tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45173756654947365622024-03-18T00:19:24.754-07:00Lasting ImpressionsFleeting, lasting, deep, light, amusing, thought-provoking... All that I encounter.Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.comBlogger653125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-76540023335118631992024-03-18T00:18:00.000-07:002024-03-18T00:18:47.480-07:00Just a House<p>Ritu returned from work and opened the door of her house. She felt the door of the opposite house open behind her. She turned back. There was no one there. The house had all the tell-tale signs of shifting - discarded papers, clothes, some small broken furniture pieces, some tapes... oh, this and that.</p><p>She turned around and memories flashed, of hopping over for a chit-chat once in a while. As she stared, it felt a little surrealistic--not seeing the lady of the house, Sneha, smile and welcome her in for a cup of tea. But Sneha's words rang in her ears, for it always circled back to the same things. The litany about her various ailments, the difficulty of managing her mother-in-law in the old age, how burdened her husband was... As if on cue, the husband joining them, complaining about the ineffective association, the problem with water or electricity or parking.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Ritu would sit through with a smile, waiting for a pause when she could leave without offending. Though she tried to avoid going there as much as possible, it would have been rude to always refuse the invitation. And, Sneha made wonderful coffee.</p><p>But when she returned to her house, she would pour it all out to her husband, Ravi.</p><p>Now, the house seemed to open a part of itself to her. See, she is gone... All this will also go away. Ritu stepped into the house tentatively, wondering why they had not locked when leaving. Then, she realised there were some people inside still, removing the A/C or something else. She quickly backed off but stood surveying what little she could see from the doorway.</p><p>The layout is exactly the same as your current house, it seemed to be telling her. She knew that of course. The same nice verandah... She stood frozen, wondering if she was losing her mind. I know you. You are one of the who have walked in and laughed and chatted... Won't you be mine? </p><p>Startled at the voice in her head, she looked closely. It was the same layout, of course. The lighting, though, was different, she assessed, unable to feel sentimental about that house. She turned back to her door and went into the house </p><p>She remained pensive and thoughtful, thinking of the strange experience, or, was it just her imagination?</p><p>Ritu and Ravi had moved into this house a year and a half ago. An apartment in a gated community in the heart of the city. Though the complex was several years old, it was spic and span and even had some modern facilities such as a community hall, a gym and a park. Its old residents took pride not only in the appearance of the complex but also ensured it was lively and vibrant. Social, cultural and religious activities over the years had created a special bond so that whether people lived there or moved out, they continued to remain connected. Newcomers were welcomed with warmth and drawn into the celebrations. Ritu and Ravi had been reluctant initially to take up the place as it lacked covered car park or a swimming pool. But the central locality at a rent lower than what the modern apartments charged was what fitted their pocket.</p><p>After setting up the house, Ritu often sat back enjoying the decor. It was well-ventilated and throbbed with vitality. "I wish we could buy this house. Do you want to ask the owner if he is thinking of selling it any time?" she asked Ravi.</p><p>Ravi dismissed it. "No one does that."</p><p>Though she didn't think that was a reason not to do so now, she let it be... allowing herself time to settle down. Maybe, with time, her thinking may change or his will. </p><p>"Today, our neighbour knocked on the door," she informed him. "Sneha. That's her name. She is friendly, smiling. Told me all the gossip about the complex."</p><p>He smiled knowingly. "You must have had a good time?"</p><p>She chuckled. "Well, it was entertaining but, really, she complains a lot. About everything. Oh, she asked me why she never heard any sound from our house. Apparently, the previous tenants used to fight a lot. But she knows you do chanting in the morning and can guess the dishes I cook from the aroma that wafts." Ravi also laughed. She wagged a finger, "You cannot complain about my food any more. She guessed that I loved making sambar the most and every time she smells it, her mouth waters."</p><p>"She hasn't tasted it yet," he joked, earning a slap on the arm.</p><p>"Oh, and she has so many ailments... I mean, not just she, but her mother-in-law, her husband, and even their son who lives abroad! She kind of listed them all."</p><p>A year had passed in the blink of the eye. Slowly, Ravi also seemed to have been charmed by the place. "Our house owner is not selling this place," he said regretfully, surprising her. </p><p>"You asked him!?" He nodded. </p><p>"Shall I ask around if anything is coming up for sale?"</p><p>"I checked. Nothing..."</p><p>"Oh," she said, disappointed. The two kept asking the manager and the watchman. And then, Sneha told her one day, "We are moving out, to another apartment in the outskirts."</p><p>"What are you planning to do about this house?" Ritu couldn't help. "Rent it out?"</p><p>"No, we haven't decided yet... But, maybe sell it off."</p><p>"Can you let know when you do decide?" Ritu asked. "We are looking for a house here."</p><p>"Ok! I will talk to my husband and get back tonight itself!" </p><p>Ritu was excited and called Ravi to inform him of the possibility. He was also excited and they waited eagerly for the call. Their joy knew no bounds when Sneha called that evening to say they would be selling it and shared the price they were expecting. Ritu thanked her and conveyed the information to Ravi. They sat back and grinned. They had anticipated the price and figured out how much loan they would have to take. "Shall we tell her to hold it for us? I will talk to the bank tomorrow," Ravi suggested.</p><p>She nodded. "Let's talk in the morning, though..." Ritu cautioned, fearing her heart would fly out - that's how light and elated it was. She was afraid to take any decision in that state of mind. But, it was a foregone conclusion. It was going to be a yes, of course.</p><p>And here she was, still undecided. She wanted the house to be empty so that she could walk through the house and get a feel. But the peek into the house made her pause.</p><p>Will Sneha and her difficulties always plague her thoughts? Will she feel like an imposter in that house? Most of the times, of late, she had only seen Sneha going to the hospital for herself or her mother-in-law, or her husband talking about the difficult times.</p><p>"Don't be silly, you will forget her in no time," he reassured her. </p><p> Next morning, she opened her front door and stood staring at the opposite door, which was locked. But in a flash, she remembered one of the rare occasions when she had seen the mother-in-law near the door. "Are you excited about shifting to the new house?" she had asked.</p><p>"They are sending me off to the old age home," the lady said, her eyes sparkling with tears. "Sneha is also getting old and unable to take care. If her son needs her, she is unable to go."</p><p>It is the new house which is making it happen, not me! She thought she heard the house cry out, seeing the pain on her face. She stared at the door, quelling her mind that was projecting her thoughts on the door. She heard a chuckle followed by a silence.</p><p>"No," she told Ravi. "We will wait. The light and ventilation aren't right," she said.</p><p>She feared she will go mad, get afflicted with something there.</p><p>The house was sold in no time. The new neighbours invited Ritu and Ravi to the house warming ceremony in a friendly gesture.</p><p>"You missed an opportunity," the doorway seemed to say as she crossed the threshold and went in, taking in the bright lights and the beautiful decor.</p><p>Ritu regretted not buying the house. "Tche! Couldn't you have said something? Been more firm?" she blamed Ravi. Her disappointment turned sour and she became dour, complaining about the new neighbours, the parties they hosted, the music they played... The happiness that emanated from that house seemed to turn into poison by the time it reached Ritu's ears. She complained no end of smells and noises, and soon, of ill health.</p><p>Ravi sighed helplessly and thought. "Looks like whatever spirit possessed that house now has a hold on you, dear." Indeed, of late, she reminded him of Sneha.</p><p><br /></p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-82940553894331763132024-02-03T04:15:00.000-08:002024-02-03T04:18:25.693-08:00The Servant of God - Through Padma Shri Muthukannammal's Eyes<p>Every story has two sides to it. But sometimes, one voice gets lost in the clamour for change. </p><p>Change is inevitable. Change can be good. But for some, the change means losing their very livelihood.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRxx49YCq6_qDdT7Z9UYItOKLvwOE-IPv-7FgvfndvkBXIIxFM4QOV5RTEFn0pdMniggzWXLJ-aA3hqMDTrC-Z6ybcQYFi0d3LGQKArOvMgbm4gA90IutzcWnx0t-yxqpk2Z7_BQZXMe8HVcjMK3rMKI-Y47qOEq9otMFwSNIJ70WadMIzGEfxWMvVhGY/s1599/SMM.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1599" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRxx49YCq6_qDdT7Z9UYItOKLvwOE-IPv-7FgvfndvkBXIIxFM4QOV5RTEFn0pdMniggzWXLJ-aA3hqMDTrC-Z6ybcQYFi0d3LGQKArOvMgbm4gA90IutzcWnx0t-yxqpk2Z7_BQZXMe8HVcjMK3rMKI-Y47qOEq9otMFwSNIJ70WadMIzGEfxWMvVhGY/s320/SMM.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Srikant and I with Muthukannammal</i></td></tr></tbody></table>This can be the story of any individual, industry, or profession.<p></p><p>Today, I write about the Devadasis.<br /><br /></p><p>I am not the first to write about it, but this may be the first time you hear of it. So, I write. </p><p>Not the whole story, for who can know what the whole story was? But I write of one woman, and only as she narrated it to me.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Her world turned topsy-turvy seventy years ago, but now, as if coming a full circle, she is being recalled for a craft that may die with her in the form she knew it.</p><p><b>Breaking Myths</b></p><p>When working on an article on the Sabha Culture in Chennai during the month of Margazhi (Dec 15-Jan 15), I read up on some parts of the history of Bharatanatyam. Despite having learnt the art for several years before that, my focus was confined to learning the performing aspects only. I always assumed that Bharatanatyam existed from the times of Sage Bharata who wrote the Natya Shastra as Bharatanatyam. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dytEfvO5BHjYQGn-CWNgdXJcL1_xGgaKSsKAYCAaCWe15lh1gq4VmtFyQSdPTXvaKf_wJXtRZyO6d83fSlQ0w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />When doing the article, I came to know that Bharatanatyam itself is of recent origin and that it was called Sadir in its earlier avatar, when it was performed in the temples. The performers were called Devadasis, the servants of Devas or Gods. <p></p><p>In fact, Raja Raja Chola brought 400 devadasis from different places and provided them with housing around the Brihadeshwara or Big Temple. Their houses had nameplates bearing their names. </p><p>With the invasion by the Vijayanagara dynasty, things did change and the dancers and others who served in the temple suffered. But not everyone had a fall in status. Though they were married to the deity, movies represented them as ladies with a dubious reputation. </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJM1Y_UbbBh1Q9It-CF-aG8AtxfLYpCvXr2ET_pm3PXvViPcQpJT3UhV68MstvW-n8WJh4gtBXGX4pu44MQ74XU_SjgaHX1gCDY86RS0mlazjSChKC8UOyr-h71u1bJu4dB_JwZAROY5Rzb5C21AASAElbhri30HOkhDovbuc_BoFb09Lghl7Yyzgtz2MW/s1280/Married%20to%20the%20Lord.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJM1Y_UbbBh1Q9It-CF-aG8AtxfLYpCvXr2ET_pm3PXvViPcQpJT3UhV68MstvW-n8WJh4gtBXGX4pu44MQ74XU_SjgaHX1gCDY86RS0mlazjSChKC8UOyr-h71u1bJu4dB_JwZAROY5Rzb5C21AASAElbhri30HOkhDovbuc_BoFb09Lghl7Yyzgtz2MW/s320/Married%20to%20the%20Lord.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Married to the Lord</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Maybe there was some truth to it, though it was not the complete truth. The system had survived for several centuries till the British came. They looked down on the system without understanding the context or the history. These were women who were employed by the temple to take care of a variety of temple-related tasks. They had to live by certain rules, but there are always exceptions. The colonial government viewed the exception as the rule and set about abolishing it.<p></p><p>Then a girl belonging to one such family came with fire in her eyes to lend voice to the British view and reform and uplift the women working in the temple. She strove hard, broke away from her roots, and, with the support of another revolutionary man, backed the law that banned the Devadasi system. Overnight, these women were banned from entering the temples and some had to resort to the very thing they were accused of doing. For others, it was a life of difficulties and challenges.</p><p><b>Rising like the Phoenix</b></p><p>You may put rocks in the path of water but you can never stop it. If Sadir seemed to be losing its foothold, it was taken up by another revolutionary woman who reshaped and re-presented it as Bharatanatyam. Other gurus belonging to the tradition kept the spirit of this divine art alive by taking on students wishing to learn this art. Over the years, having been evicted from the temples, it has reached almost every household, not only in the state of its origin, but even in far-flung countries such as America, Russia, and even Japan! While many belonging to the Devadasi tradition chose to dissociate themselves from this art, in the secular world, this has many more takers.</p><p><b>Meeting a Relic</b></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezntGFfGEcg3MvMv5FD103L-AWoGsHJ10CdHl5aZdWAuKpJuQiwYxCLSLfZgLY8t9JWtDUSI_Gf4S00GZLxB9g3Vh2J1aS5uugK-WrKO4FfOl4G6RZE-ZA4xnFrLMtffYVFZ30Bbjtlq3ELIJ6VJCm7hwY3vR2XwXWWpysm7Hq5SOcIPD1Y1UIuZ1eZd3/s1599/Nattuvangam.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1599" data-original-width="899" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezntGFfGEcg3MvMv5FD103L-AWoGsHJ10CdHl5aZdWAuKpJuQiwYxCLSLfZgLY8t9JWtDUSI_Gf4S00GZLxB9g3Vh2J1aS5uugK-WrKO4FfOl4G6RZE-ZA4xnFrLMtffYVFZ30Bbjtlq3ELIJ6VJCm7hwY3vR2XwXWWpysm7Hq5SOcIPD1Y1UIuZ1eZd3/s320/Nattuvangam.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Nattuvangam her <br />father used</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br />One such Devadasi or Devar Adiyal - servant of God - is Muthukannammal. She was born in the family of a Nattuvanar, the dance guru who wielded the cymbal-like instrument called Nattuvangam. Her father Sri Ramachandran was a well-respected guru in Virali Malai where the presiding deity is Lord Subrahmanyan, a form of Muruga, seated on a peacock with Valli and Devayanai. The temple is atop a small hill with 200 steps. <p></p><p>The dancers and others associated with the temple had duties such as maintaining the temple premises, looking after the deity's comforts, and other responsibilities associated with temple rituals. They would go up and down at least twice a day to be part of the temple rituals without fail. They had to perform during the festival. Their whole life revolved around the temple and they received a minimum salary plus rice, lands and other benefits. They had to sign an attendance, and on the days they were absent, they had to make alternate arrangements and forfeit the rice they received from the temple.</p><p>The ladies wore saris to perform and the jewellery was always made of gold and precious stones. Easily they danced wearing 10kgs worth of jewellery on them! They performed on the temple premises, and during processions, on the streets. They had no mics and were expected to sing and dance. There would be pin-drop silence as people watched them perform. They would also perform on special occasions in other temples and for the Pudukottai Maharaja who was the patron of the temple. As they walked to those far-off places or went in bullock carts, they would learn new compositions on the way. </p><p>As the dancers were always accompanied by their entourage of musicians, they were never really alone</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiAxYOb84y4H9PBDMr0n9BO5Y6QrSTshqLpoLWPPltej8psqpFWg6TqmLv4s1WlOYSAXtBUaqZwesm4Gxtzvxuyz9swX4CwCt6AdskLSBykjcph8d71CsdCDAB1yQxNfuZD1yh9LoxQA1fy3ScQT23UxpP8xE1JSb6IehWikY7a4oilRdkzuUmknaALTOj/s1599/Bells.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1599" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiAxYOb84y4H9PBDMr0n9BO5Y6QrSTshqLpoLWPPltej8psqpFWg6TqmLv4s1WlOYSAXtBUaqZwesm4Gxtzvxuyz9swX4CwCt6AdskLSBykjcph8d71CsdCDAB1yQxNfuZD1yh9LoxQA1fy3ScQT23UxpP8xE1JSb6IehWikY7a4oilRdkzuUmknaALTOj/s320/Bells.