Sunday, 18 June 2017

You Stardust

Step out you stardust, the door is wide open.

Why? Aren’t you ready? That table is your trunk, you packed it long back, ask the thick grime your feet are resting on. Lurking on the wall is a spider, is he your friend or not, don’t bother I tell you, he is on his own journey. For now the lamp is cold and dead, for now the darkness is not a thing unfamiliar, for now you have mourned too long, so just get up. Don’t you see the ants on work? You sulk and cough and spit and drink thinking life will just go away, but it doesn’t, not so easily. Get up, step out, it has been so long since you heard the sound of your own footsteps… deep resonance… connect once again to the earth. Shout or cry, dare or try and always happily fall… fall down for then you’ll learn to wake up… getup-getup. You turn away from the light, no-no it is not laughing at you, walk with it a mile, you’ll smile and shine too. The hands you’re resting, the head you’re swaying, the air you’re breathing knows better than you. Don’t worry for smoothly it will all come back to you, the sun rises and sets, the moon shines and hides, the wind plays and takes, the river nurtures and leaves, the sky stays yours forever – see up, get up. Witness, for the truth is waiting. Witness, for the time is calling. Witness, for your life is yours to rule. Aye! Aye! It is hard, bone-screeching, don’t listen to the stubborn emptiness, all it does is preaching. See, you’re up, take a step forward, one at a time. Push away the hindrances, let the mirror fall and break into umpteenth pieces, for you’re about to change into an image that the mirror cannot behold. Aye! Rub your eyes for now you'll see the world beyond. Keep walking.

Step out you stardust, the door is wide open!

Friday, 9 June 2017

Two Blind Crows

Ra-ra: Why did the window went SHUT… who closed it SHUT… my question is just HOW?

Ra-ra’s friend Coo stays quiet, looking absolutely nowhere.

Ra-ra: S-H-U-T right when I was about to pick my share and leave…

Coo: I believe you, it has been so many years since you first told me this story.

Ra-ra: (astonished) Many years you say, gone nuts… it happened an hour ago.

Coo: So you think.

Ra-ra: Coo this ain’t the time to argue.

Coo: This is.

Ra-ra: But we won’t.

Coo: We will.

Ra-ra: Hey, how is Will doing? Been a while…

Coo: A while? He died ages ago.

Ra-ra: O boy, you’re not in the mood to talk. Well… I… ah just forget it.

Coo: Forgetting is easy, a very natural thing.

Ra-ra: Hmm… (pause) Hey Coo, give me some space to stand.

Coo: You’re standing fine, 900 years have passed.

Ra-ra: 900? I came flying from the west port Oraffa city just now.

Coo: Oraffa city? Hah! Blind dreams!

Ra-ra: How dare you? I can see very well… you can’t, you blind ugly funny sounding bad crow!

Coo: I said blind dreams… didn’t call you blind.

Ra-ra: Oh, then let me apologise.

Coo: For what? We are blind, the world knows it. Yet…

Ra-ra: Blind we are, yes, yes… very much... (mumbles).

Coo: I’ll complete my sentence… yet we are still alive.

Ra-ra: (flaps wings) Death sentence, I have been given death sentence and yet I am alive.

Coo: Cool-cool yourself Ra-ra. We are together in this.

Ra-ra starts sobbing, mumbles again.

Coo: I am turning left.

Ra-ra: (softly) Left?

Coo: Turned.

Ra-ra: Wait for me!

Coo: Hey!

Ra-ra: I think I also turned left, unless it is the right or it is somewhere in the middle, who knows.

Coo: Not me.

Ra-ra: (laughs) You’re funny!

Both Ra-ra and Coo stand quietly. Coo speaks after sometime.

Coo: Hey Ra-ra, you never told me your famous window story.

Ra-ra: I didn’t? How come?

Coo: That’s the truth.

Ra-ra: Well, then listen… the window went SHUT... someone just closed it SHUT.

The two blind crows talked facing what they thought was the left.

Friday, 26 May 2017

Walking A Gatha

Walking straight, walking on the mountain listening to The Times They Are A Changin’ I saw nothing, neither the trees nor the rocks, neither the shadow nor the light, and just kept walking ahead. Mountain talked, I didn’t hear, until I bent a little. It said, ‘you will reach your destination, you will, for sure’, and happily I smiled, crossed my hands behind my back and continued walking.

