Ancient Ramblings of a Deranged Mind

the eye of god

2011-10-02T11:04:00.000-07:00

the eye of god

is wider than the eye of a needle

narrower than the eye of a neutron

nano'er than a nanoparticle

fatter than the fattest bit of lard

you saw in all-you-can-eat America.

the eye of god

can only observe

the eye of god

cannot judge

the eye of god

watches humans

make a mess

of free will

watches...

as we pour salt on our wounded knees

then proceed to kneel on them

then cry about how it hurts so

the eye of god

sometimes sheds a tear

that it cannot intervene

in this battle between humans

just because

the eye of god cannot intervene

does not mean

that the eye of god

does not feel emotion

pain.

how does it feel,

dear eye of god

to watch a man self-destruct

and know that you cannot lend a helping hand

unless he asks for it?

even when he asks for it

there are times you cannot help

because the machinery of the universe

is unknown to the finite mind.

because decay is in the now

2011-10-02T00:23:00.000-07:00

everything rotted/rots/is rotting.

baby mickee

2011-10-01T11:33:00.000-07:00

my nephew's knees are pink.. with some makeup that fell onto the floor..

yesterday, his knees were white down to his toes, because they were painting the wall and our little baby was splashing in the moondust.. with reckless abandon.

this boy. i know. is special.

he smiles all day.. from morning to night.. that's when he's not sleeping.. or laughing.. or gurgling or chuckling..

he has something magnetic about him, says a relative..

he's just a little wobbly piece of jello.. says his elder sister..

i've seen him fall down, cry for a few seconds and smile.. he had a painful operation two months ago, came out of the hospital the next day, grinning.. like he went for a walk in the park..

my nephew is a year and a half now.. i know he's not just another baby.. i know i'm not just saying this because i'm his proud aunt/maasi/some label.

he has a heart that is the purest channel ever.. his innocence is purer than the innocence of children.. yes, i've hung around with quite a few babies.. yes, i'm sensitive to energy fields on a sensing level. maybe i'm not qualified to say this.. who the hell cares?

this baby, i'm telling you.. he has a heart of gold.. more beautifully, as we put it at home, he radiates the love and laps it as well..

you can come kiss his cheek if you like :) he'll cock his ears and lean in for another one.. when you cuddle him, you'll feel it.. he gives himself to you... surrenders like putty in the hands of the puttymaker :p

i love you baby mikhael..

i'm not even sure i got your spelling right.

across.

2011-08-22T04:33:00.001-07:00

you're across the room... i see you in a heartbeat, whisper of rain cloud and the touch of wet earth on toes wrinkled by repetitive moisture...

even as leaves drop from trees and make their home to mud, i watch you in deep pools of water - as clear as your eyes... shifting between shades of blue.. lapsing into cerulean each time you smile.

..the corners crinkle ever so gently when you smile..

as open as your heart is your smile.. your big, bountiful, beautiful heart.. encased in a thin blanket of peace.. yet beating with so much life.. because you see life in everything that moves.. and even in that which doesn't..

you're across the room and the clock is ticking..

you're across the room and i love you.

love as the mirror

2011-01-21T09:33:00.001-08:00

if love is a state, being in love is the experience of the state of love.

falling in love shatters the veil, opens the doorway to a state of undifferentiated-ness, simplicity and the flowering of spontaneity. The quality of light amplifies, colours intensify and the scent of a lover is familiar, exhilarating, sensual and provokes imagination even as it calms the heart and soothes the soul.

if love is a state, why not aspire to be in the state of love all the time? why seek love in another when you can become love? why not connect to love and be love?

when you connect to the state of love, love will come find you.

when you connect to the state of love, you become one with the process of life..

the process of life is the deepest state of being human..
to be human is to feel and therefore to experience.
to be human is to laugh and therefore to cry.
to be human implies that the fall is followed by the rise..

to be human is to feel desire.

desire is instinctual and creates motivation to create..
because desire is the mother of all creation..

desire is the starting point of romantic love.. imagination is fired, the heart is stirred, the loins are stirred, warmth cascades to the extremities even as goosebumps arise of their own accord..

when desire hits the senses, pleasure circuits in the brain are stimulated and the memory of conquest and the potential of reward become catalysts for pursuit.

when desire rouses the loins, it fuels the body with what can only be termed as a sensory overload.. the lover is maddened with desire, believes he/she has found the one and chases the feeling of merging into the other, to escape the maddening duality of the mind..

in chasing the other, the lover slowly slips back into duality, if he/she is not aware.. by spending every breath with the object of his affection, the lover slowly chokes the space that love needs to flower.. by forcing himself to cut off from everything else (because it pales in comparison to this great love he has found), he slowly begins to choke his love, twining it with his own inherent fears..

there is only one fear: the fear of obliteration

only perfect love can cast out fear.. because love ends the illusion of separation.. for brief moments, the veil of separation is lifted in sexual and romantic love.. but you cannot chase the peak.. or hold on to a peak experience..

peak experiences give you a peek into the state of all that is.

if love is a state, become the love-of-all-that-is.. align with the force field that is love.. do not get trapped into the restlessness of finding your soulmate, meeting the one and being committed to one.. for all who you encounter are reflections of the self..

when you become love, you will see love in every single thing.. in breath, in grain, in songbird, in mountains, in traffic, in the slime of pollution, in the dying of everything.. and the love that you make will have a quality that is beyond what you thought was capable.. the lovers that you meet will never forget you.. because you see them as they are.. as the manifestation of love, as the highest potential of love.

if love is a state, the lover becomes the manifestation of love.. nothing less and nothing more..

if love is a state, then love has many faces.. but the essence of love is one.

Healing is in the Nerves

2011-01-10T10:15:00.000-08:00

The nerves are the key. I know it. I feel it. I'm seeing it in the people I work with.

happy new year

2010-12-31T07:45:00.001-08:00

god asked me what i want in this new year..

i told him i want to walk in his light..

i want to see his face in all that moves

and in all that is still

i want to process his

infinite energy

in all that is.

i want to drop my fears

because i know that

in perfect love

separation is mere illusion

bigger than the body

2010-10-26T22:30:00.000-07:00

you know.. deep within you.. old truths.. older than time..

Before time was even a concept, before space was a space within a thought, you were there.. you were not a body or even a soul. You were spirit - unmanifested, whole, undifferentiated.

There was one great thought made by the creator.. to manifest this love into form.

In human form, we know what it is to create. We endlessly manifest our own thoughts, words and deeds, spinning form into form renewed. Many do not understand the possibility and immense power that lies in co-creating, where we shape our destinies from the ground up even as we tread the fine line with the will of love. These victims of fate, as they deign themselves, dip into the pool of social mores and cultural thoughts, isms and wisps of ideologies, always living their lives in others' eyes. Some cling to archetypes and become martyrs, others perpetrators, some are victims, others are heroes or mentors. Few become lovers and fewer become destroyers. But because love is so great, the power of anti-love has more than enough power to destruct. So many become self-annihilators because the separation from the original state is too much to bear. Many feel alienated, different from the rest.. some are so sensitive that it hurts just to be here, on this planet, watching the harm and self-ruin..

Countless suffer needlessly, because they know no better. But we are bigger than our bodies.. and when we feel shackled and tied in chains that connect to an unmovable rock, we forget that we are bigger than this solid form, so mobile in its reality. We mistakenly think we exist inside this body, but we are outside this body, surrounding it with diffused light; light that interacts with every bloody living thing that was, is and will be. We are as fluid as our dancing electrons and the reflections in rippling water and the waves that bring new things to the shore..

We are outside our bodies, governing the homeostasis within the homosapien and reflecting our universe of perceptions without..

Go deep, deep within and even there, you will find yourself without.

so much

2010-09-02T08:58:00.000-07:00

so much is coming full circle in my life.. so much metaphor has meaning beyond that what is seen.. finally, the pain has value...

i hear

2010-08-29T11:21:00.001-07:00

i hear.. the quiet call of your soul

unbroken

2010-08-29T11:11:00.000-07:00

i feel you so deeply

& intimately

your cells are my cells

& your heart beat is the space

between each pulse

moondance

2010-08-29T01:55:00.000-07:00

there was magik in the air

midnight blue sky

fairy dust like glitter

red velvet cupcakes

cream cheese frosting

lovers in a kiss

& children looked in wonder

at swatches of deep-sea blue

& purple & maroon

in the midst of it all

their eyes swelled up in surprise

to look up at the sky

and see the dancing moon

the litle elf & a fancy hat

2010-08-25T02:29:00.000-07:00

The little elf was feeling weary. She had roamed the earth in search of her twin soul, kicking the dust into little spirals as she went along. Peeping beneath stones, shaking the spores off ferns, asking the water nymphs for a ride on the surface of little ponds, all in vain. She had come closer to the edge of the Great Desert of All Deserts, but its sheer size and scape exhausted her. He could never be here, she reasoned as she walked away. Her twin soul would love the element of water as much as she did. Perhaps he was waiting at the mangrove estuaries that lay to the west or the ghoulish ravines in the east, where the force of water cut through the stubbornest rock. The elf turned her back to the Great Desert of All Deserts, where only the leaves are thick and full of moisture. The light was folding into itself and the sun had resumed its journey to the Other Lands.

