Freedom

A freedom to live
And a freedom to die
To spread my wings
And skyward fly
A freedom to win
And a freedom to err
To smile through tears
When dreams mine blur.
A freedom from struggle
And a freedom from strife
Give me freedom
To live my life.
A freedom accorded
By fresh spring air
The freedom to treasure
My sunsets fair.
A freedom to love
And a freedom to hate,
I need the freedom
To battle my fate
A freedom to cry
When I’ve lost it all
A freedom to cherish
My rise and fall.
A freedom in life
And a freedom in death
I need freedom
In every breath.

July

July,
My month of passion,
Or digression.
Of rainbow hunting,
Of laughter and hurting.
Why do you forsake me, my love?
I seek my July manna now,
My pain and anguish, tears and joy
July had witnessed Fate's vile ploy.

An August Night

It wasn’t the best of August evenings when he stepped out. Late, lingering monsoon rains, the kind that always dampened his spirits, lashed out and Arjun shuddered at the thought of the task ahead. "Why me," he thought.... "Was this what I was made for? And that too, her? Does she deserve this?" And at that he recalled a verse she had read to him, one summer, "Since this was written, and needs must be". How far away it all seemed now. "Browning" he muttered, unbidden. "Browning", he muttered, "yet again.....". "A face to lose youth for, to occupy age with the dream of, meet death with." With death, he was going to meet tonight, but not his. A million thoughts crossed his mind, a million emotions stirred in the depths of his soul. It seemed like a dream and he'd wake any moment only to find her lying snugly by his side. But it wasn't. "It isn’t meant to be Arjun", she had shut the door on his face more than a year back; the day that changed his life forever. He had lost more than love that night. He had lost his mind, his faith, his happiness, and he had lost his patience....Paradoxically, as he walked the paved paths that led to her home, he felt a calm stealing over him. His mind cleared and he felt strangely patient. Tonight would last forever. Tonight, he thought, would be what he had so patiently for. Tonight. All his wait, his perseverance, his hope and his determination. The august rain would wash the sins, he thought - her sins. And his. Born in a puritan Brahmin household he could remember his mother tell him that it was a grave sin to kill a woman… Brahma Hatya….His fingers closed upon the pistol in his pocket. It felt cold. As cold as the emptiness in his heart. To him nothing else mattered tonight. He would have his revenge. The door was a foot away. The practiced feet made no sound as the practiced hand gripped the door knob and stealthily opened the only barrier between him and his destiny. Habit dictated that he take the stairs to the bedroom upstairs. He smiled. Not tonight. He knew where he would find her. A wry smile swept through his face as he tiptoed towards the living room.....the piano......he knew from the silence of its chords that someone was playing the grand instrument. The icy silence. The gloom. The wet august air. The stage could not have been better set. Yes, they were both there. As he had left them, after dinner earlier that night. The draught he had added to their coffee had worked well. He caught her eyes.....drowsy and tearful. Tears rolled like precious pearls from her lovely dark eyes. He moved his hands. She moved her lips. "Arjun, I knew you would come tonight," she said, "but the gun is a welcome surprise...." “It’s yours, my love”, he said. A single click. Arjun hardly blinked as blood squirted from her husband’s temples. Sleep was stealing over her. He quietly placed the gun in her fingers, kissed the lips he had now come to love and left quickly without turning back.

Time slowed down....at last. The last few months, days would fly past in a blur, my indistinct consciousness only aware of wakefulness and sleep. Dreams hazy, music muted and vision fuzzy. Today, time stalled for me. I savored every moment; shared a lot of "mountain" talk- Shillong and Kumaon, Kashmir and Darjeeling. My mind full of wet clouds and my spirits soaring among the stars, my day was a walk through my childhood memories.

Anticipation

Take away my sunrise,
Steeped in golden hues
Shining, smiling fresh
My dreamy languid dawns
Vulcan's teardrops
Into your graceful arms.