Swiftly I moved forward, there was no stopping me. Dashing ahead I crossed jungles after jungles, I played with the shadows and the light, I didn’t even wait for the wind. Like a curse, definitely a curse, a disaster hit me - I started panting. It never happened all this while, why now? Then I remembered faintly of what the mountain told me… I pleaded it to guide me again, the mountain listened. It said, ‘know patience, know the truth and its power’, I bowed down and stopped walking. I stopped for the first time in my travel; I learned the art of deep breathing. Ages passed there; then I left in search.

In search of what I was looking for. I was looking for what I was in search of.

Familiar with the pace of the trees canopying me, stopping and listening to the rocks and their untold gathas, attuned with the shadow and the light, I kept walking when I reached near a ferociously musical river. It carried along ocean’s depth and waves’ nimble notes… ‘will merge with the ocean, I do not wait for anyone’, replied the river to my question - can you please let me pass.

So I changed my path and followed the river. Who said you can’t? Change… change and move ahead.

Right where the river met the ocean, where it all seemed to end, where trees, rocks, shadow and light all disappeared, music stayed by my side and showed me a narrow, slippery way to cross the river. I stepped in, the water was cold, but shallow and so I could cross easily. It was shallow for a reason.

Shallowness exists for a reason.

With joy and cheer I continued along, I danced on the way, I slept peacefully and then walked leisurely. I sang, the tune echoed. My mind envisioned a valley of flowers and pink clouds when suddenly I tumbled down. I was hurt. My dream shattered and cold winds bruised me badly. It started hailing. I shouted angrily for snatching my peace. Who knows at whom?

The weather opposed me and pinned me down, I accepted defeat. I kept lying half dead for the time to change… when it did, I woke up and saw as the fog disappeared that there was a huge mountain standing in front of me. I couldn’t stop smiling, a new journey was going to begin. Climbing the mountain I listened again to Dylan’s The Times They Are A Changin’. I didn’t know it, but I was free.

I have always been free.

The times they are a changin’ by Bob Dylan –

Friday, 19 May 2017

Unforgettably Yours

I dare you to forget not. Forget what not? Try to remember… remember that day when…

… for the first time you crawled… you struggled to walk… you hopped all along… you won a race… you tap danced with grace… you came in style… you left wearing a smile… you befriended the walking stick… you crawled for the second time…

… for the first time you were loved… you were pampered… you were jealous… you were told to share… you were lonely… you made a friend… you believed in dreams… you knew true joy… you hurt yourself… you stood up… you worshipped time… you quietly realised… you happily understood… you loved them back…

… for the first time you felt you knew absolutely nothing… you followed their path… you managed to survive… you built a new track… you knew right is right and wrong, wrong… you travelled in time… you accepted the change… you thoroughly read writings in brief… you said of course… you said not at all… you repented and laughed at the mistake… you cheered your take… you declared that you still knew absolutely nothing…

Everything is forgotten on the way, but the journey goes on… the journey that is unforgettably yours.

Monday, 8 May 2017

Let Go

Let go of it all. For once let it go. Your progress, your failures, your ideas, your hopes, your desires, your expectations, your beliefs, your treasures and those measures, consciously forget about it all. Keep yourself and your personality aside, make notions about nothing, pack the mistakes and parcel the troubles… to no one in particular, to no place known… after the mind finishes this task, say a happy goodbye to your mind. Be no one… no one you know, no one you dream of… just be… all this for a few minutes, right before you go off to sleep. Empty your mind and leave the body and sleep.

With time you’ll see how you can detach yourself from the game of opposites. You can be in a place above this and that. So let go, let go of fears and delights alike and know. 

Monday, 1 May 2017

Ik Onkar

Parvez it is familiar, because it is music… and music cannot be forgotten once the wavelength matches.
Parvez it is shining, because it is guiding… we all can follow, dawn to dusk, it is listening, it is reminding.
Parvez it is present, because it is true and timed for you… beyond measurements, answers and queues.
Parvez it is travelling, because it understands the journey is never ending… shimmering throughout, glorifying silence.
Parvez it is dancing, because it believes in union… one circle, two circles, circles resolve it all.
Parvez it is there, because you garnered patience.
Parvez it is talking, because you are listening.
Parvez it is knowable, though you still don’t know it.
Parvez look within.

