Upon The Desk Of The Great Writer

Neither saint nor a robber

Acting upon Nature given tendencies

Time and again I try to define myself

These complex layers of personality

A mind full of reason and dual voices

A tangled web of emotions and passions

An ever-active force in work from behind

When all else lies dormant

What I do- right or wrong

Gets define by laws of society

What I receive gets define by fate

Countless opportunities

Countless destinies

Each as unique as mine

Write the stories of life

Some are written on big billboards

Some gets thrown in trash

Some where in the book of life

I labor to write my puny words

Consoled with a thought

That I am not the only reader

Submitted upon the desk of Great Writer

All have their chance to be read

To be rewarded with prudence

Be it a tale of a saint or a robber.

Savita Tyagi

Some Say Love Is God

Some say God is love

I have no doubt about that

Both are as mysterious and of depth unknown

As any thing I have ever known

You ask me to love you for love’s sake

And I am told to love God just for God’s sake

Love as a powerful emotion emerges from heart

All existence looks lovable under its spell

Once the spell is broken

Heart is dry as a parched land

It becomes difficult to love

You, God or myself.

If words have any meaning

Enhance emotion with wisdom

And love with care

A wounded heart starts to heal.

Why?

A radio host places a prank phone call

Involved Monarchy and well being of a princess

Word gets out

Terrified nurse handling the call commits suicide…

A college student turns his room camera on

Wants to record his roommate’s love making

The prank goes sour

Young gay man commits suicide…

A teenage girl gets harassed on inter net

Goes to her room and hangs her self…

Each folly brings an unpredictable fatal tragedy

World hears the news in shock

A senseless loss of life

Falls heavy on human consciousness

Volatile emotions

Stressed out workers

Disillusioned youth

Or stupid prank players

Some answers buried so deep

Dispensing disarray and confusion

All we find is a question mark

An outcry of why… Why?

And a brutal story of life

Repeating it self again and again

This Diwali

On this Diwali day why every thing feels just the same

Has the spirit of jubilation left my side?

Autumn winds have left accept that prevailing cold

Morning rain has littered the yard with fallen leaves

Wet brown and yellow leaves want to tell the story of bygone spring

Springing from dirt we reside back in dirt

Life seems to be in remission on this side of hemisphere

Serene autumn moon with its milky hallo recedes day by day

Tonight the cloudy moonless sky wonders about the twinkling lights upon earth

Is the celebration beneath is in harmony with darkness above

Cycle of nature points towards dissolution of life

Not its victory over inertia

Yet goodness may prevail in submission of soul

The supreme spirit that reins over all seasons

Submit to its celebration is the message being relayed here

Light a Diya to honor it

Let a pious ray of light shine upon heart

To sustain a dark mood

Wish for a divine blessing to fall upon all.

Wish all a happy Diwali.  

 

Like A Coin

Like a coin I roll down the path of mortal life

Wrapped around me my eternity

A silent Witness enjoying the ride in partnership

Yet in its grace letting me feel like

I am the one and only one enjoying the thrill

Unaware of my head or tail

Ignorant of mysterious beginning,

Final destination- a blinded corner

Still I claim the path’s ownership.

Note- A reading of Bhagvad Geeta chapter thirteen inspired this little poem.

Savita Tyagi

 

It's Not Easy But....

When mind is uneasy and arduous are life’s undertakings

Repose your mind at Lord’s feet

Lodge yourself at the great door

The door that opens for all.

If the direction of life is shrouded in ambiguity

Trust your heart’s calling to open a venue

Your own calm self, the tranquil Nature or the inspiration cast upon

All are His guide to walk you through rough trails.  

Dwell not in your worries and anxieties

Make your pain and pleasure an offering

Know them as twins born out of Mother Nature’s womb

As a serene indweller supreme self transcends it all

The luminous all pervading energy 

The eternal free spirit high above this mortal existence.

Enjoy your experiences

With out the great burden of doer ship

If you are able to do it peace shall follow.

If wandering and unsteady mind takes your determination away

Like the wind takes trembling leaves

Make yourself resolute in will with patience

Failing again and again yet doing what needs to be done

Perfection comes with practice and dedication

Put your thoughts to work and enjoy the process.

Like all pervading ether holds clouds and lightening

Embrace your triumphs and failures 

Peace shall follow if one can keep the likings and disliking at bay

And repose in joys of working.

