And Then, the child cried...

I 

The man wrote poems,

probing his numb heart for something divine,

while secretly wishing that he would cry.

 

Wishing he could cry and break down,

remove these cruel rationalities' gowns,

and demand a long life for his mom.

 

The ironies wrecked emotional crusades within,

but his efforts to draw tears went in vain,

he finally slept as his energy drained…

 

II

In the dream his lives' maternal angel called,

said her blessings as she always does,

smiled and cheered at him, despite her hurts…

 

She suffered the stutters in her will to speak,

to lay her hand on his head as the chaos seeped,

It happened on his birthday, beside the cake hurting his mom lay…

 

III

And in that very dream, as the man died,

caught unawares, the inner child cried ...

शिकवा

क्या शिकवा करूँ मैं,

क्या शिकायत हो तुझसे -

जब बिन मांगे है दिया,

इतना तूने खुदसे।

क्या कष्ट, क्या डर जब तू उछाले,

कर दे मुझे आसमाँ के हवाले।। 

रोता जरूर हूँ कभी कभार -

रोता, जरूर हूँ कभी कभार,

थक के, तेरे बेमतलब खेलों से,

पर कैसे छोड़ूँ तुझपे भरोसा?

पर कैसे छोड़ूँ तुझपे भरोसा,

जब जिया हूँ तेरे ही कंधों पे ।।। 

इमारतों के आँसू

ख्वाहिश है आँसुओं की,
यह चाहत रो पड़ने की,
सम्बन्ध नहीं इनका सुख या दुःख से,
माध्यम हैं खुद को मिटा देने के...
 
मेरा दिल है जो टूटने से डरता है,
अपने झूठे अस्तित्व को संजोने वाला,
एक अंश है मेरा,
जो बिखरने से झिझकता है...
 
आज मैंने जो अपने महादेव को है पुकारा,
विनाश हो गया जो अपना माना था मैंने सारा,
टूट गयीं अहम की बनावटी इमारतें,
उनके टुकड़े भी मेरे आँसुओं में बह गए...
 
शम्भो  !

PS: It's a blessing to be able to cry in the presence of one's Guru. It releases one's karmic baggage and is probably the most transformational experience a seeker can ask for. 

आशीर्वाद

यह परीक्षा है या है और कोई बात,
समय जाते ही कुछ रहता नहीं याद,

सिर्फ बदन का दर्द और मन की थकान,
करती है दिन की कहानी बयाँ !
 
याद आती है आपकी चेतावनी,
साधक के रास्ते हैं तुफान कई,
कचरे के मोल हैं यह मेरे सूखे आसूं,
मेरे अस्तित्व को मिटा दे मेरे गुरु !
 
मत कर मेरी चिंता, न रख कोई बंधन,
कर दे उपयोग तू सभी तेरे साधन,
इस नासमझ को बस कर दे तू आबाद,
हर चोट इस अहम पर है तेरा आशीर्वाद !

Silence.

Something that was penned down after a 3 days of silence experience in Isha ashram. It seemed like 3 snaps of fingers. The 3 minutes' overtaking of worldly chaos may have shattered it from outside. Yet something profound remains inside - something concrete and solid. Something that keeps expanding and at times, envelopes me fully. Often, enveloping the whole world I know.  

Darkness is the absence of light.

Silence is the absence of noise.

In words, silence cannot be described.

This silence is so profound in its own right.

 

Thoughts are needed to paint the picture of thoughtless void.

Darkness cannot be described without mentioning light, 

All the thoughts are meaningless,

It's only this silence that matters…

 

Yet an attempt,

To capture, what transpired in silence,

Fearing, it might lose out in the chaos,

Chaos - of within and without…

 

 

If you take more karmic load now, when you are well and capable, later you will walk “hands - free”! – Sadhguru

Those who are into intense yogic sadhana often choose to take on an extra stock of karma on a new - moon day.

4 Years of Isha

I reached your gates with my sweetheart,

Unsure, hopeful and most of all, desperate.

Desperate to be guided, guided to what I already knew.

 

Notions and weights of the past were still fresh,

Experiences and their emotionally coloured memories.

Memory that sought to be untangled, untangled and understood.

 

Hugged the metal vessel with the snake on guard,

Held it with all the life within me and repeated my question.

Questioning why I am not able to find peace, peace in life or in the idea of death.

 

There were no immediate answers, no blue lights, no luminous opening chakras,

When I asked you something, you chose to close your eyes but to speak.

Spoke about everything in the world, the whole world except what I had asked.

 

Fifteen hundred days, I held on to you, with whatever timid strength I could muster,

Compromisingly at times, defiantly often.

