Creating Love

In my non essential
capture of these,
Necessary lives-
I try praying,
so deep-so keen-
And in all,
Of my conscious,
Thoughts-deliberate and not theirs;
You continue to exist.
Your face of anger,pain,
Sorrow and
Gleeful laughter.

A Repetitive cognizance,
to my half-drenched
Often too afraid
to admit, its odd fortunes-
The duplicity,
of choices,
I may be called,
Upon, to make-
To live a life,
Subdued for,
Nay, for my,
ever longing,
soul's outreach,
To be with you.
shall we
ever be
my beautiful
You who
To fear.


Solitary Splendor

Read Me a Lesson, Muse

Read me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud
Upon the top of Nevis, blind in Mist!
I look into the Chasms,and a shroud
Vapourous doth hide them,-just so much I wist
Mankind do know of Hell;I look o'er head,
And there is sullen mist,-even so much
Mankind can tell of heaven;mist is spread.
Before the earth,beneath me,-
even such,
Even so vague is man's sight of himself!
Here are the craggy stones beneath my feet,-
Thus much I know that, a poor witless Elf.
I tread on them; that all my eye doth meet
Is mist and crag,not only on this height,
But in the world of thought and Mental Might!

3rd August 1818
John Keats' Sonnet.

On the poet-
John Keats(1795-1821) came from a family of modest condition faced with the early death of his parents. Attacked by consumption and agonized by a hopeless, unrequited love, Keats died young in 1821.



                                                             Black and Yellow.
                                                             Yellow and Black.
                                                               Just Right.


Excerpts from "Eleven Minutes'

For I am the first and the last
I am the venerated and the despised
I am the prostitute and the saint
I am the wife and the virgin
I am the mother and the daughter
I am the arms of my mother
I am the barren and my children are many
I am the married woman and the spinster
I am the woman who gives birth and she who never procreated
I am the consolation for the pain of birth
I am the wife and the husband
And he is my rejection
Always respect me
For I am the shameful and the magnificent one.

At every moment of our lives we all have one foot in a fairy tale and the other in the abyss.

How is it possible for the beauty that was there only minutes before to vanquish so quickly?

Sometimes you get no second chance and that it’s best to accept the gifts the world offers you.

If I must be faithful, I have first of all, to be faithful to myself.

Courtesy: ELEVEN MINUTES by Paulo Coelho.



Mamavatu Sri Sarasvati
Kamakoti peta NiVasini
Komalakara Saroja Drita Veena
Seematita Vara Vak
Rajadiraja Poojita Charane
Rajiva Nayane
Ramaniya Vadane
Sujana Manorata poorana Chature
Nijaguna shobhita manimaya haare
Ajabhava vandinta
Charanarchita Sakala Veda Sara

You who reside in the temple of Kamakoti
Rescue me

Bearing lotus and veena
In your beautiful hands
You give truth to speech
Your feet are worshipped by Emperors and Kings
Your eyes are as wild as Rajiva flowers
And your beauty bewitches

Garlanded with gems
You fulfill the desires of the good
Indra himself bown down before you
I, Vasudeva, am your servant
For you are the divine word in its essence)
[Lyrics Courtesy-"Mamavatu" By Susheela Raman"]

For the M-Monkey in you.



A dance Around the memory Tree

Words we have said
Grew in my head
Colored my thoughts
Sang me to bed

Lost memories
Grew into trees
Covered the doors
Swallowed the keys

Winters have come and gone
You know
Winters have come and gone
You know
But I'll meet you young and free
For a dance 'round the memory tree

Said I forgot
But I did not
Dreams we have had
Play in my head

Did we believe
The cry of the leaves?
Did we regret?
Would we forget?

Winters have come and gone
You know
Winters have come and gone
You know
But I'll meet you young and free
For a dance 'round the memory tree

('A Dance Around the Memory Tree' -OREN LAVIE)