 

Note- these expressions are based upon shlokas from Bhagvad Geeta. In trying to understand and comprehend what Geeta was saying through its ancient language I needed to write the thoughts that were pressing upon and influencing me with their intensity. The equanimity of mind that Bhagvad Geeta talks about is not easy to follow, however I do believe a step in right direction is still a good step. Even a little bit of understanding helps to develop positive attitude towards healthy living. As the great scripture says-“ on this path no effort is lost nor is there any harm; even a little of this  ‘dharma’[way of living] delivers from great fear.”

Fall Leaves

Of all the seasons fall is the most beautiful in Oklahoma. Sunshine warms the body and soul to perfection like the toaster occasionally toasts my bread. I struggle so often to get the perfect toast but for sunshine we leave ourselves at the mercy of sun. Surprisingly life is really wonderful with out the weight of trying to be perfect or having no say in spread of sunshine and many wonderful things that are gifted to us.

 After unusually wet early October, we are now blessed again with sunny weather. It is just so nourishing and heartwarming to take a walk around neighbor hood or drive around town to watch the trees bursting with colors of fall. Sun leaves a golden hue on top of the trees still with leaves. Rain and wind has littered the ground with leaves. I sit out and watch those dry leaves falling and dancing in air for a while before their gentle and quiet fall. Even in their demise they offer beauty and solace to the onlookers. Some of them get stuck in cobwebs trembling and quivering in space like hanging between eternity and mortality.

On those warm, beautiful and quiet days of fall the only annoying thing is the sound of leaf blowers and big monster lawnmowers. We have to bear them like many other nuisances of modern life. I have been delaying to call my lawn mower guy to stretch the lovely sight that my yard, still full of leaves, offers me. I have never bagged leaves accept for once and have stayed away from it because of the strain that it causes to my back. But I am not yet ready to let go of those leaves by those nasty blowers either.

So I surveyed the leaves covered front yard. It was smaller than my back yard. With winds calm it looked like millions of tiny fishes were basking under the bright sun. I had left the scene untouched for as long as I could but it was time to come out of my imaginative state and do some cleanup. Still In my desire to get close to nature’s simple beauty I decided to give raking a try but this time with a feminine touch and make my work enjoyable rather then speedy. At my age in figuring out the quality of life, speed is the last factor any way. So I over looked the big black trashcan and the heavy shovel and picked my tall kitchen wastebasket, dust pan, roll of small trash bags, my step stool, gloves and the lightest wooden rake. Set everything on side and raked a small area. The lawn was so full of leaves it took only couple of minutes to make a big pile. I made few piles knit closely and sat on step stool as close to big pile of leaves as I could. I laid down the wastebasket vertically and with the help of dustpan and some time just with hands filled it up. More than three fourth full I took out the plastic bag and stuffed it a little more with leaves.

 The sun’s rays warming my face and soft breeze keeping me cool I was amazingly happy to be able to work in my yard and be close to those leaves. Often I took out my gloves to feel them. In their brown color with transparent thin veins they were as alive as I am with my flesh and blood under my brown skin. Kissed by the morning dew some were still wet and moist like my own drippy nose. I worked for an hour interrupted only by a green grasshopper that said hello and flew away. A brown butterfly blended so well with leaves that I almost bagged it. I stopped for few minutes to watch it flutter and fly. While filling the bags some leaves escaped their destiny. I stopped and watched them dancing away to the street. Some settled on the concrete but some flew a little further to destination unknown.

I worked for about an hour and filled about ten bags. A little tired I got up and looked around. The fact that I barely had made a dent in that yard full of leaves hardly bothered me. The pleasure that I found in working every minute of that hour was immense. In next few days I worked few more hours at my slow and easy speed to fill nine or ten bags at a time. Finally the front yard was showing more green than brown but the autumn clouds and cold wind returned. My back yard is still untouched and full with those crisp and tender brown leaves. The trees are almost bare now. As much as I would like to work in my back yard to be close to this soul touching weather I know it would be a bit too much for me. Eventually it would be cleaned up with those monster blowers mercilessly but not before I enjoy few more weeks of fall with the yard full of leaves. In the mean time I have to figure out how to dispose of those fifty or so feather light bags!

Savita Tyagi

11.13.09

I shared it on my Face Book some time back when it was written. With lovely fall around us sharing it again on the blog. 

Spider Web

After two days of welcoming summer rain, morning is cool and calm.

I came out with a cup of tea to feel the warmth of morning sun,

To watch the green grass, the dark, damp, water-soaked tree trunks

Freshly bathed leaves with their rich green color

And the raindrops glistening on the grass.

The street is empty of any walker or car.