Ik Onkar Sat Naam

(Read about Ik Onkar - )

Saturday, 15 April 2017

It said Why not? It said Once more.

The Daemon
- By Louise Bogan

Must I tell again
In the words I know
For the ears of men
The flesh, the blow?

Must I show outright
The bruise in the side,
The halt in the night,
And how death cried?

Must I speak to the lot
Who little bore?
It said Why not?
It said Once more.

So to believe that the journey shouldn’t be stopped, that it can’t be stopped… to believe that it is all knowable, understandable… to believe that slow or fast pace doesn’t matter… to believe that the one within is always, always listening… to believe that with patience comes the answer… to believe that the self is in making… to believe that laughter reaches out… to believe that everyone is rising… to believe that it is not just a mere idea, a dream, a happy wish or the mind’s trick… and to believe that everything happening is true, is true?

The Daemon replied with a simple nod.

Friday, 31 March 2017

The Archetypal Journey

“The contents of the collective unconscious are archetypes, primordial images that reflect basic patterns that are common to us all, and which have existed universally since the dawn of time.”
                               - Carl Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious

It is an archetypal journey. The action, the beckoning, the characteristic, the defined, the empowering, the foolish, the grand, the hierarchical, the idealistic, the justified, the karmic, the love-blind, the materialistic, the nurturing, the ordinary, the perilous, the quark-shaped, the resisting, the surviving, the tempestuous, the utopian, the visible, the wanderers, the X-catchers, the Y-believers, the zealous.

Collectively it is all done. But still the individual holds the absolute power to create… to create once again, to retell, to relive. And together we witness.

If you find the process as a slow one, then let the jester hit you with paradoxes. Understand, later you will, that every cell is wholly participating and it isn’t slow or fast, but magnificently beautiful.

This elemental connection when subtly enters the conscious, baffles and simultaneously glorifies us.

Nearing the known, reaching the unknown; beginning with a fear, ending triumphantly or vice-versa; thinking that it doesn’t matter, feeling that it does… each journey has a homeland.

Alone you walk ahead, collectively we follow. 

Monday, 20 March 2017

Silk Threads

Silk threads criss cross in high speed and after a moment’s patience it all slows down. The time stops calmly, the space lets you play.

You know nothing but brightness, you see everything in brightness. You breathe rhythmically.

Thoughts echo warmly until interrupted. Politely accept all the echoes, free yourself.

In this silence, when you hear the loud criss cross silk threads, stay and you will understand why.

Pranayama by Greg Dunn and Brian Edwards

Friday, 17 March 2017

The Map to Miyazaki

Well, the map in my possession is incomplete, I still have to collect many missing jigsaw pieces- Ponyo, Porco Rosso, Pom Poko and more. I am all AGOG!

Dominant colours– green, blue, white, yellow and red – on the map, endless stretches of farmlands, mountains, rivers, sunny days, foggy evenings, starry nights and cottony skies are fulfilling; colours reinstating you to the quiet you, making you sensitively aware. Wide EYES!

The map warmly takes you to different worlds; worlds you will strongly start to believe you belong in, you always did. Yes, each world on the map has that charm, each world is linked through MAGIC.

Magical creatures, seen for the first time as you follow the map, will become your close friends, the closest ones. Tell them your secrets to make them yours forever.

Princess Mononoke
The map took me to the magnificent majestic world of Princess Mononoke. I reveal, I confess I was afraid, threatened for my familiarity with, my memories of this life-journey disowned me and left. Alone I walked, met many Kodamas and I walked ahead. Alone and FASCINATED!

This world merges evil and good, rights and wrongs, anarchy and peace… thoughts and feelings of being in the centre with a grand forest and a grand iron fortress converging. I’ll return to this world, for I have to.

Do you know what Prince Ashitaka said to Lady Eboshi when she asked him what was he there for? Prince Ashitaka said - To see with eyes unclouded by hate. GRAND!