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The bells were sturdy, made of brass</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> or vulnerable. They were well taken care of and respected. They were educated and spiritual. Their mornings were dedicated to learning the art, and the afternoon, going to the school. According to Muthukannammal, her grandaunt had taken Siva Deeksha and attained samadhi.<p></p><div>When the law prohibiting the devadasi system was implemented, they were not allowed time to transition out of it. They were, what we understand today as, laid off with no warning. This was a hard blow for them for they had specialized in one area and could not adapt quickly. Muthukannammal's family had to pay taxes suddenly and they sold their property to do that. Reduced to penury overnight, they sold her jewels one by one to survive.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>In These Times</b></div><p>She still lives close to the temple. One of her sons-in-law raised her situation a little and the next generation is trying to find a footing through modern education and jobs. She herself came back into the limelight when a documentary was made on her. She received the Padma Shri in 2022 and was recognized as the seventh-generation Sadir dancer. But, there is no one from her family to carry her legacy forward.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMS-3rfO8gnxSexRpXU_CVVx8B5RtNbp0dtZisKAIsdUeejCp9i8EBz3yyfolNQtCrGTXqwfQrnoJV1aQvFtf8q-Xvx8albHWoSzSi82fkStcrG7Sdh2SKMJfAP2Bksoa4vwI5ndHG2rHx0cXoAMZj49OAjIMVFmud5HHFORC7s9MOnguvGDlLNNAyG4ub/s1599/Awards.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1599" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMS-3rfO8gnxSexRpXU_CVVx8B5RtNbp0dtZisKAIsdUeejCp9i8EBz3yyfolNQtCrGTXqwfQrnoJV1aQvFtf8q-Xvx8albHWoSzSi82fkStcrG7Sdh2SKMJfAP2Bksoa4vwI5ndHG2rHx0cXoAMZj49OAjIMVFmud5HHFORC7s9MOnguvGDlLNNAyG4ub/s320/Awards.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Recognition finds her in her old age</i></td></tr></tbody></table>That must hurt. For, even as we were speaking, despite her 87 years, she would burst out into the songs she performed for back then with ease, with appropriate hand gestures to go with the lyrics. She told me how the compositions would pan out.<p></p><p>Virali Malai had thirty-two dancers. The rest of them are no more and their families are lost in the sands of time. Though she spoke with quiet pride about her legacy, I wondered how her children felt about it. For them, growing up in penury, it must have felt like a curse.</p><p>I am reminded of the Shakespearean imagery - throwing the baby with the bath water... In trying to eradicate a system that was viewed with Western sensibilities, the plight of the people dependent on that system was neglected.</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHDJ8rRJonWQcVTRgRksLzQC0xyXkdcMYoPwYLAHw9SLb8W_eUC-9Y7AYbT5whAf1rDMGVM6dHECX0-qcSDiehO-3qDKfPmg2XvS4dsjU-YAZScPFvP6qbm5FsaYOw3swBaMODXL-evZ4NwJ01J5l8LM_G2DInw7jCxGULImx2fqIdcb1ObJkEpSjOuzR/s1280/Ram%20Coronation%20Dance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHDJ8rRJonWQcVTRgRksLzQC0xyXkdcMYoPwYLAHw9SLb8W_eUC-9Y7AYbT5whAf1rDMGVM6dHECX0-qcSDiehO-3qDKfPmg2XvS4dsjU-YAZScPFvP6qbm5FsaYOw3swBaMODXL-evZ4NwJ01J5l8LM_G2DInw7jCxGULImx2fqIdcb1ObJkEpSjOuzR/s320/Ram%20Coronation%20Dance.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>One of Sri Madeswaran's <br />artworks</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I am grateful to Sri Madeshwaran, my children's Tamil teacher who is managing a school down south, for insisting that I meet this lady. He himself is on a mission to bring to light their true history, restore dignity to the Devadasis and identify the tasks they performed, depicting them as drawings of exceptional quality. </p><p>We may stand from afar and judge whether the change was for the best or not. But for those who experienced it, it is a pain that even the subsequent generations are facing.</p><p>I can only think that we still had the last laugh as a nation. What someone couldn't accept as art is now making deep inroads into their own civilization and being sought after for its classicity. In this land, temples conduct events where dancers are invited to perform. It may not look and feel the same, but it is here, for sure, to stay. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwarzXt27TcjOU3AvWV9BhBYHsZvVt5jwq0iTT4VKYoBSf4RcJ_KT-LXHELDfMWCA2G2-ZLFc4ZySd7kD_TAQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-33574259963370860972024-01-08T09:39:00.000-08:002024-01-08T09:47:20.799-08:00The View<p>Sundar unpacked his bags and looked out the window of the modest accommodation he had been allotted in the village. The fields spread out for miles around, intersected by roads carrying speeding cars. Very few commuters turned into the village itself but played touch-and-go with the cafe on the main road. A branch of a popular chain, this particular outlet was not very profitable but was sustainable and surviving because of some travelers who preferred its hygienic interiors to some of the more seedy messes nearby. But those messes, in fact, made more money because the local populace thronged there.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Sundar chuckled as he continued unpacking. He also had viewed the mess a little sceptically when his employer told him he could get food from there. When he went in there soon after reaching the village, he realised that it was not unhygienic, just a little dimly lit and run by people wearing lungis and t-shirt instead of the more formal shirt and pants in the cafe. Oh, yes, Sundar had joined the cafe as its manager. He could have one meal there but not all. Sundar had liked the mess food this morning. It was homely, less pricey, and friendly.</p><p>He changed and walked down to the cafe half a kilometer away, taking in the sights. He greeted the cleaning lady and the man behind the counter. He didn't know if he was really needed in this cafe so out of the way of modern civilization, but the owner was finding it difficult to monitor the operations and needed an experienced hand. It suited Sundar fine. He was also finding it hard to manage his life in the city and wanted a quiet place to lick his wounds. Less work was just fine. He couldn't go back to staring at the screen anymore, writing codes, or making software work. Meeting deadlines, handling client calls, running after targets - he felt burnt out. All he got to see when he looked up from his screen was the wall of his cubicle. Smoke breaks took him to a high-traffic street outside, amidst the noise of horns and speeding vehicles. A recently built flyover had blocked all view of the sky that he could see earlier. He felt choked, and the dreaded the thought of continuing. One day, he just put in his papers. An impulse that didn't go down well with his parents. "You are 30 and not married. Who will marry you now?" his mother asked, concerned. "Don't expect us to support you," his father said more sternly.</p><p>Sundar sighed. He would have liked to marry and have children too. Or not. He realised he felt no longing or regrets. Just total numbness. Like the impersonal vehicles on the road, his life too seemed to have sped past, leaving him standing, a mute spectator.</p><p>The living dead. Without even the accompanying horror.</p><p>He looked up from his small office and the greenery greeted him pleasantly, making him feel his gently beating heart. He leaned back on the chair and stared out, without any worries about missing deadlines or disgruntled clients. It had been a mere stroke of luck that he had chanced on this opportunity.</p><p>Would he get bored of this, ever? He didn't think so.</p><p>He took a longer walk back home, exploring the village a little more. There were two to three temples, a mosque and a church. There was a primary health centre and a school. There were some government offices as this was a bigger village catering to the neighbouring villages.</p><p>He started helping the children with their subjects in the evenings and mingled with the villagers, participating in their concerns, helping them find solutions, and giving a helping hand when he could. He felt at home here. He would sit by a pond or a field in the evenings looking at the far off hills and the floating clouds.</p><p>But his highlight, his anchor, was the greenery across the window. That is what held him here.</p><p>The sleepy village woke up one morning to an exciting news. Development was finally going to visit them... The government had decided to construct a flyover to speed up traffic movement. Sundar was the only one disturbed by it. The route hardly deserved one, but then, there were such grand plans for the future! Who was he to question it? Not even a cog in the wheel.</p><p>His disturbance turned to dismay as the wall to support the flyover started being raised. It cut across the road right opposite the cafe, blocking all view of the fields.</p><p>Sundar stood with his hands in his pockets. Just as his life seemed to open up, it seemed to have come to a standstill, hit a roadblock. Here he was, staring at a wall again!</p><p>The cafe picked up business. Indeed, traffic on the road increased and many travelers stopped by. But for Sundar, it seemed like his world had come to a standstill.</p><p>When he resigned and left for an unknown destination, the owner grumbled, "All these city-breds, can't take the village life for long. Think it's easy life here."</p><p>Sundar smiled sardonically, walking deeper into the villages, looking for greener pastures. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-62274155952579781842023-10-22T03:30:00.004-07:002023-10-22T03:38:46.897-07:00Tiger = Maya<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpM0aOpWcRVeL3dYoWxTgOKtxS4nxT26anMwhgW5AAn7xCZhKD1iI_ILZFYBXbK3Q0uhkbk8t_9efjo4IOpB0ntOmQMozDu4XNCF10F3Y1D3xtfjAA8BoTDFlIYdDmTtVDvhwApMtP_aTQTtOAnnXGxtEq6f9rQFWcN84voHEvlq10oBCwsw5freZMTRtm/s2592/IMG_1956.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpM0aOpWcRVeL3dYoWxTgOKtxS4nxT26anMwhgW5AAn7xCZhKD1iI_ILZFYBXbK3Q0uhkbk8t_9efjo4IOpB0ntOmQMozDu4XNCF10F3Y1D3xtfjAA8BoTDFlIYdDmTtVDvhwApMtP_aTQTtOAnnXGxtEq6f9rQFWcN84voHEvlq10oBCwsw5freZMTRtm/w296-h222/IMG_1956.JPG" width="296" /></a></div>From the moment we head towards the forests begins the excitement of seeking an elusive pleasure, seeing the predator, the king of that particular jungle. There could be a myriad of other animals, easy to spot, but it is that shy tiger, leopard, or lion that has our whole heart. Always, our heart seeks that which is not easily available. We run after money, jewels, fancy cars, or other luxury items, seeking validation for our existence in these material things. Similarly, as a visitor to the jungles, our heart seeks only a glimpse of the tiger to make us feel the trip was a success.<br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ABKTqWMSqhvJrZ0ZJdW2VVizk5ch_oiYx2iH7F-8TlI-CFjJ6zxF0vsqg3f8qm8ELT0XitvGTI_a4SIkqCjcOPYXG64xc7_Q1blLMWRpz6qAiimla_Qoc4LI92EIHliCCOSejiGI8Jz1Bk_wvF3t-toQrtJcTuZS8H45AqdO9QOT5MmkSWt2fM-oQkot/s2592/IMG_1651.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ABKTqWMSqhvJrZ0ZJdW2VVizk5ch_oiYx2iH7F-8TlI-CFjJ6zxF0vsqg3f8qm8ELT0XitvGTI_a4SIkqCjcOPYXG64xc7_Q1blLMWRpz6qAiimla_Qoc4LI92EIHliCCOSejiGI8Jz1Bk_wvF3t-toQrtJcTuZS8H45AqdO9QOT5MmkSWt2fM-oQkot/w278-h209/IMG_1651.JPG" width="278" /></a></div>We go up and down the jungle path, on the periphery allowed for human movement, scanning the bushes on the side for even a shadowy sighting of the predator. Any pugmark of the animal sighted on the floor has us excited and eager to run in the possible direction the animal has gone, hoping to see it drinking water or resting. "There, there! I think I see something," someone in the jeep we are on whispers and all of us crane our necks and peer intensely in that direction. <p></p><p>Sometimes, it is nothing. Sometimes, it is another animal - a deer - peacefully chewing the grass and letting us know that there is nothing menacing around it.</p><p>And sometimes, there is one, trying to avoid the human eyes and hiding behind the bushes. It is not scared. Just not interested. Supremely disinterested. It is a direct contrast to all the bubbling excitement overflowing from the human in the jeep. The frantic photography and video capture is met with yawns and a brushing aside attitude. That's what makes it the king?</p><p style="text-align: left;">It makes me laugh at us humans. It is like wealth. There is no guarantee who will see it that day. There is no apparently deserving candidate. The person could be a photographer or a casual visitor who does not even respect the rules of the forest safari - like staying quiet. It could be a hit or miss sighting, or a long view as the tiger or lion walks a stretch in front of us! </p><p>Once, we had to be content with just hearing the lion roar in the Gir forest and count it as a sighting.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDPNkUpvHFGxRhF_mnkR1-jfSSQuMxjcwMyeOmJ0md22f9VL5uO67ifv76xw-rURZkSegMpLLxb_vVRvXwWQNpEBtzjyIXzKWxBEewuXh8FTjPe0irdcGjf2PtSHyxIt36Ui1fA_KZQOJ-1E5fpWM96YHvPwYAwWeveItl3R1mztEwHfQxV2d_JGXex2LY/s2592/IMG_1888.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDPNkUpvHFGxRhF_mnkR1-jfSSQuMxjcwMyeOmJ0md22f9VL5uO67ifv76xw-rURZkSegMpLLxb_vVRvXwWQNpEBtzjyIXzKWxBEewuXh8FTjPe0irdcGjf2PtSHyxIt36Ui1fA_KZQOJ-1E5fpWM96YHvPwYAwWeveItl3R1mztEwHfQxV2d_JGXex2LY/w242-h182/IMG_1888.JPG" width="242" /></a></div>Another time, I remember seeing a tiger marking its territory in the Bandipur jungles. It looked at our jeep as we crossed it with a "Oh, you" look and went on about its business. We must have had a royal darshan of about nearly 20 minutes, which should have us feel contented. Then, as other jeeps started coming, it went behind the bushes. Some saw its vanishing tail and some, not even that. <p></p><p>The smart safari driver took us out to a point the tiger was likely to emerge from. It did arrive at that point eventually, but sat just behind, tantalisingly close and yet hidden from view!</p><p>Recently, in Ranthambore, we went up and down a path but missed seeing one. Then, as we came back down the path, the guide asked the driver to stop the jeep. There it was, a young tiger lying on a rock under the shadow of a thick canopy. We could spot it because it got up, turned and walked on.</p><p>That's all, but that image is still imprinted like holding on to some wealth for a few minutes before spending it all on repaying loans and other expenses. It was there one moment, gone the next!</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjeLXXSk3_5NV79vYJkNXLtP7hVVxIXlq63YihFhnLhVXJwaw_NUrGG1B1b95MREzJNSgEk5SRlMGsvLDQU1T0rc2qzCXdP7T3rFxMGL0rI7BHYBQ-CD_J6jX93XbO4YopPrkVvzUVZAoqpVlT3zsmdYYcjDotsVrali5dXl0vXXaKAoPHFayC9CLjB5P/s2048/391637823_10231695394145484_5024703010130602328_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjeLXXSk3_5NV79vYJkNXLtP7hVVxIXlq63YihFhnLhVXJwaw_NUrGG1B1b95MREzJNSgEk5SRlMGsvLDQU1T0rc2qzCXdP7T3rFxMGL0rI7BHYBQ-CD_J6jX93XbO4YopPrkVvzUVZAoqpVlT3zsmdYYcjDotsVrali5dXl0vXXaKAoPHFayC9CLjB5P/w255-h170/391637823_10231695394145484_5024703010130602328_n.jpg" width="255" /></a></p></blockquote><p>But soon after, an older tigress stood in our path, leisurely made it to the waterbody nearby and walked on the other side till she went behind the bushes! Another young tigress slept, woke up, slept and woke up - clearly visible and yet not entirely out in the open. She moved spots and still we waited, wondering if it was worth it. And it was, for we got a royal glimpse of her as she walked beside us, crossing and caring only for herself and her destination.</p><p><br /></p><p>But if sighting is a blessing, watching the animals mating or killing can send us into the next level of euphoria. What more can you ask for! But, wait, I have said that dialogue and heard many others say it after their first sighting. And yet, in every safari after that, our eagerness only increases. There is no satiating this thirst for sighting the predator. Sighting it clearly. And seeing it do different things - like scratch itself, yawn, chase each other, kill something, eat something, or even bare its fangs at us.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOn6VW2EDVMfhzVTutsvUKqhJFdNIyJOv2IKSf3oHluXoIoatnyf_gKc5GVSdLJY4jP9Ounn2AaCg140honjl5fM_GnybHaYfupD0hS_TNYCmyFmcURb1XxSazfNvT_FqG_OxsgcCPy-T8EObBS13iUvRHUiJh4btvfE5evWWKGWqOlPsVPNaJ7O6py_lN/s2048/391380878_10231695392225436_5809531346319973577_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOn6VW2EDVMfhzVTutsvUKqhJFdNIyJOv2IKSf3oHluXoIoatnyf_gKc5GVSdLJY4jP9Ounn2AaCg140honjl5fM_GnybHaYfupD0hS_TNYCmyFmcURb1XxSazfNvT_FqG_OxsgcCPy-T8EObBS13iUvRHUiJh4btvfE5evWWKGWqOlPsVPNaJ7O6py_lN/w298-h198/391380878_10231695392225436_5809531346319973577_n.jpg" width="298" /></a>When one morning we saw a tigress, again, just barely visible, we waited desperately, hoping for a clear sight. That didn't happen. Disappointed, we kept hovering after the other vehicles left when suddenly two calves belonging to the villagers walked that way looking for greener pasture. With the bells around their necks ringing, the two young cows looked like friends taking a stroll. "They are walking to sure death," the guide told us and we stood to watch from what we hoped was a vantage point. One moment there were two calves, the next, the tigress pounced and killed one. The survivor ran for its life leaving behind its friend. The tigress dragged the beast to the shadows and we had to be content, knowing she was eating but just vaguely making out the figures. