Soul in the Ignorance!

Soul in the Ignorance, wake from its stupor.
Flake of the world-fire, spark of Divinity,
Lift up thy mind and thy heart into glory.
Sun in the darkness, recover thy lustre.

One, universal, ensphering creation,
Wheeling no more with inconscient Nature,
Feel thyself God-born, know thyself deathless.
Timeless return to thy immortal existence.

Corpse of desire!

Its a sense of joy, to be back again in the corridors of knowledge, in the corridors of peace, far far away from trifle emotions..(though old habits die hard..I am killing them slowly)..

Insistent, dissatisfied, without an aim,
Something that wished but knew not how to be,
Teased the Inconscient to wake Ignorance.
A throe that came and left a quivering trace,
Gave room for an old tired want unfilled,
At peace in its subconscient moonless cave
To raise its head and look for absent light,
Straining closed eyes of vanished memory,
Like one who searches for a bygone self
And only meets the corpse of his desire.
- From (Savitri by Aurobindo)

Peace!

Behold, it comes in might,
The power that is not power,
The light that is in darkness,
The shade in dazzling light.
It is joy that never spoke,
And grief unfelt, profound,
Immortal life unlived,
Eternal death unmourned.
It is not joy nor sorrow,
But that which is between,
It is not night nor morrow,
But that which joins them in.

"The Argumentative Indian""

Amazing are the ways of life! I came across friend of mine accidentally, while sipping coffee at my favorite place. We grew up together in Delhi and most of our school education was together. Though we started remembering our old days in school, after a quick information exchange about our common friends list, I quickly figured out, that he hadn't changed at all. And as I am reading a book with a funny name "The Argumentative Indian", I know now that this title is so true. In a couple of hours only, we discussed almost everything starting from Blake's poetry to Lagrange's multipliers in mathematics. And in the end when we were leaving, I was pleasantly shocked to see, that I have yet not lost the art. Now I am waiting for my another loquacious tour..with my family to Himalayan hill station of Shimla in the last week of June. And before that happens, as the happiness quotient is increasing day by day inside my heart..I will continue my austere ways, with lots to read to find myself back again (Don't know how to face my Guru! but he will forgive me for sure though I didn't listen to him)..I haven't read anything in last one year..and I blame it on my stupidity..It is much more peaceful to stay this way..Away from everything..Pleasure and pain..And A holy dip in Ganga..what my soul wants..to be reborn..in soul and spirit..My body and mind still stink of impurities at times..and I know from where they are coming..

At night On The High Seas

Some people when they get disillusioned, burdened by weight of responsibility try transforming their earlier relations into more carefree setting, offering friendship and care..I can tell you how meaningless they appear..just another form of selfishness..so a basic reminder..for all those who want to be close..still enjoying the distance..

At night, when the sea cradles me
And the pale star gleam
Lies down on its broad waves,
Then I free myself wholly
From all activities and all love
And stand silent and breathe purely,
Alone, alone cradled by the sea
That lies there, cold and silent, with a thousand lights.
Then I have to think of my friends
And my gaze sinks into their gazes
And I ask each one, silent, alone;
"Are you still mine"
Is my sorrow a sorrow to you, my death a death?
Do you feel from my love, my grief,
Just a breath, just an echo?
And the sea painfully gazes back,
And smiles: no.
And no greeting and no answer comes from anywhere.
- Hermann Hesse (My true German connection)

Welcome Silence, welcome energy!

Wonderful journeys always come to an end, because they should. If they won't, we will never appreciate the beauty of the journey. The memories always stay by us, the warmth we can always feel when we close our eyes. Now when silence is greeting us with all its virtues lets embrace it with all the affection it deserves. I haven't changed one bit, still sentiments empower me, and I keep traveling back in time. But definitely, the spiritual aspect of my life saves me in those moments. Before the feeling of dejection, starts piercing my soul, always some elevated soul knocks up the doors of sinking consciousness. I am still greeted with warm smiles, warm handshakes, and a beautiful life. As I have a very expressive face, people always ask the reasons of sadness in my eyes. I try to just pass it off by saying gifts of life are not always happy, so just bear it with me as I have no capacity to refuse it. The best thing is I am reading a lot, reflecting a lot. The pain of losing your skin is not easy, but to find the higher softness,and to regain the sensitivity back, we all should bear this pain. In the end I know what's my destiny and my heart can never override it. I was never meant for this materialistic world, I have paid the price with blood and tears by ignoring it. So Welcome silence, Welcome energy, Welcome purity, Welcome austerity..
I wrote a poem recently, hope you will enjoy it.

When I touched the grass this morning,

A shiny dew drop twinkled,

With the smile of colors it spoke,

Where were you Mr. Lover?

I was lost in some lanes,

Which were not green but gray

And I prefer to keep them secret,

Some things are better if kept that way.

So how the future looks for you?

I smiled to say, don’t know,

If the journey is so beautiful,

To the end I got to bow.

So don’t you feel lonely anymore?

Well your colors I have missed for a while,

And a phase of life is always lonely,

In your company I can smile.

A beautiful day after a sunny morning. Again I woke up to the horns of passing buses, which are like life-line to the commuters, who begin their day much earlier than me. May be I am the most relaxed guy, most fortunate in the city, who is still not bound by time, distance and money. As a beautiful week passed, I had time to reflect on many things including the way I feel right now. I wrote a poem, which brought some delight to me. I also thought about this beautiful country, which I am blessed with. I don't know why it always keeps growing on me. The other day somebody told me, people will come to know it, will get lost in it and will still never be a part of except a few like Mother Teressa. Because India only reveals to those, who have ability to stand by its wounds, who have that depth in their hearts to stand by truth and surely if its your destiny. As I will be traveling lots of it in coming months, I am pretty sure she will keep making me feel blessed. The other day again some Muslim terrorists attacked its soul, and some lives were lost. What did they get besides a few lives? They can never kill its soul, no matter how brutal they are. It moves on with the same vitality, with same energy, with same happiness. May be I have already learned something from it. It will still remain the beautiful country, where I will take birth again and again. An Australian poet wrote a few lines which touched my heart and I will share it with you.

In a dream
I flew across the blue ink heavens,
Through the air
Passing Broome red underneath as
Garuda crossing the Indian Ocean
To India.

As the sun rose
And unsettled the grey mist on the Ganges
I sat in a boat
With rhythmic creaking oars
To the slap thud of washing clothes
On stony steps,
To the ringing bell of funeral pyres
Vultures flapping, rose petals following
In the wake of burning dead

And on into the fumed traffic
Crimson-saried women flying in the air
Scooter taxis with alto horns
Rushing through crowds and sacred cows.
Computers flashing
In canyons of glass and stone
White smoke curling, incense
Floating like the women bathing,
Combing jet black hair
While the Ganges ran down their shoulders

And in the dark of the fiery furnace
Men and women slept where they worked
Making black iron for bread.
Sweet smells of Madras
The rushing Calcutta streets
Moon shadows on flute tunes
In the temple
The four-clap beat and the hum of the drum
Dusty men sleeping on stone
And balancing women with baskets of rubble.

Rolling camels in Rajasthan
Two-humped shadows in the slipping sand
A thousand mirrored fragments
Held in the palm of my hand,
Like infinity
`And eternity in an hour'