The elf walked in the direction of the coastal mangroves. Twilight was not far away and the elf wanted to stop for a while, but her lithe feet could not. As if by magik, a large red flower dropped into her path from an ancient climber; the elf so tired that she walked into it like a particle walks into a black hole. It was an unusual flower - scarlet blushed with fuchsia, with a vertical line of yellow that turned caerulean blue near the centre, where the anthers rise. The elf lay inside the flower for a few minutes, gazing at the mismatched hues. Fresh pollen dust brushed her face like a soporific agent and she fell asleep.

At dawn, the littlest bits of dew made their way to her eyelids, as cool as floral waters that have been distilled for hours. A hint of orange blossom, balanced by vetiver and the scent of middle earth smelt like a well-rounded perfume that the elf could almost taste, with her eyes. She fluttered her lids, opened her vision-pools and looked at the sky, as clouds beautifully diffused the not-quite-there light.

The clouds moved slowly and with great precision, despite their amorphousness. They looked solid, felt as liquid does on her eyes, felt as light as air and were yet-quite-there. If it were winter, thought the elf, this dew would be frost and i would have become an ice princess. This origin of a thought was enough to shake the elf into the obvious realm of that-which-we-see and she scrambled out of the petals of the large red flower, that had faded into a shade of brick, yielding its pigment to the mud where it had drawn nourishment from, not so long ago.

A few furlongs ahead was a sturdy plant with silky hairs on its succulent leaves. The elf stuck her tongue on the leaf tips, drinking in the first drops of dew that were descending to the top layer of fluffy, fertile soil.

The elf meandered for a bit, looking for her twin soul. What would he be like, she wondered. She knew his eyes shone like new glass-blown beads, that his heart was as pure as the once-was-carbon of a diamond, that his soul was wild and free, much like the dandelions that soared with the wind that dictated their destiny. She hoped he would wear a fancy hat, have a twinkle in his eye and tell jokes that the fairies would repeat to the nature spirits, when the moon was in the sky. Maybe he would drink mead with her, as they sat in an abandoned circle in the heart of the woodland, gazing at the orbits of fellow planets.

Somewhere, in the Great Desert of All Deserts was an elf, walking the regs and skipping over sand dunes, his eyes choked with the finest dust. He knew he had to cross the desert to find his calling, for he smelt orange blossom, sacred vetiver roots and wet earth even in his dreams. He did not wear a fancy hat. In fact, he did not possess a fancy hat. But his heart was as pure as the past of a diamond.

as unbroken sunshine

2010-08-09T10:48:00.000-07:00

this desert was once

a mighty ocean

shells whisper tales

of this desert's past

saline bed & iodine of kelp

this ocean once warmed
many a heart

this desert is annexed

to the leeward slope

the rain shadow region

the prodigal son

whilst the windward laps

the unbearable thickness of
sweetly tumescent, dripping clouds

this desert tells fables

in its dunes & bedrock

in its regs & ergs

in its naked soil

in its ventifacts

in its prickly thorns

in the sum of coyote & canyon

is it salt that gives food its taste?

is it flour that feeds a man's soul?

is it flames that ruffle his youthful heart?

is it water that keeps his bones supple?

is it the stars that shape the lines of his hand?

is it death that makes him want to live?

in deserts,

the leaves are spines

& spines are broken

in deserts,

the soil is sand

that was once an ocean

in deserts,

it seldom rains

but even that is a storm

in deserts

there is sun

as in unbroken sunshine

in deserts

there is heat

as in backbreaking heat

in deserts

even sages go mad

their spines broken by the vacuum

only a man who

is sucked dry

can value the wetness of water

40 days in a graveyard

40 days in a cell

40 days with your mother-in-law

40 days in hell

but 10 days in the desert

makes a man as naked

as the mushroom rocks

carved by billowing breeze

they say love makes the world go round

but in deserts, the wind shapes destiny.

have you ever

2010-08-01T09:01:00.000-07:00

have you ever

been with a man

who smelt of dewdrops

with a hint of smoked earth?

have you ever

kissed a man

who smelt of fresh cherry

just before it ripens?

have you ever

slept beside a man

who smelt of ocean spray

that hits you when least expect it?

have you ever smelt

a man's hair

that drove you madly

into sweet hay crusted with marine salt?

have you ever sniffed

a man's wrist

that smelled of crushed lime leaf

and pebbles of the river next door?

when a man hardens a woman

2010-07-28T11:37:00.000-07:00

when a man hardens a woman

she goes inside herself
steps into her boundary

the man outlines her edges

reconstitutes her form

delves inside her
nebulousness

seals the

edge of

her

circle

when a man hardens a woman

she opens to his hardline

her waves hit the shore

her clouds turn to rain

her scent evolves to sweat

emotion crystallises to touch

her chrysalis shatters to pieces

he trespasses her sacred grove

she encapsulates his hardness

she holds the reins of control

amorphous turns into solid

and the woman regains form

when a man hardens a woman

the woman softens a man

when a woman softens a man

2010-07-28T11:05:00.000-07:00

when a woman softens a man

he steps outside his boundaries

follows her instep

to a river where she bathes

as he watches spellbound

flowers in her hair

wood ash on her waist

her raiment by the bank

& ferns on the littoral

she emerges from the river

sweet as water without salt

fresher than the flower that falls

warm between the droplets on skin

the man he watches, gaping

wipes her with a muslin cloth

as she indicates to him

his sweat beads akin

to the droplets

that he wipes with a muslin cloth

when a woman softens a man

he whispers words of tenderness

his earth softens with her waters

his fires burn with her natural oils

his angles bend to curves

his hardness tends to softness
his softness tends to harden

he melts into the essence

of mother earth's dark womb

pain dialogues 2

2010-07-26T12:18:00.000-07:00

i want to assist people who suffer chronic pain... those with longstanding traumas... those who have wounds running so deep they don't know how to exist without them.. i want to work with specialists to ease their pain.. i want love to slowly break the old patterns like safety glass, where the damage is as minimal as can be..

there are those who suffer and secretly want to.. what about those who suffer & don't want to suffer anymore?

are we not here to help one another on our journey? if your joy is my joy, i don't want your pain to be my pain.. but it is. so long as we agree that we are resonances of an eternally pulsating universe, we have to admit we are all connected..

i understand what extreme pain feels like, to an extent.. i will never be so pretentious as to say "I know what you're going through." because i never will.

i can only sense what you are going through and perhaps even feel it... but my duty as a healer is to hold fort as i transfer energy to you, at a level that your body can currently handle, give you reflex points on your body that ease pain in corresponding areas of pain, suggest natural anti-inflammatory foods, supplements and herbs that will soothe, recommend exercise and postures that will get you back on your feet. All this, however, is secondary, unless you love yourself, so unconditionally, that the pain becomes a path to healing itself..

what are the core beliefs that hold you back from reaching for your destiny? do you believe that you are powerless, unworthy, unlovable? we all hold these beliefs, to some extent. can you not see the abundance of the universe? there is enough, for everyone.. enough to survive & thrive.. but for that, wisdom is the keystone.

when you look your pain in the eye, see beyond the sensations caused by pressure, temperature, inflammation, nerve damage.. see it as your body gently redirecting your attention to an organ/system that needs to be addressed.. and work with your body. i understand what unbearable physical pain feels like and the kind of levels of frustration it can approach in the calmest of human beings. i understand how bloody difficult it is to live in the moment, when your neurons are firing like a squad. but i do understand that my body is crying out to me, telling me something that only i can hear.. yet it feels like a silent scream..

this is what galvanises us into action.. that pain has our secrets. chronic, unbearable pain holds our deepest secrets, our shadows, our traumas from another dimension, perhaps.

listen to the pain... that pain has stories within it, layers of history.. but within this pain are the keys to your healing, the seeds to your future.. a future where you will feel so healthy that you will forget the nature of this awful pain. never for a moment lose hope.. or love, for that matter.

love can break down the most solid will, the oldest belief system, the hooded ego, the wall of defense.. let love guide you in every which way, because love exists independent of us and only asks that we tap into its powerful field..