Even the birds are quiet, just then I notice the spider web.

The gossamer was suspended in air with all its threads sparkling under the glorious rays of morning sun.

Some of its filament attached to tree trunks giving it a base unseen by my eyes. 

I kept looking at it for few seconds and thought to my self, this is how this universe is suspended attached with some invisible power string

Giving rhythm to all life.

The quest for gnosis so intense in human heart

Yet to this day we can’t understand it.

Some say they have felt it and vouch for it with definite authority.

Some simply brush it aside deeming it immaterial and unnecessary for their daily life. 

Standing there I thought being a seeker or nonbeliever

Is not the concern of that Creative Power

And I think the spider; the trees, the morning sun and the birds flying high are not concerned about it either.

So I too should put the question aside simply to enjoy and relish this beauty while I can.

The Moon Rise

Love came to me like sunshine

So bright, cheerful, and invigorating

I didn’t just open the window

All the doors of my heart were thrown open

It moved freely lighting up every corner

The beautiful luminous mornings

Long intimate afternoons

I thought it would never end.

The spring had come to me

Each breath that I drew in filled me up

With the soft breeze of love

Hold my arms and we will fly over the clouds

That sweet unspoken offering of love

I had put all my faith in that

Why one must reject it I couldn’t understand.

It’s like we opened the bottle to fill our glasses

But couldn’t take a sip

I wish I could understand the hesitation

Does a bottle opener knows the pain of humiliated glass

Full to its rims untouched and unsipped

Or does a glass knows the bottle opener’s heart

Filling the cup only to push it aside

In any case this is how we are

Drifting apart in confusion with each passing moment

The sun is setting upon us

The black night is spreading beyond ash colored evening

The stars come out only to commiserate upon us

It is time to close the doors

Shut the windows tight

The darkness is my silent companion

The sunshine burns my heart now

To my surprise I again see you under my window

I admire your perseverance

Today you asked again for a chance

The love serenade sounds like shattered crystal falling around

My heart screams upon me to open the door for you

But I just lean against it

The feel of hard cold wood

Seeps in my veins

An icy patch upon the burning love

Standing in the darkness

I just wait for the moon to rise.

Sleep Dear Hold Me Tight

Now that the world has brushed me aside

Ambition to make a difference isn’t mine

Plumes of youth fallen to dust

Body frail and longing hushed

I am so willing to fall in your arms

Sleep dear! Hold me tight

Let me wander in a land afar

Where loving hearts still come to greet

Some from the world of light

Others of gleaming earthly delight

All breaking the barriers of time and distance

I thank them all for that glad reunion

When sleep comes in installments

It charges dues from anxious mind

Forbidding entrance to that serene world

Where about of that I only wonder

How rejuvenating to clamp down on clamor

Move beyond REM and sleep spindles

Loose all awareness of thought and feeling

To see, hear or know nothing

To slide in that blissful ignorance!

Sleep dear! Be kind to me

Keep me in your gentle embrace

Let me recede beyond the deepest layers of subconscious

Offer that quiet ambiance of nonexistence more often!

Become Me-minded

Reading Bhagavad Geeta I came across a phrase “Manmanaa Bhav”

The last shloka of chapter nine goes like that-

    मन्मना भव मद्भक्तो मद्याजी मां नमस्कुरु ।
    मामेवैष्यसि युक्त्वैवमात्मानं मत्परायणः ।
Transliteration

Μanmanā bhava madbhaktō madyāji māmnamaskurū

Māmevaişyasi yuktvaivamātmānam matprāyaņah

Translation:

Become me-minded, me-loving-and-adoring

Me-consecrated, sacrificing unto me, and bow thou to me;

Thus uniting thyself heart and soul in me,

Thou shalt come unto me.

I was much struck with the immensity and deep implication of the Shloka.
Just like the famous phrase of Vedā, ‘Sah-Aham’ it puts us at the highest challenge of a thought. These unique recurring thoughts are not only the essence of Bhagavad Geeta and Upanishad but are at the zenith of all Indian philosophical thoughts.

As I contemplated on the shloka, first phase in particular it occur to me that certainly it is a little easier to follow ‘bow to me, be devoted to me', Since most of us are willing to accept the supremacy of an higher being. Our highest emotions of reverence and love guide us on the path of devotion. But to ‘become me minded’ is such a farfetched idea on the surface, so difficult to understand that realizing it would seem like a rare achievement if not impossible, reserved only for few great souls. Bhagavad Geeta itself says that many births and many lives may go with out reaching that state. With out becoming ‘Me-minded.’

