Archives for the month of: November, 2013



To move with grace
Into realms unknown
Is difficult

Gushing with grace
Feeling every thread
As i weave a new reality
Is easier

There’s no wall strong enough, to shut in love, just as the body of no living thing can last forever. Love lives, only in the pores of vulnerability.


From there…


… to here.

Simply, a matter of perspective.


No saying where the dancer ends and the world begins.
With multiple arms, herself, the mother Goddess,
With flaming fingers, creating an entire world,
Assigning roles to each, in her cosmic plan,
Of parent, teacher, sister, friend, disciple, and devotee,
Herself, the maiden, and the bird in the gilded cage,
Now with a monkey’s tail, and now without,
Herself, the river flowing to temple bells and sacred chants,
The centre, in a world, where children do their thing,
She’s a Mother, spinning an ocean of tranquility,
From a Deity, famous for keeping a grand secret.

To be alone in this world is her calling, to be with all.
She’s space, in just one corner, of this Universe,
Where it’s safe to be, to let go, of all that’s insane.
It’s by her will that she’s seen, revealed and retained,
In this seamless space, even by her will, forgotten,
By those, prepared to receive, her boundless grace.
Their only intelligence, is knowing where to look.
There’s not one who watches who isn’t, to himself, lost.
It happens now and then, that all trees merge,
In just one, that’s pure consciousness, the essence,
Both in utter stillness, and, in sublime movement.

There’s a thrill before she strikes the gong,
Flowing on to a deathless resonance, passed on,
From one living cell to another, for ageless infinity.
There are those who would hang out the Ganga to dry,
For all the venom that has been poured into her.
But her’s is a will that replenishes all that’s truly grand,
In the fullness of a rhythm, unheard, upon the empty stage.
She’s sweet compassion, even in the killing, of all that’s dark.
She rescues her dance, from the edge of oblivion,
And from the lovers of the extinguished flame.
No saying where the dancer ends and the world begins.


By a lamp burning bright,
Inside a forgotten temple,
The blind musician plays,
Upon his double side drum,
Dhi Na Ka Dhi Na Ka Dhina.

There’s no wind, except
For his own soft breath,
Upon the cold stone floor,
And yet, the flame dances,
Dhi Na Ka Dhi Na Ka Dhina!

The unseen flame brings,
A glow upon the deity’s face,
For whom the drummer plays,
A rhythm without a break,
Dhi Na Ka Dhi Na Ka Dhina.

This, my state, of waking –
Walking into the unknown,
Wrapped in tenderness,
The path ahead revealing,
By the light of my curiosity,
That which is meant for me.

This, my state of waking –
Right after you were born,
I’ve seen your face and known,
I’ll never be the same again.
You’ll change in so many ways,
And yet remain, my constant love!








walking up and down our city apartment,

these thirsting eyes are quenched by the delicate poetry,

that peeps out of tender green leaves,

encircled by an austere audience of broken Shahabad stones…