Dedication

You came with the summer rains
With thunder and lightning,
An explosion in the big silence
And left an upturned life,
But with a huge difference-
Your absence and memories.

You came with the rains,
When the roses bloomed
When the earth danced
To the rhythm of raindrops,
On the rooftop, dum dum dum,
In that house with a leaky roof,

While I’d lie awake and listen,
Watch out for the merciless rain,
Toss and turn on my bed,
Snuggle against the pillow,
Get up and move the furniture,
Come back and dream of you.

I’d look at those lovely roses,
And imagine a few incidents,
Run and rerun your smile,
Every word and every laugh,
Our cryptic mutual messages
And your funny way with words.

I’d go over how that mighty rain,
Peltered on our brown skins,
Tanned as you’d say,
Natural as I’d say,
Brown, plain and dark skins,

In that heavy sudden outburst,
There was nothing left to say,
Yet all that was left unsaid,
Was everything that we couldn’t
Speak, dream or create-
A language we couldn’t speak.

I’d remember how I could sing,
Stand, dream, sit, talk, laugh,
Everything except cry
Be myself beside you,
For you were never another,
Only my own self, my mirror.

I’d gather all these moments,
Treasure them in my mind,
For you are no longer here,
For you are no longer mine,
Only a story to remember,
Only a memory to erase.

This crying idiot you never saw,
Who hid behind all clownishness,
A love that searched ways to erase,
All barriers of words between us,
But never could utter a word
Or dream a glimpse of you.

For I can see you in my dream,
For your left reminders on my path,
Your voice, words and a model,
Which I unconsciously imitate
And respect to my own surprise;
It was not that long you know to judge,
Only a summer of well-repressed words,
Dreams and an unlived life together.

As I move on with new strength,
After troughs and crests of longing,
A few words to celebrate an absence,
A few songs that an clown offers
To kill a love that stopped this life,
To make you smile with remembrance
For being so big (not fat) in my eyes,
For you these Songs of Silence.

The Year of the Brown Earth Dog

Long while ago, in the Year of the Metal Rooster,
When the world was witnessing mighty big events
One lazy afternoon, some fun blended them together-
A Water Dragon and a Wood Sheep- now my parents.

It must have been raining outside, I still imagine,
My earliest cells might have dreamt of the monsoon,
Of the soft pitter-patter it made on the tin roofs,
While the two powerful elements mixed together. 

What strange elements it must have been I wonder,
A thundersome anger, love of music and poetry,
What strange moment it must have been to form
A mysterious phenomenon, welcome or unwelcome.

The story of me began in the Year of the Rooster,
It welcomes now the Year of the Brown Earth Dog.

Female Quixote

May be a kindly Quixote might rush towards you,
May be a warrior on a white horse might rescue you
If only you let her envelop you in her loving arms,
If only you let her make you forget all your worries.

For there are no invisible windmills left to fight for,
Only the needs such as shelter or grace to live by,
Then the charm of your words to light up my days,
Or the warmth of your smile to keep me alive always.

These songs of a miracle that did move mountains,
These words that sound so simple yet difficult to say,
What the heart wanted to say all these weary years
All melting down before a miracle that's so strange.

Simple yet powerful the words rush and gush out
The ways of saying "I love you" written in the skies.

Blessings

Blessing

An Irish blessing

Us

Garden

Blessings

An irish blessing

Sublimation

The dust in the hourglass falls down rhythmically,
While you and I negotiate on this slow-moving life,
Like the ancient master of absurdity had once wrote,
None comes, none goes, nothing happens- uneventful.

You and I have reached a point where we need to part,
You have miles to go to reach your true destination,
While I decide to stay behind hiding my hurt heart,
Nursing the wounds with a half-woven dream in words.

You and I lived together in a make-believe world,
You with your ready-made ideas of time-travelling,
While I went on weaving dreams of having a family,
All centred around your strong arms around mine.

For there is no going back, this absurd heart knows
For some solids shed no tears, those who sublimate.

Home

Nowadays, teaching means you have to raise your voice
Louder than the taking-off- planes or screeching trains;
Roaming around the campus looking at the strange trees,
Wondering at what strange names they must be having. 

It often means finding that perfect selfie under the trees,
Feeling at home in the canteen with a book in my hand,
Trying to remember what made you leave this place once,
While looking around the tomes in the neatly kept library.

It means singing that old monsoon raga to watch if it rains,
Where the eyes that focus on you are lost in hunger or love
Where the kids worship you like an amazon warrior of old,
All amidst the noises of the sea that beckons from nearby.

This coming home might not have been an accident at all, 
To have come back once again under the same ancient trees.

Love

Wherever I go, I see your face in the vast crowds,

In the face of strangers, on the walls, on the pages,

While I try my best to keep you away day and night

Keep your thoughts that come like chorus in a song.

You come back in the rain and in the bright sunshine,

In the ochre light of early dawn or the purple sunset,

Your voice that trails across the miles to bring a smile,

While you remain a memory that I try hard to erase.

It brings back a much forgotten era of bright sunshine,

When we were both young under the same supermoon,

When our voices that commingled could bring friends,

From far and wide just to listen to the merriment seen.