pain cannot exist in the presence of powerful love.. you yourself know how a lover's touch melts away the day's tension.. how simply placing a compassionate hand on an area that hurts instantly soothes it.. accepting love is only as important as giving it, otherwise giving love in excess is often a compensation for not allowing ourselves to be loved..

indeed, our walls need to be broken for love to come in.. but it is love itself that will break down the wall.. then the choice is yours to make.. to love (and to accept love), no matter the odds, no matter how deep the pain.

pain dialogues

2010-07-26T12:15:00.000-07:00

there's muscular pain. and then there's nerve pain. muscular pain hurts, nerve pain hurts like f&%k. when your body feels like it's being stabbed and electrocuted and knifed in a certain point, with the intensity of a well-intentioned twisting of the knife, then welcome to the world of nerve pain, my friend..

in the spaces of silence

2010-07-08T09:14:00.001-07:00

in the spaces of silence i find you. the space between music notes, whiffs of cologne and wide open spaces where deer run wild & free.

i see you in the unbridled joy of children and the musk of sunset.. in amber glint when the world sleeps and we lovemake under beams of moon.

in the still-hour of darkness you are here.. till the first ray hits the sky.

little one

2010-06-28T10:37:00.000-07:00

when you sleep

little one

the window of your soul

opens

your essence it flows

outwards with exhale

as you inhale the dark matter
of the universe

there is a blackbird

he visits each night

to sit by your window

till the advent of dawn

the blackbird and i

we watch you in sleep

your body is still

your body is warm

your navel persists

with the intention of fire

your chest is soft

with the breath of cherubs

your feet warm last

but warm they must

your breath is cool

as i feel it on shoulders

at night you let go

of your thoughts & visions

at night you welcome

god's thoughts & visions

little children lie

gazing at moonbeams

even as i lay still

gazing at your face

when you sleep
little one
your face becomes

the singular light in the room.

your scent

2010-06-21T00:34:00.001-07:00

you smell of morning dew.. with a touch of camphor

somatic sonnets

2010-06-14T02:29:00.000-07:00

there is a stillness inside us all.. i am trying to locate its core inside my body.

i feel one center near my navel... perhaps a couple of inches behind it.. another two and half inches above my navel.

in my diaphragm i feel tremendous surges of love.. in my heart lie the stirrings of peace..

around my forehead i feel sensory overload, of things that can & cannot be seen.. and an inch below my navel are desires to merge my body with another..

and in my perineum lies a dense center.. here it is so still that time almost stops.. here the body has no fear and nothing to gain.. here i can feel safe - at home inside my body.

in embrace

2010-06-14T02:03:00.000-07:00

the world slows down

in embrace

the earth is pulse

in embrace

& rivers change course

in embrace

& the past is dissolved

in embrace

& the big bang was born

of embrace

& life evolved

in embrace

betwixt

2010-06-13T09:07:00.000-07:00

i will lick your wounds

to a crisp

says fire

betwixt shadows & light

is fire

betwixt life & death

is fire

betwixt manifest & dissolved

is fire

betwixt form & void

is fire

it is in the nature to fire
to burn memory into nothingness

whilst unrestrained fire
transmogrifies matter

into matter
that

cannot be recognised

in its prior state of beingness

fire is the not the key

neither the way

it only burns

everything it touches

fire licks water

even as water smothers it

fire is the greatest eater

of manifested stuff.

the fourth state of matter

2010-03-30T21:28:00.000-07:00

when his fingers begin

they begin at my nape

brush below the hairline

leaving light thumb impressions

his fingers are solid

objects on object

objects blur

'tis subjective, of course

when objects blur

the body becomes

a swollen mass

of nebulous skin

my neck begins

my collarbones end

my breasts surrounding

the creases of ribcage

and ribcage ends

into pelvic bone

and pelvic bone

into pubic bone

his fingers are nestled

between my thighs

my inner thighs

surround his fingers

his fingers are molten

his fingers are melting

his fingers are viscous

his fingers are liquid

my body is felt

as electric pulse

his nails are edging

my each-entire outlines

his fingers are slowly

losing their edges

my body submerged

is losing its structure

his fingers are now

an aurora storm

his fingers are now

the fourth state of matter

the universe

2010-03-08T10:46:00.000-08:00

the universe is a

big bowl of

cosmic broth

connections

2010-02-25T09:44:00.000-08:00

six degrees of separation

six degree burns

six degrees beneath

the surface of the earth

five fathoms ahead

five furlongs behind

five yards beyond

or five metres below

four little friends

four countrymen

four peas in a pod

four toddlers in tow

three little mice

three musketeers

three little beetles

three's never a crowd

two little eyes

two little toes

two little hands

and two little does

one understanding

one endless soul

one universe

and one soup bowl

butterflies flutter

2010-02-25T09:43:00.001-08:00

butterflies flutter

butter cannot

butter is dense

butterflies are not

the story of a walk

2010-02-14T21:13:00.002-08:00

i engaged in a bit of ambling today.. at my favourite 12 acre garden by the sea.. i contemplated stretching, some yoga poses, sitting down with eyes closed and feeling the whiplash of breeze - winter's last pangs.. but the body was going into ambling mode.. and i don't like to stop the body.. because it is the vehicle to my soul.

i had just messaged a friend, indicating i wanted to walk on wet earth, barefoot. i crossed the first grass mound (those who know the garden will know what i'm talking about) and hit the second.. to crash into a rather long hose pipe, the length of a reticulated python.. i gingerly walked along the length of the python to get my feet as wet as could be.. perhaps the earth was not as porous today, or perhaps the mud was soaked to the point of overflow.. little wading pools had formed across the grass and even tiny rivulets of water.. so i followed the course, blithely.

at the BPT garden, if you're bumbling along garden paths, you're bound to stumble into a sitout-by-the-sea or it will bump into you. there are five of them, if i'm not mistaken.. elevated humps encircled with smooth rocks and tufts of grass.

at low tide, the rocks create little tide pools in the ocean.. as pretty as the wading pools in the grass today. as you've probably figured, the sitout's a great place for scenic-scapes - tide pools in front of you, wading pools behind! flocks of gulls perch at the line of water unruffled.. to their right is the Afghan church, its steeple like a spinal cord arching for the sun.. there's plenty of pink in the background.. most likely fall colours of the Indian almond tree.

badam leaves turn a plush shade of crimson before they fall.. when the chlorophyll breaks down, leaving anthocyanins in its wake(purple-maroon-red spectrum - the kind you see in eggplants and strawberries). temperate fall colours are a rarity here, so it's definitely something to look out for. to my immediate left, i see a flash of bright red, internally hoping for a new bird, but it's a rapidly falling almond leaf that landed itself in a bit of trouble - a powerful gust of breeze. to its immediate right is a young crow; i've seen so many little crows today that i'm beginning to think it's mating season for the species.

i leave the sitout and venture back to the second grass mound. a bunch of giddy headed girls have collected the beautiful samudraphal tree flowers in their palms and are doing an aarti with them. whatever floats your boat, i say.

the sun's spilling over now.. and it's searing my skin.. it's nine fifteen.. the skyscrapers edging the garden are conducting multiple reflections that are blinding.. to say the least.. that time has come to walk away from all this imagery. i pass a yellow silk cotton tree and a red silk cotton on my way out... two months of annual bloom is all they'll spare..

little ecosystems within larger ecosystems.. a cosmic soup that is fed on oxygen..

there are layers of ongoing interactions that we will never comprehend.. biospheres that will kill us with their magnificence.. our only hope is to watch and be awed.. by the backbreaking beauty of cellular birth and cellular death..

the fag end of winter

2010-02-14T21:13:00.001-08:00

winter's breath

on bare shoulders

winter's breadth

is narrowing

in the wake of summer's swelling

winter must die a natural death

and birds huddled together

welcome the advent of warmth

that is spring

to all my lovers..