Spirited Away
In the world called Spirited Away, I was with Chihiro all the while even when she became Sen… or was I? She kept swinging on the threshold, meeting and understanding the spirits and their realm. 

With Chihiro I crossed the tunnel in the end, we turned together with a measure of hope, wanting, trust and belief. We left and the threshold disappeared, but the feeling stayed. The feeling is ALIVE.

My Neighbour Totoro
The map will take you, to your utter pleasure, both in the future and the past, in the known and the unknown, in their story and your story. Gladly I followed the dirt road and reached the world of Totoro, My Neighbour Totoro. All I did there was dancing, under the Huge Tree in the Tsukamori Forest along with Satsuki and Mei and Totoro and two small totoros.

[The music I danced to - ]

Déjà vu, dreams and fantasy fused together in this world and promised. A promise so DEEP, one never made before. 

Oh how the dreams never end, how we build on and on… maybe for the dreams speak to us honestly without any guilt, without shying from LOVE.

Howl's Moving Castle
I have been on Howl’s Moving Castle, what a wonderful world. But I warn you, it is like being in a dream, a lengthy dream, one which tackles evil and disgust and the power game; where love and compassion dimly shine and darkness shakes you from within, leaving you weak.

If you hold on, Howl the wizard fights back and casts a spell to restore harmony and balance. How well a spell can work? For how long will it preserve? Corruption spreads, how will it all end? Howl’s Flying Castle a dream like reality…

I left this world after learning how to make a castle fly – apart from Calcifer’s (the fire-demon) help you need to nurture freedom WITHIN. Voila!

The Wind Rises
And so the map showed me another beautiful world which was all about flying, The Wind Rises it was called. Know that flying and magic is a must in life. Abide by for there is magic WITHIN.

If you happen to forget yourself, truly forget yourself, may you be reminded as the wind rises, that you must LIVE.

Live to fulfil, to cherish, to create, to inspire, to love, to remember, to let go, to smile, to embrace the truth as it all ENDS.

I will continue to make the map to Miyazaki as slowly it is being revealed to me how the dreams are unfolded, how the stories are made, what it takes to truly believe and what a treasure living is.

Arigatou Gozaimasu!

P.S- My friend gave the first piece of this map, the one that took me to the world of Princess Mononoke; this is the tradition, I now pass it on to you.

Friday, 10 March 2017

Illimitable Splendour

A joy so complete without any rise or fall, so free without any time corners, so real without true being false, false being true. Witnessing the colours dance by, I swayed along to see I am nowhere around.

Light’s brightness pierced through and through with love and warmth, permeating the space and beyond. Embracing it, I started to radiate, but didn’t see myself around.

The whole enchilada gathered momentum, passing and reaching the whole enchilada. I gazed and found the beginning and the destination to be the same, but I didn’t reveal it for I was happy and still, not present there.

Rhythm flowed through the grand wadis, deeply and rapidly it flowed to form a vortex. Whirling merrily in rhythm I followed without any wish for more or less, when I realised I am missing.

The sea of quietness fulfilled itself and the sound of stars falling enhanced it beautifully. I saw it in double wonderment because it was sublime and my presence there was a lie.

If not the gust of wind, what was so strong there, if not the heat of fire, what then burned majestically there, if not the heavens of this, that and all the worlds, what made it truly blissful there? I am not to answer, for I was undeniably not there.

I could never reach there, no ‘I’ ever did. One with the One, alive and in absolute existence, surpassing the limitations, one in union is the one with the answer. And once you get the answer you choose to forget it right before entering the door to illimitable splendour.

Monday, 20 February 2017

Loitering Mind

Minding the mind
It is kind of, sort of looking amazed and all it has done is talking… talking to itself. If thoughts wear colours then this mind is making rainbows after rainbows.

Mind’s petty issues
Whether a smoothie is meant to be always cold? If instead of right we had turned round and round? Why am I scared to say, ‘I said so’?

Mind’s grand tales
Oh, endless journey don’t you end… don’t you end before I set the hat right and check the change within and without with a smile. Don’t you end or change or stop or move or be false. Be happy.

Mind, when at peace
Waves, lights, colours ocean up and down for seconds, until the old stories return. Back and forth between peace and everything else.