But now, this heart wants to build a strong fortress,

To keep you from making me a slave of your love.

the sun and her flowers

The writer that I am currently reading (and raving about) is Rupi Kaur. Recently, on a lazy afternoon, I was literally gobbling on her book "the sun and her flowers", when I saw her poetry slam at the Jaipur Literary festival.

She is very vivacious and the energy that flows from the book is quite contagious.She shared an anecdote on watching Atwood at a previous literary festival and this time it was her presenting her poems. I turned the pages of "the sun and her flowers" along with her and I found it a profoundly moving experience. Hope to lay hands on her next book, soon!

 

Motivation

Priority

Service

Attitude

Silence

There is no perfect life around;

Once there were limbs, dark

That should have been entwined

In embraces and songs to be sung

To cheer up our spirits low,

And fights that ended in kisses.

It was a perfect life that went by,

But these eyes mirror falsely

What once was so true for us,

Smiles for smiles, tears for tears

Not these shadows on the faces

That sense the imperfect us.

If it were that simple to set right

All the imperfections in me,

All the imperfections in you

No words are good enough;

For it all began with a smile;

And ended in perfect silence.

THE WARRIOR OF LIGHT: PAULO COELHO AND HIS BOOKS

A warrior of light values a child’s eyes because they are able to look at the world without bitterness. When he wants to find out if the person beside him is worthy of his trust, he tries to see him as a child would.  (The Manual of the Warrior of Light).

Paulo Coelho, the literary alchemist, was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in August 1947. He was a highly successful songwriter for the rock star Raul Seixas until he met with his mentor who advised him to go on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. This walk changed his life and he converted to Christianity. This life-defining journey forms the theme of his first novel The Pilgrimage, published in 1987. He advocates through this book that “the extraordinary is always found in the way of the common people."

Coelho’s second book The Alchemist has become a universally admired modern classic because of its allegorical nature. It describes the journey of a young Andalusian shepherd boy named Santiago to the pyramids of Egypt in search of a treasure and the philosophy of the book is lies in these lines: “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it."

Brida is Coelho's third novel and narrates the story of young woman who experiments with sorcery and other magical traditions. In this novel, he dealt with the theme of the feminine face of God, which was a strange idea to most people.

The Valkyries is about the exorcism of personal demons and discovering one's strength. This autobiographical novel narrates how Paulo and his wife Chris go on a spiritual quest to the arid Mojave Desert to meet the Valkyries, a group of warrior women who travel the desert on motorcycles.

By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, Veronika Decides to Die and  The Devil and Miss Prym are part of a trilogy called "On the Seventh Day". This trilogy is a week in the life of someone ordinary to whom something extraordinary happens.

The Fifth Mountain is based on the story of Elijah from the Bible and explores the prophetic questioning of authority, rebellion and liberation. At the same time the novel is a powerful metaphor of human self-confidence and strong desire for self-fulfillment by helping other humans.

The Manual of the Warrior of Light is a collection of Paulo Coelho's teachings summed up into one volume. It includes proverbs, extracts from the Tao Te Ching, the Bible, the book of Chuang Tzu, the Talmud and various other sources, and is written in the form of short philosophical passages.

Eleven Minutes narrates the story of Maria, a young girl from a remote village of Brazil, who goes to seek her fortune in Switzerland, only to find that reality is lot harder than she expected. But when she least expects it, she experiences love.

The Zahir is about a bestselling novelist who enjoys his luxurious and peaceful life, until the inexplicable disappearance of his wife from their Paris home. Coelho compares a marriage with a set of railway tracks which always stay together but cease to come any closer. This novel is journey from a stagnant marriage and love to the realization of unseen but ever increasing gravity between the two souls.

In Like the Flowing River, Coelho offers his personal reflections on a wide range of subjects from archery and music to elegance, travelling and the nature of good and evil. He shows us how life has lessons for us in the greatest, smallest and most unusual of experiences.

The Witch of Portobello starts with the death of the main character Athena and is narrated from the perspectives of many people who knew her. They each provide a different view of her, describing not only what they saw and experienced but adding their own impressions, interpreting her through their own beliefs and fears.

The Winner Stands Alone is set at Cannes during the Film Festival and narrates the epic drama and tension between the three main characters- Igor, Hamid and Gabriela in a 24 hour period. He offers a novel full of suspense, a mirror image of the world we live in, where our commitment to luxury and the success of any cost often prevents us from hearing what the heart actually whispers. He points out that money, power and fame are what drives most people.

Aleph is an autobiographical novel that depicts his search for spiritual renewal and growth. Coelho decides to travel, to experiment, to reconnect with people and the world. This journey helps him to open up to friendship, love, faith and forgiveness and be stronger in the challenges of life.

Coelho has written more than twenty novels and his recent work Manuscript found in Accra deals with the story of an Englishman who discovers a manuscript that figures an ancient alchemist named Copt, who answers questions of a crowd who are gathered inside the city gates of Jerusalem in 1099. What is success?” poses the Copt: “It's being able to go to bed each night with your soul at peace.” His works focus on the discovery of the self as means of spiritual fulfillment.