Take away my noons
Steeped in blazing tones
Raging burning ochers
Martian spirit
Into your restless soul.

Take away my sunsets
Steeped in russet silks
Sighing painful eves
Sad purple dusks
Dripping Venus
Into your passionate bosom.

Leave alone my midnights
For him to whisper tales
Of passion and painful woes
Into my hungry ears
And dewdrops shed by moonbeams new
Shall sing melodies of our love.


Written in anticipation of the tales (literal ones...stories of Sukumar) that a friend promised to read me every night.

Poison Ivy

What is this madness that grips me? Spreading through my veins like a slow acting poison. It courses through me, like icy blood, leaving me dizzy and breathless. It churns my heart, ails my mind. Death and darkness, it hearlds; and my vision goes hazy. Ah...this must be the sacred evil people call Love.

The Original Sin

Can you see the lightning
Tear the garment of the night
Rip apart, the seams of the sky
Crackle at the damsel’s tumultuous plight?

Can you feel the storm that rages,
Raked up to prevent a nimble flight
Dusty fears cross my heart-
Violation of modesty or display of might?

The rape is done, silence reigns
Resigned now she does not fight
The rain of tears become her well
And remains of a disheveled sight.

Written 10^th April 07, 3 am

I Found Him Again

Have you ever met someone like him...familiar yet elusive...like a whisp of smoke...like the clouds you walk through...like a melody, half-forgotten yet haunting...like the spray of mist...like the teasing spring zephyr...like the lost lyrics of a lilting strain...like the splashing waves...like the first ray of a russet sunrise...the last glow of a gloden dusk? I try to hold on, hang on for life dear...but he slips through my fingers like grains of sand. The harder i clutch....well, you know. I lost him once and now i have found him again...but he hasn't changed. I have. I have stopped believing in the eternal...the forever....Or have I? Does the heart not cherish secret, forbidden desires? Ones, that may not be uttered aloud, not even to him...but nurtured in the velvety darkness of the night. I hold them out, like a treasured jewel, admire the sparkle against the star-spangled sky and put them away again with a sigh.

I just read my own post...reminds me of a poem i used to love...
FATE
by Susan Marr Spalding

TWO shall be born the whole wide world apart;
And speak in different tongues, and have no thought
Each of the other’s being, and no heed;
And these o’er unknown seas to unknown lands
Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death,
And all unconsciously shape every act
And bend each wandering step to this one end,—
That, one day, out of darkness, they shall meet
And read life’s meaning in each other’s eyes.
And two shall walk some narrow way of life
So nearly side by side, that should one turn
Ever so little space to left or right
They needs must stand acknowledged face to face.
And yet, with wistful eyes that never meet,
With groping hands that never clasp, and lips
Calling in vain to ears that never hear,
They seek each other all their weary days
And die unsatisfied—and this is Fate!

A moment of truth

You and I, face to face
In a moment of transparence.
The stark, naked Truth
Dancing its wild, primal dance
As the bright stars illuminate
This revealing - momentary séance.

Ashirwad

To Sanidh,

Aaapne chain ka neend banakar
Lori ga kar sula diya
Aapne armanon ka pey banakar
Amrit sa tujhko pila diya
Jeevan ke anal me jaloge, beta
Tab karna is ma ko yaad
Tap kar bhi kanchan bane tu
Teri maa ka hai ye ashirvad

From

Amma

Musings At Midnight

jeene ki tamanna toh woh karte hain
zindagi ne jinhe jeena na sikhaya ho....Aug 07


The notes just died...the songs just faded

The stars shine down but the night's still jaded....March 07

The night’s dripping wet
The witching hours that follow
Lightning tears the velvet sky
And dreams of a crimson morrow....June 06

For Maya....