Being and knowing

The city of men and women. Young and old. All knew the Koel. Ebony feathered, plain, morbid. With her small sweet voice and common appeal. She could more than sing. She would talk to everyone in the city. About real things. Things that really really matter. Groceries, bills, business deals, jobs, and important things. The koel had more to her than her small sweet voice. She had societal understanding and impact. Sadly for the koel, there came a day that a Nightingale befell the city - of the young and old. Of men and women. She drew their attention with her massive charm beauty and melody. But the nightingale could but only sing. She could but only be. Like the naive self absorbed frog in the well. She could be in both land and sea. Like a mythical creature. For she swam like a fish, lest like the mermaid. The nightingale would sing. All day all night. She would sing for love. She would sing for joy. She would sing for her own melody's sake. The city was drawn to her rare being. She sang songs for no reason. With no purpose. With no intentions. Neither for praise nor attention. Neither for them nor the koel. She sang her way. Her, her melody and the existence merging as one. She sang for all of life. The city of the young and old- men and women- the city of people with purpose, could not comprehend the purposeless creature. Their only bond with the nightingale was their 'amusement'. Their 'curiosity'. Which only lead to more curiosity. Questions- like- where is she from? Why does she claim to be unlike us? Why wont she talk like the rest of us? Eventually the koel heard of her too. The koel thought to herself - the nightingale was a joke. A silly myth. But after seeing the nightingale, the koel began pondering like the rest. Thus the koel went on to call the nightingale- A farce. A non comprehensible creature demanding attention. A creature worthy of contempt. A show of ridicule. She conviced the city dwellers of the same. She promised them welfare in the form of undue wealth and credit. Some of which were rightfully the nightingale's. Under the condition that the nightingale be gotten rid of. She had begun to eat away the koel's peace of mind, with her controversial fame and attraction. But the koel within her deepest self, a place of conscience knew better. The koel tried with much desperation and exasperation- to do all things the nightigale did. She mimiced the nightingale endlessly. In vain. The koel knew. The koel knew. Like she knew from the beginning. The koel knew.


Are you really here?
Or am i dreaming..
I cant tell dreams from truth.
For its been so long, since i have seen you- I can hardly remember your face anymore.
When i get really lonely, and the distance causes only silence. I think of you smiling, with pride in your eyes, a lover that sighs.
are you really sure, that you believe me...
When others say i lie.
I wonder if you could ever despise me, when you know i really tried...
--- ---
i'd do what you ask me, if you let me be, free...

Lyrics courtesy- Marketa irglova and Glen Hansard(if you want me)


As without, so within

When you look up at the clear sky at night, you may easily realize a truth at once utterly simple and extraordinarily profound. What is it that you see? The moon, planets, stars, the luminous band of the milky way, perhaps a comet or even the neighbouring Andromeda galaxy two million light years away. Yes, but if you 'simplify' even more, what do you see? Objects floating in space. So what does the universe consist of? Objects and space.

If you dont become speechless when looking out into space on a clear night, you are not really looking, not aware of the totality of what is there. You are probably only looking at the objects and perhaps seeking to name them. If you have ever experienced a sense of awe when looking into space, perhaps even felt a deep reverence in the face of this incomprehensible mystery, it means you must have relinquished for a moment your desire to explain and label and have become aware not only of the objects in space but of the infinite depth of space itself. You must have become still enough inside to notice the vastness in which these countless worlds exist. The feeling of awe is not derived from the fact that there are billions of worlds out there, but the depth that contains them all.

The Upanishads, the ancient scriptures of India, point to the same truth with these words: "What cannot be seen with the eye, but that whereby the eye can see:know that alone to be Brahman the spirit and not what people here adore. What cannot be heard with the ear but that whereby the ear can hear: know that alone to be Brahman the spirit and not what people here adore.... What cannot be thought with the mind, but that whereby the mind can think: know that alone to be Brahman the Spirit and not what people here adore."
- Excerpts from A NEW EARTH. (Awakening to your life's purpose)


The Frog and the Nightingale

'Dearest frog,' the nightingale Breathed:'This is a fairy tale- And you're Mozart in disguise. Come to earth before my eyes.' 'Well, I charge a modest fee.' 'Oh!' 'But it wont hurt, you'll see.'

Now the nightingale,inspired, Flushed with confidence, and fired, With both art and adoration, Sang- and was a huge sensation. Animals for miles around, flocked towards the magic sound, And the frog with great precision, Counted heads and charged admission.

Though next morning it was raining, He began her vocal training.
(BEASTLY TALES from here and there- by Vikram Seth)

The Louse and the Mosquito

Leapt upon the royal back, And with fierce and fiery sting, Deeply dirked the dozing king.
'Help! A Scorpion! A Snake!' screamed the King, at once awake. 'I've been bitten! Search the bed! Find and strike the creature dead!' When they made a close inspection- The mosquito foiled detection, Hidden in the canopy; But the louse clan could not flee. All were killed without ado. Meanwhile, the mosquito flew, Looking out for further prey, Humming mildly on his way. (BEASTLY TALES from here and there- by Vikram Seth.)