2010-02-04T23:14:00.001-08:00

i'm the sum of many things, and you're the sum of many things.. some things we love to do together.. dancing, climbing hills, watching the sunset, drinking wine in the open, touching toes in sand, listening to music, making love, looking at ancient ruins, being there for the other..

some things i will do that you don't like to, or feel you can't: maybe you hate dancing, or maybe you feel you can't dance, but secretly want to. maybe you just like to watch people dance. whatever and whoever you are, know that i love you completely.. though i would love it if you were open to the idea of giving it a shot.

i love you completely because we take on few as lovers in our lives.. countless will be friends, flings, seasonal variations, even soulmates.. but lovers have always existed.. and when they collide, they understand that they have always loved one another.. but circumstance brings them together.. to realise this love.

when i say that i love you, it does not mean that i will be exclusive.. because my love for you has nothing to do with how i feel for another.. because my commitment to you stands.. no matter if i choose to explore other avenues with other connections. because you have a place in my life that is intensely elevated, no matter what..

when i say that i love you, i love the sum of who you are, and indeed most of your individual selves. when i say that i love you, i mean that i have found you.. in a world of unending chaos and endless variety.

when i say that i love you, i am really saying that my body-mind-soul blends with yours, to create a most delicious fruit compote. i am saying that i love you.. no matter what..

the streaming of sunlight at 4.30 pm

2009-12-28T03:35:00.000-08:00

much as i love the outdoors

and would kill anyone

who stood between

sunset & I

i would be nowhere else

but indoors

at 4.30 pm

when the light

slants just right

catches the glint in

one eye

moderate shadow in another

lights the hair like gold dust

little lightcatchers they become

and children look golden

when they stand by the windows

and you look so damn perfect

when you stand by the window

and i can't help but watch you

from inside my room

when the light hits your face

at 4.30 pm

the frame of

2009-08-14T01:08:00.000-07:00

The internet has extended our frames of reference. Phenomenally.

There was a time when one's frame of reference would be a conglomeration of imaginations sourced from observations, myth, stories, accounts (oral & written), exchanges from relationships, cultural & ecological isms, rational & scientific behaviours based on step-level thinking, etc.

Today, the internet allows you to expand into exactly what you want to be at this moment. Or where you may want to be tomorrow.

Many of your original ideas may pop up in a search engine's results. You begin to wonder what defines 'original'. And what combines to make an original thought. And are you really the creator of this original thought, based on your frames of reference, or have you sourced the original thought from a larger pool of thoughts (or the infinite frame of reference also known as the universe).

You begin to wonder about cosmic consciousness and are we really are connected through one-divine-soul that uses the medium of electricity & lithium ion batteries & an unseen force, to co-create this universe..

We see paradigms, parallel universes - each mirroring the other; the online merging into the offline -which is slowly becoming an extension of the online. And vice versa.

If, at some point in history, you were a freak, now you know there are countless like you. Shamelessly leading their lives on webcam, baring their souls to an audience that is anonymous, yet so intimately acquainted...

I need it Sharp

2009-07-23T23:23:00.000-07:00

I need it sharp baby

Or atleast sharpish

I need to feel it

Piercing

A few layers of dermis

I need it to evoke

that which crosses
the realm of feeling

pure emotion

separate me
from the rest of the universe

many times i wish to merge

to soak in you

bury myself inside you

but today when we do it

i need to feel separate from everything i am always connected to

i need it sharp baby

so sharp

that it cuts me

till i only identify myself

as separate from the rest of matter.

Come away with me

2009-07-12T05:08:00.000-07:00

My head is filled with little thoughts

Of running away to mountain tops

And riverbed when ebb is low

And oceanheart by side of tide

Where shells prickle and stones they glow.

My heart is filled with countless joys

Of little kinds and larger laughs

That repeat themselves in endless ways

With you i feel a classic surge

And we trespass on pebbled walkways

My body is dizzy with anticipation

Will we walk or run, jump and fly

Stand beneath a street lamp's glow

Talk or kiss, hold and lie

Lie down while we're standing high

At eventide, my soul is filled
With a feeling that i feel as bliss

My heart swells, my body rises

Head touching earth, feet in the air

Toes weave circles; mud in my hair

Ripples at low tide when pebbles we throw

Ripples hit shore and bounce back to us

Pendulums oscillate infinitely in vacuums

And who knows what they do

When love abounds

Come away with me

If only for a while

They'll never know we were away

When we part i'll be back to myself

With you i merge into our'self

the colour of iron

2009-06-24T07:01:00.000-07:00

a sheer scape of blue
the colour of iron
hitting terracotta roof tiles
stained with tar
as black as the
flight of the crow

this city is shaped
by shades of grey

the dust is grey, the dirt is grey, the exhaust fumes are grey, the working class is grey with fatigue

and now the skies are grey

this city's transforming as we speak
taking renewed form
this island city welcomes the wet winds
this city is ready to wash itself off

shake off the bloody layers of grey
... to take on a new coat of rain

Home is migration anywhere

2009-06-24T06:55:00.000-07:00

For you, my love, on your journey

A kiss to your forehead
A songbird to your window
A drink of water on a hot day
A cube of ice in the heat of summer

An umbrella for incessant rain
A few good books when tin sheets are soaked
A swollen spring to parch your throat
A vault of wisdom when times are challenging
A touch of grace when you can’t take it anymore

A whisper of love when you need it most
A woman’s hip when you desire curve
A lover’s caress when the blinds are drawn
A mother to kiss your forehead each night...
An angel to your bedside

when solid turns to liquid

2009-06-02T06:55:00.000-07:00

fingers on skin
sticky toffee in your mouth
glaciers in a warm, warm world
the dissipation of old habits
music from a voice box
thoughts into melting dreams

and the realisation that we are not solid

The Light

2009-06-02T06:49:00.000-07:00

Does the light come from within or without?

when the pain

2009-04-11T22:53:00.000-07:00

when the pain doesn't stop,
should i dissociate myself from the pain
or give up resisting it?

the Silence between Spaces

2009-03-19T09:03:00.000-07:00

With friends, the chatter remains...

With lovers, all we remember is the silence between spaces

And lips that taste like sunset
Longing as beautiful as
the desert at dawn
Communion at first sight
Resonance of heart beat
Melding in and out
Of life's unknowns.
Why question what you see
Why question what you don't

When lovers lie on blades of grass
Even the earth forgets its silence
And whispers into the spaces...

In this heat

2008-10-18T06:06:00.001-07:00

People are dying like flies around me
It has come to be
That this is their time to shift
base into someplace
That we may never-have-been-to

It is a simple question
of Being
...unable to access
the consciousness of state
not akin to ours

Is it only acid, intense spiritual practices
Walking over fire
And chasing death... before it chases us
That take us to the edge of the realm.

Often life seems perfect
80% of the time
Until the next blow shatters every semblance of
human security.

It is at these moments
that life is seen for what it is
Not yours, not mine
No ownership.

Even the body melts into images and shapes
That melt into something
Greater than us
And the space between
living and dreams
Is nothing but a wisp of a line

healer's prayer - 2

2008-10-18T01:09:00.001-07:00

Come to me ye who are weary
And I will give you rest...

of

2008-10-13T20:06:00.000-07:00

complexity is
composed of
fractals
of
simplicity

the slow burn

2008-10-11T08:36:00.000-07:00

Between the romps and the ravaging, the slow burn is an intense rush that crawls over your entire body, like a web that makes your insides turn outside.

Never has prey wanted it so bad...

patterns

2008-10-10T22:37:00.000-07:00

if you don't break those patterns, they will eventually break you.

healer's prayer

2008-10-07T20:19:00.000-07:00

My hands are embedded in spirit
My eyes see what is real
My gut feels the truth
I love as state of being
I breathe as a child who trusts

Why label...

2008-03-12T19:58:00.001-07:00

Why label a man.. when you can enjoy his company?

A few things I have learnt

2008-03-09T01:35:00.000-08:00

Intimacy is the union of flesh and spirit
Expressed in a body.
------------------------------------
Understanding can be attained in its highest form
From love or wisdom.
------------------------------------
Wisdom comes with clarity of awareness
Love with clarity of heart.
------------------------------------
Intimacy is the union of flesh
and spirit...

...when flesh and spirit fuse
Because they know no other way.
------------------------------------
When flesh and spirit fuse
Because this is the path to take.

Then intimacy becomes one
of the myriad expressions
of love.
------------------------------------
When love is viewed with wisdom
Only then can real love exist.

When love is viewed with wisdom
It becomes a thing of the
spirit
soul
flesh
spirit
------------------------------------
Until it dissolves into itself
Much like salt into infinite sea

Must never

2008-03-04T07:37:00.000-08:00

Relaxation, Recreation, Humour, Wanderlust
must never wait
not even for a moment

The Binary Connection

2008-02-25T20:17:00.000-08:00

One can't help but be grateful for being born in a time as this. One can only marvel at the internet, and how a parallel universe has come to form a form that is unequalled as a paradigm of who and what we are and can be. The internet shows us that 'open source' can and often works; we can be honest enough to mention 'citations needed' when we have none, brave enough to realise that intellectual property can co-evolve to become 'community property', honest enough to say that we don't know all that there is about this thing we're talking about, but this is our empirical experience of it.

The internet takes us to a place, where s-i-x degrees of separation is only a fathom away. As we cue in to what our fellow 'homospecieans' are delving into, in their respective tectonic plates, we infer that that the diversity in seeming homogeneity is a thing to be celebrated, even more so, because for the first time in the history of the earth, we all have access to it.