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9GWitLNQU-bJK2VXaxHSAszib6Im9GjyxXPBLE70xCYZeQ2amWg36-rsqEiiIpGrAtiAU-LyxjbBYBGaZrP1iAry8DVZ-5GUXfD0sJwvfuYT7aZsmPgpqHBvrt91k8NiaeWzAqQWejDwfMUhS8K343qw86k-s2HGMe7DoaMHFzYrDufwaQAyF-k8vEo-/s2592/IMG_1667.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9GWitLNQU-bJK2VXaxHSAszib6Im9GjyxXPBLE70xCYZeQ2amWg36-rsqEiiIpGrAtiAU-LyxjbBYBGaZrP1iAry8DVZ-5GUXfD0sJwvfuYT7aZsmPgpqHBvrt91k8NiaeWzAqQWejDwfMUhS8K343qw86k-s2HGMe7DoaMHFzYrDufwaQAyF-k8vEo-/w274-h206/IMG_1667.JPG" width="274" /></a>Wait, did I say content? Oh, that word doesn't exist in safaris as in life. Every time we are on the safari, we want something more. And we are jealous when we hear of others having some unique experience - oh, I wish I had been there, I had seen that!</p><p><br />Yes, it is nothing but Maya - ironically, there was a tigress in Tadoba called just that, and how apt! When we have nothing, we want something. But when we get something, we want more and more! That's what makes us go back once every few months, and do many safaris each time!</p><p>There is no curing this except saying, enough, I have had enough! And that, with a camera in hand, is a tough thing to say. ///</p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-3129203297827168922023-09-17T06:33:00.001-07:002023-09-17T06:33:14.331-07:00The Stoic Hills<p>The mighty mountains<br />Silent and still<br />Unwavering in the<br />Temperamental wind</p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>Standing, not stagnating<br />Calm, not resigned<br />Reaching up to the skies<br />Without any fancy designs<p></p><p>The moving wind<br />Carrying the flaky clouds<br />That caress and kiss<br />Wrapping seductively around</p><p>Their attentiveness<br />Intense but brief<br />Soon to be gone<br />Seen off without grief</p><p>Up and down <br />The river flows<br />Lumbering and weaving<br />Touching its core</p><p>The same and yet not so<br />Rushing through<br />To make its way<br />To farther shores</p><p>The hills watch<br />Silent and withdrawn<br />Allowing passage<br />Watching it go, unmourned<br /><br />Coming and going<br />It observes unmoved<br />Waiting patiently<br />For its own time to go<br /><br />Undying and eternal<br />Although it may seem<br />When it crumbles<br />How many see?</p><p>Will it fear<br />Its time of death<br />Cry out for mercy<br />Or just drop its breath?</p><p>To be stoic and <br />Yet remain untouched<br />To watch and accept<br />And go with no regrets.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-2365240792293457572023-09-10T08:57:00.003-07:002023-09-10T09:03:25.752-07:00Between the Rock and a Soft Place<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZj-5w0jk4352K6Ec_TzQbSqB83bCg4ic2OeSIYj5YUV6nTwj8KYU-8SfddeL4uGIVYHTlEig1pzVHAKaPa7F8oFgk31jZfh0afhKFB1P2fbZmeIHEucel6cSgfajyzLAJluszG-3sKo29QqKTUKGTg0dnznGlpOWu9QKTgvrvF5AabAz2QmwpfzUyUYk9/s4624/IMG20230905093808.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3468" data-original-width="4624" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZj-5w0jk4352K6Ec_TzQbSqB83bCg4ic2OeSIYj5YUV6nTwj8KYU-8SfddeL4uGIVYHTlEig1pzVHAKaPa7F8oFgk31jZfh0afhKFB1P2fbZmeIHEucel6cSgfajyzLAJluszG-3sKo29QqKTUKGTg0dnznGlpOWu9QKTgvrvF5AabAz2QmwpfzUyUYk9/s320/IMG20230905093808.jpg" width="320" /></a>During my Kanchipuram trip with my cousins, I heard the two ladies discussing a trip to Coimbatore and Pollachi. They talked about when the husbands would be free and how many days they could travel.</p><p>"Hey, why am I not part of this planning?" I asked, puzzled at this whole plan I was ignorant about.</p><p>"Of course, you are part of it. Nothing is finalized yet," they said. </p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>"Why Pollachi?" I asked. One of the cousins said it was a rave place to go to, according to her friends. Lots of nature and waterfalls, etc.<p></p><p>I returned home excited and told my husband about it. He was also game to make the trip. But somehow, it wasn't happening.</p><p>Then I saw a message from a classmate in the girls' group asking if we could meet in Bangalore or Coimbatore. Guess my pick! She asked about Ooty, and, of course, that's not where I wanted to go. I talked about Pollachi, and before the other girls in my group could respond, she and I had decided on our trip. Luckily, only one other person showed interest in meeting in Bangalore. So we decided we will go to Pollachi. I booked tickets.</p><p><b>The Near-Fiasco</b></p><p>Details bother me and just booking train tickets makes me feel stressed. No, I don't stress easily. But forms and such make me flutter uncomfortably. When I started booking the train, I had to make sure that I was booking for the correct date, the correct time, and the correct destination. Onward and return. That's a lot for me! Most trains that are well-known were wait-listed and so I booked one which was an acronym with too many alphabets. But since I was not going to write an exam, I didn't pay attention. Just the timings seemed appropriate.</p><p>A night before I was to leave, IRCTC started sending me messages. I was initially amazed and then puzzled. But it didn't occur to me to check why I was getting messages of my train being delayed. I only opened my ticket to make sure I was to board on the date as scheduled.</p><p>Then, finally, a conversation with my hubby made me realise that my train originated in a different state a day before, which is why I was being told my train was an hour, two hours, three hours delayed. Too late, I panicked. My hubby contributed to it by reading reviews and informing me that it could even get delayed by as much as 44 hours!</p><p>In a trip planned for 48 hours, that didn't augur well. I scrambled for bus tickets at the last minute, decided to leave it all to the supreme and just enjoy getting away - whether a longish journey on the train or reach my destination and proceed as planned, albeit with some delay.</p><p>Luckily, the train wasn't too bad and there were no further delays. Instead of going to my friend's house on reaching the city to freshen up and have breakfast, which would have delayed us further, I told her to come to the station. I would find a way to freshen up.</p><p>I was pleasantly surprised to see an AC waiting hall with a bath facility at the Coimbatore station. Blessing the railways for providing such a facility and keeping it clean, I paid Rs 50 as was expected, and got ready. When we finally left Coimbatore, the net delay was only an hour or so from the originally planned schedule.</p><p><b>Mini Meghalaya</b></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAxALIP3GlWE8AyBGBnuHJZzDJ6p8ud8bq4eDW31repzeHxF1X9j-osgBHIj1Dsx7ezKmKQ3MyCNDoU39OCAxpjH0Npn5IHgWfr0DERwl1mwtFqUto7lscbsHatlkT9MzZlUA3ElFu_6nwlTmtj0lA-45Xl2TXmsdl9AK8uTS8cpt4AuKzc2jjmZey1PpN/s4624/IMG20230904132041.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3468" data-original-width="4624" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAxALIP3GlWE8AyBGBnuHJZzDJ6p8ud8bq4eDW31repzeHxF1X9j-osgBHIj1Dsx7ezKmKQ3MyCNDoU39OCAxpjH0Npn5IHgWfr0DERwl1mwtFqUto7lscbsHatlkT9MzZlUA3ElFu_6nwlTmtj0lA-45Xl2TXmsdl9AK8uTS8cpt4AuKzc2jjmZey1PpN/s320/IMG20230904132041.jpg" width="320" /></a>The city is surrounded by hills and was quite warm in the afternoon. We stopped at Pollachi to have a meal and then proceeded to the hills. The first stop was the Azhiyar dam. Neat, and well-maintained, it had enough water to soothe the tired eyes. We found steps to go down and were by the water in no time. Soaking the feet and just sitting on the banks is an unparalleled joy. But it was cut short by the dam security (no pun intended) who told us we were not allowed there. But they were sweet about it and gave us some time to relax and enjoy the scenery.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9kih5bqMIS6CzpTbmYMUDvRxv4lFNzlCVdq4Fzghmdj6BUO-nRAHlJnjn9669mnecNoYwYaxVV5A9a8OtPMGygzBm8KAJdvWGbcNMCadPpptiw0U1P8Q1RbYyGz7qFrA0MpeIhNpH3E81zun6qexvCD-bt43fcz2DNF1Rz14woy3U3m3ZJsFa1U3dW-ju/s4624/IMG20230904135841.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9kih5bqMIS6CzpTbmYMUDvRxv4lFNzlCVdq4Fzghmdj6BUO-nRAHlJnjn9669mnecNoYwYaxVV5A9a8OtPMGygzBm8KAJdvWGbcNMCadPpptiw0U1P8Q1RbYyGz7qFrA0MpeIhNpH3E81zun6qexvCD-bt43fcz2DNF1Rz14woy3U3m3ZJsFa1U3dW-ju/s320/IMG20230904135841.jpg" width="240" /></a>We climbed back and headed towards Monkey Falls. The fall had just enough water to soak us, not to full to scare or us or too thin to be of no interest. There are changing rooms for men and women by the falls. My friend and I just allowed our backs to be showered on and splashed water on our faces as we were not prepared for this delightful indulgence. We promised we would return the next day, well-prepared.</p><p>We continued up the hills to reach Valparai, the hill station we were intending to visit and stay in. The temperature became cooler as we climbed. In fact, it reminded me of Meghalaya, which I had visited in May. All around were green hills, caressed by the clouds, nay, wreathed in clouds. It was breathtakingly beautiful, clean, and joyful. The main industry is tea cultivation, and the rows and rows of tea plantations gave a sense of symmetry and beauty. Beyond the plantations are forests with tall, thick trees. Valparai has elephants and leopard sightings so one has to reach the town before 6 pm. Traffic is not allowed after that.</p><p>Soon, it started raining. We were to stop at a Balaji temple, but the driver of the cab we were traveling by said that we would be unable to go in the rain as we had to walk a kilometre from the car park. The temple was also supposed to close at 5 and it would have been touch and go for us.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ivhMbq-TnYwtHTMXqNoFi1bqx2hIYtSQQZVYDRBSdApRdRXyhPO4Ybye2G6H6WBb2IiXJnDnXNu2UX7iN8eb3kZn46KSFjFZtZovvXDJnoQe_wn8Yb9bgr-_7618X415jLyOUULDnkt1cM4ScUtKzc3vyNQ7pUQ_REuh-warjg9JUOtRrVaf_yAGuQx2/s4624/IMG20230905093624.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3468" data-original-width="4624" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ivhMbq-TnYwtHTMXqNoFi1bqx2hIYtSQQZVYDRBSdApRdRXyhPO4Ybye2G6H6WBb2IiXJnDnXNu2UX7iN8eb3kZn46KSFjFZtZovvXDJnoQe_wn8Yb9bgr-_7618X415jLyOUULDnkt1cM4ScUtKzc3vyNQ7pUQ_REuh-warjg9JUOtRrVaf_yAGuQx2/s320/IMG20230905093624.jpg" width="320" /></a>We reached the room. The Internet photos had not been very promising, but it wasn't totally bad. The town is small and all hotels and eateries jostle for space within a few metres of each other.</p><p>After freshening up, we came down for some tea and snacks. As we were returning to the hotel, we walked up to the end of the street and noticed another temple downhill. Having nothing better to do, we thought we would climb down to visit the temple. It was closed but surrounded by flowers. My friend and I shared an interest in gardening and were admiring them when we noticed a brook flowing a few meters below. We braved the stairs and climbed down. Though there is no proper access, we went close enough to see a mini-waterfall and then climbed back, straining but still happy to be amidst pure air and simple surroundings.</p><p>A lady on the way up said there was a better view of the brook from the road. So we decided to take that route. On the way, we saw the driver, who wasn't able to relate to the point we were talking about but took us to another brook - called Koozhangal Aaru. The riverbed is covered with pumice stones. This time, we did manage to go to the river, but it started pouring, and so we beat a hasty retreat.</p><p><b>Vegetarian Gourmet - Home-Made Dosa</b></p><p>The tea and snacks had filled us up. But apparently, there was a family that ran a mess serving only vegetarian food. We decided to give it a shot. The lady of the house was warm and welcoming. I had one of the tastiest onion podi dosa with yummy sambar. We decided this is where we would be going for breakfast as well.</p><p>In the morning, we decided to wake up early and go for a long walk. That was a joke. We slept till 7.30 and pushed ourselves out of bed to get ready for the day. After another round of dosa, we went to Balaji Temple.</p><p><b>Some Walking and Stretching</b></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEi1RmAdVj_5v6RVIRF3MWgmqmoArS4AzrHnhe6acqYK67KzUEU4SB_J2l2kRAQCtLre3l8aB1eHAfK2mS1zD7QRTFBZ9r0c1VmmRRcQtpPskpnQCbhewJ8MBcuvUPT6ColYP-sAV1y-XlIceXcH3NDhin72EHD8E2epMMYs9UTSZC3sHAxm6SId4rGQH7/s4624/IMG20230904130506.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEi1RmAdVj_5v6RVIRF3MWgmqmoArS4AzrHnhe6acqYK67KzUEU4SB_J2l2kRAQCtLre3l8aB1eHAfK2mS1zD7QRTFBZ9r0c1VmmRRcQtpPskpnQCbhewJ8MBcuvUPT6ColYP-sAV1y-XlIceXcH3NDhin72EHD8E2epMMYs9UTSZC3sHAxm6SId4rGQH7/s320/IMG20230904130506.jpg" width="240" /></a>The Balaji Temple is a private temple built and run by one of the tea estate owners, who has also built a hospital in the town. Low clouds hugged the mountains in the distance. We got out of the car and climbed up the tree-covered hill. The temple made us drop our jaws. It was simple but very neat. The 35-year-old temple also has a garden from where the flowers for the deity come.</p><p>After a hearty darshan with no rushing and crushing, we walked back in heavy drizzle. As we drove down, it started pouring. Cholaya River from Kerala flowed silently and slowly, curving her way through the forest towards the dam, which was our destination for now. But the sight from across the dam a few kilometres away was an awe-inspiring sight to behold. Overhead a couple of guys observe, "The view from here is better than from the dam." When I reached the dam , I couldn't but agree with them.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzI5gYenhlCQfvWQoKIS5rBYhm8kpOJZUKDmB36Wa_9RjoLe-rCRfcg0r6RIZMn-J7G4JdI0_nHDY_8hyQ4gNeiIxCrzQt14C_rum1Pp8S9gleTh1a43sJNgcqqf2M3SaveSCRdAwz_FBQH11telCNq7kAqPqUlYx1U7VhFGY-c8aTQpeT7SNRC1P16iy/s3264/IMG20230905122925.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzI5gYenhlCQfvWQoKIS5rBYhm8kpOJZUKDmB36Wa_9RjoLe-rCRfcg0r6RIZMn-J7G4JdI0_nHDY_8hyQ4gNeiIxCrzQt14C_rum1Pp8S9gleTh1a43sJNgcqqf2M3SaveSCRdAwz_FBQH11telCNq7kAqPqUlYx1U7VhFGY-c8aTQpeT7SNRC1P16iy/s320/IMG20230905122925.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p><br /></p>The river vanishes into the forest and splits into two, one going to Tirumurti hills and Pollachi.<p></p><p>We headed down and stopped at Monkey falls again, but decided against the dip. The weather was cooler today and we were a little mellowed.</p><p><b>The Commune with Nature</b></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89s2eX9fTb56tF9GGt8Lp83y0oietkvbVcRUcXv7640LWm_pzg4Zob0-LcjPo-kguk1a4ShLwxXcPlLRhnZbSV8fOh3nfKJZo85dQ2xEnMzNYSCLuHVzSFIxw9hfDEqjnevGmCfPTmBYpnPTiiPW-7HZZVgNPV3gtYX7a7IyUqIP2Su6XeSGPnT5Pga35/s4624/IMG20230905120849.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3468" data-original-width="4624" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89s2eX9fTb56tF9GGt8Lp83y0oietkvbVcRUcXv7640LWm_pzg4Zob0-LcjPo-kguk1a4ShLwxXcPlLRhnZbSV8fOh3nfKJZo85dQ2xEnMzNYSCLuHVzSFIxw9hfDEqjnevGmCfPTmBYpnPTiiPW-7HZZVgNPV3gtYX7a7IyUqIP2Su6XeSGPnT5Pga35/s320/IMG20230905120849.jpg" width="320" /></a></p>Vacations mean different things to different people. I would never have described myself as a traveler. I enjoy traveling but not traveling doesn't bother me. I don't want to see every nook and corner of the world. I have no bucket list, not even a bucket on my list.<p></p><p>But, of late, I do feel a longing to go to places where there is silence. It could be amidst nature and even in temples. Just being, not doing, not having plans, not wanting to grasp everything on the way. </p><p>This trip clearly falls in that category. It was very satisfying in many ways. It was also unexpected in many ways, right from how I heard about it and how I ended up making this journey. </p><p>The fun is in the journey itself more than the destination. But in this case, both were worth it. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKbldh7I4Fc7uR-hC93ZB4p3lmtv1ISm6XHvtQioZrNa2PIwp3W4rPy1XYgNlV9rvB88gQktEtXJfqZzRsHIqIMhfpsFeg92fPC1zNSsbHSrXN4iL9cPbf4C-EBHlHHewsSA89qOR47NOUXnxPJPuyByrL_LqKjeFuSV9tzBtmg5UNAGk1tztn0zAO4xv/s1600/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-09-10%20at%2021.14.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKbldh7I4Fc7uR-hC93ZB4p3lmtv1ISm6XHvtQioZrNa2PIwp3W4rPy1XYgNlV9rvB88gQktEtXJfqZzRsHIqIMhfpsFeg92fPC1zNSsbHSrXN4iL9cPbf4C-EBHlHHewsSA89qOR47NOUXnxPJPuyByrL_LqKjeFuSV9tzBtmg5UNAGk1tztn0zAO4xv/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-09-10%20at%2021.14.22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A befitting end to the day was an unexpected visit to Dhyana Linga in Isha Ashrama in Coimbatore and the light and sound show with Adiyogi. The day began with Lord Vishnu and ended with Lord Shiva, with all of Brahma's creation in between.<p></p><p>Wishing myself many more such getaways - simple and beautiful.</p><p></p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-46241595960975825322023-08-21T04:04:00.003-07:002023-08-21T04:04:24.418-07:00Breaking Free<p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A house or two