Still Geeta says it is possible and encourages all of us to walk on that path. How than is a commoner like me to reconcile with it and what to take from it or how to follow it?

Faced with the riddle I close me eyes and try to imagine standing at the base of majestic Himalayas, looking and admiring those snow covered peaks. More I immerse my self into the beauty and serenity of the peaks more I get drawn to them and think of taking a journey on the snow covered path. Some have done it before me and many will be taking that challenge in future, but it is practically impossible for me with my current capabilities. My hiking would not last long. With in few minutes with freezing ears and red nose I would be rolling my self down. This is just one earthly example. One could think of people reaching to moon and other spaces. Though I can take pride in their achievements and admire them for their courage and determination still this will not be my journey or my goal. If I am to think of their goal and achievement and try to copy it I could end up a very unhappy person. In the journey of life I am situated on a different path and that is where I seek my joy and my happiness.

Spiritual goal and journey is also some thing like that. It challenges and demands from all of us to touch the peak, to be ‘Manmana bhav.’ At the same time it makes it possible to stay on our own course by advising, ‘whatever step you take offer them to me. Sacrifice unto me. Surrender all your thoughts and actions to me’.

I guess this is where the secret lies. Once all the thoughts and actions become an offering, ‘Manmanaa Bhav’ can become a reality. Our thoughts- His thoughts, our actions- His actions, our mind His mind and if Life is God then our life His life. All paths His path, all goals His goal. All is divine all is sacred. To embrace life in its fullness with all its joys and sufferings, its achievements and failures, its destinations and base points all can fall with in ‘Manmanaa bhav’. By thinking of ourselves as an instrument of divine we can attune to that thought. 

That is the only way I can relate to it. That is the only way however small it may be that I can become ‘Sah Aham’ or follow ‘Manmanna bhav’.

Note- Translation for the shloka is taken from 'Bhagavad Geeta In the Light of Sri Aurobindo'

            Edited by Maheshwar 

   

The Doll And A Writer’s Verse

Once I saw a little girl playing with the only doll she ever had.

The Doll was made of cloth, and was about eighteen inches tall.

She was dressed in a flared kurta and churidaar pajama.

Her small coti on kurta was embroidered with silk threads

And decorated carefully with sequins, and silver threads.

Her scarf was as transparent as the sky with its blue color.

Her black hair braided with colorful tinsels tied at the end.

While playing the little girl would wrap doll’s long braid around her neck,

Giving her a concubine look.

Her bow like brow and round sensuous lips were accomplice to that look.

Perhaps the doll was the expression of its maker’s sensuality.

Her body was witness to the slender delicate hands of its maker.

The expression of individual skill and precise attention given to details

Were visible in every inch of that beautiful doll.

Like a writer’s verse it was just on of a kind.

Oblivious to her surroundings the little girl would play with the doll.

Her hands twisted in varied gesture to depict the small experiences of little girl’s life.

She would fix her scarf to make her look like a bride

Or put a little purse in her hand to get her ready for shopping.

At night she would lay the doll down close to her

Her hands embracing the girl’s little waist or neck

Like a young love entwined under the blue starry sky.

Like a poet and his poem the little girl and the doll were solace to each other

United in a single expression of love.

The maker of doll, the little girl playing with it and the poet with its poetry

Are all bound to each other with the creative imagery residing in their hearts

Surging in the play of beauty and innocence.

Ever lasting, ever new. 

Poetry

Countless poems

Like butterflies held tenderly in poet’s heart

With colors of joy and gladness

Mingled with grief and sadness

Kindled sketches of subtle thoughts

And obscured imaginations

Abstract philosophies

And obsolete ideologies

Songs of love and vanity

Broken promises

Wounded emotions

War and revolution

Hopes and dreams

Till he decides to reconcile

And let them fly

Upon their delicate wings

To seek new destinations

To be free to meet or merge in new voice

To find its place upon an open palm

Or be caught in the web of a dream catcher

Fly lonely upon a cactus flower

Or be out there to breathe the garden beauty

Some time a poet has to bid adieu to his poetry

Just to be free

Just to be him or her.