Faraway Leaders

2007-12-11T01:35:00.000-08:00

Where is the throne that you sit on? And how can you condone the mess in this world?

Is it I who lacks understanding?

I think therefore...

2007-12-06T19:07:00.000-08:00

I think, therefore I ain't sure. :)

Self-Preservation

2007-11-21T04:51:00.000-08:00

When the goal is greater than the individual, it focusses the individual towards the goal, if he believes that there is more to gain in the future from what he can now achieve. Whether this goal is salvation, providing for one's family, or fighting for the nation, he is able to let go of current needs/desires, that are substituted by new methods of thinking, living and behaving. The individual is able to either suppress, restrain or let go of older desires, making way for new ones.

If the goal is salvation, the desire is for salvation.
If the goal is providing for his family, it is the desire to sustain his own gene pool.
If he is willing to kill for his nation, it is because he does not consider himself a part of the other nation, but belonging only to a certain geographical mass, with physical boundaries he himself has not created.

Somewhere, somehow, the desire for self-preservation is so deeply ingrained, that it accompanies even the most altruistic actions. If we are to look inside the physical body, we understand what sacrifice and symbiosis really are. The physical body is a guide to the soul. Those who have rubbished it over the years are idiots. The immune system is the most marvellous tool of preserving self. Our bodies have developed, over years of evolution, the ability to defend themselves from bacteria and viruses that cause disease. Over the years, every body develops immunological memories that enable it to fight pathogens with renewed vigour - the next round they attack. The body is able to forget traumatic memories until one can deal with them later, tremble so warmth is created when it is cold, make your heart pump blood faster when you need to escape, and forget itself in the quest for protecting you. It goes to every extent that it humanly can, to keep you comfortable, and safe.

There are times when even the body must fail. When autoimmune disorders hit, hope is almost lost. The body now proceeds to attack its own tissues, believing that they are foreign organisms and self-destructs. In its own quest to protect and preserve, it attacks the very foundation of its self.

There are many lessons to learn, by looking inside. When meditation and temples fail, a little biology leads one back home.

Round & Round

2007-11-02T22:58:00.000-07:00

Baby K (niece) is veddy worried. It is winter time and she has a new set of doubts. "Kuki, what will happen to us after December?", she asks with a quizzical and small-fearful face. "We will go back to January", I tell her. She smiles, soothed. As all kids do, she proceeds to count the months: January-February-March-April-May-June-July-August-September... uh uh...
Baby K forgets the rest.
But she is happy.

"Then January will come again, Kuki?" she asks... Ohhhhhhhhhh... "It always goes round n round?" she says, "like the time?"

Yes Baby K. I nod.
Everything goes round and round.

Forever (circa).

If Thought

2007-10-27T10:33:00.000-07:00

If thought precedes form, has not thought come from form?

how do you

2007-10-18T01:40:00.000-07:00

how do you make the blood rush to my heart and down my thighs at the same time?

sensorysensual

2007-09-29T11:01:00.000-07:00

the
eye
notices

relays visual information

to the brain

that processes it
and sends it down

south.

a pretty woman may provoke
an erection
a feeling of peace
a sense of duty

but if you close your eyes

do you not feel her?

My Demands

2007-09-18T21:00:00.000-07:00

If you let me be
I'm yours

If you celebrate me
I'll stay with you

If you let me whine
I'll kick your ass

Take me out instead
To fall again

In love with you
In love with life

& all that was made
for you and I
to celebrate.

Handling a Crisis Situation

2007-09-07T09:58:00.000-07:00

It may hit you at any point, but it will - at some point in your life. The idea is not to go completely crazy when it happens. Cocooning and security bring comfort, but always remember that we're somewhere on the brink.
It could be the sudden death of a loved one, a diagnosis of a dreaded disease - or something that requires you to be focussed when you want to collapse and absorb it all.

Sometimes, looking for solutions leads to frustration - when none work. Stop looking for answers, ask questions instead.
Can you live with this?
How does it impact each area of your life?
Can you enhance arenas of your life that you've been ignoring?
Are your priorities changing?
Is your pain providing a clarity that you have long forgotten?
Have you been stagnating, and if so, since how long?
Do you need to stop and breathe for a bit?
Or are you on a determined path to find reason and wellness?
Can you find peace despite all of this?

It may be hard to find calm if you are in constant physical or mental pain. It would be a joke to ask you to. But, if you can manage, somehow, to master the strength to look outside the pain and the suffering, and see that you can be a little bigger than it, I promise, that it will be better.

The First Man and Woman

2007-06-14T07:57:00.000-07:00

Even as we walk in shadows through ravines cut with erosion
no evil will we fear

and so...

I was thinking about you and me. About the first time we make love, if ever. About how the first man and woman and their offspring made love. Was it by instinct? I am driven to think so…
How beautiful must have been the first exploration, with no written guides, perhaps oral history, perhaps none. To write a manuscript on a woman’s flesh for the first time. To discover the sounds of silence even in the throes of spasms. To discover the endless mystery of a body mingling with another – this is what sex means. Endless, and mystery.
The body, to me, is like any other art form. It is a microcosm of the forest. The more I explore, the more I seek, yet with contentment. The joy lies in being content with what you have, with the excitement that you are yet to discover more. More ways to touch and taste, so many ways to hold a woman, so many ways to comfort a man, so many ways of kissing, a thousand ways of asking, ten thousand ways of seducing, of understanding, of glancing, of positioning one’s self with another body, of using the surrounding environment to enhance pleasure.

When we meet outdoors, and we will, I want to hear your heart ram into mine, even as the sound of the ocean evens it out, as foreground merges into background, as you so eloquently put it. I want to feel your flesh pressed against mine, even as we merge with earth-material below, be it soft, wet mud, hard, black rock, the prickle of grass, or the deepening of sand. I want your mouth to move with instinct over mine, your body to ease into mine, your flesh melt into mine, my hands – guided only by your body’s response, your fingers in my hair, my eyes piercing yours, and when it rains, I want us to look at each other like the first man and woman; no language but the one we co-create, that co-evolves with time, no touch that is trained, no desire that has been tamed, to look into your eyes, because there is no other... not a single person has yet been born, save for you and I...

and so...

I see you deeply inside my flesh,
running your fingertips over my soul.

In the presence of…

2007-05-08T10:03:00.000-07:00

Today, I felt privileged to be in the presence of great love.
My niece, four year old baby Keya, went to play with baby Hamza on the fifth floor of our building, at 10.00 pm. Baby Hamza is the pinnacle of cuteness (along with baby K, of course.)
As Baby K (all of 4 yrs) watched over Baby H (a spanking 4 months), the room sorta quietened. There were about 11 people in the house - eating, talking, being, watching TV, generally exchanging notes after a long day. Bengali, Hindi and English freely flowed across the room, as Hamza's mom told me the joys and deep tiredness involved in caring for and nurturing a child. Baby K sat on the floor, watching sleeping Hamza wordlessly. Even as her gaze was transfixing itself, it seemed as if she were a devotee, paying her respects to her creator. Perhaps they were each other's guardian angels. Each so beautiful, that it is appreciated by all who meet both babies. Keya and Hamza, both with a full head of hair, bright expressive eyes, plump cheeks and the reckless roly-poly abandon of young children.
Even as Hamza woke up, he looked around, but fixed his eyes at Keya, and gave the biggest muffin-tubbytum-toothless smile a baby ever could. As they both admired each other, Keya's fingers clasped within his... they spoke things that we could only understand, but never voice. Blest are those who learn this language, for it is the source of truth, and does not tolerate conflict. It is the deepest, oldest form of communication, after the wake of the senses. Beyond pheromone, gaze, touch, and impeccable oral skills, this language knows no name or sound - but only to feel what one knows.

Sounds of the Ocean

2007-04-30T08:15:00.000-07:00

Next time you lie on your side, place your arm just beneath your ear pressed against it. Breathe deeply in and out, as if a lover caresses your face, or a sensation of deep peace.
Listen to the sounds in your ear, your breath will touch you like the murmur of waves as they arrive at shore.

The Steps

2007-04-21T05:29:00.000-07:00

Awareness of love is the first step to healing

Awareness of love brings trust in oneself

Trust in oneself accelerates expansion

Expansion propells cell renewal

that brings
vitality
love
wisdom
healing

5-stars

2007-03-29T22:39:00.000-07:00

I realise that 5 Stars were created for me to take a pee in luxury

Butter

2007-03-29T22:37:00.000-07:00

There's no fun in life without butter

The Truest Surrender

2007-03-17T06:54:00.000-07:00

All my life I considered myself a self-made person. Over the last few years, notions have eroded to be replaced with new ones. Since I am a fairly fluid individual, I have no issues embracing new concepts and ideologies, so long as they work for me in the moment.
With a dear friend last night, over choco biscuits and trippy jazz, the question of surrender came up.

