Kavyakankshini...bewitching words spun with spindles of thought and quicksilver yarn...: atmamagna.....
Showing posts with label atmamagna...... Show all posts
Showing posts with label atmamagna...... Show all posts

5.17.2011

Maid and meditation



Being a metro woman, I have come to understand the importance of a maid over a period of time!
She is that goddess whom you better keep pleased in order to run your household hassle free!
After having a maid for over a year or so, you tend to take her and her work for granted, just ambling around while she slogs away… well it’s supposed to be like this, isn’t it?
Well then comes a day when she skips work! Once, twice it’s fine, human almost but then came this one day when she says she is on leave for 2 days! Two whole days of housework and cooking is a bit too much in an already crammed metro schedule!
I swiftly apply for a leave, cannot help but do that! A maid absent is crisis in a sense, worthy of one precious CL! All ya ladies you totally know what I mean, right?
Now on another track, am dabbling with metaphysics and meditation et al! All my calmness developed over a period of 2 years suddenly seems to evaporate in the face of this mini-crisis!
I was reading this wonderful book “the sun my heart” by Thich Nhat Hanh and in that book he has written a wonderful piece which talks about doing daily chores! In complete awareness, in complete peace and joy!
I totally loved the concept, reading further, he mentions that washing utensils is almost a meditative process, it’s not just the soiled bowl that you are washing, and it has to give you as much joy as bathing the Baby Buddha! I was just admiring the concept while I read it!
And the very next day my maid was gracious enough to take a two day leave and leave me with a tubful of soiled bowls n plates…ok baby buddhas!
I actually carefully pushed back my lovely satin night dress sleeves and began washing the utensils…suddenly I recalled the reading! And I said let me give it a try! Let me really imagine these soiled bowls as baby Buddhas…
Trust me my hands suddenly slowed down! All cynicism and ill will and grudge towards the maid or rather her absence just dissolved! Each bowl seemed to have its own personality, a finer nuance and different edge. Many a memory of the pleasant meal came to the fore, the bits of chicken n mushroom rice, bowl with golden threads from the mango juice we had last night, filaments of onion from the French onion soup all brought back such nice warm feelings! All the compliments got from Hubby dear and all those approving nods from my father-in-law! Those smiles and discussions at the dinner table! How much does a soiled plate contain! And then I realized, every day a new memory, every day a new taste, we create, we consume and we clean! Now if a bowl is used a thousand times, it’s like the human body caught in the web of karma, we are born, we have our karma, we die and again we are born! And it flashed upon my mind in a moment of peace, what exactly the venerable monk must have meant when he said washing bowls can be as joyous as bathing a Baby Buddha!
Buddha walked through this journey of life escaped the clutches of karma and rebirth. If we recall him during mundane chores, we can amply realize the beauty of this life, the impermanence of things and yet their riveting maze!
The lukewarm soap suds and the gurgling water seemed to approve of my newly learnt philosophy lesson! They merrily played around my fingers…I smiled a knowing smile and put back the last plate I cleaned. With a different and calm feeling I went on with other chores, thanking my maid in the mind for giving me a chance to look at a mundane activity such as washing utensils, in such different light!
And wait; there is yet an end to this metro story! Guess what, after drying my hands I just saw a couple of missed calls on my phone…thinking it must be related to work, but no, it was from my maid! She had called up to say that she was not going to take the leave and wanted to come a bit late! Just because I hadn’t answered her call, she took the day off!
Trust me such times, an amateur peace seeker like me, is so tempted to lose all calm and yell!!! Breathe right in and breathe out slowly!!!!
Such is the story of the maid and meditation!

9.22.2010

Poetry in paper...











After playing around with words for a long time, the curves and poetry of a simple piece of paper enticed me...it's been a year now and i am definitely hooked! A simple piece of paper which held my poems and paintings, itself became a piece of poetry and painting together! at one time! That is the magic of paper quilling....The simple art of folding and twirling strips of paper has really caught hold of me...i thought for quite a while whether this hobby of mine deserves a special blog for itself or my poetry blog should be fine with a new post... finally thought that this is poetry in action, poetry of paper... so it definitely should be here...
I have put in all my attempts at quilling over here...hope you enjoy them all!

This was one of my very first attempts at quilling...of course the finish is lil bit tacky...but it was fun trying it out!