The Aswatha Tree

By the side of a village road was a huge Aswatha tree

Its strong wide trunk supporting numerous branches

Its leaves full of life vibrating with cosmic energy

The roots penetrated deep as well as extending above ground

A rope swing hung from thick branch like a huge garland around Deity’s neck

Children swung upon it to catch their dreams from high above

Villagers rested under its shade to descend in to dream world

Even the visitors traveling on dusty village road would admire its strength and beauty

Old as the tree was it inspired awe and devotion

Surrounded by the changing land scape of land

It provided stability and connectivity to village life

Some time village girls would offer flowers and light diyas* in its cervices

To celebrate divine blessings or life’s jubilation

Their slender bodies swung at the rhythm of folk music

Sweet prayer hymns echoed the air

On those nights brightened with full moon

The grand tree was transformed into all that is revered as divine

One day the sky started getting dark and ugly

Huge rainstorm covered the village

Clouds raced the sky

Bolts of lightning flashed like swords flashing in war zone

With thunder deafening the ear

The wreath of nature was unleashed upon the village

With an ominous sound a bolt of lightning struck the Aswatha tree

Shrieking birds flew everywhere in darkness

The sky was lit with orange and red flames

Where there stood the mighty grandsire of the village

Only ashes were remained

Villagers watched the burned roots and charcoaled trunk with deep sorrow

Farmers working in the fields

Children playing in the sun

Visitors traveling on the muddy roads

All missed and longed for the protection of Aswatha tree

Its majestic image etched in their memories for ever
The rainy season was over

Fields were crowded with farmers planting new crops

Then one day returning home from fields they looked at the vacant place

Where there stood the mighty Aswatha tree

The ground was full of new tender shoots

Roots from underneath were giving life to many new saplings

The villagers smiled and danced with joy

Some day another Aswatha tree would grow there

What has been taken was bestowed again upon them

The story of Aswatha tree is the story of life and it’s full circle.

Note-

This short story was written long time ago when a Patriarch of our family passed away. Living far away from home I was not always able to share in the family grieving process. As I sat alone with thoughts of family back home the childhood images of Aswatha tree crossed my mind. In so many ways the family patriarch are like that tree nurturing, sustaining and keeping family together. I wrote my thoughts on paper, silently paying tribute to our patriarch who was loved by so many. 

In many cultures especially in India Aswatha tree is also revered as divine symbol of Universe, immortal as well as transitory. As I share this post today I have added the shloka of Kathopanishad from ancient Sanskrit literature that I read and enjoy often.

Urdhva-mulo ‘vak-sakha

Eso’svattah sanatanah;

Tad-eva-amrtam ucyate

Tasmin-lokah sritah sarve,

Tad-una atyei kascana: Etad vai tat.

Translation- this is the ancient Aswatha- tree whose roots are above and whose branches (spread) below. That is verily the pure, that is Brahman, and that is also called the Immortal. In that rest all the worlds, and none can transcend it. Verily this is That.

Aswatha*- in Sanskrit means- One that does not remain the same tomorrow.

Diya* –Small oil lamp made with clay.

Savita Tyagi

A Piano

Sometime I wish I had a piano

In a long list of wishes may be another addition

Or if my pen was a piano key

On lazy afternoons of summer

When touched softly

Its music would break the silence of this room

The languid humming of air conditioner

Would mellow in its sweet sound

The colors esoteric in nature

Ascending through air reaching to empyrean

Would shower upon me in sweet paean

I do laugh at the idea though

That sounds so perfect in phantasmagoria

The trill coming out of the keys

Would probably be as smudged and muddled

As the writing coming out of this pen

Backed only with a dull desire or inclination to write

When would I realize that the pen or the piano key

Both are substitute for my inability

To sit quiet and enjoy the stillness.

  

Yama*

A thought upon wasting time reverses itself under scrutiny that moves deeper from surface

Here in its domain we are being wasted bit by bit by its mighty power

The eternal Yama ever so slowly tightens

 Its snooze around our neck and

 Drags us to the sacrificial alter of time from where nobody escapes

Our body like wick of oil lamp drinking its sustenance

Drop by drop finally burns itself out

In nature’s play energy being created and wasted every second

Life in the realm of Creation seeks continuous new expressions 

The enigmatic hands of time working from behind

Give us the illusion of our own invincible power

And as if we own that slippery moment

Creates an urge for us to leave an impression upon next

As a signatory of destiny this and only this is our calling and our joy.

*Yama – ancient Indian deity of time and death

Note-
In Bhagvad Geeta  Arjuna asks Lord Krishna

ākhyāhi me ko bhavān ugrarūpo........na hi prajānāmi tava pravṛttim...... 11.31

"Declare to me who Thou art that wearst this form of fierceness.....For I know not the will of Thy workings." 
Shree Bhagvan answers:
kālosmi lokakṣayakṛt pravṛddho
lokān samāhartum iha pravṛttaḥ...... Rtepi.....11.32

"I am Kaal (Time Spirit) huge-risen for the destruction of the world, intent on devouring the people here.... as my will in My workings...."

