Freedom

and when I looked 

to the endless blue,

pinned up over

an exploding palette

and a place 

that smells of home,

my spirit took off

from its safe perch,

splashing
colours and sounds

across the emptiness

with its untiring wings;

freedom is 

what I already am,

not what I want to claim

or dare to be.

Twilight

and darkness
she rose quietly,
to stay
like a long note
from the quivering earth,
while an empty heart
looked to the
melting heavens,
now refilled
like a glass
overflowing
with sparkling water.

and when you told me
how you didn't love me,
my heart cracked open
just a little more,
for a love that's not felt
is a love that's forgotten
how and where to flow....

and a drop of water
looked to the ocean
to see how it could die,
but could only find
a thousand ways to live.

Be Careful!

'Be careful!'
I hear voices,
sometimes inside,
sometimes outside -
a fearful anticipation,
an unwelcome arrival,
a harsh denial,
that jars the present
and pickles a spirit
that doesn't want to hide;
'be-care-full'
is the voice
I choose to hear -
one voice,
soft and firm,
for each step
into the magical darkness
that I pour myself into.

The Circle

I stand
at the cusp
of two worlds,
or maybe more -
where will you meet me?

Will you meet me
with your empty self
disappearing
into the centre
of nothingness?
or will you meet me
full of yourself
parading
into the centre
of everything?

Or will you meet me
here, at the edge
that's ever-widening,
where you and I
stand side by side,
poised to take
that small step
together,
just the next one,
into ourselves
and each others'
equal worlds?

What's 'dal' got to do with violence?

This morning, I was taking out the dal from the kitchen shelf, and I found that there were tiny beetles crawling up the inside walls of the container. I had just bought this batch last week and was wondering how there were these insects in it already. "Must have been old stock," a little voice whispered inside my head."No, it is organic stuff...this is proof of that," whispered another voice, equally loud. "But how did they get in?" asked another child-like voice - the loudest of them all.

Yeah, it was just another ordinary happening on a mundane morning in the kitchen. But it is in these ordinary moments sometimes that the most extraordinary things are revealed. At least that is how I feel. And so, I watched my curious mind wander off to explore all avenues and untrodden paths in a search for an answer to that question; it just wouldn't rest for a long time. By that time, I had taken out the dal, cleaned it, washed it and put it to cook in the pressure cooker, before getting on to doing other things.

Soon, the tired mind came back to rest. As if to answer its question, a pretty loud, clear, firm voice, but soft in its texture, spoke from within: "That is how it is. There is life in everything, even in what you cannot see. You cannot run away from that truth."

The mind started stirring again now. It had more work to do. How could it rest? It had more things to explore now. It had to validate that for itself. It had to 'find out' whether it was really true. It needed a ground to stand on, or even to sleep or rest on. How could it rest otherwise? :)

Here is a snippet of the conversation that ensued inside of me....

"How can that be true? How is there life in everything?"
"Ah yes! The larvae of these beetles must have been there in the dal earlier....which my eyes could not see."
"But there are so many things that I cannot see while I am busy doing something else....like when I walk around on the street or in the grass, there must be so many micro-organisms, even ants and other insects that I could be trampling upon, without my knowledge."
"There are so many things I eat, which have microscopic life inside them that I cannot see with my eyes."
"Does that mean I have to stop eating? Does that mean I am being violent?"
 "Is that how violent I can be?"
"Remember what N told me about her son 'S' who would not have a bath for days on end just because he saw a line of ants in the bathroom and didn't want to pour water and drown them?"
"Come on! No one can be that watchful or mindful all the time! It is impossible!"
"But even R hated my killing mosquitoes, even when they were troubling him so much."
"Aren't these kids teaching us a thing or two about non-violence?"
"What is violence and what is non-violence? One exists only because of the other isn't it? It is because there is life, that there is violence, death and non-violence."
"No one can be completely non-violent. It is impossible. Because there is life everywhere, and in everything. Even in things that we cannot see."
"So what are we raving and ranting about then? Aren't we simply fooling ourselves? "
"Yes, violence is inherent in us. As long as there is life, there will be death. As long as there is life, there will be violence, and from that springs non-violence, and our desire to be non-violent."
"So when we want to be non-violent, does it mean that we haven't accepted the cycle of life and death?"
"I don't know. But I know that there is life everywhere. And just because we cannot see or feel life in something all the time, it doesn't make that false. We see only what we can see or what we want to see. But that does not mean that is all that there is. There is always more than what I can see now. Sometimes I lose sight of that. And that is why I resort to all these efforts of non-violence etc. It is the only way I know to bridge those gaps that I feel between what I see and what I cannot see.....so it is actually impossible to be non-violent. Because nonviolence stems from the space where you know deep down that you are already violent. And that is the space that you cannot see, but where you want to go to. So there are different shades of violence and non-violence for each of us, that we can see or not see. Some see each shade as starkly different, while some see them as merging into each other, and some others see it as the same. Everything rests in the seeing."

