectar

Maharupa...
the supreme form.

kataksha kataksha nirikshana..
every glance is a compassionate and thorough inspection.

Navratri

The mornings are not yet cold enough to make you want to snuggle a bit more into the warmth of the comforter, or closer to the warmth to the body next to yours. Dawn skies washed vermilion, breath chilled to an invigorating crispness, leaves cascading down on gossamer wisps of air. Nature preparing herself to survive through the winter, covering the littler plants on the ground in a blanket of warm color.

The beginning of fall here brings along with warm golden afternoons and clear deep blue skies the season of Navratri, the nine nights that the Goddess- Mother, warrior, Protector is worshipped on a magnificent scale in India.

It has always held a deep fascination,a kind of pull on the soul that I do not seem to have inherited from my parents, both grandfathers being atheists(one of them though, turned an ardent seeker and he is the one who started me off on my own quest) and the family giving up all rituals normally associated with hinduism. And though I have never participated in the huge celebrations of the festival, its impossible to not feel the summons. Even across the oceans.
The response from the heart is unchecked, unstoppable. And sometimes the line disppears, if I exalt her, I exalt every woman starting with myself. Whether we are in her image or she emobodies all that we can be.

The tree will have to go it seems and it feels as though a part of me is being chopped off, its been my refuge, I may as well have been living in its branches the way it spreads itself out side my window. In its wide spreading shade i have spent these years, watched the children grow, played games and had summer picnics. In the movment of its leaves and the dappled sunlight on the ground is hours of joy, and in the form of its tall branches is peace and strength. It has been a mother, a companion to my tears and smiles, an inspiring shelter and the benevolent witness of the children's shrieks of play and laughter and all their dramas, real or play.

Nasra is a writer, a poetess from Muscat who I had met just a few months back through Rauf. What struck me opening her blog was the warm orange - it was so refreshingly welcome, and her poetry. It is so humane, concerned with the events in the world, the lives of those around her, all written with compassion and humility from the perspective of a woman who is thoroughly aware of her own feminity and its spiritual strength.

So when she asked me if she could interview me for Living in Poetry, I checked that out and was even more impressed that from her busy life she has taken the time to devote to another endeavor, that of exploring amateur writers and encouraging them. she is someone who's fully immersed herself into writing as well.


Thank you Nasra, for giving me this opportunity, and for your vision, for the time, effort and love you put into this. and I must say, answering all your questions which you obviously selected with much thought, was quite enlightening for me as well... to put into words I had to explore my own thoughts and feelings that I otherwise took for granted.

Remembering Gandhi

He epitomized nobility of character that is based entirely on truth and to his call humanity responded by rising to a higher level of being. That was the sheer magnetism of his own spirituality.

India's independence was just a dimension of his work and message, his philosophy evidenced by his leadership and his own life was the unity of human life irrespective of social, political and religious differences.

And he has inspired numerous leaders through out the world - Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Aung San Suu Kyi,Cesar Chavez, Desmond Tutu to name just a few.

Quotes:

I do not want my house to be walled in on all sides, and my windows to be closed. Instead, I want the cultures of all lands to be blown about my house as freely as possible. But I refuse to be blown off my feet by any.

I have nothing new to teach the world. Truth and non-violence are as old as the hills. All I have done is to try experiments in both on as vast a scale as I could.

To forgive and accept injustice is cowardice.

Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is daily admission of one's weakness... It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.

God is because Truth is.

One must be the change one wishes to see in the world.

Poverty is but the worst form of violence.

Eyes!
that meet to wander over the terrain
of lives lived, and hearts' lay.

What do your eyes seek in mine,
In that gaze with such depths
seeks to arrest the restlessness ,
banish the veils of triviality;
Let me hide a bit longer in
the fancy flights of a butterfly.

Eyes!
that roam the fields
of the inner sky of the soul
and fill deep with the promise
of what flows between souls.

Grievance

This has absolutely got to stop now, you understand?
It is not as though we are lovers and I am pining for you.
That atleast would be two sided.
With child-like urgency you wake me in the mornings,
brimming with the eagerness of the gifts you bring..
...dawn the color of peach blossoms,
hushed silence falling all around like rose pink dust
that turns into whispers among the leaves of
the tall trees outside my window.. and then rush away.

But let us start at the beginning, beloved.

First you play with me - a child, a little hide and seek,
sweet, gentle, amusing.
Then when I am older and say wearily,
"Thats it! I will be an ambitious cynical success hungry
A - chiever full of material reality", Your brilliance
soothes my heart with truth.
I am content with sipping little drops of nectar,
your hands breathe an ardent fire into me.
The more I yield, the more you pour in me.
And withdraw. Till longing and filling become a game between us.

And then you reveal more, make me plumb the depths
of miseries loves, joys and pains
till I realise how You alone complete my circle,
leaving all else out.
You show me where I am bound to you,
deep within in the core of my being
that nothing can intrude on - not the dearest,
not fears or moralities,
nor the greatest sin my body can do.

And now as the silence turns to a breeze, you recede,
just a glimpse here and there, so I would want
to grab you and hold you in my lap
like the recalcitrant child you are.


This has absolutely got to stop,
you hear me?
either abide in me always and
let me live in You every moment or else...
HMPH!