I am constantly reminded of and humbled by these verses as I make this post.

Savita  

 

The Hope Of Spring

A disturbed and agitated day takes me away from my happy self

I struggle to hold on to grounds as time gradually gnaws and cuts through every thing that I hold dear.

Restless I watch with envy the trees standing tall

Its branches swaying in raging storm

Merciless rain pelting the shivering leaves

The tree lost millions of leaves in this fierce violent storm

The leaves that gave it beauty and grace

Bereaved now, it weathers the winter chill alone

There lies in its soul the hope of spring

To fill its lap with new gifts

It bears the pain and joy of parting and receiving again and again

Holding in it bosom experiences of many life cycles

I sit in silence to seek strength and forbearance from that naked tree

The thundering storm lights the luminous path of joy back to myself.

Grief melts to flow away from heart

Like leaves flowing away with rainwater

There reigns peace and calm again.

Journey Of Life

Journey of life never offers the same footsteps to every one.

It lets us fly on its wings

Yet sets boundaries for us

It gives us joy of success

Yet forgets to wipe the tears of failure 

Its opportunities are hidden in unpredictable situations like a spare coat button

And come to surface only when the visible ones break

Its rewards show up like a blind corner with great view on a winding mountain path  

It allows us to dream and venture in to wild fantasy yet some how keeps us tied to our own small world.

Moving through all its curves and bends of frustration and discords a longing deep rooted in our hearts keeps pulling us with a hope-

That the end of this mysterious journey will still open new horizon for us like a dark tunnel opens to full view of blue sky.  

  

Invisible

Stepping back ward

In the world of memory

Here no hand can be touched

No cheek can be kissed

No joy can be relived

No pain can be shared

Those walking, talking, laughing faces

Sparkling eyes and tear stained cheeks

Wrapped in a shadowy curtain of time

I wander among them

Invisible

The Morning Walk

 Nice cool breeze of morning

Gentle sunshine spreading much needed energy

The weariness and lethargic mood crushed under light footsteps

The morning with all its richness and vigor was mine to enjoy

After walk I stood in my back patio to do some stretching

With each stretch I felt the breath, the light breeze, the tweeting birds and the presence of green trees and blue sky.

As I eased myself into slow motion and even breathe

Still aware of words and thoughts taking shape in mind

Something happened

Just a moment or rather a split moment of distinct awareness

The flow of breath, the noise of gentle wind, the movement in blue sky

The words shaping my thoughts were lost or coalesced in to one existence

Strangely I was fully aware of that harmony

Mind experienced a still moment that could easily have gotten lost in the chain of thoughts

But it didn’t

Instead it left a powerful and intense impression

A sort of meditative sense of unity

It disappeared as quickly as it appeared

The next moment consciousness returned to duality

The first thing I felt or heard was the air in my nostrils

Next the breathing, the gentle breeze, the commotion of morning

The conversational mind, all were back

The world in front of me

With all its multiplicity and diversity was beautiful and real

And so was the joy of every day life.

The Ocean

Have you ever stood by the ocean at sunset?

When the wind is calm and an orange glow kisses the grey waters.

The tranquil surface deceives its agitated undercurrent.

Have you heard the shrieking waves hitting the jagged rock?

It sounds more or less like cries of tormented heart

Hitting the palms curled up around trembling lips.

Have you ever felt the burning sand under your feet?

Like desire burning through pores of lovers’ body.

The abrasive wet sand feels as heavy

As a heart torn apart in deceit.

I dig my fingers deep in water to feel the cold, mushy lumps

And watch it being swept away in the sea.

Shard of some sultry memory creates a lump in the throat

I let it slip away with sand.

Ocean is the confidant and dossier of all

The waves, the sand, the light, the pain

The memories.