And I felt a gentle, unwavering warm light glow inside me. Something about this conversation inside changed something in me. I don't know what yet. But what I know is that there is more to what meets the eye, and to know that, is the fire that rages within and drives me onward. And I also know that I need these two bullocks - my mind and my heart - to work in unison to drive me and take me there.

But meanwhile, I have this 'dal' to cook and eat....so let me get back to being present with that......

and I danced
so I could close
my wandering eyes
and see the whorls
of the cosmos
exploding inside.

and I danced
as my feet were moved
by the pulsating earth;
my soles were bells
on her joyous feet.

Looking

and as I looked out
of the rolled up window,
I saw people on the street
walking into their histories -
in their awkward, scurry,
in the dragging of their bodies,
in the hunch of their shoulders,
or in the heavy set of their jaws;
and I wondered how different
their stories would be,
if only they could
listen with their eyes,
touch with their ears,
smell with their hands
and see with their feet.

and while we impose bans,
and scream ourselves hoarse
over conversions
and land acquisitions,
and Nirbhaya,
the sun still goes about
his daily business,
the birds still return
to their nests at twilight,
and a baby still sleeps
undisturbed
through the night,
lost in the bosom
of his mother.

Circle Of Life

have you wondered why
the new leaf that clings,
and breathes life
into a buxom tree,
is the one that leaves
and falls to the roots,
to behold another
new leaf upon the tree?

and I stood at the edge
where the waves
kissed my toes,
and carried me
into the universe.

Serendipity

I thought my life
was an idle road map
of unsightly tunnels
mined through the face
of a single leaf, somewhere

until I found that magical place,
where the splendid sun
danced all day
on those delicate meanders
of molten gold;

and in that one
breath-taking moment,
I stumbled upon
the resting shadows, where
tiny four-leaf clovers grew.

Listening

and I listened to you,
so your words formed the container
to hold my silence.

Fill In The Blanks

talk to me, tell me all,
so I can listen to the silence
held behind your tightly woven words.

I don't want to fill in the blanks.
I want to hear your precious story,
not fill yours with mine.

Halal

I listened
to the bleating
of my own heart,
until it stopped.

Stunned
into a remembrance
of a Truth
long-forgotten,

Life draws out
all of my blood,
going for the jugular
with one clean cut.

There is simply
no way out.

To love or not to love
is not the question.
To love what I close my eyes to
is the answer.

Halal
is Love
is Allah.

Listening to my Heart

when I want
to listen to my heart,
I go to the forest -
not on a safari
where I sit pretty
in a noisy jeep,
when every restful leaf
is rattled awake
by its rude passing,
but on a slow quiet walk
through the wild grass
and unkempt paths,
where every movement
is born of a stillness,
where the eyes
and the ears
and the mouth
and the skin,
drink in the glory
of the wildness
that I seek,
a precious wildness
that emerges slowly
from the silence
that lies hidden -
the roar of a lion
from within,
from the deep.