</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I bought and sold
</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I also have some
</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Diamonds and gold</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-19be76dc-7fff-4925-866b-6c07468239bd"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A little money</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I managed to save</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Birthed endearing children</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">To call my name</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Ups and downs</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I have seen</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A life fulfilling</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It has been</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Circular is its nature</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">That's what I believe</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Give a little</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">And a lot you receive</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Outside and inside</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It is all the same</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A body that separates</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But in name</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Thorns and roses</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">All a game</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">If you can just see</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Beyond the stage</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Currency valid</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Only on earth</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Not a cell will travel</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After death</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Only the essence </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Extracted and fragrant </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Wrappers shed, </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">traveling </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Probably like a vagrant</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Returning, starting afresh</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Confused and misled</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Trapped yet again</p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">In its vice grip</p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Till breaking free</p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Untied, unchained</p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Singing the song</p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Happiness regained.</p></span><span><a name='more'></a></span><span><!--more--></span><span><!--more--></span><span><!--more--></span><span><!--more--></span><span><!--more--></span><span><!--more--></span>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-22479223974090314532023-08-06T03:02:00.002-07:002023-08-06T03:05:39.227-07:00Dispossessed<p>I carried you for 9 months, claims the mother<br />I carry you in my heart forever, contends the father<br />This has been with me for so many years, cries the owner<br />These are mine, claim we as our wealth we measure</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;">And yet the only thing that travels with us forever<br />Is that regular breath that exits and enters<br />Even that lasting but for a moment here<br />A new one taking its place one after another</div><p>When the last one leaves, we don't know when<br />Of what use all that we gathered then?<br />Not a thing we possessed will come<br />Even the body we thought ours, abandoned</p><p>These simple words, forever remember<br />What we get here will stay here<br />Only the pain and longing will we bear<br />When we pass on from here to there</p><p>Let go of what goes away<br />Cherish whatever with you stays<br />With your fortunes, do not sway<br />Only for strength must you pray.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-1174727182391283642023-07-29T11:19:00.006-07:002023-07-30T05:49:43.464-07:00True Love<p>In a journey <br />Of uncertain steps<br />You are the only certainty<br />From birth to death<br /><br />With you <br />I come alive<br />When you leave<br />I die</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>I remain unmindful<br />All my life<br />But you remain<br />By my side day and night</p><p>With me in<br />All my moods<br />Guiding me<br />Till I feel good</p><p>Working up a storm<br />When I rage<br />Dipping me in calm<br />Calming me with grace</p><p>Together we journey<br />You are my true,<br />Nay, in every life<br />My only love</p><p>Caressing me <br />Every second<br />From without<br />And deep within</p><p>The day you decide<br />This is it and no more<br />You up and leave, <br />And my pleas, ignore</p><p>With you gone<br />My journey ends<br />I am nothing but a body<br />A carcass, in the end.</p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-70778850306584777172023-07-22T11:40:00.010-07:002023-07-22T11:41:17.216-07:0025/1000 - And Yet So Blissful<p>The temple town, the mokshapuri, in Tamil Nadu, Kanchipuram, is just a couple of hours away from Chennai. It is even connected to my maternal grandparents. My uncles and cousins often go there. But I have been there only a few times. And the only visits I remember in all these years are the stop at the main spots of Kanchi Kamakoti Peetham (that was on work), Kamakshi Amman Temple, Ekambareshwara Temple, and Varadaraja Perumal Temple. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>And yet, Kanchipuram itself has much more for the religious and the spiritual. It is a city with 1000 temples. And indeed, it is quite likely that every street has more than one temple and of varying sizes. So, I doubt even people living there know about all of them. Oh yes, that's true. And I will share that story shortly.</p><p>There is something for the spiritual too. There is a Kanchi Mutt established by Adi Shankara, and it is the birthplace of Vedanta Desika. I saw a Buddhist monastery on Google Maps, and I am sure there are other significant places too.</p><p>But in all these years, the plans have always involved going farther.</p><p>This time too, my husband's cousins and I thought of Kizhadi in the Sivagangai district. The three of us had debuted our women-only trip to Pondy earlier this year. We had fun, bonded nicely and then got busy with other things. We were meeting again after a few months and started contemplating possibilities.</p><p>Just then, in another WA group, a friend mentioned traveling to Kanchi and then to places like Kooram and Thirupukuzhi. I had never heard of them, but what attracted me was her mention that they were traveling through fields in villages.</p><p>My heart sang. I shared it with my cousins, who immediately jumped at it. It was closer and easier to plan. When you set your mind to a task, the universe comes together to make it happen. In a week, we were off - the two cousins and I - in my humble car, with a list of places to visit in and around Kanchipuram, collected from the ironing guy in the gated community where one of the cousins lived.</p><p><b>Setting Out</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_DzKBrbqSE3Qj7YGFJ-kxtx1QDI2I90bV0A5lgRTGTmX_MfcJC_qNZ7qvI1rZZtXdbv5Q9r9sXL97Z_YLMexqdxP303gzvrBbRQqXbHVGTytajNswobnWr2FeJQ_cWc61DmB06q5b7CyRHUrILW3JaWuwiMDb1z4wIawE80kiZwK-eBH20IRu1JYw-G0/s1600/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-07-22%20at%2016.09.36.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_DzKBrbqSE3Qj7YGFJ-kxtx1QDI2I90bV0A5lgRTGTmX_MfcJC_qNZ7qvI1rZZtXdbv5Q9r9sXL97Z_YLMexqdxP303gzvrBbRQqXbHVGTytajNswobnWr2FeJQ_cWc61DmB06q5b7CyRHUrILW3JaWuwiMDb1z4wIawE80kiZwK-eBH20IRu1JYw-G0/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-07-22%20at%2016.09.36.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>As per plans, we started at 7 am and headed for Kuranganil Muttam temple. We realised the temple was open only till 9 and that we would not be able to reach on time. But there was a number and we called. The priest lives close by and would oblige by opening the door for us, we were told. We drove through broad, relatively free highways at a good speed. On reaching the village, cutting through fields, though, we realised that we were somehow being misguided by Google Maps. Local villagers were more helpful and we finally spotted the small, quaint temple by a pond.<p></p><p>One of the cousins went looking for the priest while I fulfilled my dream of just sitting, doing nothing, and enjoying the scenery.</p><p>The temple came into the limelight 600 years ago when Gnanasambandar, one of the Nayanmars, visited and sang in praise of the presiding deity - Sri Valeeshwarar. The deity is said to have been worshipped by Vali, Indra and Yama in the three forms that give the place its name - kurangu - monkey (Vali), anil - squirrel (Indra) and kaagam - crow (Yama). </p><p>From there, we headed to our next destination in Thiruvothoor, Cheyyar - Vedapureeswarar Temple. Lord Siva is said to have initiated the gods and sages into Vedas here. This temple is also 600 years old. Somehow, I can't remember the main sanctum sanctorum, but His consort, Balagujambikai, engraved Herself in my heart. There was semidarkness and the energy seemed strong.</p><p>After this, there was no time for any other temples. Oh yes, after we had had kanji (porridge) that one of the cousins had brought soon after we started. We saw a Nellai Karuppatti Coffee shop when we came out of Kuranganil Muttam and relished karuppatti milk and some sweets made with millets and karuppatti. There was also amazing halwa that sated the senses.</p><p>From Thiruvothoor, we headed to our homestay, Lingaa residency. We had a whole house with beds for 10 people just for the three of us. It was tucked in a residential colony, neat, safe and comfortable. Swiggy delivered lunch and we napped. The cousins decided I had driven enough and that in the evening we will visit temples in Kanchi to avoid night driving.</p><p><b>Evening 1</b></p><p>There are no call-autos so we booked a cab and went to Kamakshi Amman temple. Not very crowded, as we reached early, and had a good darshan. The temple precincts are amazingly well maintained with the temple tank sporting two fountains and flowering trees all around. But we didn't linger as we had a long list.</p><p>We decided to walk to Ekambareshwarar temple, which is just 20 minutes away. The huge temple complex is another treat. Its pristine beauty, the echoing silence, the greenery and the temple structure all evoke awe. The Lingam itself is different from the usual, as it was made with clay by Kamakshi when she prayed for Lord Siva to accept Her as His wife. So, no abhishekam is done here. Behind the Lingam you can see Lord Siva and Parvati seated as a couple. The mango tree and the Kamakshi sannidhi in the temple just blew our minds away. Especially in Kamakshi sannidhi, we just wanted to sit and enjoy the peace, quiet, and the breeze. And since we didn't want to be bound by any agenda, we did just that - not in that sannidhi but in the mandapam opposite the main one.</p><p>When we came out, we also bought puliyodarai prasadam, which turned out to be a delicious dinner.</p><p>We were too late for Kailasanatha Temple, which was our next stop, but there was a Pandavadoothar temple right across. We walked there too and made it just before closing time. Normally in Vishny temples, you can see the awesome form of Mahavishnu right behind the utsavar. But here, I couldn't make out the moolavar. Then, on instinct, I bend to look up behind the utsavar and was astounded by the magnificent deity in Vishwaroopam as manifested in the Kaurava court before the battle.</p><p>This trip introduced us to many such novel sights that reinforce how integrated our cultural heritage is regardless of which part of the country we belong to.</p><p><b>Day 2, Off to Kooram</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTJtw_JGjTiPUFbUfJAJnAfdiznbMytI4nBXveI7Z1KSPLq4Pzc_felqxOwVF66qah7lgeOYmnYn3JjkrZsj47YlH63vBcScwXtCHVab8wlkgmDUgroYiGcK9qbiXWaXvUQgEmdUw57remELgcoMSbY0quLZc6oj0ZSDD-zZFFocxQ1H1uMKmLSP2C5Pi/s1600/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-07-18%20at%2007.39.37.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTJtw_JGjTiPUFbUfJAJnAfdiznbMytI4nBXveI7Z1KSPLq4Pzc_felqxOwVF66qah7lgeOYmnYn3JjkrZsj47YlH63vBcScwXtCHVab8wlkgmDUgroYiGcK9qbiXWaXvUQgEmdUw57remELgcoMSbY0quLZc6oj0ZSDD-zZFFocxQ1H1uMKmLSP2C5Pi/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-07-18%20at%2007.39.37.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Remember the name? Kooram is what triggered my interest in going to Kanchi and we set out by 5.30, wanting to complete more temples. But God has his own plans. When we reached there, winding our way through fields and spotting a banyan tree where we wanted sit and relax in on our way back, the early morning puja had just started. We were told it would take an hour. All plans to cover lots of temples went out the window. We decided we will wait and strolled through the village. Instead of taking the path to the banyan tree, we turned the opposite way and reached a pond. The sun was right in our eyes, so we couldn't dip our feet in. But there was a very convenient rock to enjoy the sight from.<p></p><p><br /> After receiving the prasad and a good darshan, we headed out for Govindavaadi. Our destination was the Dakshinamurthy temple there. But again Google Maps couldn't figure it out and let us go further. We reached a spot where there was a naga hooding a prostrate figure of a deity. On enquiry, we found out it is Angalaparameshwari, a village Goddess, exposed to the elements.</p><p>We retraced our steps to reach the Guru temple and felt very contented. On the way out, we crossed the Ayyanar statues that we had seen on our way up. One of the cousins wanted to take pics and a lady was approaching in our direction just then. After telling us we could take photos, she asked us to visit the temple. Though I started the car, we somehow felt we couldn't ignore the deity and returned to see yet another aspect of how the divine is worshipped by the rural folks.</p><p>A breakfast stop after that and then we headed for Thirumalpuram. This was a big temple in a village and ladies had spread out harvested paddy on the floor to dry. Inside, one of the villagers very kindly told us the history of the temple, where Manikandeshwarar is the presiding deity. Lord Vishnu is seen right across, with hands folded worshipfully. Here too the Lingam is made of sand and it is considered as powerful as Rameshwaram.</p><p>There was an idol of Nandi with a monkey face. Apparently, Lord Siva was meditating and he told Nandi not to let anyone in. Ravana came and was offended at not being allowed entry. He cursed Nandi that his face would look like a monkey's. Nandi rebutted saying a monkey would cause Ravana's destruction.</p><p>See, how these stories weave into each other!?</p><p>There was Varahi temple on the way, and we stopped there too as it was strongly suggested by the man in the temple. </p><p>Now, where to head next was the question. We had many options, but we decided to head towards Thirupukuzhi. We made it just in time - at 11.50, 10 minutes before closing time. Lord Vijayaragavan and Goddess Maragadavalli kindly waited and gave us good darshan. Though one man said something about childless couples coming here to worship, later my mother told me that roasted green gram is soaked and it sprouts - a science-defying feat - indicating blessings of Maragadavalli Thayar on the couple.</p><p>On the way back, we decided to make one secular stop - Kanchi Kudil. It is run by a private individual who has turned her childless late uncle's house into a museum. At just Rs 10, you can see how the old Kanchi houses were built and the objects used there. Maybe soon, dining may also be available as some construction was going on. But I am not sure about that.</p><p>We also stumbled on to Kailasanathar and thought we can complete visiting that temple too. But the main sanctum sanctorum was closed and that is the main attraction. A Buddhist monastery showed up on the map but we didn't have time.