After this began the journey of paper strips and all possibilities of using them in innovative ways!
The first attempt served as a decoration for Ganpati festival last year!
Have a look!

Then i moved on to greeting cards...that was one more place, where people loved my new art...

This was a Valentine Day card for my hubby dear!
Then there was this other one which belongs to one of my early attempts at quilling...

Then there is one more card in which i used wax crayons and then quilled to get the highlight effect...it turned out kinda quirky...
















Its kinda fun experimenting with other mediums and then coming back to quilling as an add-on!
Once done with the greeting cards i moved on to cutting and quilling...its kinda fun too!
Check it out!

Well isn't it cute and whacky! well and its not really an incomplete one...it says I luv...and the rest is quilled...yes it says I LUV Quilling! :))
Then i went on to quill a few frames for myself and a gifted a few to friends...here is one example of that quilled frame...

Isn't it all very exciting and poetic! hope you enjoyed this paper poetry!
Till the next time...i shall be back with some more exciting paper poetry and real poetry as well!!

1.19.2010

New beginings....

It’s been a long while since I really exercised my rainbow cells (creative grey cells) and my fingers to produce something nice! Life has been moving at an eclectic pace! Falling in love had been common almost! Honestly! But Rising up to meet the love of my life has been once in a lifetime experience!
So many changes and so many stories of changes, full of subtexts and subplots! Well not getting into changes per say! Just the kind of feeling you keep getting that something is changing and in a manner so decisive, gentle and yet so powerful! It seems more like some animation clip in slow motion, unfurling of the mind, blooming of a flower and rise of a star…it’s more like it I think…
I have met different flavors of life, different people and have been close with many as well, more like trying out and enjoying different cuisines of the world! But then I always found something missing in each…today I realize that the missing flavor was of salt! Yes to find the salt of my life was vital…it shall keep me alive longer…its indispensible and so unassuming yet so very essential!
Life still poses challenges, I still anticipate changes in me and my surroundings with same eagerness I cannot really define, but then beyond all that the core of the mind is now at peace, peace of having found peace, the other significant half and peace that there did exist one such half!
It’s lovely to know someone loves you and the works, but it is really lovely to sense that someone is also getting a feeling of being complete when you are around! Where it’s beyond mere give and take, where each encourages the other to take and gently nudges to give…and to do so effortlessly…the beauty lies there, in effortlessness…
Essays on and about love can be many but then capturing the ethos, the essence of that wonderful primal feeling is what matters. I; for once am not competing or struggling to capture the feeling in words. I have learnt that the beauty lies not in possessing but in empowering, fuelling a stellar existence of the other! Complementing than competing and overlapping than stamping out! Existences and their harmonies, the beauty of that harmony now seems so pellucid! The search ends here; I can sit here for ages to listen to the melody created by this harmony, this universal, all consuming harmony.
This piece of text neither seems creative nor effective in portraying what I really wish to say… But then the unsaid bespeaks volumes through the same text…
This is just a mere drop in the ocean of silence around me…am loving and living in silences which speak so much for me that its almost meditative and healing to nurture silence after knowing, learning to speak so many languages and so many times over playing with words and chords of the heart of so many around me….
Now with some clarity and authority I may state that the constant progression towards achieving that one vital link in life ends for me…now on a different take at life and love…

6.21.2009

Wet blue darkness

Your fragrance is melting in this wet blue darkness,
My being touches your memory,
A sliver of mercury slips by,
And darkness wilts forever...
Blooms forth a tear,
With your name,
Hold the inkpot steady,
Least it spills the last drop of emotion,
Leaving my song empty,
Without a haunting end...

6.17.2009

Dusty crossroads


Her faint steps on the heated asaphalt

Her missing anklet and cracked heels

Yet she dances in gay abandon…

Whose Radha is she?

What does her Kanha do?

Her innocence is her jewel?

Or some bait hanging for men?

She dances to her own lilting tune…

Did you notice the half lyrics?

Who taught them?

Where are her dreams?

Does she dream of indifference?

Lustful eyes?

Or just pennies?

What is the quest of her being?

Will she ever read the poem of her life?

Or will it always remain a half lyric world for her?

6.10.2009

Her tears...