To visualize , to identify with water, watching a faucet did not help and so I stood beneath the shower. Then came the thunderstorm, Kalbaishakhi. I stood in the wild showers and thought myself to be the element of water. Wild and violent, fanned by the strong winds, I beat against the dry earth, dissolving the dust. I was the enraged, I brought the calm. I drenched all, spared none. I saw myself split into drops, yet I united the moment I touched the ground, I was the unstoppable. I cleaned up the dirt and smoke, I cleared the Air and Earth, yet I drew out the creepy, crawly creatures of the dark. Where could one hide from me? You see me, feel me, smell me, think of me, I intoxicate All. Yet my constant downfall frustrated me. Why fall always, my powerful self felt challenged, I felt like rising, like splashing, drenching and dissolving all. I knew I had force, I had power, I felt like using my strength but I knew I could be regulated. My meek self submitted. My life is one of contradictions; the all powerful, the powerless; the tangible yet the shapeless; the clear and the murky; the sweet & the saline; I was cooling and refreshing and yet I could freeze and above all I was the Blessed.

Death Comes As The End

Into the sunset we shall walk,
Hand in hand,
Dark lies thunder above us,
And the ground we built on love
Quakes under our very feet....
The winds are fanned into violent frenzy
And the mirror threatens to crack
Nightfall is certainty
Thor weilds his thunder well
Lightning tears the sky
Or is it our gauzy hearts?
The storm approaches, my love,
Hold me tight
And close to you,
For I see no light
Darkness descends and wildfire spreads
Is it Doomsday yet?

My breath is short, you sound so faint...
Let me feel your heartbeat,
Lay my head on your chest
I think I come to die
Kiss my lips once beforethe vile one
Comes by stealth and takes my soul away.

But of you, my love,
He knows not.
You shall have my wings
Fly my beloved- flee
Tarry not for my sake
Not a moment waste.

Sunrise you shall yet behold
Another day, another time
We shall meet.

Witch....At Last

Too many goodbyes, too little time,
My life deserts me, for no reason nor rhyme-
The witch's power ends here,
No redwood nor thyme
Shall save the day.
My soul leaves me,my breath flies away
Stand, hold still, Beloved,dont sway...



...The serpent raised its ugly hood again.
And hissed in mock frevour;
The nights that cloud my gauzy dreams
Bless my heart- a silent tremor.
Too long I've sought
A moment's reprive;
A long drawn breath,
A plaintive sigh
A comforting touch
A shoulder nigh.
"No more", he said,
"Shall you laze in dreams
Of a crimson morrow
That shall never come.
They think you're here to stay, your precious moonbeams,
You meant not the goodbye
'Coz you harboured dreams-
That thyme and birch shall ward me off;
Not to be, I bid you come
Shall drown you in rich venom
No pang you'll sport,
You'll feel no pain
Dawn on you it must, again,
Death, is but a matter of gain."

Our secret world

Will you come with me-
To a secret place no one dares;
Through the misty haze
Beyond daylight's glaze?

The stars shine down
Let's hide from them,
I'll whisper into your ears
Small secrets of mine
From beyond the sands of time.

Sunset is always fun
By dawn, our story's done
Before the rest all awake
Lets sing a song and melody make.

Daybreak will come
We have to part
Other worlds beckon-
And a broken heart.

Let me hug this secret awhile
Cant explain why i smile
Come night again, we are wet
By dewdrops and mist on my grassy bed;
Take shelter in that nest of your
Is that my tear,
Or a moonbeam pure?
Love me like I've never been
Wrapped around me like a sheen
I go to bed, I go to dream,
Unending then, this night will seem.

Signature

If ever lightning strikes,
From clear, blue skies,
When u hear the thunder rumble
Drown the city gabble
Scared u hang on to life dear
You'll know "The Sorceress Was Here".

Is Hinduism Monotheistic?