</p><p>So we went for lunch, then to our room, and returned after a short break.</p><p><b>Evening 2, A Closure</b> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YxHx3BG--POOp4wcWQLsIDnFM6HUpYSkQfyM8Cn0UJFxeDM5wyp2XQLjd6Hd0KQlog3fJ7R59xGapU63hlyBv5xhpPY8zUfdLvj8fePENKrebbZY95bO3JFO3qpDDh70SOP__OJxX-JSn9s7P4Y9FR-PF7eymGFwFRpn2ZEgFzCgeUcU2Nk1t_TUoQSB/s1600/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-07-22%20at%2016.09.35.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YxHx3BG--POOp4wcWQLsIDnFM6HUpYSkQfyM8Cn0UJFxeDM5wyp2XQLjd6Hd0KQlog3fJ7R59xGapU63hlyBv5xhpPY8zUfdLvj8fePENKrebbZY95bO3JFO3qpDDh70SOP__OJxX-JSn9s7P4Y9FR-PF7eymGFwFRpn2ZEgFzCgeUcU2Nk1t_TUoQSB/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-07-22%20at%2016.09.35.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>The first stop was Varadaraja Perumal Temple. We thought we could buy the famous Kanchipuram idli or puliyodarai for dinner from the prasadam stall but had to return empty-handed. The next was Kailasanathar temple.<p></p><p>The temple was built by the Pallavas using sandstone. Much of it is corroded, but despite that, the beauty and symmetry are awe-inspiring. The Lingam has 16 faces and is impressive. But the main attraction is the path for circumambulation around the Lingam. The entry is narrow, as is the exit. It signifies leaving behind our karmas and walking towards moksha. I gave up, sadly, at the entrance, but the oldest of the cousins did it with aplomb.</p><p>On the outer precincts, one of the palm trees housed a delightful colony of tailor birds!</p><p>Next what? That afternoon, my mom called me to say dad wants me to visit Thuppul Vedanta Desika temple, which was not part of our original plan. But we decided to do that and visit Ulagalanda Perumal Temple as the Maps showed them to be just across each other.</p><p>Oh, how wrong it was! Not only that, it kept trying to push us into a no-entry zone. So we found the way to reach Ulagalanda Perumal Temple the traditional way - by asking people around. The temple was under renovation and we saw only the utsavar.</p><p>There was coconut rice prasadam that also sated our material needs. And outside, we had some amazing coconut flower.</p><p>When we again tried to go to Thupul, despite getting directions from the priest, we were not confident and the Maps continued to show only the one way. On an impulse, I cut across to my right - it was a main road and it was a rash move. I landed on a long but narrow street that ended in a dead-end! When we asked one of the guys there about Thupul, he drew a blank. Vedanta Desika temple? Blank. "Oh wait, let me ask our spirituality guy," he said and asked another man speaking on another phone. He told us the way, thankfully. And it was not even 10 minutes away. But, not even the people of Kanchi know about all the temples there!</p><p>The Vedanta Desika temple is also at a dead end, but a short street. To the left, when you face the temple, is Lakshmi Varahaswamy temple, and to the right is Vilakkoli Perumal temple. Another old temple, with lots of trees and space around it, it was also another beautiful experience. The Consort here, Maragadavalli, has also been sung about by Azhwars along with Mahavishnu - a rarity. She is the means through which you attain the Lord. The priest took time to remind us about our need to take the spiritual journey and shared an anecdote - Lord Rama waited even for Ravana who, despite his erudition, refused to see the Way. But finally he did and the Lord was there for him! </p><p>We were about to leave after the darshan when one man standing outside the Goddess's sanctum sanctorum asked us to wait. We had begun the morning seeing the Lord being woken up. We finished by seeing Sayana Aarati for Goddess Maragadavalli (not to be confused with Thiruppukuzhi deity). We experienced that in the adjacent Vedanta Desikar sannidhi too. He is the disciple of Sri Ramanujacharya - the proponent of Vishishtadvaitam philosophy, followed by south Indian Vaishnavites.</p><p>The third temple had closed, but we were in bliss.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDojSK1gVlft72l8DNSBcmPXZlFPwCZC6ZL6Gdn1jnZ7SfJHBCBJO0hNPuRmmPBpF3SDRU5r_g1oanBEDYZmNSgthB8GhGhp9TNpTgcTaZAMdJH_QXI09yjPDtmNR6wXXFljnEOmVwCObNPHo4yPR5Kbo1KiDqkUSC8EfXP1AtAfGd6l0wZ_2KWzILgAP/s1280/IMG-20230722-WA0003.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDojSK1gVlft72l8DNSBcmPXZlFPwCZC6ZL6Gdn1jnZ7SfJHBCBJO0hNPuRmmPBpF3SDRU5r_g1oanBEDYZmNSgthB8GhGhp9TNpTgcTaZAMdJH_QXI09yjPDtmNR6wXXFljnEOmVwCObNPHo4yPR5Kbo1KiDqkUSC8EfXP1AtAfGd6l0wZ_2KWzILgAP/s320/IMG-20230722-WA0003.jpg" width="144" /></a></div><b>Sweet Parting</b><p></p><p>Which route should we take to reach Chennai? We had to be home anytime before 2 or 3, but the morning was still ours. We went to Sanjeevi Anjaneyar temple in Iyengarkulam. We should have visited here on day 1 itself, but better late than never. A fairly large temple, it has Hanuman's swayambhu vigraham that came up when a drop of the sanjeevi nectar fell during the Ramayana times when Hanuman was carrying it to treat Lakshmana.</p><p>The temple needs funds and awareness. One man seems to have dedicated his life to serving the temple and shared the many stories about the place. It was very moving.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1adm6YXb6MXxVNQ_ii2SdhlnsH0dDDUJkfmsT8LxO8noRdcT4GwhXRiAgEKKomN7qg1VzuRhBV--BCkn27UsV_a02I2dUZvsZ9H2s4jT9_X4Q0r0t8reZpdrSMwUmLj75hQ80G5Y4U_XTRxdKOo-QMBGtkaR2KynoH3iXXAaYoVuGQTOzlVJdD3qiX6rp/s1280/IMG-20230722-WA0001.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1adm6YXb6MXxVNQ_ii2SdhlnsH0dDDUJkfmsT8LxO8noRdcT4GwhXRiAgEKKomN7qg1VzuRhBV--BCkn27UsV_a02I2dUZvsZ9H2s4jT9_X4Q0r0t8reZpdrSMwUmLj75hQ80G5Y4U_XTRxdKOo-QMBGtkaR2KynoH3iXXAaYoVuGQTOzlVJdD3qiX6rp/s320/IMG-20230722-WA0001.jpg" width="144" /></a></div>From there, we headed to Thirupanangadu, which is actually in Thiruvannamalai district. The place was filled with fields and we stood for some photo ops.<br /><br /><p></p><p>There are two Lingams, two consorts, two flagstaffs... The two Lingams were worshipped by Sage Pulastya and his son and disciple, Sage Agastya. Sundaramurthy Nayanar had heard about the temple and was heading towards it but the place was filled with palm trees. He was hungry when he met a wayfarer who offered him rice. Nayanar got angry because there was no water to go with the food when the wayfarer created a fountain. Nayanar realised it was Lord Siva himself, who had given him food and water, and then told him that the Lingams were waiting for him as they were buried under the sand. Kochadaiyan Siddhar had been protecting it and offered it to him. A temple was built. The old temple has crumbled but a larger and new temple has come in its place, built by one of the wealthy men for winning a case after worshipping the lord here. There is a beautiful but unusable water pond right across the temple, said to come from the times of Sundarar.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWaQzR2Tak8pV38TMiWwUut5swqYVrUh3zGTmflXv0iCr_9jiC8tMOJqI0y-Bti8OVhkTG8Rk6B8ow5FIAafU5yksz_eoVo9f7_S-B5fU6QA2y2jNHT3tIt_TjZ03bo29nAvvc3GOkC3wiS3aiyuNRq-6LWH8Eau70k06xoqziwtiK6mMdrNoMSlCjV9yv/s1280/IMG-20230722-WA0005.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="575" data-original-width="1280" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWaQzR2Tak8pV38TMiWwUut5swqYVrUh3zGTmflXv0iCr_9jiC8tMOJqI0y-Bti8OVhkTG8Rk6B8ow5FIAafU5yksz_eoVo9f7_S-B5fU6QA2y2jNHT3tIt_TjZ03bo29nAvvc3GOkC3wiS3aiyuNRq-6LWH8Eau70k06xoqziwtiK6mMdrNoMSlCjV9yv/s320/IMG-20230722-WA0005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The priest showed us a pillar with a carving of Vali and Sugreeva fighting. This was inside the temple. Just outside the threshold was a pillar with Rama. From there, the pillar inside can be seen, but from inside the outer one cannot. This represents Vali Vadham. "There are four pillars between these two pillars. It signifies the four stages of our life - Brahmacharya, Grahasthashrama, Vanaprastha, and Sanyasa - to attain the Lord. Vali was well-read but Maya blinded him. That Maya is signified by the seven trees. Lord Rama's arrow is the knowledge that pierces Maya and reveals the Truth. Vali surrenders and attains liberation," the priest informed us.<p></p><p>There is another temple for Kochadayar outside. He is protecting the temple. Apparently, he would enter the current priest's father and villagers have seen the conversation between the sage and the priest that would leave them all shivering!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhARd6o9pIQm2c_sfAO_Sdog5UJZfi5W2cTVltApPirfzAKiE2xjhJfPtxBnUl5D9kPZTrotj6-ddlRxo45mujzJYOXzMlVvm0pTyq3DSWoF57y_o56EDlQILpLtkubo1zrMtYcVcGlGlpSEhUYFLXbFOjw6TYPrIpSNXxlEJ2krYxFOCkenNn7_56MN_j-/s1280/IMG-20230722-WA0004.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhARd6o9pIQm2c_sfAO_Sdog5UJZfi5W2cTVltApPirfzAKiE2xjhJfPtxBnUl5D9kPZTrotj6-ddlRxo45mujzJYOXzMlVvm0pTyq3DSWoF57y_o56EDlQILpLtkubo1zrMtYcVcGlGlpSEhUYFLXbFOjw6TYPrIpSNXxlEJ2krYxFOCkenNn7_56MN_j-/s320/IMG-20230722-WA0004.jpg" width="144" /></a></div>At the behest of the man who told us the story, we went to a mandapam in the middle of nowhere where Sundarar had meditated.<p></p><p>When looking for Thiruppanangadu, one Adisesha temple and Baba temple kept coming up in the maps. The man in the temple told us it would be far, but we decided to go there anyway and were pleasantly surprised to see it was not far and both temples were in the same place.<br /><br />We went in there, had a good darshan, had a good breakfast, and got an opportunity to meet and speak to Guruji - a Mahavatar Baba devotee and teacher of Kriya Yoga. He is 81 years old, from Kerala, was a librarian at Madras University library and had the opportunity to study spiritual books. His command of not just Tamil but Tamil spiritual poetry was amazing. He too talked of the need to understand our true purpose on earth - which is self-realization - and the importance of Raja Yoga and Brahma Vidya.<br /><br /></p><p>Another temple got added as the cook at the ashram told us about a Bhairava temple. We decided not to miss that either and went to Vembakkam for darshan.</p><p>From there, it was way back to home. We completed 25 places of worship in all. It didn't seem overwhelming or rushed. Because the number meant nothing to us. There were other temples on our list and some that were recommended by others. We did what we could and don't feel we missed anything. But if the opportunity presents itself, we would be happy to go back to do the rest for each had a story that was beyond imagination.</p><p>The photos are primarily from one of the cousins, Chithra. Sujatha was the third leg to this trip. We are already talking about the next. </p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-28264207093983156562023-02-24T08:47:00.002-08:002023-02-24T08:47:29.898-08:00Taller than the Tallest<div style="text-align: left;">The wave rose</div><div style="text-align: left;">Higher and higher</div><div style="text-align: left;">Triumphant, belligerent</div><div style="text-align: left;">Invincible, feeling confident</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Higher and higher,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Striking in the hearts</div><div style="text-align: left;">Fear and wonder,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>Inspiring awe</div><div><br /></div><div>'Never seen such a one</div><div>Ever in my life!'</div><div>Gasped the people</div><div>With popping eyes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wonder acted like a string</div><div>Tying them, despite</div><div>Fear giving them wings</div><div>Ready any instant to fly</div><div><br /></div><div>The wave rose to its peak</div><div>And then the fall began</div><div>It took many in its fold</div><div>But finally vanished without a sign</div><div><br /></div><div>Though memories </div><div>Of this and others</div><div>Higher and smaller</div><div>Before and after</div><div><br /></div><div>Became legends </div><div>To be repeated</div><div>Several times</div><div>Amplified, exaggerated</div><div><br /></div><div>Of that wave or the others</div><div>There remained no sign</div><div>For they had merged forever</div><div>Into the vast ocean</div><div><br /></div><div>Indistinguishable</div><div>From the field of waves</div><div>Attempting to achieve</div><div>Those heights great</div><div><br /></div><div>Another will rise again</div><div>In its place, no doubt</div><div>But it will merge too</div><div>And remain but in thought</div><div><br /></div><div>The fame and name</div><div>Last a little longer</div><div>But will that make</div><div>The wave immortal?</div><div><br /></div><div>Then the name too</div><div>Will be forgotten</div><div>The tides of time</div><div>Erasing it forever after</div><div><br /></div><div>But in everlasting hope</div><div>Rise again it does</div><div>And though dashed</div><div>On the cycle goes</div><div><br /></div><div>Rise and fall</div><div>Is part of it all</div><div>And on and on</div><div>Go on, it shall</div><div><br /></div><div>Till the water </div><div>Seeks the depth </div><div>And remains content</div><div>Basking in glory great.</div></div>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-24842046973427750902022-12-24T00:25:00.003-08:002022-12-24T00:25:24.705-08:00The Whirling Circle<div style="text-align: left;">I stood outside the circle</div><div style="text-align: left;">A toe touching the rim</div><div style="text-align: left;">The flashing lights, the laughter</div><div style="text-align: left;">Joy filled up to the brim</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I watched others whirl and dance</div><div style="text-align: left;">Twirling and pirouetting happily</div><div style="text-align: left;">I too sought but one chance</div><div style="text-align: left;">To swirl just as merrily</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The giddy joy of belonging</div><div style="text-align: left;">To be one with chosen some</div><div style="text-align: left;">To be seen closely hobnobbing</div><div style="text-align: left;">With the rich and the handsome</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To be in the lap of wealth</div><div style="text-align: left;">To laugh till giddy with pleasure</div><div style="text-align: left;">To grab and glow in good health</div><div style="text-align: left;">To enjoy boundless leisure</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Just a toe slipped in</div><div style="text-align: left;">And I was drawn into the circle</div><div style="text-align: left;">But where was the acceptance?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Welcome, there was none.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To go with the flow</div><div>To keep up the momentum</div><div style="text-align: left;">To be thrown around</div><div style="text-align: left;">And have as much fun!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It was hard work</div><div style="text-align: left;">I felt thrown around</div><div style="text-align: left;">Battered and bruised</div><div style="text-align: left;">The weak thrown aground</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Stepping on the bodies</div><div style="text-align: left;">I grope my way to the centre</div><div style="text-align: left;">I wear the mask that all wear</div><div style="text-align: left;">And try to enjoy the banter</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">All that seemed fun</div><div style="text-align: left;">Is really not so, I realise</div><div style="text-align: left;">Soon I lose my guile</div><div style="text-align: left;">As I feel the rising bile</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The flashing lights </div><div style="text-align: left;">Dim the mind</div><div style="text-align: left;">The twirling and swirling</div><div style="text-align: left;">Seems like just a grind</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">How to get out?</div><div style="text-align: left;">From this vicious circle</div><div style="text-align: left;">With only a nebulous entry</div><div style="text-align: left;">Even for the willing, no egress</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I stopped the climb</div><div style="text-align: left;">Stood very still</div><div style="text-align: left;">Let the world move</div><div style="text-align: left;">Remained unmoved by will</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The circle slowed</div><div style="text-align: left;">No, it was vanishing</div><div style="text-align: left;">The stronger I grew</div><div style="text-align: left;">The weaker became the twirling</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What a wonder it was</div><div style="text-align: left;">The dizziness completely gone!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Where was the circle?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Where was its suffocating bond?