It has occured to me, in the past, that the highest form of surrender and unconditional love is what I aspire to. Both require extreme openness to the other, which I have in somwhat large measure anyway. But that measure is never enough. Surrending to life, the universe and the godhead himself (whoever he may be for you) paves the way for exciting and exhilarating experiences in a world ridden with the double edged stress of boredom and excess hard work.

Listening to the inner voice makes surrender so much easier. It tells me when to stay, when to leave, when to go, when to flow, when to let go, when to not let go, sometimes it tells which bus I'm going to take and what's going to happen. By deeply listening to my inner voice, I have realised that it is greatly possible to align one's will with that of the universe.
By falling into the arms of the universe, it seems that free will is only possible when has thrown oneself into the arms of insecurity, and is able to follow the inner voice that gently guides over mountains and streams and cities of filth.

The Image and Likeness

2007-03-11T21:25:00.001-07:00

If god created us in his image and likeness, it stands that we can see the supreme being in the other. When the other merges with one, and duality dissolves into a feeling of deep unity, then god as a being of energy is expressed through the channels he has created in this divine play.

First came the rocks and the mountains and the forests, way before us fallible things. Each is like a map of the universe; every stone and any herb you may have come across.
Our bodies are like maps of nature, they fold and unfold, move and twist, regenerate and degenerate at the same time; for some cells have to continually die to make way for new ones. This renewal of cells is what makes us who we are, deeply adaptable and suspect to change. Our bodies dance in this movement we call life, deeply urging us to find our place in a universe that has no conceivable limits, and a time and space that are in continuum.
When clothes come off, the body is revealed for what it is. In nakedness lies our greatness. Fractals emerge, shapes come to life, angles and curves make love, temperature and touch awaken flesh that assumes a different nature altogether. Gooseflesh is possible only when skin is touched in a certain manner, when we are stirred by the sonorous strains of a deep morning melody on bamboo flute, when fear passes through our veins, leaving a trace of raised heartbeats, and of course, raised skin. Nipples turn erect when the temperature drops all of a sudden, when they are fondled, or when they pleasurably find themselves encased in the curves of a mouth.
For the man who wishes to understand the infinite, the body is a great starting point. The study of the body itself is an endless project, let alone the study of the mind or quantum mechanics.

Why question its perfection? Only when we want to live forever or become Superman do we find the body as frail and quite frankly, a pain in the butt. The body will certainly have its limitations when one wishes to fly from the edge of a cliff into oblivion. The closest we have allowed ourselves to come close to this primal desire is aeroplanes, LSD trips and paragliding across oceans and towns. Any leopard or dog that has tried to fly in the past has probably met with injury or worse. The chances of an animal trying to do/be something that it isn’t capable of are minimal, if not negligible. Of course, nature always makes space for freaks (via mutations and other such cruel jokes), to remind us that it is not cleanliness, but madness that is closest to godliness.
When God arrives, will he come in gold chariot with his consorts? Will he fly from heaven to eradicate our personal hells? Will he bring 33 million look-alikes of him who embody his different natures?
Or will he arrive quietly, like a thief in the night, steal our hearts, break our existing visions, breathe new life in us… God will come like a mirror, standing afore and whispering in our ears, “If I created you in my image and likeness, it is bloody obvious that you will find me within self.”

To look at ourselves mirrored in the universe, through the eyes of simplicity and divinity, perhaps this is our reason for living.

When Peace was Felled

2007-03-07T21:07:00.000-08:00

Even as the first forest was cut, we had already lost our peace.

Real Infidelity

2007-02-07T02:19:00.000-08:00

I would give up one year of my life for one night with you
But I wouldn't want you to give up the woman of your dreams
For one night with me

Mother Mary has come to me

2007-02-04T06:42:00.000-08:00

My brother and mom just brought home 'The Statue'. Every year, a beautiful statue of Mother Mary circulates around all Catholic homes in Bombay, and stops by ours for a while to dazzle us with her brilliant light.
The statue always comes dressed in white, with gold painted edgings and the most compassionate eyes a woman could ever have. This is benevolence at its purest. Like a doe, but beyond a doe, the Immaculate mother smiles at her flock, lovingly, and is a warm substitute for an earthly mother. We light candles and a garland of lilting liles uplifts the atmosphere.

I jokingly, but endearingly rib my brother in the other room. "Stop listening to Snoop Dogg!", I yell... Let's keep it real, and peaceful... let's not desecrate the virgin.
In his infinite wisdom, my brother replies, "I am listening to the songs of a very spiritual man."
Whoever said Snoop Dogg wasn't spiritual doesn't know the true meaning of life, I respond.

We laugh, and all is forgotten.
May the love of this blessed virgin light up our lives and the whole world.
She is Virgin to me, because her love is untouched, and therefore sacrosanct.
She is Virgin to me, for nothing can I do that will taint her understanding of me.
She is Virgin to me, for she never loses her essence of stillness, even as she watches her son die...

Today, I salute the goddess in every religion, caste, tribe and creed... as they flow into our openness, we climb closer to Him, who nourishes the world through Her...

Close by near far

2007-01-26T08:30:00.000-08:00

Today reality almost sunk in...
It's never going to change
Those fantasies were a joke dammit
The world is spinning at a speed that is slower than our thought processes
Our thought processes are spinning us out of control
Everything I want now is nothing
Nothing has led me to everything
It will be a few minutes before i get back to my stupidly optimistic heady mad happy self
But for now, reality's making me miserable...

Shimmer and Chime

2007-01-23T06:17:00.000-08:00

shimmering bronze sequins
caught the light
showed us who they were
in the distance chimes whisper
slowly resound to a crescendo
sound waves coincide with sequins
set them aflame in naked view
as candles smoked out by a mirror
formed patterns of light-became-giddy
formed ghosts on the wall
shadows on the ground
sequins in the flame
chimes in the breadth of a dying candle
shadows in the death of light

Swirling through the blue...

2007-01-21T04:35:00.000-08:00

It seems like dancing to uplifting house music can somewhat spiritually zone you out, but keep your feet firmly planted to the ground as you swirl about in what comes close to ecstasy

Who are you anyway?

2007-01-20T19:58:00.000-08:00

I don't know who you are, but I like what you're about...
So who gives a fuck about anything else?

in the...

2007-01-17T06:47:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we say it happened in the moment
But I've noticed it usually happens in the momentum

Perhaps it is better to forget

2007-01-09T23:53:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it is better to forget the state of original bliss, than mourn its loss over a lifetime of dead thought

Cocooned in a State

2007-01-08T03:52:00.000-08:00

Everyone laughs at the Americans (including the Americans nowadays). They say that America is insular, pig-headed, and moronic. If only I knew what they were referring to...
I presume it's white America. But there is brown America and black America and multi-layered America... The whites have no culture, proclaim the elitists, noses in the air. The Mayans, the Aztecs, the Incas, the Toltecs once shared a continent that now breathes vehicular emissions and the impending smoke of terrorist weaponry.

Our desperation and sense of loss often make us go back in time. Ruins become significant once again, rubble holds keys to questions we make up (although they are lost in the past's cultural context). Massive structures that employed people who lived miserable lives building them are venerated. A culture that forgot its own significance is asked to rise again, phoenix from the ashes.
Often we forget that bodies have been crushed, willpower snuffed out and immense suffering granted, to hold onto these ancient cultures. Yet we idealistically uphold them, as if they hold the answers to our ambitious, confused present. Funnily enough, the past often holds clues to a better future. From their mistakes and medicine, we have much to learn. Taking history and analysing it from a scientific perspective, infuses new life into these old ruins.

It seems that man wishes to live in a circle of his own invention. The instant we discovered fire, the nuclear bomb was only a fathom away. The second land was burnt to create farmland, GM had already washed over. The moment we felt restless, we had forever lost our peace.

Today, tribal cultures that haven't yet seen a white man, are spoken of in awe. Somehow, insularity works for them. When Americans don't know the difference between Armenia and Azerbaijan, why do we laugh at them? Does one need to know what is beyond - to know what is inside one's self? Probably not. And it's not a bad thing.

But when a nation depletes another of its resources and dignity, its people should know how much pain has been caused to those who suffered endlessly. Perhaps America had to close its eyes to the rest of the world. Keeping them open would be too painful to endure. Sadly, for those who stay in cocoons longer than they should, they become soft, and therefore easy targets by a world that has been simmering with hate for much too long.

The Tenets of Tantra

2007-01-07T21:34:00.000-08:00

Blissfully, he views her body as a temple,
and she - as if he were a god that resides within.