Often making it about me, the very me that I wanted dead.

 

What a journey it was that you have crafted,

Could have been straighter of course but, has been perfectly curvy.

Curves that were needed, needed to untangle the karmic mess.

 

Snakes that were scary have become fellow companions,

Stares that invoked fear now remind to be awake.

Wakefulness driven by deep love, the joyful love for life. 

 

Was seeking ailments, afraid of volunteering,

Afraid of any new social situation, unknowingly moved by your grace.

Got situated at Dhyanalinga scrubbing, scrubbing through this moonless night.

 

Impossible to put fingers on the timeline,

Seems like a life long journey with moments, each profound.

Profound and pregnant, pregnant enough to contain a lifetime in itself.

 

Here today, in the chilled water, forehead plastered to my dear vessel,

All questions dissolved, absent is the desire to be guided.

Guide found within me, the me that envelopes everything.

 

Chaos

It’s the chaos I choose,

                         - the chaos that surrounds me …

It’s the chaos I choose,

                 - the chaos that binds me …

It is the chaos I choose,

           - the chaos that is me …

 

(Penned, after the silence of amavasya in Isha ashram)

Samyama

The word Samyama dates back to Patanjali and it means different things to different people, but the recent turn of events in my life has changed what this word means for me forever. It is the process where I was virtually taken out of my worldly life settings by an unparalleled power and soaked in the grace and love of a deeply compassionate being. Only to be thrown back again in the worldly mess once the lure of the latter began to dissolve. It was an experience infinitely greater than my own being's capacity to fathom, comprehend and leave alone express. Yet, here is an attempt - 

Out of the blue you called this terrible fool,

As he tore out of his claustrophobic body,

Is when you threw him back to the Karmic whirlpool…

You invoked the Mahadev to destroy this creature,

His karmic body did experience a tiny fissure,

Through this very hole he tasted his real nature…

Twelve years long solar cycle wasted in outward search,

One moment you took to show that he was only dirt…

Perhaps his karmas had not earned him a longer stay,

But the tears of clarity made him understand his ways,

It is the breath that he has to spend his time with,

Clean his windshield that is splattered with karmic bullshit…

No use to paint stories on this shit smeared window, 

Patiently tending to the roots and shoots of the seed is the only way it will grow…

Nascent Metamorphosis

40 days of Shambhavi Maha Mudra 

When I had ventured out to attend the DoPT organised Isha course at Coimbatore with Niyati, I somehow knew that I needed it and felt a strong urge to value whatever it ends up teaching. I guess I did end up valuing it as I stand here completing the prescribed mandala of 40 days. This implies that I managed to do the twice-a-day cycles of Shambhavi Mahamudra, albeit with occasional (possibly minimal) breaks in discipline consistently for 40 days that follow the course. I enjoyed the sense of discipline that it gave me. A hidden sense of judgement seemed to come to the fore as the days passed. Yet, when I'm asked as to what has changed in me since, a sense of bafflement engulfs me. I can't really pin point as to what has changed or how much it has changed and how it has benefited me as a causal relationship result. 

But in an attempt to honestly assess myself as I try to see within, I feel that maybe -

Maybe,

In my desperate attempts to "transform", 

I had started seeing myself as two distinct forms,

One seeking perfection and discipline to the max,

While the other recklessly enjoys the errors and the mess,

One pushed itself to be more and more focussed,

While the other gleefully ran around like someone bogus…

Now,

Through the chaos, clearly do I see,

It's really immaterial that the perfect "me" wins every time,

I've got to start accepting all the decisions I make as mine.

Maybe,

In my anxious abstinence from egoistic boostings,

I started withdrawing myself from the worldly feasting,

Now,

Through the newfound sense of rootedness do I feel,

The need to open my arms and part my lips for a smile,

To engage everything with love that spreads for miles…

Maybe,

In my hungry readings I thought I sought some extra-worldly sense,

While in reality, I grappled to find the very purpose of my existence,

Now,

I still haven't got the answers I was searching for,

But often an inner joyous stability smiles back at me,

Promising a fun ride all the way to my destiny,

I'm content with the approach that I have now taken,

To first know how this mind-body matrix functions,

Organically graduating to answer the "bigger" questions.

Now,

At times while I sit surrounded by the clamour,

I see myself smiling with no purpose at all,

Maybe,

That precisely is the purpose, After all…

I've tried to articulate whatever little I could about these 40 days. Even after these scribbles, I still can't pin-point the exact benefits. I just know that something has begun to change inside me, maybe it’s our metaphoric caterpillar friend, beginning to see its potential to fly. 

PS: All views expressed here are purely personal