Hinduism is the paganism of India. Hinduism believes in many gods and one. Actually the idea is that there is but one God, omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent. We worship many gods because every one connects to god in a different form. I personally connect with Goddess Kali in her motherly form (Ma), however currently I am feeling called to Sri Krishna in his baby form as I can relate to the legends of that incarnation of God since I have a small kid now. Similarly every individual’s needs from God is different; hence the many avatars (facets). I had read somewhere about a branch of Buddhism that there is the universal mind and the individual minds, neither separate nor the same like waves are neither different from nor the same as the sea they belong to; that’s the closest example that comes to my mind. There is Shakti or the feminine aspect of the Divine in its many forms…Kali (dark, black, powerful, bestower of magickal /psychic ability, avenger, motherly yet aggressive), Durga (warrior, uplifter of the downtrodden, Queen, wifely or daughterly as worshiped in Bengal, commander of army, beauty, grace, fair, assimilation of all divine qualities, consort of Shiva), Lakshmi (woman of the hearth and home, soft, graceful, bestower of prosperity, wealth, agricultural plenty, gold, precious metals and gemstones especially diamond, health, family ties, consort of Vishnu), Saraswati (education, knowledge, sacrifice, enlightenment, spiritual progress, consort of Brahma), Sheetala /Mari amma and a host of names for the same deities in different forms on a regional basis. Now there is the Purusha, or the pantheon of Gods, Brahma (creator, pacifist, consort of Saraswati, less worshiped but a prime deity), Vishnu (protector, consort of Lakshmi, worshipped more in his different aspects such as Rama, Krishna etc), Rudra/Shiva (destroyer/ slayer, ascetic, simplistic, protector of the animals), Ganesha (worshipped to bless new beginnings). So the one God is worshipped in his/her many forms depending on the attributes we seek to connect with.

And Love Will Be Enough

When the muffled sounds die
And absolute silence laughs aloud;
When the dim lights fade,
And distressing darkness drowns this world;
When Death sings her sweet lullaby
And I sink tired into her arms;
I know you shall come then,
And wake me up
From this long drawn sleep
One Fine Day.

And then my love, Love will be enough. For the look in your eyes, for a touch that blocks out the world, Love will be enough. For the shoulder to lean on, for my distress in your tears, Love will be enough. For the escape we make, for the rain we soak in, for the sunshine on your face, for the caress you give, for the life we lead, Love will be enough. For your unspoken words, for the dreams we share, for the nod of knowing, for the storms we brave, for my soulmate and me, Love will be enough. For you to complete me, for liking my vices, for cherishing my virtues, for stealing the kisses, Love will be enough. For teasing my hair, for watching the stars, for holding my hand, for sheltering my sleep, for touching my soul, Love will be enough. For the healing touch, for hugging my dreams, for the heart laid bare, Love will be enough.




This was written when someone proffered " Love is not enough". And I thought to myself, "Love is always enough. If it isn't enough for you, you ain't the right guy honey".

Solitaire or Coven

Working in a coven is definitely good. In fact Gardner thinks that the solitary practitioner is not wiccan at all. On the positive side of it you have a family to fall back upon (never thought family meant blood ties), immense experience to bank on; rituals are easier to follow because you have a HP to guide you and in all you are groomed. Perspective is gained as you share your learnings and experience. Solitary practice lacks all these virtues. But then what do you do when you live in a country where Wiccans are misunderstood, persecuted or simply very few in number. One can obviously not let all this come in the way of one's learning. It is also a matter of who functions best when left alone and who functions best in a group.Besides being part of a coven means alloting time, making a commitment. Any one unwilling or unable to do that should practice solitary. Personally, i feel i'm a far better student than teacher. I would have prefered to be part of a coven in my learning days and then wanted to explore, be be set free as a solitaire. That was not to be, very few wiccans in India, none other than me that i know of in kolkata. i work solitary, not by choice but by necessity. Well there, may be the Goddess ordained that I be my own guide, I need to teach and learn and who better to teach (read boss) than myself? All said, Solitaire or Coven is a matter of individual comfort, capability and choice.