Mind talks
And with enough repetitions dear mind, one is ought to remember it all.

Mind makes
The one standing under the shed, waiting or not waiting, unsure whether to wear the spectacles or not, is being made and unmade at that very moment.

Loitering mind
It rests quietly when one sleeps, but only to run wild and free in the dreams.

Sooner or later usher the mind beyond what it tells. Then have a laugh. A real laugh.

What and Where by Greg Dunn

Sunday, 12 February 2017

The Writing Continues

It is still writing. This writing won’t change. Or it will, if growth is synonymous to change, if evolving is change, if awakening is change, if change is truly blissful. It has bundle full of memories stored sincerely, memories that glisten when talked about. New vistas, old memories, feelings usurp, and the writing continues.

Yes, it continues, even though realisations slow down with time. Amazingly, just in a déjà vu second it speeds up, collecting all shades and colours of memories, infinite times faster than before. And what do memories do? Memories create, elaborate humbly, resolve, express, spread warmth and love. Pure, true love!

It in the making of itself uses the eternal ink of faith. Sometimes it believes and sometimes it smirks, cheats, forgets, sinks and turns away. But it nevertheless keeps writing, always. Either with a heavy heart or a feathery lightness. And when in the end it listens to its heart's beating, the heaviness vanishes.

It in the making of itself? Whence did it all began? Listening to its memories it gets to know whence. A tough journey gets no support, but a rough straight answer. Accept or ignore the answer, toss it away or idolize it, the answer stays.

Incredulously, observably it lives in its own truth, the truth, the only one for it. While walking in every direction, on every day, in every moment, it distils the world through its sieve, adding and subtracting memories at its true whim.

Lightly, o lightly, it writes forgivingly, gaily, o gaily, it enshrines its memories, softly, o softly it speaks of the truth, deeply, o deeply, it sinks to reach the end, bravely, o bravely it passes on the pen. And the writing continues.

Thursday, 26 January 2017

The Usual Randomness

Almost inaudible jibber-jabber, continuous sound of a conversation going on and on, then someone squeaks, there must be two or more of them, or maybe the person behind the wall is talking to herself.

Sure there are laughs, loud ones, suppressed ones, fake ones, shameless ones. I laugh along but only with one of the ones.

Silence surfaced for seconds, I then pay attention to the pigeon coos’ outside my window and the loud airplane coos’ passing up across my sky.

Oh! The murmur begins. Happy long hours of chit-chatting has ended for the friends. They are now mildly viewing what life has offered them each in the past few months. Yes, few months I say, that is how old the memory stays, unless, of course, it is given the chance to time travel.

I hear a question ‘coffee?’ Evening yawns and gazes passed at the clock welcomes automatically warm beverages.

I yawn and look at the clock and don’t move; I am doodling. O now they are repeating a name, it is Martha, also a Petunia and a Joshua. A triangle I assume, but which one… scalene I think.

After the reverie I become once again aware about my chitchatting neighbours. When and where did the hours go by? There is a lull in the talking. I might doze off.

What is this? I hear rushed movements, I sit up straight, a door bangs open and I jump up and run towards the main door, my focus – the peep-hole. I see two girls, both of same height, one is carrying a bag. What is going on?

One of them says, ‘do you think...?’ The other replies, ‘betcha, she is lying.’ They leave.

I stand against the main door, thinking who were they talking about, Martha or Petunia? Coming back to my room, I lie down and start doodling again.

Ding-dong! I am back on the door, I see a boy standing outside my neighbour’s door. I sense he is Joshua. Eager to know that I am correct, I open the door and tell him that my neighbours aren’t at home; the boy turns to leave when outlandishly I ask, ‘Joshua?’ Right then my neighbour, a girl, looking sleepy, opens the door.

Surprised and embarrassed, maintaining a faint smile, I shut the door. The boy speaks, ‘Ma’am I have a courier for J. Pollack from CITI Bank.’ My ears glued to the main door. ‘Joshua doesn’t live here anymore.’ Slam!

Ideas dance in and out of my mind, there is a story here. I sit down to write. Fresh page, pen in hand, I am thinking…

Still thinking.