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I turned back to see</div><div style="text-align: left;">A whirling shadow</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was out again</div><div style="text-align: left;">Without that same longing</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now there was brightness</div><div style="text-align: left;">Not the flashing kind</div><div style="text-align: left;"> A silence deep</div><div style="text-align: left;">Making me unwind</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A smile, from the core</div><div style="text-align: left;">A heart light and brimming</div><div style="text-align: left;">Of joy unbound, body </div><div style="text-align: left;">Floating and swimming</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A lifetime, nay, many</div><div style="text-align: left;">To know this is illusion</div><div style="text-align: left;">To know I am lost</div><div style="text-align: left;">And I need liberation</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Baby steps I take to escape</div><div style="text-align: left;">No circle, no path</div><div style="text-align: left;">Just a vastness to embrace</div><div style="text-align: left;">With no worries of acceptance</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Arms open, it welcomes</div><div style="text-align: left;">In its glow it engulfs</div><div style="text-align: left;">From within and without I glow</div><div style="text-align: left;">In eternal gratitude I bow.</div>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-19757646106569134952022-12-02T10:36:00.006-08:002022-12-02T10:36:58.795-08:00The Kite<div style="text-align: left;">It touched the skies<br />Finally finding release<br />The kite, symbolising freedom<br />Flying beyond anybody's reach<br />Doing what it was meant to do</div><div style="text-align: left;">Fulfilling its purpose<br />On its own merit<br />With no one dictating terms!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a name='more'></a></span>The release was exhilarating </div><div style="text-align: left;">And it fluttered in the wind</div><div style="text-align: left;">Making music that enthused it </div><div style="text-align: left;">Making it rise some more.</div><div style="text-align: left;">A gentle tug pulled it back. </div><div style="text-align: left;">But as the string was loosened, </div><div style="text-align: left;">It climbed higher still, </div><div style="text-align: left;">Farther away from others' touch, </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Away from anybody's reach, </div><div style="text-align: left;">Weaving its way out of danger </div><div style="text-align: left;">As other kites flew daringly close, </div><div style="text-align: left;">Trying to take the wind out from beneath it.<br />Aha, the tug again! </div><div style="text-align: left;">Can't they let it fly </div><div style="text-align: left;">Soar higher, soar as it pleased,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Without pulling it back?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The wind slackened </div><div style="text-align: left;">And the kite lost height</div><div style="text-align: left;">It panicked, but felt the tug </div><div style="text-align: left;">And it straightened, to again fly up </div><div style="text-align: left;">Climbing higher and higher, </div><div style="text-align: left;">Triumphant and emancipated</div><div style="text-align: left;">Suddenly it lost control</div><div style="text-align: left;">Spiralling downward unchecked</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Praying for the tug </div><div style="text-align: left;">To make it go up</div><div style="text-align: left;">But with the string was cut</div><div style="text-align: left;">Finally, it was truly free</div><div style="text-align: left;">Through the jutting hills </div><div style="text-align: left;">And thorny branches</div><div style="text-align: left;">It tore and fell</div><div style="text-align: left;">To meet its end </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In the final flutter</div><div style="text-align: left;">Memories flew past</div><div style="text-align: left;">The hands that made it</div><div style="text-align: left;">The hands that let it go</div><div style="text-align: left;">The hands that </div><div style="text-align: left;">Held the strings</div><div style="text-align: left;">The hands that </div><div style="text-align: left;">Let it fly</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The hands that </div><div style="text-align: left;">Guided its journey up</div><div style="text-align: left;">And now the hands that </div><div style="text-align: left;">Held it with immense love </div><div style="text-align: left;">On its own it was nothing</div><div style="text-align: left;">The freedom, but a myth</div><div style="text-align: left;">The string and the tug</div><div style="text-align: left;">The strength it needed</div><div style="text-align: left;">Pushing it to the heights</div><div style="text-align: left;">It craved and sought.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-71522218270949951302022-11-27T09:40:00.000-08:002022-11-27T09:40:00.240-08:00The Temptress<div style="text-align: left;"><div>The vivid colours and the beautiful sounds</div><div>Lure me, bind me to everything around</div><div><br /></div><div>I stretch out and, with tiny fingers, grasp </div><div>Relatives and friends, so many to clasp</div><div><br /></div><div>I hold tight to things infinite</div><div>Believing they belong to me, indefinite</div><div><br /></div><div>So much gold and diamonds to mine</div><div>Working hard to make them all mine</div><div><br /></div><div>Showered with your kind abundance</div><div>I still seek wealth with no reluctance</div><div><br /></div><div>How patiently you bear our abuse</div><div>Making us, even the heavens, refuse</div><div><br /></div><div>All glittering, catching our eye</div><div>Entrapping us and satiating the 'I'</div><div> </div><div>So that we come back again and again</div><div>Seeking pleasure, even if laced with pain</div><div><br /></div><div>The other worlds we do not know of</div><div>You blind us to them by giving all we ask for</div><div><br /></div><div>Food, lands, wealth and fame</div><div>Making us want to make a name</div><div><br /></div><div>A mirage that moves as we do</div><div>With temptations many, you woo</div><div><br /></div><div>So that we return again and again</div><div>For they all look like a great bargain</div><div><br /></div><div><div>We seek nothing higher or spiritual</div><div>In the garb of a mother but really the seductress</div><div><br /></div><div>Smothering us with things, so we remain</div><div>Fulfilling our needs in your domain</div><div><br /></div><div><div>Knowing all that we get is left behind</div><div>Yet we come back again and again</div><div><br /></div></div><div>There are but a few who escape you</div><div>Seeking and finding themselves anew</div><div><br /></div></div><div>Till our eyes open after a hard fall</div><div>And strive hard to ignore your call</div><div><br /></div><div>To drop it all and seek liberation</div><div>Seeing you from far with veneration </div><div><br /></div><div>I am wiser now, o mother mine</div><div>I revere you but have other paths to find</div><div><br /></div><div>I loosen my grip so I may be free</div><div>Knowing it is all but a hazy dream.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-79744647352239990192022-11-25T10:14:00.000-08:002022-11-25T10:14:00.584-08:00The Safari Food Chain<p>Food chain, you have studied all about it in class 6 or 7, I am sure. Seen a diagrammatic representation, I am sure. Probably drew a crappy version of it too. </p><p>Even in the corporate world, you would have heard of how the hierarchy works - like a food chain, each level eating the one below to grow bigger. Politics is no exception and probably closer to the jungle raj than anything else.</p><p>But, food chain in the safari!?</p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>Yes, sir, I discovered it this time.<p></p><p>There are many categories, but for convenience, I am dividing them into four and describing how it impacts the visitor to the jungle.</p><p><b>1. The Family in Colourful Clothes</b> - If you are treating jungle safari like any other family holiday, then you are at the bottom rung of the safari food chain. You probably are interested only in the main predator, the hero, of that jungle - the tiger or the lion. Even if a leopard, a crested serpent eagle or a brown owl stares you in the eye, you turn away to look out for lions and cry out in anger, "Don't waste time here! Let's look for the lion!" </p><p>You probably are unaware of the rules of the jungle, wear bright, fancy clothes and, worst, tend to chatter.</p><p>The worst crime you can commit is not to bring along a camera! Not your phone camera, that doesn't count!</p><p>You may find that you really don't get to see the predator, or even if you do, you are not allowed to be there for more than a few seconds! If you are not clicking, your sighting is not counted for much.</p><p><b>2. You Have a Camera But It Is Point and Shoot</b> - It is as good as not having one. You may be allowed a few photographs, but if there is somebody with THE camera, you may sit staring at the tree while the higher-up finishes taking all the classic shots. If you are lucky, you may get a few shaky, hazy, and 'let-me-grab-at-least-this' shots. Don't complain. Just sit back and enjoy! If you complain, you may be diverted with a "See the sunset!" line just so the serious men and women take their fill.</p><p>To tell you my own example, we were just a few metres away from a lion but I was not getting a proper shot because I had two heavyweights in my jeep! "See there, that young one..." the guide said and I turned around, hoping to see a cub. Not finding anything, I asked him, "What did you want me to see?" "A young boy was riding a rickshaw."</p><p>Seriously! I came to see that in the jungle? Sigh, the vehicle had moved by then.</p><p><b>3. Have a Camera Can't Shoot</b> - The others may be forgiven, but not someone with a fancy camera and not the skills to shoot the royal animal as it gambols majestically across the path. You have been given the best seat in the van because of your camera. So you better know how to use it well. Know your ISO, shutter speed and other settings. Don't check in between to see if you got the shot, just shoot every second. You will have time to choose the best shot later. If you don't, remember, you would have let down the guides who are so proud of their jungle. I wouldn't be surprised if you get blacklisted from getting the best seats.</p><p> <b>4. The King of the Safari</b> - If you have the right equipment and the right skills, you will have the guide fawning all over you. Ask him to show you the vultures and the mongoose and the bee-eater and the crocodiles, and you will have him eating out of your hand. Spot some of these yourself and you will come close to God in their minds. Take good shots and they will place the vehicle such that when a beast is sighted, they make sure you get more. Success begets success. And nothing succeeds like success.</p><p>The good thing, of course, is that you can go up the ladder. All you need is lots of money to buy the equipment - oh, you can't fool them with your dummy cameras. They want to see the shot and you can't fib through 4-5 safaris. Get some training and practice taking pictures of your local flora and fauna before entering the jungle. You may get the best seat yet. </p><p><br /></p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-26471047964777276882022-11-22T00:58:00.003-08:002022-11-22T07:28:35.966-08:00सलीम भाई का भाई <p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">"तुम भी चलो ना इस बार सफ़ारी पे मेरे साथ! शेर जंगल का राजा है और भारत में सिर्फ गुजरात में गिर के जंगलों में मिलता है," राजीव ने मोहना से कहा| </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsBT2rHpcIkvvwQzuyHV2zkXqNb8gKW4M4--mmN_Cb8JKZmxu6rI3Ahh8iuhlDimJ9mkBcgbmCkIt0WGtxPrffYicPCLajAIsg4IHT9Ap_52v6FunrD-GOPf3Zx56Ue-ibvI5-QKbp4FYSnPSryH2hwdVzRewtdz0QQnu4jSvQipf6UoHzbuKym8CuQ/s1600/Firoz.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsBT2rHpcIkvvwQzuyHV2zkXqNb8gKW4M4--mmN_Cb8JKZmxu6rI3Ahh8iuhlDimJ9mkBcgbmCkIt0WGtxPrffYicPCLajAIsg4IHT9Ap_52v6FunrD-GOPf3Zx56Ue-ibvI5-QKbp4FYSnPSryH2hwdVzRewtdz0QQnu4jSvQipf6UoHzbuKym8CuQ/w180-h400/Firoz.jpeg" width="180" /></a></div></div><p></p><p>हमेशा की तरह, मोहना झिझकी, मगर गुजरात का नाम सुनके मन में लालसा जागी और उसने हाँ बोल दिया| अब अहमदाबाद से जूनागढ़ स्टेशन में उतरकर मन में कई तरह के सवाल उठे - शेर के इलाके में घुसना सही था क्या? उसका पति तो साल में दो तीन बार तस्वीर खींचने जंगलों में जाता है| ये वहां क्या करेगी? तस्वीर खींचना भी तो नहीं आता है| <span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p>"गुड मॉर्निंग, मैडम," उनके गाड़ी का ड्राइवर आया| जूनागढ़ से गिर का रास्ता लम्बा था| डेढ़ घंटे लग जाएंगे| और भी यात्री उनके ग्रुप में थे| एक दुसरे से पहचान बनाने के बाद ड्राइवर पर नज़र गयी| उससे रास्ते के बारे में, रास्ते में आनेवाले जानवरों के बारे में और यहां वहाँ की बातें करने लगे| ड्राइवर ने राजनीति पर खूब गंभीर विचार सुनाए, काफ़ी समझ थी इन सब के बारे में| थोड़ी बहुत बहस भी हुई, लेकिन सब हंसी मज़ाक में| </p><p>"आप ने अपना नाम नहीं बताया?" कुछ देर बाद मोहना ने पूछा| </p><p>"आपने पूछा ही नहीं," उसने हँसते हुए कहा| </p><p>"तो अब बताइये, आप का नाम क्या है?"</p><p>"फ़िरोज़," उसने कहा| "फ़िरोज़ बलोच| हम बलोचिस्तान से हैं| हमारे परदादा के ज़माने में यहाँ के नवाब हमें जंग करने के लिए लाये थे| फ़िर हमारी वफ़ादारी देख के हमें यही अपने पास रख लिया| तब से हम यहीं हैं| अब यही हमारा कौम है|"</p><p style="text-align: left;">यह दिलचस्प खबर तो एक ट्रेलर था| </p><p>रिसॉर्ट में उतरकर वो ग्रूप ने जब तक नाश्ता ख़त्म किया तब तक उसने कमरों में सबके सामान लगवा भी दिए| "आप रेस्ट करो और ढ़ाई बजे रेडी रहना| वरना आप रिसोर्ट के बाहर की नदी तक होके आइए, बर्डिंग और मगरमछ मिल जाएंगे|"</p><p style="text-align: justify;">शाम को सफ़ारी जाने के लिए गाड़ी में चढ़ते हुए राजीव ने पूछा, "सलीम भाई नहीं आए?""जी मैं उनके साथ ही हूँ, उनका भाई हूँ, सगा भाई|"</p><p>राजीव ने मोहना से बोला, "सलीम का तो बहुत नाम है, इंस्टा में हज़ारों फॉलोवर्स हैं|"</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1YBCy4NnEeGVpbf8c1aHoRQ1HyWExOqEJ-juH5Q4lNQ3bbm2urqkRbURd7mD-g1TwmnyzHyj9aCKWuQYML5Q_kHtz66CzgJ1fEYyT06TE0mPNBYGLLMmajJJHu5uWv4gC5u3PfVjBPZc63pz8zxE7og2_gKcBwAwY6nCjtj7JV5-3zYaU_a73eTgDw/s1600/Gir%20group.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1YBCy4NnEeGVpbf8c1aHoRQ1HyWExOqEJ-juH5Q4lNQ3bbm2urqkRbURd7mD-g1TwmnyzHyj9aCKWuQYML5Q_kHtz66CzgJ1fEYyT06TE0mPNBYGLLMmajJJHu5uWv4gC5u3PfVjBPZc63pz8zxE7og2_gKcBwAwY6nCjtj7JV5-3zYaU_a73eTgDw/w640-h480/Gir%20group.