Strawberries in Season

2007-01-04T23:11:00.000-08:00

Yummy Strawberries are falling on us from cornfields and mellow skies. These little runner plants squirmed their way into my home and heart a long time ago. We buy them from the market in Colaba, boxed into 'I love Mahabaleshwar' packaging, interspersed with leaves to protect their sanctity.
What follows is seasonal mysteries and magic.
Till they run out of season, my kitchen is going to remain aflame with fresh fruit, juice and pulp.

The following are certain:
Strawberry Smoothie: Strawberries, ice, yogurt and sugar to taste. Add a bit of banana if you like.
Strawberry Milkshake: Needs no introduction, although a hint of cinnamon could prove eventful.
Cake: Bake a soft, fresh butter cake, slice in half, stuff with halved strawberries, fresh cream and almond shards. Makes a wonderful tea cake.
Jam: Pulp the strawberries in a mixer, add half the quantity of sugar, simmer till thick. Refrigerate, and add no preservatives or colouring agents.
Strawberries and Cream for dessert: Again, a shaving of chocolate may add a spark of life
Strawberries cut up in halves and strewn in orange jelly: Perhaps, a scoop of fresh vanilla ice cream, and a shot of vodka in the jelly.
Strawberries cooked in sugared water till they find their natural thickness: Dump over warm honey and butter pancakes.

As Blue as Ancient Driftwood

2006-12-30T01:03:00.000-08:00

Mermaids float in the ocean
Drifting through the blue
Some move with the current
Others resist the force

Wisps of golden hair
And deep blue fins
Washed ashore as driftwood from the ocean
When she comes to you
You burn in awe
Eyes aflame like jewels in the night

Take me, she says, to paths not traversed
This mermaid is taking your hand
And entwining your fingers with hers
With a grip that is tantalising.
This mermaid will take you downhill
But who can resist a mermaid's charms?

You watch the very life snuffed out of you
In these last moments
Your smile is peaceful
Eerieness
and now quietude
Silence; your new best friend.

You watch as she takes life's last breath
from deep within - off you
Once bursting with life
Your red blood cells
As cold as icy blue

She moves through the ocean
With the manners of a snake
Close your eyes and you won't be prey
As blue as ancient driftwood
The face of a rose, the breasts of a goddess
A heart as cold as the bed of the ocean
Even that would be tolerable
But this mermaid has no soul.

I wrote this in response to friend on Orkut. We've trekked together in the past. He asked what I'm doing for New Year's and I told him I'm going with the flow. He said he hoped mermaids would wash ashore for him. And thus was born this poem.

Dr. Prem

2006-12-22T05:10:00.000-08:00

I have a wonderful buddy called Prem. He lives in Colaba, just like me. He is a businessman, but doubles up as a doctor for most of his friends.

We usually neglect his advice to protect our health.
But I must admit, his statements are well thought out, and almost rational.

Here are his cures for some diseases.

1) Fibroid
Karen: Prem, I have a fibroid in my uterus. What do I do?
Prem: Wait till you get pregnant, and insist on a C-Section (Caesarean).
Karen: Even if I can have a natural delivery?
Prem: Yes. Then they can operate and remove the fibroid at the same time.
Karen: Hmm...
Prem: Why waste money on two operations? Better to kill two birds with one stone, isn't it?
Karen: Yes Prem, but what about this bird?

2) Pinched Nerve in Shoulder
Cyrus: Prem, I have an acutely painful shoulder. I am tired of my painkiller dependency. What should I do?
Prem: (thinks very slowly)
Cyrus (lying down): Also, the doctor prescribes bedrest. I'm not supposed to move my neck. I'm so fed up. I can only get up to pee.
Prem: Why don't you get a catheter?
Cyrus: Because I don't want a pipe shoved into my body!
Prem: (thinks even more)
Why don't you crawl around on all fours? That way, your neck won't move, but you can move around!
Cyrus: What crap!

Truly, who can argue with such logic?

with the eyes of a traveller

2006-12-22T04:43:00.000-08:00

with the eyes of a wizened traveller
we look at the same streets like they hold new cultures
the old bazaars as the seat of regional produce
the people like they have much to offer us
even though we know not their names.

with the eyes of a traveller, hometown is restored life

Mother****** Tongues

2006-12-21T07:22:00.000-08:00

What's your mothertongue anyways?
The language that you speak at home, or the one that you're supposed to speak at home?

When it's over

2006-12-20T05:25:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, at the end of a tired day, you may need someone to nourish and refresh you.

Pumpkin and basil seeds

2006-12-12T07:59:00.000-08:00

Today I didn't even have to use my A.K. (rifle)
I gotta say it was a good day
- Ice Cube

This very sweet German man, let's call him Thor, sort of figured out that I'm deeply interested in culinary worlds and cultural contexts. We met at Kaziranga, Assam; connected by a common friend, Maan.
Over discussions of the simplicity of a sandwich comprising of goat cheese, honey and walnuts, and the adaptability of pumpkin to merge with cinnamon in dessert pie, or unite with double cream and white wine in a soup, we hit upon on a primal connection; one that goes way beyond taste and texture; good ol' olfactory stimulus!
When Thor waxes eloquent about food, I don't see basil and olive oil; I smell it. You can observe goat cheese and basil, no doubt they have texture and colour, but even the blind will sniff it out. The sweet fragrance of honey, no doubt indicates its viscosity; the smell of basil indicates something more volatile - something that lessens and evaporates with the passage of time and cooking heat.
Thor promised me seeds; Haikedo pumpkin and South African sweet basil. Sure enough, Maan brought them down three days ago, when he came to Bombay from Assam.
While passing Merryweather Road to reach my house, I showed Maan my friend's dad garden. Viswajit is a dear friend with a wonderful family. His father is an ingenious man with a twinkle in his eye, and a story in every narration. He has restored a wasteland behind his colonial house into a sprawling garden, complete with brick pathways, ancient seeds and a water recycling system that he has engineered.
Maan and his cousin were fairly impressed with this little bit of rainforest in the middle of urban Bombay. Today, I dropped by the colonial house with labelled paper packets of pumpkin and basil seed, packed by Thor and delivered by Maan.
His dad took me for a walk in the garden. It was 8.30 pm, one beautiful lamp lighting the pathway. Behind, he had laid out a circular patch. Two days ago, this patch was newly laid out for pumpkins. And today, out of the blue, I gifted him Haikedo pumpkin seeds.
When the seeker is ready, the master appears, they say.
And I believe that -
When the soil is ready, the seeds will fall, and take root.

The Energy of the Trees

2006-12-10T06:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I was walking along Merry Fairweather Road, a lane parallel to Colaba Causeway. In my head was mindless space, while the outer world was simply old trees, broad roads, old bungalows - colonial traces that persist in South Bombay.

Hug a tree, said that voice in my head.
Hug a tree?
I've hugged trees before, maybe a few times before, not because they were going to be cut, but because I love them. People say that hugging old trees helps nurture you, because they give you solid energy and carry your woes away.
There's a medium sized Lagerstroemia speciosa near my house. It has rooted in a compound at the start of the road, with light flaky bark and pink flowers that burst forth twice a year. Ahead lies an old Black Plum tree in a little Bombay Port Trust garden, its trunk pressed against a green wire fence. It showers the ground with purple jamun fruits every year, but no one picks up the fruit. The concrete road is stained with anthocyanins, much like betel nut blots.

I have adopted these two trees as my new huggin' buddies.
Isn't it mean to go hug a tree, and give it all your sorrows, I ask the voice in my head.

The voice responds in its own time. But it tells me things that are real.
These trees have so much to give, but very few to give it to, it says. Much like a person overflowing with love, but not enough persons to give it to.
In a forest, a tree would be abundant with life. Mushrooms (fungi) at its bottom, in symbiosis with its roots. Lichens and moss competing for space on its bark. Hundreds of insects swarming its boughs. Thousands of birds munching on its fruit, nectar and insects. Macaques and langurs feeding on flowers, leaves and fruit. Fallen leaves that nourish the soil. Butterflies that lay eggs that will hatch when they must. Little bird nests and holes that are homes. Maybe even tigers who will scratch their way up to a high branch with a fresh kill. Swooping raptors and owls who gaze with focussed view.

What becomes of a tree in a city? A few birds, a smattering of insects, a few pretty urban butterflies?
So much love and no one to share it with...

Maybe I should hug this tree after all.
As it is, I'm tired and in need of unconditional boughs...

Hot Buttered Apple Tea

2006-12-01T05:05:00.000-08:00

I returned from Assam a few days ago. The people of Assam seem to like their tea strong; maybe it's a combination of wet cold and succulent showers - that perpetuate the need for a hot cup of kadak chai.