I think I shall write

About her tears

Honest real tears

Salty acrid and burning

Burning with pangs of seperation

Guilt of betrayal 

And burden of loyalty

She wore them well

Like fine refulgent pearls

Strung in pellucid thoughts

Strained across her bosom

Taut and real

She cried for love

She cried for her love

She cried…

I was dazed

By her tears

By her love

And by her

What is the burden

That weighs her down

Makes her cry

And yet she is at peace

How can tears bring peace?

How can betrayal make you calm?

And how can love liberate?

Crisscrossing questions

Play of words

Did I have anything else to offer?

No soothing words

No hands to wipe her tears

No love to match hers

Will you cry for me someday?

Did you do that once for me?

Will there be a poem of our seperation

Will there be words to describe

Our love?

breaking free

That brute force

Those moments shortly before breaking free

Those ramshackles strained..

That last metal giving away…

The gory and heavy memories

They captured me for long

Your every touch had turned lead

Boring through my being

Every poem froze in my eyes

And choked me from within

I knew you were right

You made me feel wrong

You left swiftly

I dragged along…

Love was always the only way

Commitment was your stay

I was free

And you were bound

Solace in each other

I now wonder

How we found..

I have survived

Your venomous seperation

And I am not at all regretting…

The realization that my deeds are blasphemous,

 by itself was emancipating….

I  

3.02.2009

a place my own...

I keep returning

To these four walls

To cry, to wail

To laugh, to share

Every joy, every secret

And every time I fail

I keep coming back to you!

Yes I do…

But not for me

Neither for you

I keep coming back

To recreate the world

I leave with you

I dwell there

Reveal there

Am there

Am bare

‘Cause a world outside

Is hardly fair…

I keep returning to these four walls…

2.28.2009

the perfume box...

The spring urged me

To smell her virgin smells

Full of life, vibrant

Dancing off mango trees…

While I languorously

Dwelt in my past

Full of your smell

Hinting his smell

And their never fading smell….

Yours was like you

Inconceivable, brash

Open and suddenly shy!

Salty and uncertain

Sour at some places

Misty and fresh

Always…mostly…

His was deep

Coarse and heavy

Musky and hinting

Selfish…

Cleverly guised

Under crisp paper like aroma…

Theirs was stable

Predictable almost

Silent and consistent

Meek yet enriching

Stoic in its bearing

And it began and ended

In me…

It’s not like my past is smelly and rotting

It’s just that I love thinking of it all

In smells, emanating from tiny bottles

Holding those magical moments

Each distinctly dressing me, completing me

Defining me…

Now, I need a new box, a newer tiny bottle…

The spring beckons…

2.18.2009

let the night....

Let the night go on…

Let the darkness sing its mystic song

Be there always those twinkling stars

Silence in its velvety coat

Be there always the dream in a dream

Let the night go on…

Let the roles come alive

Be there always buzz in the memory hive

Being in its trance like form

Be there always overlapping visions

Let the night go on…

Let the waves of solitude regale

Be there always the old moon’s ale

May the actor always prevail…

Be there masks and more masks

I have to wear them all….

Let the night go on…

2.12.2009

searching.....him...

They tie wishes to trees.....

Flags of good luck and desires

Colorful and fluttering in the Himalayan winds…

Oh the land of monastic yearnings and deep rooted passions

I seek thee…

I seek thee there….

I searched you long

I sought you in stories

Poems and songs

I sought you in the dark alleys of time

I sought you in the diamond mine

In the bazaars of Mathura

In the Kaashi of my soul

“Have you seen him ever?”

“Have you seen his golden shadow gliding by?”

“Did you catch the glimpse of the glistening sorrow in his eyes?”

I asked one I asked all…

“Have you seen him at all??”

He promised me to return…

He promised me the moon

The rainbow fabric and the deep blue lagoon…

 

 

2.09.2009

The unsung melody...my reticent lover...


 

A simplistic verse, a word slipped out of emotion,

The unsung melody gifted these to me....

A sky painted with a defined blue,

Water with a greenish hue,

Petals of stars and flowers dipped in dew,

Is all the verse which i could give...

A string of couplets and pearls of joy,

Was his next gift,

A mountain painted grey,

Dawn breaking at day,

The purple of trees

And their rhythmic sway,

Was my reciprocative way....

Emeralds of "bandish",

Diamond dust of the "raagas",

The melody filled my soul...