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #38761d;">सलीम और फ़िरोज़ के साथ फोटोग्रॉफर्स और उनकी पत्नियाँ </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;">सामने बड़े बड़े कैमरा लेके सब बैठ गए| पीछे मोहना के पास एक जगह थी| फ़िरोज़ वहां बैठ गया और जंगल पहुँचते ही उसके बारे में बताने लगा| "आपको पूरे भारत में सिर्फ गिर के जंगलों में ही शेर मिलेगा| ये तो सच्ची जंगल का राजा है| कई बार जंगल से बाहर भी गाँवों में दिख जाता है लेकिन लोगों पर वार नहीं करता| लोग भी यहां जंगलों की देखभाल करते हैं|"</p><p>जंगल के आदिवासियों के बारे में कई दिलचस्प बातें बताई| वहाँ के आदिवासी जंगल में आग लग जाए तो पहले बुझाने दौड़ते हैं| कहीं कोई जानवर ज़ख़्मी हो जाए तो फॉरेस्ट डिपार्टमेंट को सतर्क करके जानवर की देखभाल करते हैं| कभी शेर या लेपर्ड गाय भैंस मारदे तो उसे भी प्रकृति का नियम मानके संयम नहीं खोते| </p><p>इतिहास में भी इन आदिवासियों ने एक मुख पात्र खेला| उन्होंने ही शिकारियों से शेरों को बचा के भी रखा| नवाब शिकार करते थे पर जैसे जैसे सिंह की संख्या कम होती गयी, आदिवासियों ने नवाब को इस खतरनाक स्थिति के बारे में सतर्क किया और शिकार रुकवाया| उनका काम देखकर नवाब ने उनको कुछ ज़मीन अपने रहने और व्यवसाय के लिए उपहार में दिया| वे उस जगह को बेच नहीं सकते लेकिन आजीवन वहां रह सकते हैं| अब सरकार ने भी उनको वहाँ रहने की अनुमति दी है लेकिन वे वहाँ पक्का घर नहीं बना सकते| </p><p>नवाब द्वारा लाये गए कुछ यूगांडा के लोग भी यहाँ एक गाँव में रहते हैं और अब तो उन्हें फॉरेस्ट डिपार्टमेंट में भी काम मिलता है| वो भी इस गाँव की भाषा ही बोलते हैं| रास्ते में कुछ ऐसे लोग मिले भी|</p><p> "सलीम भाई के भाई, यहाँ गिद्ध मिलता है क्या?" राजीव ने पूछा| सब हंस पड़े और फ़ीरोज़ को 'सलीम भाई के भाई' कहकर पुकारने लगे|</p><p>फ़ीरोज़े ने सलाम किया| "उन्हीं से मैंने सब कुछ सीखा है| इस नौकरी के लिए परीक्षा लिखने के लिए भी उन्होंने ही उकसाया|"</p><p>"उनका नाम फ़ीरोज़ है," मोहना ने धीमे से राजीव को टोका, जब बार बार सब उसको 'सलीम भाई के भाई' कह के नहीं थके | </p><div>गिर के इतिहास, वहाँ के जीव जंतुओं, और ऐतिहासिक गाथाओं के बीच में, फ़िरोज़ ने फोटोग्राफर्स के फोटो खींचने की उत्सुकता को भी पूरा किया| </div><p>"परवीन बॉबी इन्ही नवाब खानदान की हैं|" फ़िरोज़ ने जब बोला तो मोहना जंगलों को नई नज़रों से देखने लगी| "मैडम, आप भी फ़ोटो ली जिए ना," उसने मोहना को उकसाया और अपने छोटे कैमरा में फ़ोटो कैसे लेना चाहिए, ये भी सिखाया| </p><p>"आप फ़ोटो भी अच्छा ले लेते हो|" मोहना ने उसकी तारीफ़ की| </p><p>"मैं और सलीम भाई जाते हैं न और जगहों में, वाइल्डलाइफ देखने, तो थोड़ा कर लेते हैं!" </p><p>"सलीम भाई को ढूंढते हुए लोग यहाँ आते हैं! हम को भी खूब गाइड करते हैं, और जो कुछ भी बताया, कुछ तो स्कूल में पढ़ा, पर बाकी सब उन्हीं से सीखा| ये देखिये, कुछ तस्वीरें उन्होंने लीं|" फ़िरोज़ ने मोबाइल में शेरों की अद्भुत तस्वीरें दिखाई| </p><p>कुछ नया सीखने को भी वो हरदम तैयार था| ग्रूप के एक वरिष्ठ फ़ोटोग्राफर ने बताया, "पता है, गिर की जंगलें हमें बताती हैं की भारत और अफ़्रीका कभी जुड़े थे| इसीलिए यहां शेर मिलते हैं| इस तरह की जंगलें भारत में न होने के कारण, शेर यहाँ से आगे और कहीं नहीं गए|"</p><p>"अच्छा! ये तो पहले नहीं पता था," फ़िरोज़ ने बड़ी ईमानदारी से कहा| </p><p>"शेर आदम खोर नहीं होता क्या?" मोहना ने पूछा| </p><p>"नहीं, इंसान नमक खाता है तो उसे इंसान खाने में दिचस्पी नहीं है," उसने जवाब दिया|</p><p>ऐसे ही चार दिन निकल गए| रोज़ सुबह और शाम सफ़ारी के समय फ़िरोज़ की बातें, पक्षियों को बातों बातों में ढूंढ निकालना और शेरों के दर्शन करवाना... सब बाएं हाथ का खेल लगा| सलीम भाई बगल की गाडी से इनकी गाडी का निर्देशन भी करता रहा| कभी कभी छोटे को डाँट भी पड़ती| सलीम का अनुभव तब बोलता दिखाई देता|</p><p>एक शाम सलीम इन लोगों के साथ बैठा और उसने भी इनको जिर के जंगलों और अपने अनुभव के बारे में बात की| फ़िरोज़ के और सलीम के कहानियों में ज़्यादा अंतर नहीं था पर फ़िर से सुनते वक्त भी उतना ही दिलचस्प लगा| लेकिन एक बात जो उसने कही, बहुत ही दीर्घदर्शी थी - "जो कमाता हूँ, उसमें कुछ वाइल्डलाइफ के लिए रखता हूँ| हमेशा हम अपने बच्चों का ही सोचते हैं, अपने लिए कुछ नहीं करते| लेकिन मुझे लगता है बच्चों को शिक्षा देके अपने पाँव में खड़े होने के काबिल बनाना चाहिए, बस| अपने लिए भी कुछ रखना चाहिए और अपने सपनों को भी माँ बाप को पूरा करना चाहिए|"</p><p>सलीम और फ़िरोज़ छुट्टियों में राजस्थान और अलग अलग सफ़ारी देखने निकल पड़ते हैं| </p><p>राजीव ने जब उसके खींचे हुए जानवरों की तस्वीरें देखी, बहुत संतुष्ट हुआ| "फ़िरोज़ काफ़ी जानकार है| हमें काफ़ी फोटो लेने का मौका मिला| फ़िरोज़ भाई के भाई ने काफ़ी अच्छी ट्रेनिंग दी है| फ़िरोज़ भाई के भाई का नाम क्या है?" राजीव ने पूछा| </p><p>मोहना ने राजीव को चौंक कर देखा| उसके नटखट मुस्कान से वो समझ गई कि राजीव उसकी टांग खींच रहा है| "बस अब फ़िरोज़ भाई का भाई ही समझो उसका नाम," उसने भी मज़ाक में कहा|</p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-32818781715964154062022-11-12T06:03:00.000-08:002022-11-12T06:03:11.320-08:00Ode to Mother Earth<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My feet work fast</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My head in the air</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Thoughts flying in all directions</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Eyes observing everything there</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a name='more'></a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Body wearing out with action</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Working, thinking even in inaction</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Adding burdens but carrying on</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Wanting wings to fly anon</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I rest on the floor </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">At the end of a weary day<br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Oblivious to the caring Earth's </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">love </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Coming my way</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The mind involved</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Day in and day out</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Catching my breath</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Calculating the steps</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The birds sing</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The bees hum</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The trees bloom</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Bearing apples and plum</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Colour splashes</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Light and shadow play</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The world is abuzz</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">But I am too frayed</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Unmindful, past caring</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Living and yet not</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ticking off lists</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Running like an automaton</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">How long can I stand</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">On my own will?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Weary, I drop</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">To catch a few breaths </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">In that state</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Of being and not </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The mind asleep</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">But a little aware</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I feel your love </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Seeping through</span></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I drop all burdens</span><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">And feel restful</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Like a teenager</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Turning away </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">From mother's love </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Only to seek it later</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I return to your fold</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Refreshed, reformed</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Contrite about the lost </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">years</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Wholeheartedly I surrender</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I walk light-footed</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I hear the birds sing</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The bees hum</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The flowers bloom </span></div><div><br /><div class="yj6qo" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I see the world </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">With new eyes</span></div></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">And feel elixir</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Flow through my veins</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The spring in the step</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The joy in my heart</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The secrets revealed</span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">In heart-to-heart</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">When I touch you</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">With a bowed head</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">I hear you whisper</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Loving and kind words</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">May I always </span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Know this joy</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">May I always</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Be one with your ways. </span></span></div>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-57962838473601033792022-11-10T10:39:00.000-08:002022-11-10T10:39:10.673-08:00The Amalgam <div style="text-align: left;">I rest on the floor, drop my weight<br />The physical, not insignificant<br />But the emotions, heavier<br />I feel them gravitate away</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Into the loving folds<br />Of the mother's embrace<br />Hard to touch but soft within</div><div style="text-align: left;">Remaining still to receive me</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Nourishing me with her abundance</div><div style="text-align: left;">Nurturing me with love and care</div><div style="text-align: left;">Accepting the blows I land on her</div><div style="text-align: left;">Steadying me when I dither</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gratitude wells up as I rest my head</div><div style="text-align: left;">And feel her smile reflected on my face</div><div style="text-align: left;">My heart sings with joy as I realise</div><div style="text-align: left;">She will be with me night and day</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I bow to thee, Mother Earth</div><div style="text-align: left;">For giving me food and a home</div><div style="text-align: left;">For coming with me every inch of the way</div><div style="text-align: left;">Even when I forget where I belong.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To her hard touch contrasts the subtle ether</div><div style="text-align: left;">Wrapping itself around me with tender care</div><div style="text-align: left;">Like father's love, never evident but there</div><div style="text-align: left;">A sheath, a veil, hidden but nevertheless present</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Caressing me gently with soft strokes</div><div style="text-align: left;">Being a life force within me and without</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>Supporting my very breath, keeping me alive</div><div>Showering on mother earth so she may nurture</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Not demanding, nor even seeking attention</div><div style="text-align: left;">Filling my entire being without pretensions</div><div style="text-align: left;">Till I realise I am nothing but an amalgam</div><div style="text-align: left;">Of the elusive space and the grounded earth. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-53544490304515156872022-11-06T09:11:00.002-08:002022-11-06T09:17:21.364-08:00Unveiling<div style="text-align: left;">Captured in a shell<br />Separated but unaware<br />Connected through breath<br />Without thought or care</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;">In love with the wrapping paper</div><div style="text-align: left;">Attracted to shiny ware</div><div style="text-align: left;">Disappointed and dejected</div><div style="text-align: left;">Trapped in meaningless dares</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A part, apart from the whole</div><div style="text-align: left;">A wave, reaching out for the shore</div><div style="text-align: left;">Not knowing it's just a role</div><div style="text-align: left;">Catching reflections, losing more</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To lose the wrapper</div><div style="text-align: left;">And get another </div><div style="text-align: left;">No different, and yet </div><div style="text-align: left;">Moving from one to another</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Till realising it is ephemeral </div><div style="text-align: left;">And ready to shed it forever</div><div style="text-align: left;">Loosening our grip on things here</div><div style="text-align: left;">Finding joy in something deeper</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Knowing that, like the wave</div><div style="text-align: left;">We roll up and back away</div><div style="text-align: left;">A different form, different name</div><div style="text-align: left;">Feelings holding us in their sway</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Dropping this pretense</div><div style="text-align: left;">Stopping the constant struggle</div><div style="text-align: left;">Flowing on like a river</div><div style="text-align: left;">To be delivered where it should </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Don't be caught up</div><div style="text-align: left;">Don't be walled</div><div style="text-align: left;">Let the elements play</div><div style="text-align: left;">And you play along</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Know your destination</div><div style="text-align: left;">Know the origin too is you</div><div style="text-align: left;">Everything on the way is a cover</div><div style="text-align: left;">In the end, you unveil You.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-25957395171619861832022-10-29T06:19:00.001-07:002022-10-29T06:19:23.692-07:00In Plain Sight<p> "You draw, is it?" Madhukar asked Yamini, his eyes alight with interest.</p><p>Yamini smiled shyly and nodded. "A small indulgence... That's all."</p><p>"I am sure it's more than that. You seem very sensitive and aware," he said with an appreciative smile.</p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>Yamini laughed soundlessly, her heart fluttering a little at this handsome man's evident interest in her. "Appearances," she replied coquettishly. "I can be completely insensitive and brutal."<p></p><p>"And is that how your drawings are also? Stark and brutal?"</p><p>No one had ever asked her such questions. "I don't know. I mean, I don't know what others see in it," she replied evasively. Her paintings were her expressions, and she was not about to discuss them with a complete stranger, however charming he may be.</p><p>"But what do you say?" he asked persistently.</p><p>The temptation to talk...ah, who could resist? She couldn't, especially when he asked with such eagerness. "Mmm... Of course, I say all that I feel." She chuckled. "It is amusing how people miss seeing themselves there and willingly rant about 'people like that'."</p><p>He frowned, without comprehending. "People like that?"<br /></p><p>"I mean, for instance, a neighbour was bullying her maid. When I showed her painting of her--obviously, I didn't draw her or the maid, but about how people sometimes treat others with disrespect--and the lady just went on and on about the need for compassion and kindness and what not."</p><p>He chuckled. "I get it... God! You are naughty!"</p><p>"Am I, now?" and she winked.</p><p>He took his phone out. "Tell me where I can see your art. Are you on Facebook, Insta?"</p><p>She nodded and felt a little shy sharing the handle on Insta. He immediately went to her handle and started viewing the paintings. Seeing them so engrossed, the hostess of the cocktail party walked over and said, "Come on, I didn't know you both knew each other and now you both seem inseparable!" </p><p>That was a little naughty of her, but Madhukar included her immediately in viewing the paintings, "Just look at the strokes and the story in each!"</p><p>"Yes, yes," the hostess said quickly. "I will leave you to it. I have to attend to the other guests." She then added hastily, "I know how talented Yamini is. I keep telling her she must have a show but she just doesn't. Now, let me introduce you to someone who knows all about it... There is Renee... Renee, dear, come over. Remember I told you about my friend Yamini who is also an artist? Here, she has just been showing Madhu her works, and I think you must have a dekko."</p><p>Renee walked up with a smile and took the phone from Madhukar. "Oh, nice... I see... Hmm... Meet me sometime soon. I know a few gallery owners. We can work something out," she told Yamini with a patronizing smile and turned to Madhu. "I learned all about art and artists when my daughter showed such promise! Oh, you must visit us someday and see her works. She is amazing. She doesn't put them up on Insta or any social media, you know. I discourage her. Instead, I am planning a show. She is just 17, but seeing her work, you wouldn't think so! You must come too, dear," she turned to Yamini and said with a smile.</p><p>Yamini nodded and slipped away, glad of the few minutes with Madhu and already inspired by Renee's officiousness for her next painting. The need to market themselves or their loved ones... How often she encountered it. She pitied them and took that as a warning not to go down that path. She tried to think back to the conversation with Madhu--had she unwittingly boasted about her artistic talent, craving for attention?</p><p>That night when she returned home, she saw that Madhukar was now following her. She smiled. She got down to putting her ideas on paper. It was late, but when an idea gripped her, she had to get it out fast before she lost it. In any case, she would be unable to sleep.</p><p>She shared the painting on her handle a couple of days later. Madhu messaged her, "Great work. Do I detect anyone we know?" and added a wink emoji.</p><p>"Mmmm... You read too much into the lines," she teased.</p><p>She found he pinged every time she posted something, but the tone of his comments changed. From the comments being about the painting, it turned to being an excuse to initiate a chat, a little flirting. She knew he was married and she wasn't interested in him that way at all. And soon, the comments came only when she posted a photo of herself.</p><p>She laughed. He was just one among many she knew. Her personal photos, though she posted them rarely, got more likes and comments than her paintings.</p><p>She sat back, observing the drift of her thoughts. 