Monday, 16 January 2017

A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen

Embracing, accepting, forgiving the doll walks on. Struggling, fearing, hoping the doll looks around. Learning, recognizing, changing the doll steps out, no longer a doll, but an individual.

Saturday, 14 January 2017

Jeremiah’s Roomie Ferdinand Forgot Two Simple Things

Jeremiah wrote in the letter that Ferdinand must continue his journey across the five oceans, dipping when the moon rises and shinning when the tempest calls, stopping to explore the alien lands and fleeing if he sees woman with snakes for hair or trolls.

Ferdinand understood not much for he wasn’t travelling to any place and was rather at home, sick and jaded.

Jeremiah further expressed his own adventure of a morning walk through the deep dark forest when he met a king cobra who nattered about this and that, about the tales of the netherworld and of a future when the sky was to fall down; who got to the point only at last with a fang-full smile and asked him to bring all the eggs of the cuckoo bird that lived nearby.

Ferdinand spoke aloud, “But Jeremiah went to that park for morning walks…”

Jeremiah then mentioned in capital letters the highlights of THIS WORLD – 1) raven flew away and raven came back, we talked, ate and enquired, ‘who can change the track?’ 2) Maria knows that Keith knows that Jenny doesn’t know, and now we also know 3) for a few days we hosted the Police at the colony, ha ha!

Ferdinand sat straight, scratched his head and tried calling Jeremiah - “the call cannot be completed.”

Jeremiah signed off his letter with the words – flying to Alpha Centauri, good you left your swimming goggles, peace-out mate.

Ferdinand got up, stood numb holding that letter in his hand for a few seconds, then haphazardly packed his bag and left the house. Bang! He closed the door behind him, not replying to his mother’s alarmed shout, he dashed out.

Ferdinand forgot that Jeremiah was a writer, a writer by choice, profession and living standards. He also forgot his keys to the flat and that no one would be there to welcome him back as Jeremiah was flying to Alpha Centauri.

Monday, 2 January 2017

Dama Dam Mast Qalandar

Ho Lal Meri Pat
Rakhiyo Bhala Jhoole Laalan
Sindhri Da..
Sehwan Da Sakhi Shahbaz Qalandar
Dama Dam Mast Qalandar
Ali Dam Dam De Andar
Ho Dama Dam Mast Qalandar
Ali Da Pahla Namber
Ho Laal Meri
Ho Laal Meri

Soft soothing absorbing light goes circling me, showering love.

Perhaps it is me who is circling the glowing warm glorious light.

Music is flowing, revolving, working as Time it has harmonized every moment.

Truly, that is why my whirling floating steps don’t stop.

Bright suns, moons, planets dance round and round, in absolute bliss.

I quietly follow the bliss as I listen. It is the Sama.

Long, long time back ago, Rumi, the Sufi saint, was passing a market place when he heard the gold beaters at work, their hammering noise was melody to him as he could hear ‘la ilaha ilallah’ (no god but Allah) in that beating of the gold. Rumi, exhilarated, started dancing and whirling there and then. It was the first Sama.

Sama means listening, listening to the One, mediating and accepting the One wholly. Sufis have the tradition to celebrate the Sama, a spiritual concert; with praying, singing, dancing and reciting poems begins this mystical journey to surpass visual reality and enter the divine world – no self, but the Self.

The whirling dance, the soulful music slowly takes you away to be in the light of the Ultimate, a close encounter so as you listen and listen truly what is beyond the five senses, and then you return amongst many imperfections, but this time with a compassionate heart and a free soul.

Rhythmic patterns of the bright light haven’t disappeared.

My spinning steps haven’t stopped either. Feather hands guide me.

The macrocosm meets the microcosm, politely becoming a wave.

At some time I settle down, quietly look up and stay there.

[Paintings - Whirling Dervish - by Sadaf Farasat]

[Dama Dam Mast Qalandar is a qawwali (form of Sufi devotional music) sung in honour of Lal Shahbaz Qalandar, a revered Sufi saint.

Listen to Dama Dam Mast Qalandar performed by the Pakistani band, Janoon -]

You Stardust

Step out you stardust, the door is wide open. Why? Aren’t you ready? That table is your trunk, you packed it long back, ask the thic...