An incomplete poem,

A few unshed tears,

A cup of our passion...

Was my parting gift...

To,

My unsung melody....

12.23.2008

Z plane

I have landed! never safely as usual but yes again down the dumps and am happy that I have finally come to acknowledge that this round of being Sisyphus is done…have successfully let the rock roll down…and well I put my foot willingly to get it crushed as well!!!

I thought only I could be such an emotional fool and genius at one go…now once you have left me I find the world at large is full of such! And especially this city where each one seems to fight his own lengthy battle, some acknowledge it and some don’t…

I feel the void, I once proclaimed I loved to be alone…I must have yelled at you one zillion times…leave me alone…and today what poetic justice…I am left all alone…

And this solitude is different, it doesn’t feed my soul, it doesn’t fuel my creativity and worse still it doesn’t care if am sick or not and whether I like the solitude or not…

My option to be alone is truncated and it’s now the only option that I am left with me….

My sensibilities have frozen…dead and well preserved….

How long did time pass? How far have the rivers of time and space flown? How many events and people and carcasses of ideas flow by me…I remain there on the shore totally untouched by all this…I lost so many things so many of them…trust went first, friendships few, relations many and realizations anew..

Today!

 I read what he wrote; I think he wrote with the blood of loneliness…with the intensity I knew was his…totally pure, phenomenal and animal like

I loved his aggression and his passion and was surprised to discover that he was the destination of my search…he was around always too close but that prevented me from seeing him objectively I guess…

He wrote about connections, he wrote about passion, his words flowed with dynamism and his music interlaced with the strains of raag marwa…sung deep in the nights in the womb of the day…

Then I saw him paint, just a stroke, but what grace what force I was almost aroused…to his being, his ability to create and his potency of being human…

Evolved is how I found him, nomad is what the world terms him and piya is what I would like to term him…

I sought him and was thrilled to have found myself in each facet of his creativity...in each angle of his solitude and every trace of his existence

He can’t be plotted on conventional graphs, he aint two dimensional, he has a life force!  his third dimension, his Z plane…

From where I plunged and fell into the very valley I pined for so long…

Losing the track of existence sometimes carries us to the purpose of existence….

I was totally lost with him. I discover afresh the reason of my journey...the sojourn I undertook centuries ago…

The spiritual journey which we began is now in its last stage…

It’s been centuries and I feel so familiar with his scorching look, his roughness and uncouthness that it still holds appeal, evokes a primal desire which I feared I had lost…

He got it back to me rekindled the fire within and I shall ensure to keep it burning all the time…

The fire that melts the hardest ego, that casts the softest principle and that fire that burns illusions of power and yet holds the potency to thrive life….

I shall be his…I shall keep by his side…lead his nomadic ways and love his wanderings…in losing ourselves we shall soon discover the joy of being…the primal need and energy that brings and keeps two beings from dying out…

I shall survive and keep the fires burning till he returns from one of his journeys in search of his being….

 

 

 

 

7.23.2008

shedding light and beyond

The purple haze in the sky


Tinted with orange


Grey black blue


Fusing together


I just shed my skin


Can you feel me now?


All so nervous


Novice


and new?


twilight always does that to me


I am reborn at twilight....


the prodigal child.....


with hues of


purple


orange


black


and blue....

7.15.2008

just like that....

Every few seconds i try to think
Not of things or events
But names of babies
Born every few seconds
Their thoughts
Their poems
Which they must have carved
On the walls of the womb
Were they poems of love?
Emotion?
Imprisonment?
Or peace?
What strains of music accompany a life?
The second passes away...
Leaving stardust of unanswered questions...
Then the next few seconds are dimpled with another question
Am thinking about flowers
Their songs and dainty vanity
Their dialogues with the roots
Their colour and adventures with the most dandy butterfly!!!
Leaving behind a powdery hue...
The next second am thinking about Irish guys...
Their guitars and stubble
The romantic countryside
The accursed idyllic
Move on thoughts...
Move on....
Seconds punctuated with craziness.....
Ah living....

