Archives for the month of: November, 2012


Walking through the ancient green woods,
we are all children of light,
attending to our inner fire
of sweet whisperings,
enveloped by
a mystic silence,
in mute trust.

The river is ever new, however long it has been flowing. Except that, now, it runs far deeper and has a much greater reach than it did, when it first started as a rivulet, off a mighty glacier. Sucheta is that river, ever new, fresh, and life giving, more so now, than ever before, spawning a whole new generation of rivulets, which, in their turn, would become mighty rivers. No wonder then, that when they speak of her, they speak in the same breath, of ‘Nritya Ganga’, the sacred river of dance.

If it’s true that our true nature is bliss, then nowhere is it more clear than in the dancing form of Sujata Mohapatra. With her bewitching smile, the grace and beauty of her movements, in the drama of her story telling, where divinity is ever at play with the human, in the poise of her being, in the power that holds us, from looking elsewhere, or, from thinking of other, unthinkably, mundane matters, she made us remember, the while she danced, the reason we were given the gift of life – to find in ourselves, the happiness shining through her being, the sound of her anklets, waking us from unconscious slumber, opening our eyes to our own immortal selves, timeless and free!


Last evening,
a tear welled up from my eyes as my heart swelled up with motherly love.
Memories of childhood with our son, screened past my inner eyes.
The winter air of North America caressed my soul and skin. I was enveloped by the silence of a freshly snow laden, winter forest. I smelled the aroma of burning firewood. I heard crisp footsteps and saw little snow boots wading through the snow. Playful voices of giggling children, reached my ears. I saw twinkling eyes beckoning us to slide down bald crunchy frosty mountains, and to walk dreamily, in long ski’s, upon frozen lakes. The moon was full in the sky. Stars speckled across the black tresses of mother universe. Afloat in her shimmering light, I, her speck of breath, marvelled at the beauty around me. I felt warm inside out. I bathed in the lukewarm rays, of God’s light. ✨


Artwork by our son, at 5 yrs of age.

Golden bells resound
in caves, canyons
and quarries.

An inner light brightens,
warming hearts with
love and laughter!


Life survives the hardest blows. When one form withers, another takes its place. Nothing rots that is not fertile ground, for yet another birth. How then do you kill something in such a way that it stays dead? How do you kill, when there’s no such thing as death?

I sit in the darkest corner of the unlit room, with my thoughts, so that none may know, so that none may see, though it’s all the same darkness, the same thoughts seeking to remain hidden, in others’ minds, like a secret everyone knows, though each would make of it, something truly and terribly personal. Our secrets live, like prisoners condemned to a life of darkness and isolation, without the possibility of parole, or, like hidden wounds, unseen, and yet, never forgotten for the effect they produce, on the rest of the body. Who’s to turn on the light inside this room?

If you’re a passenger, sitting next to a really bad driver, who just won’t listen to you, you know that the probability of a crash is high, and it would be best for you, if you could somehow get the driver to stop the car, and get out while you are still in one piece. It is the same, if you’re with someone, who’s constantly filling you with negative emotions, about all those people who are part of both your lives. It’s best you slip out of such company, while there’s yet some positive feeling left.

However, in stopping the car and reviewing the drive, with the passenger, the driver could perhaps get another chance at driving, with a greater sense of safety, comfort and well being. The best drives are those, where there’s pure communion, within the car, and with all that’s speeding past, even in silence.

I’ve heard it said that two friends quarrelled without a cause. For years, they did not meet, till one day, chance threw them together, on a moving train. Each felt a smile growing upon the other’s face, wondering why it mattered so little, whatever it was that had torn them apart.

Like one river splits into two, flows in different directions, over vastly different terrains, and comes together again, after journeying alone, all this while, with much to share and to enjoy together, their friendship awakened, as though after long years of sleep, refreshed, renewed and vital.

When it’s a river flowing from such heights, it’s only a matter of time, before an entire island is reduced to the size of a small pebble upon its riverbed.