Press and democracy

In a democratic country like ours, the press is the strongest means of communication. It makes the functioning of a democratic government ethical. It helps in portraying the image of such a government as a citizen friendly & reliable one. People can express their appreciation or grievances in a precise manner through the press, which acts as a reliable mediator. Every newspaper, magazine or any other form of press may not contain the same news & definitely not in the same way. By understanding & assimilating all these different viewpoints, we can draw our own conclusions of the happenings.... But at the same time it is important to do so without including the various biases that surround the situation. For instance, newspaper agencies or the media may be owned or even controlled by a person or a group of people who may use it to push forward their opinions and interests. The opinion, or viewpoint of the paper you read or the news you may watch on the tv, may not correspond to that of yours. It may be influenced by the policy of that particular media group or agency. That is, the same happening will look different to the person, to whom it happens & to the person who sees it happening. So, though freedom of the press is important, your own judgemental power plays a key role.



Freedom means understanding. One has understood the game, and seeing that this is the way that the soul is prevented from growing, the way one is not allowed to be oneself, one simply gets out of it with no scar on the soul. One forgives and forgets, and remains without any clinging to the society in the name of love or in the name of hate. Society has simply disappeared to the rebel. He may live in the world or he may go out of the world, but he belongs to it no more; he is an outsider. "The crowd never forgives strangers, the crowd never forgives outsiders, it destroys them. It has to destroy them just for its own peace of mind." Courtesy: Freedom-The courage to be yourself. (OSHO's recorded lectures/St. Martin's Griffin publication)


Reality- for Real?

A Bookshop.
A possible destination for someone who forgets to borrow a text book from the library?
Evening Air. Evening Traffic. Evening crowd.
An hour or a little more,before dusk.
After appearing important with unintended quick footsteps that carry a heavy backpack- A weary saturated student(Myself,only. Hello. Applause? thank you.) finds a luggage locker to her relief.
An old, feeble,almost well dressed, man, takes care of the luggage locker.
I am handed over a key.
Another vain attempt at finding the right textbook. I settle for whatever I can find.
After billing,I hand over the locker key to this old man. I ask him to open the locker for me.
He does as asked. Kindly so. With a gentle smile.
I instinctively want to acknowledge and respect that. I offer a 5 Re Coin.
He shies away. I ask him to accept it, again, affirmatively this time.
He takes it,with a smile that suppreses fear and eyes that look around anxiously.
Because the 5 Re coin is not 'honestly' a part of his monthly pay? Because his position and stature cannot defend a questioning official?
Or is it because he already knows that in a place like his-even an iota of 'dishonesty' could land him in trouble?

Is this the secret language of reality?
The reality, we are welcomed to, everyday, even without our consent?


The Monk With Sweaty Palms.

Kasan,a Zen teacher and monk, was to officiate at a funeral of a famous nobleman. As he stood there waiting for the governor of the province and other lords and ladies to arrive, he noticed that the palms of his hands were sweaty. The next day he called his disciples together and confessed he was not yet ready to be a true teacher. He explained to them that he still lacked the sameness of bearing before all human beings, whether beggar or king. He was still unable to look through social roles and conceptual identities and see the sameness of being in every human. He then left and became the pupil of another teacher. He returned to his former disciples eight years later, enlightened. Excerpts from 'A NEW EARTH' (awakening to your life's purpose)



"We are just monkeys, wrapped in suits, begging for approval." - Jake Green:THE REVOLVER. courtesy Leeladhar Bhovi/ Lee Bhovi.


Battle Strategies for the "Strong"

Strategy 1:
Coercion Control,Power.

Strategy 2:
Confidence Trick.
"Oooh I have been through So-o-o mooch in laife!"
Response: "Oh Me too.. look this, this, ___,___, also happened to me."
Information Obtained. woohoo!

Strategy 3:
Pinch the baby,make it cry.
Then sing it a lullaby!

Strategy 4:
While I write a Blog post, you do the job of saving it prior to I publishing it :D
AWW. smart ass! :)

Strategy 5:
Highlight and exaggerate mistakes and insecurities.
Use them as your tool to defame thy enamiee.

And for you to think I am a victim of thy folly!

Oh how i can forget the Death Threats!?! Icing on zhee cake! :D