Home

My home comes to me as an image,
Mauve-coloured walls, clean floor,
A dream that we all built together,
With prayers and with lots of effort.

It lost its value only because of me,
One erring step of mine crumbled.
The beautiful interiors, sunlit walls,
Floors of white remain unexposed,

Often I think about unlocking it,
Just to wander through its space,
A sacred space, mine, ours, yours,
Now remains locked to all eyes.

The day of your rescue isn’t far,
When time will heal all rifts.

2 a.m.

The hospital smells of disinfectants.
Outside the ICU, a watchful crowd,
Waits on the chairs and on floor,
Crouched on bedsheets.

They watch the door, open and close,
Every time, as the duty nurses,
Whisper the news of change-
Death or recovery or medicine.

Each time, the ears listen,
Sleeping men and women,
Sit up and listen to the name,
The nurses utter this time.

This time, the nurse walks,
Towards a dark frail girl,
Sitting for days together,
In her crumpled pale sari.

She screams "Amma"
Falls to the ground weeping,
As her father mourns quietly,
Her sobs shake her body.

Now and then she screams,
Utters the word "Amma",
Looks up with swollen eyes,
For the approach of more news.

The stretcher is rolled out,
From the ICU, by staff,
Her sobs grow loud and wild
At the sight of her dead mother.

For days, she had sat outside,
Meeting her mother twice a day,
Three minutes at a time,
Her sobs are muted by tiredness.

The eyes, where life flickered
And love shone is still and closed.
Denied a word with parting spirit,
She retreats into a blank silence.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the approbation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty; To find the best in others; To give of one's self; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; To have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived - This is to have succeeded.

Meditation

What wonders have time brought, All at my window. The numbers keep changing, Every day new life springs, Out of old ways of thought. Oneness with the universe, With a thousand kindred souls, Spread across the earth, Space and time and universe. Sitting before my gizmo, I wander with delight, Through snow-covered landscapes, Gather in my curious hands Sheaves of snow-sprinkled wheat. A bird spreading its wings, The earth from space or a tiny flower A thousand scented candles- All new ways of bringing me back, To my centre, my self- All at my window. 

On the death of the Beloved

By John O’Donohue

Though we need to weep your loss, 
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts, 
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.

Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.

The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.

Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being; 
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart. 
Your mind always sparkled 
With wonder at things.

Though your days here were brief, 
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.

We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names; 
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath, 
As close to us as we are to ourselves.

Though we cannot see you with outward eyes, 
We know our soul’s gaze is upon your face, 
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.

Let us not look for you only in memory, 
Where we would grow lonely without you. 
You would want us to find you in presence, 
Beside us when beauty brightens, 
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.

When orchids brighten the earth, 
Darkest winter has turned to spring; 
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.

May you continue to inspire us:

To enter each day with a generous heart. 
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation, 
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind, 
And where we will never lose you again.

You and me

You have left behind your traces in my path. Wherever I go, I see people who had met you, words that you had read and poems you  had written. That’s too much for me, for I have always played along with you, as if I believed each and every word you had said. But here, when I look back, I feel that your love is nothing more than a big lie; for the great darkness has sure unveiled quite a number of shadows that existed and shown in clear light what every single moment of wavering cost. With each day, it was my nature than corroded and rusted, only to be discarded along with scrap. You have scattered your scents in the wide universe; and I now out of four walls of my alone self can resist loving your soul, who wandered with me throughout ages and all times. 

Part of Definitions 

Wayside view

This was taken on an impulse, on a day that I had stopped to stare at these lovely flowers on the road, with my friend!