"Some days when I am able to pick a pen and write, I know I have been blessed."~Savita

Welcome to my blog. In my quiet hours I seek to touch the depth of myself and my surroundings. My thoughts that take form of poetry are just the scratches on the surface of life as it reveals to me. Wrapped in a delicate veil of symbolism and ambiguity these verses and expressions also fulfill my desire to share a bit of my self with others. I hope reading them would be as enjoyable for you as writing them has been for me.

Monday, August 20, 2012

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 
   

Saturday, August 4, 2012

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. 

Thursday, August 2, 2012

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.