7.03.2008

Kanha...when you left

The days were such that you left not to return
I was left just with shards of poetry piercing my memories
Days, good old days of laughter, mirth and tears
Tears of joy, tears of love and tears of the blue bangles
I broke...
You promised me green...
The green of the trees...
Of the grass where we lay...
That heaven of senses...
Your hand playing harp on my being
Every touch musical, every string resounding with ecstasy...
Now the opium of your touch
Feeds my imaginations...
Kills me slowly and leaves me empty...
Now green bangles don’t mingle with the rains,
Don’t tinkle with anticipation
Simply cling to my wrists,
Calmly submit to his touch and not even make a sound
My bangles have lost their tinkle
My poem has lost its lyrics
My monsoon has lost its green
My pale eyes mourn
The death of our togetherness
Alas am left with no more bangles to break
To shatter the myth of your being
And convince myself of the loss....

6.11.2008

I sense you..so far...sitting across and intently gazing into my eyes...Osho says the chase is exciting...so we all get a thrill out of it...then it gets all monotonous...i simply couldn't outlive that monotony...n now they'll slit my throat...under anesthesia of course...how i wished you would be there holding my hand while i regain my senses..mutter you name...so very filmy nah!!!but i actually want you to be there....
Wishing one moment you would do the honours...one moment silent and one moment not being able to live with the thought that someone's gonna hurt me...so what even if its for my good...
You always want to protect me...dont you??
why does you gaze have to be so intense always???
just like my prince charming...
Get me nishigandha in the hospital....
I want you to see the delight in my eyes when i see those colourless flowers...tuberoses!!!i bet you would never know!!!
That i love flowers generally...and you bringing them to me especially.....
Will you donate blood? There are more like me...
I need you
I need your blood
I need your being...
and maybe that boredom of yours that drove us apart!!!
To be a predator and act prey!!!
Pray why????
Amen.//

6.01.2008

P for Pain

Pain?Any takers?
Addiction?
Any takers?
Well addiction of pain?
Imagine pain, lots of pain...yet you want more...
A craving you cant overcome...
Slowly it drills into your being...
Bit by bit... blowing off those tiny shards of being...
Replacing it by some alien fluid you thought was yours..
There it fuses so brilliantly with black..the newly sprung droplet of blood..
Suddenly it’s a tiny string of droplets..of blood...
Wish could string them n wear them..they’d go best with my latest designer dress...
Now you have more..more of those perfectly formed droplets...
So marveled they are by their being that they forget their discipline...
Their duty..to spring forth and ooze out...
Now there is more drilling...
The mechanical sound fills my ears...
A long forgotten memory from the distant future...
A skilled cosmic dentist clearing plaque from the jaws of Uncertainity...
Making them sharper and more poised for the job...
Now they snap!!!now they nip!
How they grab and rip!
More droplets...now streams...
Pain...more pain
The most testing moment...
Radical and bare
Too true to be analyzed...
Just worth the experience
There filled all the cavities
With colour, with thorns
Jesus must have been a adept lover..
Of her....
Pain....how she torments...
How she lusts and seduces...
Ah Pain...
Now the drill is replaced...
Its needles now...
Warm and moist with blood..
Fresh and flowing....
Like the Nile....
Or the Volga...
Full of blood of patriots and poets...
Of tears and wasted sweat...
But nothing like the Ganga...
Pain is not as pure as her...
She is more sinful
Just like a delicious chocolate cake...
Sinfully alluring and inviting...
Pain..
More of her....
There now it gains
A final delightful shape...
A rose
Without thorns
Pain...
How endearing...
How enduring...
Pain...
A high greater than nicotine and grass
A phase that I just don’t want to pass....

5.13.2008

glue

The more i plunge in myself
The more stuck I get,
to my own being...
It's like falling in a huge glue tub
It sticks to you, in tiny strings
small filaments and
tacky little fibres....
The more i try coming out
It extends and stretches
All across my being
Why so many bonds?
So much adhesion
So much connection
To a self that dies
Every moment
To a new self born,
Every moment
Stuck unstuck
Every relation
Stuck unstuck
My two fingers...
Stuck unstuck
My two beings
Stuck unstuck...

5.12.2008

For a dear friend...whom I dare not even dream to lose....


What should I say?
I feel the vacuum,
Can touch it if I stretch my hand...
Don’t yell, don’t cry,
Your name has dried on my lips
Before it reached you...
The bells chime,
It’s about time,
That without memories,
I left you...
Lonely planet
And its single song...
So long my dear...
So long...