My tastes in tea are somewhat milder. I like strong, fragrant aromas within a delicate, light cup. I like the pale warm orange of a second flush Darjeeling, and I like to nurse it, like a man with his scotch (whoever this man may be).

Tea Centre is a colonial style tea room at Churchgate. Creams and sea greens, cane drapes and marvellously high ceilings - create an aura that is almost womb like, yet spacious. A large snack of crunchy onion rings, aloo parathas and baked beans on toast went down faster than imagined.

The waiter returned, with a glass pot of syrupy, almost viscous liquid. Poured the Hot Buttered Apple Tea into our cups. Glass cups with fresh slices of apple positioned at the bottom. The liquid swirled as the cup filled, the waiter walked away.

Tea liquor, apple juice, lemon rind, brown sugar, nutmeg, orange juice, and a large dab of butter. The tea decoction was mild, the apple aroma potent and fresh, orange and lemon for zest, and butter for the thickness of it all.

When ingredients come together and make sense, despite being somewhat incompatible, culinary masterpieces are achieved.

If there was anything that I would humbly recommend today, it would be Hot Buttered Apple Tea at Tea Centre. Especially on a cold winter day.

Windswept

2006-10-26T10:22:00.000-07:00

Wind touched by leaf
Leaf touched by wind

Windswept to a lake
That becomes an estuary

Salt carries forth
From the ocean to the fish

Life carries forth
From the womb to the grave

Spirit bleeds forth
From everything that is

Spirit like the wind
Can be felt cannot be seen

Windswept to the ocean
Swallowed by the sea.

To Everyone I Know

2006-10-24T10:19:00.000-07:00

Even if we met for a moment,
Or for a lifetime of a moment
Even if it were ephemeral
It still is ever lasting.

Maybe we exchanged conversation
Laughter
Breath
Touch
Spirit

But you were there
For a fleeting moment
Wind touched by a leaf
Leaf touched by the wind

None have I forgotten.

Strangers we were before we became friends
Friends we are forever strangers

Thank you for being there with me
Selflessly revealing your innateness.

Thank you for your touch
That calmed the insides of me

Thank you for your smile
That hit straight at the heart

Thank you for the joy in you that so wells deep inside
Thank you for the nothingness and all of everything

Through you I saw myself
Through your eyes I saw the light
Through the light I realised that the distance
Is only a fathom away

Dreams of the North East

2006-10-18T05:23:00.000-07:00

Somehow, the streets of Bombay don't madden me no more. There was a time when I couldn't look beyond the single shade of grey everyfuckingwhere. Concrete, buildings, dust - all of the same colour, each holding so much vibrancy within. Within the sewers of this city, I know life survives- stinking, foetid, but teaming with organisms that are genetically able to sustain themselves in filth, albeit with a mutation, once in - an era.

I'm dreaming about a national park in Assam, right now. All I've seen is pictures, dripping with colour and even heartbeats. You know how coffee-table books are - they take you right in, making you feel like you own what you see, and you have to be a part of it. I may take a trip to Kaziranga sometime this year. Will it be elephant rides in swampy grasslands, or drinking endless cups of tea while listening to jazz with my dear friend? It doesn't matter really, if it has to happen it will.

I was crossing the road in the afternoon today. 'Look beyond all this,' says that profound voice in my head. The traffic's so bad, I'm zig-zagging between cars to reach the other side, like a perfect Mumbaikar could. The voice in my head is telling me that over the next few years, I will see things so beautiful, so stark, so breathtaking, that I will break down and cry once they're gone. Only a few images can effect and affect like this. Voices tells me that I will see landscapes I've only dreamed of, be in places that have no name, see Gaia as it is, pulsating, throbbing, bursting with life.
I know that there is a reality beyond this. I know Mecca is no illusion. I know that the truth could be prettier than what it seems now. And once I see it, I will understand what this planet could have been.
Paradise.
But a fine line between equilibrium and madness moves this earth, both relying on each other to survive. Such are the circumstances.

'But Paradise is only a breath away.'
'Reach out', says the voice, as I watch myself cross the road, body amidst chaos, soul somewhat closer to home.

Down the Rabbit Hole

2006-09-24T21:27:00.000-07:00

You wish to take a peek,
But you fear the down below
Maybe you should be a sneak
And analyse with your magnifying glass

A peep through a looking glass
But all you see is a black hole
And if you fall into it
The one who looks through the looking glass
Will find you infinitely bigger than you are

Slip, slide, slither, dammit
When you're inside it
You crave outside
When you were outside of it
You wanted to be within
And every need and desire
Is being accommodated by this black hole.

This journey's getting interesting
Letting go happened by default
It's dark but there's smithereens of light
Skylit above
Luminious below
Ambient about you.

This black hole has more depth
Than you could ever fall through
What lies beneath it all
You wonder as you fall
Below the mystery and the passion
The sheer imminence of this black hole.

And Home is a minute away
You can see the ground and pray you don't crash into it
Like a springy couch you bounce without a scar
Pick up a little key
Then find a bigger key

The greatest dilemmas of life
Can only be resolved in a black hole
When there is nothing to influence your decision
Save for the large hole inside your head!!!

Coming Full Circle

2006-09-24T09:37:00.000-07:00

I'm still boiling over with emotion
Still drunken with what I feel
Still trembling but only from within
So no one can see what I feel
Someday I'll return to equilibrium
But today is not that day
Someday I will crave that balance
But today I'll bleed away
Awash anew adrift ashore
Peace returns when the time is right

Now peace has come
For I have returned home
Safe in the arms of surrender

When it disappears

2006-09-19T05:43:00.000-07:00

When intense (physical) pain dissapears, I can forget it in a second. I don't know if it makes me emotionally stronger, but sometimes it makes me physically weaker in the long run. For 3 days every month, over the last 12 years, I've borne the most excruciating menstrual cramps that eat me, inside out. I don't get high on pain, I don't crave it like some people do, I don't even understand it.
I know pain is a signal that indicates imbalance in our bodies, I know pain indicates deeper problems that need to be explored, or that need to be ignored, till they heal without external intervention. What I don't know is why...
I've never understood suffering. I know it refines you, but how much can a body take? When I was a child, I used to weep when I heard about people in extreme pain. I used to always ask God, can you take it away, and give me a little bit. I used to cry, because I never understood how they went through the torture, through the wars, the knifing, the rape, the drama... the blunt knife that repeatedly hits on a spot till it opens; emotional wounding so as to speak.
Deep inside, I believe that going against nature and our true selves is causing all this pain. For every step in human evolution, for every invention ever created, our forefathers have paid the price, and we continue to do so in greater measure.
One thing I've learned in life, there's always a trade off for what you do. Maybe this is the law of Karma. If so, let's try and heal, rather than harm.
Sometimes, you can take a painkiller if it's really bad. Sometimes, other aspects of the homeostatis need to be balanced. Sometimes, alternative medicine can help. Sometimes, you can ignore the pain, and it will go. Sometimes, you can observe the pain, and watching it will stop it.

I still don't understand why it needs to be around.

Perhaps wisdom is just around the block. If pain is just an illusion, God knows we want to be set free...

The G-Funk Era

2006-09-18T23:18:00.000-07:00

To the gods of hip-hop. You trashed the English language and gave it a new sound. You created a language that is used as expression all over the globe. They take your rhythm and your flows, and mix it up into a new sound that the masses understand.
For all the F*#*ing shit that happened in the Ghetto, you've churned it out and now we feel it.

To Chingy: For being as nasty as it gets
To T.I.: For being as smooth as you could in the hood
To LL Cool J: For bringing sex into every damn lyric you write
To Warren G: For the flows that ushered in the G-Funk Era
To Dr. Dre: For compilations with Snoop and Warren that just did it
To Ice Cube: For never letting us forget the violence that is far from over
To Snoop: For the most wicked rhythms that Old Skool ever saw

Morning has arrived

2006-09-16T20:08:00.000-07:00

Streaming sun blue sky blue bird blue iris orange world solar energy uv light dancing bees violet flowers by the river smooth pebbles dreamy world

Everything we could see when the first ray hit the earth

When you rise

2006-09-14T07:07:00.000-07:00

even as love blinds us, it opens us,
makes us see other things with deeper clarity,
things often shadowed by our false egos

Rise

2006-09-14T07:06:00.000-07:00

Even as you fall in love, be sure to rise in it

If...

2006-09-12T09:22:00.000-07:00

If it can repair itself, it is really repairing itself?
Or being supported by hidden factors at work?

If it's repairing itself and we don't know that it is...
Will we be wrong to interfere?

If deep changes are happening on the inside
Can we say that nothing's changed?

If stillness belies motion
Is the vortex not at peace?