Surrender

Pic Credit: Google Images

The Mansarovar lake, calm and silvery,

Spread till the edges of the daunting Himalayan peaks.

There! And what is there in the center? A small ripple,

It grows bigger and bigger but the lake stays undisturbed.

For such is her vastness and such is her equanimity.

The ripple shudders, a small laceration breaks the surface,

And slowly you emerge from beneath the cool waters, poised and pristine.

The whites clung to your ethereal body, pearls of water drop from your serpent like black hair,

And as radiant as the Sun is your face.

Is it divine call or are you creature of habit like all mortals?

You do not know!

You simply walk out in a quiet trance,

Leaving behind trails of water and bits of your history you do not need anymore.

The call you heard of silence which promises you joy,

While the world behind you toll in everyday turmoil.

Dhurva beneath your heel is soft as the white floss of the clouds,

Dew on the neighboring flowers and coral tree afar.

Perched, that bird tweets as the creepers grow on the mountain walls,

That Mount Kailash will be white with snow, you always believed,

Instead, you find a garden of devotion which gently tells that Spring never leaves.

You walk as the trance continues,

The flowers dance and the squirrels accompany you.

That soft sound of falling water has brought your walk to a sudden halt,

A little far is the rivulet running down that mountain wall.

Laden with the fragrance of ancient flowers,

It flows through Heavens before its earthly fall.

Is it a ritual or an instinct or a craving of a devotional heart?

You do not know!

But you pick up an ancient pot to fill it with the rivulet’s water.

You put the pot in the nook of your curvaceous waist,

Walk attentively so as not to give the brimming pot a start.

It has been a few miles and things seem to change,

The quiet is ever so beautiful, the trees enchanting and the parrots are talking to you.

Tender entwining vines furl and unfurl at your touch,

And beyond are the luscious trees forming an archway.

At the behest of your heart you walk under that archway,

The pot still brimming as you wonder at the mist forming un your way.

You can see nothing but white mist,

Scare? But it is not what you feel.

Deep faith propels you,

And for the first time in a long time you know what you feel.

At the end of the archway the mist thins, a silhouette appears.

You run as it pulls you,

You run not worrying about the brimming pot,

You just run!

Sitting on the rock is the divine himself,

Crescent moon adorned on the forehead, the serpent King around his neck.

The blue venom resting in his throat,

Rudraksh armlets and wide chest, clad in tiger skin he smiles.

You look on enchanted,

The untamed passion in his eyes, the enthralling smile,

The calm that emanates from him,

And the cosmos he built and he destroyed.

The formless, the limitless, the divine awaits you,

And the joy you came looking for is now growing in you.

A tiny spec in your creation, I am, oh Lord,

Allow me to show my love, oh Shiva!

Say you with the eagerness of a lost soul.

He smiles and your joy knows no bounds,

The closer you go the lighter you feel.

Is this how it should feel, you wonder…

Over his shoulders you pour from the brimming pot,

He sits patiently smiling and his love for you grows every moment.

Handful of Vibhuti you smear on his hand and feet,

The next moment you fear for you did a terrible mistake.

Where is the garland and where are the flowers, you think…

He smiles, he knows for you are a part of him.

Your eyes are shone of tears,

As you see the garland and flowers appear.

He smiles as he knows,

The devotion you feel, the faith you placed in him

And the love that flows in you.

You garland him and flowers you offer,

You bow and put your head at his feet.

The emotion that transcends cannot be spoken in words,

The tears that stream incessantly are of joy and not fear.

You say,

Oh Shiva, help me as I seek shelter,

Ignorance and pride are all I have known.

Greed and sloth, hatred and envy are all I have sown,

Show me the path to rise above,

And have a heart that knows only love.

And I am at your feet as I surrender.

Summer Vacation

Pic Credit: Google Images

Ding…ding…ding…ding

Was the sweetest sound at eight,

As we cheered and shoved and pushed out of the class,

Long and bright summer vacation lay ahead in wait.

The clanking trollies of ice lollies

The sweet calls of the berry vendors,

Colorful frams, kiss me toffies and the loly pops,

And that one rupee coin with which I bought it all.

I came in running and threw the bag aside

It seems you’ll never need those books again,

Came mother’s chiding voice as she stared at me in surprise,

And I just smiled for,

Long and bright summer vacation lay ahead in wait.

As the morning sun filled the room with light

And at seven the drawing room clock chimed,

I woke up chirpy and bright,

Clad in a pale blue frock, said, here I come and smiled.

That gigantic black gate was as daunting as it could be

And the quiet growling of ‘Sheroo’ was paralyzing me,

Sapna? Sapna?! I somehow mustered,

She’s still asleep came a frail voice and I sighed,

For long and bright summer vacation lay ahead in wait.

