The advent of joy

A pellucid drape of beauty and mirth,
the cadence of which allows thought;
that of the inornate waterfall…eternal;
a billowing verve, an aura embracing life.
I wonder how so the entirety drenches,
lost in your love so virgin…


The wishes you caress,
those set afloat by closed eyes and whispers,
bloom as our morning flowers…
a reason to behold the rapture.
The worlds decorate themselves thus,
an indulgence you jauntily offer.

The untold stories of happiness,
those melodies that teemed with love,
the clandestine plans for celebrations,
the festival of rapture.
A blessing as they say you are to the worlds,
an occasion rejoiced where we blend with bliss.

A dream’s expression....

A dream’s expression

Embark it does, like a melody sung,

just from those sprightful verses.

Astounded how emotions weave a form,

a concert I see, verses that get composed.

Sublime they were, I am embraced.

Immortal dreams in love’s placenta.

Waking up, to be left amazed in mirth,

picture I, petals and butterflies, not verses.

So in bliss, purity of which enraptures.

Away though from that aria,

a blanket of dreams billows,

enwreathing and exalting cognition to love.

I wonder how every dawn is eager of,

if it were just the ballads,

rehearsals of whom culminate now.

The frenzy in the performance,

reflects the overwhelming desire to impress…

where love takes over, silencing the artless.

The happiness waiting

The trance in a string of stars,

a scintillating pathway for wishes;

the teasing whispers and kisses,

soft blows of the breeze but lingers.

The heart pounding for the glimpse.

The moon, the cadence of,

Something said aloud, that was held back;

Spoken aloud a dream that was,

A vignette no more, but is life decorated with love.

Wishes whispered

Like a foot that lingers in wet grass,

a hair strand a finger in concert with,

wary though of the uneasiness,

a momentary fetish takes over,

waiting for the stupor to fade.

A dark night’s rain I walk in,

unruly twitches of leaves,

the falling rain drops to tease;

the chilly breeze and scents linger,

fidgeting with the overflow of emotions.

A compulsion to hug someone,

some wishes that wish to be whispered,

I wallow in myself, in disconcert.

A frenzy hoping for harmony,

a frenzy in an embosom!

I accept

I accept!

I didn’t like anyone talk about it, especially my mother or wife, but it had somehow become a part of my life by then. To sit in a prayer or to accept whatever bad happened to me as a punishment for something I might have done wrong sometime or to sleep in a proper position or respect some rituals. It was too deep around…it had to seep in.

But what can you do, it was a great boon to be born as a Brahmin in India and to live a life of one; you had to do what every other man did.

(Sheep).

I wanted to be radical and modern because I saw my friends turn atheists and they called it modern and hip. I wanted to be hip too. I did not you know, I did not…though I had the chance.

They told me that though some rites needn’t have any meaning or logic, since some of them did, we had to accept everything. I said ok…not feeling compelled to argue. I felt it was fair enough.

I thought I liked the prashad and the hymns…also the calm and soothing atmosphere of the temples. I accompanied my family on the trips to the temples. I used to even put on a tilak.

I did question about the rites when I got very angry, then things used to go bad, bringing me back to accepting it as a punishment for my blasphemy. It was blasphemy, wasn’t it?

I had to trust the lord in my hardships; I prayed to him and promised to break coconuts at his feet if my wishes were to be fulfilled or if I wanted something badly. (I am sorry that I used to forget his benevolence after it though). I used to pray saying “only this time lord, from next time, I will work on my own and make you proud…since they say God helps the one who helps himself.”

He listened.

I also let my wife teach my children about the rites, they weren’t allowed to ridicule them! How dare they!

You are listening, aren’t you?

You know, I even built my walls according to vaasthu. I hated the look on the pandit’s face when he accepted his ransom for his service. I didn’t hate a man of God you see, it was just his thoughts.

Yes, I used to smoke and drink, and sometimes have hash too…but you see, they were all the part of this God’s world isn’t it? And we have access to all of the parts. It was allowed.

Yes, I spat on my face in the mirror when I failed, I shouted and spited the lord, but as his children, we can express our feelings can’t we?

The logs are placed, with dung cakes. Somebody circles around them. Some hymns, some sob.

I..I…err...I am a good man; I made some mistakes, but who doesn’t? Eh? I am a man of God; I just proved it to you…didn’t I…

I can’t be free if you don’t nod…please oh please!

I agree they made me so scared now, but I am scared and that is not a good thing! I am suddenly trusting their gobbledygook…but I do trust it don’t I? Don’t abandon me…please!

See, it is so much a part of my system now that I can only think about that now!

Oh! I told you the truth, I hate it, but I accepted it…that takes a lot of will power! Please… please!

Fire is lit. Some wail there…someone wails.

He tried hard to make up.