Tuesday 19 July 2016

July 19, 2016

                     Keepers of Destiny


A friend gifted me a tiny booklet on a winter afternoon in Dehradun.

Those first few lines by Vivekanand, touched me somewhere deep down and have clung to memory since..

“Education is the manifestation
                            Of the perfection
                               Inherent in man.” 





                                              


                       …..Monsoon Rivers



The sky is grey and heavy                                                                                            
With the rain in its womb

The first few drops hesitate
And the rest follow in a tumbling rush.

I watch
The drops hit the window pane
And trickle down in streaks
Flowing with gay abandon.                                                                                           

Like children rushing to play                                                                                    
The streaks sparkle, stop suddenly on tiptoe
And change direction…
Slippering across                                                                                                           
Without constraints or boundaries.
Masters of their own destiny.

In the soundless stillness                                                                                       
There is only the sight of raindrops                                                                                
Falling on the leaves                                                                                                   
And shaking them in the rain.

I feel the tug of their exhilaration
And in the whisper of their silence
I hear their rustling laughter.

The fragile fabric of hoarded self-illusions                                                                          
Fragments in the wind                                                                                               
And the song of the monsoon rivers                                                                  
Echoes through the falling rain.                                                                                                 

The raindrops wane                                                                                                                   
And the rainbows peep out                                                                                                       
To dance on the gossamer spray.

          *         *         *

As the monsoon rivers                                                                                                      
Seep into the earth                                                                                                               
They whisper:                                                                                 

“Nurture and sustain                                                        
The tender little shoots
Hold them gently
And give to them of your warmth
For in their tiny palms
They carry their childhood                                                          
And cradled in their innocence
Lies the oneness and the freedom
We all aspire to be.”
                    
       
                  In times to come when they are grown tall
                       And walk their own path
                             We will watch the rain and the wind once again.
                                   And be what we have always been:
                                                 - Keepers of our own destiny.

Tuesday 5 July 2016

July 1, 2016

A Parting...

there was never any beginning and there will be no end; 
except when the two meet.
                         
                             "the first step is not the journey,
                                the journey is not the destination,
                                       and yet
                                               where i want to go
                                                       it all becomes one....."



haridwar   -  and a boat of leaves


The current was swift.
Soft peepal leaves
Woven and stitched into a boat
Decked with flowers
Carried the flickering flame.


It danced on the waves
And swirled through the waters.
Holding within our prayers, grief and pain.

The evening aarti glowed
On the opposite shore
And dark shadows moved across
The rushing waters.

The flame, tear-like, 
Glistened once on the wave tips
And was swept away
In the gathering dusk.

The consigning of grief and pain
To the sacred waters
Was complete...

Only the memory
Lingered.

Your journey with us was over.

It was a letting go,
A giving up,
A cleaving away of the carpace
Leaving behind a vulnerable emptiness.

Along with the river
The memory of our togetherness
And the journey flowed on...


Saturday 2 January 2016

December 31, 2015.

                                               .......Departing Stars


The grief of the passing of a close one ebbs reluctantly. One can seldom reconcile and stop grieving. And yet the passing is an undeniable fact of life that touches all our lives.

And being so, the belief that it is not an end but a return to the never-ending peace of one’s origin, uplifts and gives solace.

Sometimes written words lead to the unspoken, creating bridges into the realms of knowledge unknown ... 


Unsaid Goodbyes…


I did not know that it was a parting
And we would never meet again;
That I could never hug you
And feel the warmth of your love
Hold me close.

We never had much
And I wanted to give you the world.
Never knowing that
My being there was enough,

The pain of unsaid goodbyes
Lingers still…

Now 
In the cold winter evenings
When the chill winds freeze the air
And the dew turns to frost
I weave another memory of your love
Into the tapestry of our time together
To keep me warm…