Silver Moon Of May 2012

So I woke up just before midnight, little bit sweaty and warm, a blessing in disguise. Rest less with night’s heat and unable to sleep I remembered that tonight’s full moon was going to be closest to earth for this year. So I came out to watch it. Coming from backyard door its first partial sighting was among the cluster of tress. An unsurpassed beauty lending its charm to tree branches from behind the veil. Warm breeze giving the dark leaves a gentle shake and hiding it from my view. I watched the moon’s play of hide and seek for few seconds. Just then hearing the noise of door opening my son who was getting ready to bed called upon me and turned on the back yard light. Not wanting to disturb the neighbors or the view I called on him to turn the lights off before moving further on drive way and to sidewalk to have a better glance. Each step brought me closer to the anticipated beauty of its full view. I walked slow not wanting to skip any emotion or feeling of longing, anticipation or excitement arising in my heart.  Finally I stopped at the sidewalk beholding the gorgeous moon with its misty glow. The silver moon with its soft milky halo bestowing its calm showering of love and solace all around me on the quiet neighborhood street. Just then few young people walked past on their bikes. I guess I wasn’t the only one wanting to enjoy that gorgeous moon on that warm, breezy, spring night. Just then my son joined me and we stood together watching the moon. I asked him to get some picture but he declined. After all full moon comes every month, some time even with a much more gorgeous view! After a while he went back in. In silence I thought of my second son. With midnight passed it was his birthday today. This is the first time I remember his birthday falling so close to full moon. He is very fond of photography too. I just wondered if he was looking at the moon and taking pictures. Moon and my son, both were at a distance yet close enough to bring joy to my heart and touch me in my thoughts. Standing there I sent my silent birthday wishes to him and went back to get my camera. My simple picture would be enough for myself to preserve this moment. As I took few pictures I noticed the puddle of water on sidewalk. Usually it annoys me to see water collecting in front of my house after rain or from sprinkler system but today I was glad to notice it as the moon was shining in that little puddle with all its charm. The light breeze created gentle ripples and the moon sparkled in there. No big lakeshores, no endless stretch of oceanfront, just some shallow water glistening with moonlight. Nature’s beauty falls upon everything and brightens every speck with its grace. I took few pictures knowing fully that it would never match the magic of that moment. Still… I stood there a little longer before going back in to fall asleep and have the moon and its milky glow shimmer upon my conscious all night.  

A Floating Cloud

 I am like a floating cloud in this

Vast open seemingly baron sky.

Hidden in my bosom millions of tiny vapors

Formless, colorless, faceless,

Waiting for a chance to get a face, a color, and a form

In their expression I find a bit of my identity.

But very often I float around

Carrying that mysterious world with in

That veiled mysterious world

So near yet so unknown

Every now and than a flash of light escapes from it

Like a meteor bursting on night sky

It touches me, inspires me

 Illuminates my whole being for a moment

And then every thing becomes quiet again

Like nothing has happened.

Mystics call it the world of silence

Unfathomable

There all is tranquil, all is calm.

This infinite space within

The substratum of life

It holds me, cuddles me, guides me through

Always pulling me with some magical energy

Yet always beyond my reach

Savita Tyagi

Some Time Love Doesn’t Connect

Some time love doesn’t connect

Hope is shattered when call of love doesn’t resonate in lover’s heart

Despair and dejection envelops the soul

Like the gray cloud that swallows the rich blue of sky

Life becomes like a streamed line river of muddy waters

But look past that moment!

In due time clouds meet its demise

The jubilant river carries the waters to farthest shores

The river of life flows on a bed of love

Rocky and muddy yet always there

Constant and stable

Mysteriously multilayered

One-minute love touches the heart

At other its depth is beyond reach

It is possible just to take a dip in it

Or be drowned by it

It is serene and it is violent

It is cool exhilarating sand

Or quick sand accurse

Within the heart one holds power to recuperate

Mend your broken bridge

Look beyond the shallow puddles

Yes sometime love doesn’t connect

Effort and destiny don’t connect

Opportunity and moment of action don’t connect either

But life surely has many outlets

Find the one that fits your palm

The richness of life isn’t confined to just one point

Radiate a crystal and one bright ray falls upon you

Connects you with thousand rays

Remember! Just one sun needs to shine upon a river to create millions of shimmering diamonds.

Savita Tyagi

Void

 Through the grey walls and white sheets

Void spreads out.

It moves in open circling the snow covered mountain peaks

Settles upon the shadowy darkness of cedar and pine

In quiet it moves among creatures of night and beasts of forest

With thoughts and sensations buried deep

Mind resembles like a stretch of parched land

When void takes hold of consciousness.

 *************************************************

 The vast blue space

So pleasant to look at

In its void hang the sun and moon

In the darkest hour of night

Stars play upon its bosom

In its emptiness it embraces thunder and lightning

And gives clouds space to float around

The void in my heart appears like a faded tapestry

In its fragile weft 

I search for your image.