'Got more likes and comments' - is that what she had been thinking? Was she really keeping count? Of how many likes she got for this versus how many for that? The numbers? Did they mean anything? Was she getting caught up in a number game of her own making? What did it matter, how many? Who was she racing against? Who set the rules of the game?</p><p>She looked at her desk where the designs she did for an architecture firm waited for attention. </p><p>That had to wait. She had an idea for a parody of herself. When she finished, she sat back satisfied. Should she share this on Insta? Yes, of course... And this time, she wouldn't care how many saw or liked it. This was her release... </p><p>When Madhu pinged her, he hadn't noticed that he was also a figure in the 'drawing', one of the numbers to be dropped by the wayside.</p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-66432705989217854692022-09-18T05:26:00.001-07:002022-09-18T05:26:37.855-07:00The Hiatus - Time to Break Out<p>Was it long or short?<br />Was there a break at all?<br /><br />The words jumbled<br />Floating in mind's jungle<br />Wild and random<br />To be strung in a pattern.</p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>Free, shy, questioning intent<p></p><p>Not ready to become poetic content</p><p>Even when unsaid<br />Much was said<br />In silent emotions<br />Twisting, turning notions<br /><br />Evading articulation<br />Existing as quiet perception<br /><br />Silent, but not entirely<br />Teasing and taunting wildly<br />Just within my reach<br />And yet, standing apart, each<br /><br />Today I gather them<br />Take a break from break, then.<br /><br />Attempt a new beginning<br />To try my hand again at writing<br />From inert, move to creation<br />Hoping to tap my imagination<br /><br />Stories, essays, or poems<br />Let them flow from mind to pens.<br /><br />On parched earth, may it rain<br />May it sprout the buried grain<br />May the silent mind revive again<br />And tell stories of joy and pain.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-41069758159353038742022-08-14T08:55:00.002-07:002022-08-14T11:32:22.428-07:00Free At Last<p>It was a long road<br />I walked bare feet<br />Carrying some burdens<br />And memories sweet</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p>Open and vulnerable<br />Closed and thoughtful<br />Expecting miracles<br />An ending beyond wonderful</p><p>The ordinary kept pace<br />Like a pet that wouldn't stray<br />Persistently tugging along<br />Much as I tried to shake it away</p><p>Turnings I feared to take<br />Clinging to the straight path ahead<br />Fearful of the unknown <br />Holding on to known devils instead</p><p>With no turns and twists<br />A rim-rod straight road<br />How far could it take me?<br />But led me to a dead-end</p><p>Not an inch ahead<br />Could I move<br />Blocking my way<br />A wall of saturation stood</p><p>Bereft and betrayed<br />On my feet, I swayed<br />Regretting that true <br />To the false, I stayed</p><p>The past was gone<br />I couldn't turn back<br />Hemmed in from all sides<br />Feeling as if in barracks</p><p>Then my eyes <br />Went beyond the wall<br />It was not what I feared<br />A barrier that blocked it all!</p><p>It was a challenge <br />Thrown at me <br />To make me think<br />And find ways to exit<br /><br />To see the vastness<br />Once the wall broke<br />Setting me free<br />Giving me much hope<br /><br />Not this or that<br />One thing or the other<br />Something beyond<br />As boundless as ether</p><p>Beckoning with promises<br />Of unbounded joy<br />Of novel experiences<br />That I can now enjoy<br /><br />Tested by fire<br />Honed by experience<br />Ready to embrace<br />Beauty and newness<br /><br />The scales fell<br />With new eyes, I see<br />The journey made me ready<br />To swim in this vast sea<br /><br />Each step gave me strength<br />Each blow made me smile more<br />Feeling gratitude and happiness<br />With a spring in the step I set forth.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-74761941433162686302022-05-24T06:04:00.009-07:002022-05-24T09:22:39.148-07:00The Noble Man<p>Initially, I was amused. And then I was thinking.</p><p>Rama sent his wife to the forest, but Ravana, the so-called demon, never touched Sita. What a noble man!</p><p>His anger was aroused on seeing his sister in agony because of her face being mutilated. He immediately set out to avenge her humiliation.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Rama and Lakshamana were cruel in taunting and hurting Shurpanakha.</p><p>Poor woman, really! She went to Rama, seeking intimacy with him. He refused, stating clearly that he had a wife and he was not interested in other women. But a man's 'no' is not always a no, so she persists. Poor thing, all she wanted was some sex. He could have said no, but he said no.</p><p>Seeing her desperation and wondering about his brother's celibacy, Rama recommends his brother. Shurpanakha doesn't mind... I am not passing judgement. Different people, different standards, different joys. I am sure the radiant Lakshmana was just as attractive. </p><p>And she goes willingly.</p><p>But, strange men! A woman is all over them, and they insist on saying no. She believes in perseverence, try, try till you succeed. They remain polite and start teasing her. Unkind. Humour at the expense of a woman is not right. They could have yelled at her but not laughed at her! Better still, they should just have given in.</p><p>Won't such a woman be provoked? She is being mocked, she finally catches on, and whom does she blame? Sita, who has no role in this conversation. </p><p>Shurpanaka pounces on Sita, having resumed her original form. What should the men have done? Just stood back and allowed the women to fight it out. Just watched the fight and posted on social media. But Lakshmana, the spoilsport, has to intervene to save his sister-in-law. Bad boy! </p><p>Now, Shurpanakha rushes to her powerful brother who is going to be all compassionate and kind. Ahem.</p><p>"Oh, brother, when I saw that beautiful woman, I knew she was right for you but the husband and brother stood in the way," she says as she describes the beauty of Sita to Ravana. </p><p>Wait a minute! That's not what happened, did it? Why is she speaking like this? </p><p>Because,<span> </span>knowing what will get him interested, she just adjusts the fact a bit. Never mind she does not give the real reason why she was mutilated. It will get no reaction. He would just dismiss her. So much brotherly love! They already had other problems, and so it would be of no use. She needs her revenge, How does it matter whether he knows the real reason or not?</p><p>The sister has her brother's measure, and with her description of Sita's beauty, his attention too. That's a noble man!</p><p>So our avenging brother, who should have attacked the two brothers and declared war, has other ways to display his bravery. He sends his uncle to lure the men away. What a nobleman, indeed! </p><p>He slinks in at a time when the two men will not be there. Ssh... He is a nobleman.</p><p>Then, he transforms himself into a sage and approaches Sita to lure her out. Absolutely above board! He carries her off. Shall we say, she is swept off her feet? That's what love is all about. </p><p>He keeps her in his garden, surrounded by lush nature. The romantic touch. </p><p>He places guards around her so that... she may come to no harm? Generous beyond a doubt.</p><p>Stupid ladies never understand the purpose they are there for. Is it his fault that they harass and scare her? That she wishes she were dead? </p><p>The nobleman wants her to change her mind, that's all, and accept him on her own so that his head may not roll as per the curse - a minor detail, really! It doesn't add up to his nobility so let's just push it under the carpet. </p><p>And the fact that he talks of her husband being dead etc. is all part of the wooing - after all, everything is fair in love and war.</p><p>Even when sage advice is given that he send her back, he persists in holding her a prisoner though she is unwilling. Like sister, like brother. Sita will come around. Her no is not a no. Who can resist the royal, handsome and learned Ravana!</p><p>So this great man, who never touched Sita, who stood up for his sister, who promised the world to her... Don't! Don't call it kidnapping! He was just showing how a woman should be treated.</p>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-54527016851719725642022-05-08T00:27:00.000-07:002022-05-08T00:27:04.635-07:00World Play<div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">There is no excitement </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">in monotony</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">And so we are given </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">our little plays</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">There is no </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">thrill in peace, and off </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">We </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">go</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">to </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">the war </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">with little delay</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">What's so special a</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">bout beauty?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">What matters is the power to destroy</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">We rake old wounds on the mend </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Refreshing pains, we seem to enjoy</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">To despair, we cling</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">So life may have some zing</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">What purpose does </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">the scar </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">serve? </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">To bind us to our pains and pleasures</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;"><br /></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">Is this all a game, you wonder?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">This world, so full of blunders?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Different levels one must cross</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">Before finding the treasure across</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">Buttons like triggers</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">Moving us hither and thither</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Rolling on, trying to find purpose</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Each different, performing in a circus</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Claiming, 'I am right'</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">For a few moments in the bright light</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Only to slip into darkness</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">To merge with blankness</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Our identity wiped out</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Our existence as if not at all</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">All our angsts and outbursts</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Just bubbles, in a moment, lost?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Is this the game He plays</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Till we find we are one and the same!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">One, too, with that Supreme</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Flashing in and out like in movies </span></span></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">A role we don only to discard</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Till we are done with all the discords</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Taking the path of eternal peace</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">We who are, on a board, just one piece </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Do we vanish? Not at all!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">We still have to walk till the final call</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Knowing where the path is leading</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">And now our heart can stop bleeding.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4517375665494736562.post-56677778369251155762022-05-01T11:22:00.003-07:002022-05-01T11:32:08.738-07:00The Silent Core<div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gECPvYWmMyUoQIFvR9N18Ne-Xd3_InjcRzgfb_OcR5TSjP31kYzMetUkaC8YF9_0nd1j5xUe1BKE7UR6HgMDd38Jlp-83CHJKfqnN_uMrot3xNweTXxAhZQbpzTE1xZ-NDSSt5q6wSZDHOc9J8RRkGsupsKUFzV7seU9_eBeYkI90xHMDhe-7-pfUQ/s1534/Tranquebar.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="1534" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gECPvYWmMyUoQIFvR9N18Ne-Xd3_InjcRzgfb_OcR5TSjP31kYzMetUkaC8YF9_0nd1j5xUe1BKE7UR6HgMDd38Jlp-83CHJKfqnN_uMrot3xNweTXxAhZQbpzTE1xZ-NDSSt5q6wSZDHOc9J8RRkGsupsKUFzV7seU9_eBeYkI90xHMDhe-7-pfUQ/s320/Tranquebar.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.srikantclicks.com" target="_blank"> </a></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Foamy waves<br />Child-like and eager<br />Touching the sands<br />Chasing each other</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Innocent and happy</div><div style="text-align: left;">Noisy and teasing<br />Reaching out joyously </div><div style="text-align: left;">Quickly retreating</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;">Growing up suddenly</div><div style="text-align: left;">Falling just as fast</div><div style="text-align: left;">Terrorizing in their stature</div><div style="text-align: left;">But still, in the ocean, lost</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Their power awesome</div><div style="text-align: left;">With a resounding sound </div><div style="text-align: left;">Destroying all in their path</div><div style="text-align: left;">Finally destroyed, unfound</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>Into the vastness</div><div>Deep and silent</div><div>Housing a universe</div><div>Carrying undercurrents</div><div><br /></div><div>Surface fluttering</div><div>But quiet within</div><div>Menacing in storms</div><div>And then quieting</div><div><br /></div><div>At the bottom</div><div>The buried sand</div><div>The vessel that holds</div><div>Where the waters land</div><div><br /></div><div>Is that the end</div><div>Or something deeper</div><div>Solid and quiet</div><div>Resting forever</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">All this noise</div><div style="text-align: left;">Where does it vanish?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Deep inside where</div><div style="text-align: left;">Thoughts are banished.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A silent core</div><div style="text-align: left;">Calm and steady</div><div style="text-align: left;">Restful and peaceful</div><div style="text-align: left;">If you are but ready</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To welcome it</div><div style="text-align: left;">Into your hearts</div><div style="text-align: left;">And not let the breeze</div><div style="text-align: left;">Shake up your parts</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Like the ocean</div><div style="text-align: left;">Contained on the sandy bed</div><div style="text-align: left;">So also a wealth of thoughts</div><div style="text-align: left;">Roam around in your head</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>But swim deep</div></div><div style="text-align: left;">And find that core</div><div style="text-align: left;">Where resides</div><div style="text-align: left;">The Ancient Soul</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><div>The One that connects</div><div>Everything created</div><div>A core that remains</div><div>Unobserved and content</div><div><br /></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">Silent and observing</div><div style="text-align: left;">Unshaken, unstirred</div><div style="text-align: left;">Watching a play</div><div style="text-align: left;">Letting life go undeterred</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What unfolds and folds</div><div style="text-align: left;">Are but part of that drama</div><div style="text-align: left;">In that silent core</div><div style="text-align: left;">There is no melodrama.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To touch it is to contain </div><div style="text-align: left;">The ocean in the fist</div><div style="text-align: left;"> For there is one Truth</div><div style="text-align: left;">And this is it, this is it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Meerahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07110354912079188360noreply@blogger.com0