My happy morning was spent sulking

And to make it worse mother suggested some reading,

Thank god it was time for breakfast,

As grandpa, had started to show the types of cursive handwritings.

Three long lessons of prose and poetry

And summer vacation looked miserably long,

Lalsa? Lalsa, where are you? Came the voice,

And fell in my ears like the morning dew.

Why are you so late? I wanted to shout

But the dolls in Sapna’s hands made me forget it all,

The far end of the terrace was long waiting for us,

Guarding us from the noon sun stood the neighboring mango tree, tall.

Tea was made and lunch was prepared

Tiny pebbles were rice and the mango leaves were the flat bread,

We took turns and went to office,

But not once we agreed when it came to doing the dishes.

The Sun was no more overhead

And the shadow of the mango tree fell on the other end,

Heat had risen and mother’s patience dropped,

Lalsa? Sapna? Sapna? Lalsa?! Were the angry calls,

That made us scared.

Waiting at the gate were our mothers

Exasperations and sighs were made very clear,

Enough already! It’s time you both came home.

But mother! But mom! Was the unanimous implore.

Mothers were determined and we too were hungry

So, at five?

Oh…yes, on the ground I said,

And we were quick to agree.

Four hours of playing was not enough!

Mothers wondered

We simply smiled

As the long and bright summer vacation lay ahead in wait for us.

It’s not you, it’s me!

It’s not you, it’s me

The red rug that faded over the years

The curtain rings which silently chipped away

The corner window that brings no breeze

That lone pot which once bloomed yearns no more.

They all said, it’s not you, it’s me!

The boiling tea, the cracked mugs

The stale smell of those peanut butter cookies

The dried grease, the rust coating on the stove

And that guilty looking three-legged stool croaked.

It’s not you, it’s me!

The empty flower bed and that dried patch in the lawn

That quietly hiding squirrel, that accusing little parrot

The constant dripping of the garden faucet

The glaring sheen of the iron gate.

They all said, it’s not you, it’s me!

The tiresome walk and the stones along the road

The echo of the mountains and those streams of muddy water

The quietness of the night

And the silent thumping of my heart.

They all said, it’s not you, it’s me!

The dark sky became darker

And soon came down the sleet and the rain

The corner window was no more quiet

And the lone pot made enough noise.

The rain did not come alone

Brought along a friend

The soft and silent

Pearly and pale flakes of snow.

As last the night had passed and sun had shone

And everywhere the blueness of the sky had poured

Birds sang and frolicked around

And the breeze blew up and down.

They all chose what felt right

And I stood by my pride

Brave heartedly I chose myself

And yes,

It’s not you, it’s me!

उन शांत आँखों में...

उन शांत आँखों में छुपा ये कैसा सैलाब है,

मुस्कुराते होंठों की परत के पीछे दर्द का एहसास है...

सुबह की खिलती धुप में रात भर की सिसकियों की आवाज़ है,

भीड़ में हर पल ढूंढता एकांत, ये मन्न इतना क्यों अशांत है...

एक पल कुछ चाहता है दूसरे ही पल दूर भागता है,

आंखें खुली हो या बंद, मन्न धोका पहचानता है...

फिर हर पल धोखा क्यों खाता है?

संभालता है, सब कुछ समेटता है और फिर निकलता है...

एक अंजनी सी चाह में, भीड़ में किसी अपने जैसे को पाने की आस में,

नअजाने कितनी ठोकरे मिलती है और कितने ही सपने भीकरते है,

पर ये मन्न कुछ ढीट है...

बिखरे सपनो को मोती समझ पिरो लेता है, ठोकरों पैर हंस चल देता है,

कुछ पूछो तोह कहता है की इन ठोकरों का अपना मज़ा है...

माना भीड़ में परेशान हु और खुद को मिलते धोखों से हैरान हु,

लेकिन ये भीड़, ये धोके, ये ठोकरें, येही सच है...

और ये सच मुझे स्वीकार है...

I knew!

Pic Credit: Google Images

In that very moment, I knew

You and me,

Stood hand in hand but were miles apart,

Like day and night, so close yet so far.

You looked into my eyes and smiled

But the warm glow in my eyes had long died,

Your tender touch felt nothing but ice cold and,

In that very moment, I knew.

You and me

Have been together for so long like old trees of Deodars,

Was it a habit? I wonder,

Or at least some of it was love.

Sunsets inspired hope for tomorrow

And what joy were our walks through the meadows,

One look at the wounded sky, the barren meadows, and

In that very moment, I knew.

You and me

Had years of laughter,

The echo of which haunts me in long winter nights,

As the crackling of embers tries to fill the emptiness of life.

In that very moment, I knew

You and me,

Were once meant to be,

But alas, that lifetime has passed,

And it’s you or me.