  Savita Tyagi

Candle

Written by Roopa Sharma

A candle burns
By the window
In a dark corner.
The soft bright glow casts a halo on the wall.

Outside,
The wind blows...fierce wind
The candle flickers,
It sees its shadow - shaky, hesitant, unstable
determined to light up the corner,
It burns steadily...

People...lot of people
Smiling, laughing, happy faces...
They are dancing
Holding each other
The candle longs to dance - swaying softly.
They are singing,
Joyous songs
The candle melts with the sound of music
Drop by drop
Yet glows brightly.

Night falls
And people leave
A couple dances in the shadow
Then they disappear
Leaving a faint whiff of fragrance
Across the hall.
* * * *
Burning alone,
The candle looked at its bright reflection on the wall
And saw,
What it felt all along,
That,
It has been burning from both ends
All night long. 

Roopa Sharma

A Friendship Quilt

Struggling to survive in a foreign land

I met an old lady, working on a small piece of quilt

“Lovely”, I remarked

Proudly she showed me nine more pieces made by her friends,

To complete the mosaic of her quilt

Nuance of her wrinkled face, filled with cherished memories of a lifetime

“Do you have friends?” She asked after a pause

A quilt needle pierced through my heart

“No,” I said quietly. " All were left behind.”

That night in my cold empty room

Tears rolling from my eyes,

I longed for the placid familiarity of my homeland

For the loving warmth of a friendship quilt

At midnight moon came out smiling from the clouds

In its pellucid light from window pane

A checkered pattern emerged on the wall

The flat white squares on the wall

Were dappled with the leaves and tree branches hanging in the sash

Silhouette of a perfect quilt breathing life in still room

Made me smile through my tears

I opened the window

Standing in the dark room, listening to the quaint causerie

Of stars and moon, of wind and leaves

I watched the ebullition of benevolence from Nature

Sweeping through my backyard.

Clairvoyance?

For a sylph whispered from the woods

“You are not alone”!

Savita Tyagi

The Spring In My Lot

Spring is in air again.

Miles and miles of daffodils aren't visible from where I live

Yet the beauty of few yellow flowers in my garden

Needs no other accessory.

The sweet fragrance of few blue Hyacinths

Is enough to fill the nostrils.

Cherry blossoms are in farthest land.

Aromatic mango blossom and flaming Tesu

Is in vintage of memory.

Here Bradford bursting with white flowers

Blows the trumpet for spring's arrival.

Cold and howling winds of winter

Disappeared into soft intoxicating breeze of silvery night.

From celestial sphere the crescent moon with shining Venus

And bright Phaethon with its moon rings

Invoke passion and desire in young hearts.

 

In the secrecy of night

Moon bestows

Its gift of love upon the bosom of its earth bride.

The grace is revealed

With morning dew and mist

Seeping from the gutter.

Love is in the air

Flying on wings of butterfly.

In the tapping of woodpecker.

In the rustling of wind.

The tweeting birds, the faint rings of wind chimes

The clamor of traffic at distance

All create a rhythmic music to greet the spring.

I loose myself in the melodious serenade

Like a Sufi Dervish whirling in communion with divine.

Spring enchants the world with its transient beauty.

With all its vivacity and all its tumults

It is like heart of a youth-

Whimsical, passionate, glee full and trenchant.

Spring! Your joy and ecstasy knows no bounds for me.

Your vernal gift touches my vertex

Adrenaline rushes in pores

Like snow melting from mountain

Rushes into rivers and stream.

 

A Short Meditation

Benevolent spirit of forest!

Let me be the resting place of your habitat

Let me have the honor
To enhance your comfort for tired and desolate.

When the little hatch lings fly out of your chamber of greens-

Blind and disoriented,

Their delicate wings too weak to take them across a long journey

Their instincts in despair to measure the depth of earth
Or the limitless  sky above,

Let my shoulders be the resting place for their flight.

Oh! How I will cherish to my hearts’ delight
The company of that little guest even for a split second.

When the morning dew bathes the flowers fresh
And robin greets the sun,

I see a monarch butterfly take off from a rose petal
For a journey unknown to me.

Please let her rest on my belly just of a moment.
Let her fill me with the wonder of life pulsating through her wings.

Let my hand be the one to assist you
In your burden of forest to grow and to nurture.

At the end of my ephemeral stay
Let me linger awhile
Under those copper leaves to feel
That one last touch of existence.

Then and there let my breath mingle
With the breath of forest that envelops all.

Before I descend into ground
To float around the periphery of time and space
Under sun's luminous rays.