Ever-changing permanence

The holy hill is blanketed by a thick cloud throughout the day.

The foreigner, who seeks, is still seeking silently as he sits right next to the door from the mother's shrine to the samadhi hall.

The Japanese lady, Shunya, has aged gracefully. She still sits on her stool and sings the parayanam. 

The 'beautifullest woman in the world', who's name I know not, still sits behind the bronze statue of Bhagwan and spreads her grace to all who perform pradakshina around his samadhi.

The twin sisters have grayed a bit but their voice hasn't aged. 

The president of the ashram and his wife still occupy center stage though it takes the president longer time to reach his chair now.

Illayaraaja inconspicuously comes, graces the mother's shrine and the samadhi and partakes of his blessings and offerings.

Prasadji's zest for life and relationships still matters in this indifferent world.

Ramana is still here. For all those, who can feel him.

The parayanam goes on with sustained and renewed energy each day. 

Somethings change and somethings don't in this ever-changing permanent asramam, a microcosm of the world.

Bits and pieces

Poetic chaos we're,

Intoxicated from the somras 

Of love from a cup

Common to us

And us, alone.

I always question time

When am waiting for you.

I ask time 

Why can't we go back to the time we first met?

And relive, once again?

Our souls have no boundaries 

Unlike our bodies.

But, they too emulate the soul 

When they try to become one 

In sacred communion with each other.

What's rain you ask?

It's the sky crying out for you and me 

When it sees us under separate clouds!

My life was like a meter gauge with foliage running over it 

Till you came chugging along, 

Whistling away my worries, 

Trundling along my wounds, 

On-boarding all my dreams 

And dropping them off 

To their ideal destination.

My poems can sometimes be prayers,

Trying their best to let you know

That nothing you wear 

Is better than your smile.

A love letter

What is it that you seek, a love letter? A mere love letter doesn’t do justice to your love, my beloved.

It’s like the sun asking for a bit of moonlight.

Like the moonlight asking for city-lights.

Like the city-lights asking for a lamp.

Like the lamp asking for a wick.

Like the wick asking for a breeze.

Like the breeze asking for air. 

Like the air asking for breath.

Like the breath asking for its life.

Like life asking for love.

Like love asking for a heart.

Like the heart asking for music.

Like the music asking for a song.

Like the song asking for a tune.

Like the tune asking for rhythm.

Like the rhythm asking for a pattern.

Like the pattern asking for a shape.

Like the shape asking for form. 

Like the form asking for matter.

Like the matter asking for energy.

Like the energy asking for its source.

Because the source of my energy is you in the shape of a lotus garland on the meditating Maheshwara, the form of my love is in rhythm with his damru, which is in tune with your favorite song… 

Its pattern repeats with aumkara’s eternal music that’s always played in the heart, which seeks and knows only love, which is life with breath, blending with the air around us, carrying our love-making fragrance in the breeze that sustains the light on the kidavillaku’s wick, even when I am asleep with my thoughts about you as Chennai’s city-lights drown the otherworldly moonlight eternally granted by the sun while awaiting sunrise!

Indebted for life, gratefully

Last Sunday night was unlike any night. I weathered a storm, which was unexpected. A dark, dark night.

I showed courage and true grit that I didn't know I possessed inside me. It was an awakening and a test of sorts. The kind of test that makes sentient humans stand out from instinct-driven animals.

Few of my oldest best friends came to know about the incident and they gave me their best advices and suggestions. Very valid points and very valid concerns. I am grateful to them for wishing me well and being concerned about my safety.

Monday dawned. It was the beginning of an anxious and uncertain day. After a long sleepless night.

Two angels came over to my place. Their calm and  thoughtful presence revealed that behind their young and child-like behavior, there's a mature and loving soul with a golden heart.

They spent the entire day with me. They comforted me and made a simple lunch. In the evening, after  the storm had passed and the emotional skies had cleared up, the man-child treated us to a lovely dinner at Ciclo Cafe.

This emotional mood piece is my only way of showing my humble gratitude to them, my heroes. Jona and Vaishnavi, the world is a much better place because of you.

I am indebted to you both forever for in my darkest hour, you weren't showing me where the light was, you didn't point your finger to the moon,  and you didn't perform an autopsy of my life and its irrational decisions or my eccentricities. You didn't play the devil's advocate. You didn't tell me to come over to your place, if I need to.

You came over to my place and just stayed. You asked me whether I am okay. You held my hands and made me believe that the next generation is not bereft of values and emotions. You worked silently. You spoke gently. Your faces revealed your tender love and care.

Jona and Vaish, I promise you I'll be there for you.
I'll be present. In that present moment.

And my advice, my words, my concerns will always take a back seat when all you need is my presence.

41 conversations

1. Your wishes and my words on 

Opposite skewed windowsills.

2. The wind and the wave froth and spray

Over the shores.

3. The bird and the bee stalk and stare

Over each flower.

4. Fearless nights and phaseless moon

Over a dark though glittering ocean.

5. Whispered stories and unechoed songs

Over a ghazal and jaambhari shyam.

6. Worn out filigree syllables and articulate anecdotes

Held hands with trembling voices.

7. My mind’s chatoyant seas with your angelic hues

Over simmering oolong tea.

8. Your braided hair with my painted body

Over an hour-long foreplay.

9. Your pirouette dance and my whirling dervishes

Painted over a Sufi dream.

10. Your illusions with my hallucinations

Over an ice cream-filled rainbow sky.

11. Between fire and ghee 

Over the yagna as the gods please.

12. Between my petrichor and your skin

When your rain falls upon my words.

13. Your rebirth and my new beginning

When our eyes met, and souls stirred.

14. Your free frocks of freedom and hidden sunshine

When peals of your laughter meet my smile.

15. Your love-scented candles with my breezy poetry

On lavender fields laced with our promises.

16. Between the waft of a flute from a sacred cowherd

And the damsel dancer near the riverbank.

17. When my hands play with your sighing hair

On my heaving chest.

18. When the blanket covers your mutated ears

And we see the moon rise.

19. When the early morning’s warmth mixes with 

Our cupped hands over coffee.

20. Between the crucified son of man and the kneeling 

prayer in an old wooden church.

21. When a butterfly wing brushed against your cheek

Just before my kiss goodbye.

22. Between the night and the nightingale’s early morning song

As the sun rises.

23. Between your bosom’s fragrance and my lips

As we make love yet again.

24. When a mother nudges her infant

As he/she takes the first stride.

25. Between the kiss that heals a wound 

And the smile that blooms on your face.

26. Before you open my eyes, you’ll hear me. 

What feelings arouse.

27. When I bring my words for your soul. 

And honesty knows the truth. 

28. Your words that I want to water your soul with. 

And your words fill assurance in my being. 

29. When your blood flows out

And covers my chest of memories. 

30. Between our past lives speak to us. 

Reminding us our forgotten voices and unnamed journeys. 

31. When you touch me as if I am a sacred altar, 

Our love will be a home for your prayers. 

32. When I touch you without hesitation. 

And the universe heals in your gentle caress. 

33. When love is our better guide than the world around.

And we walk together.

34. Between your otherworldly blind love 

And my left feet dancing.

35. When the snow and dew argued 

On the leaves of the cherry tree. 

36. Between the time between two notes

And the pause required to gather the right words.

37. Between your cherry blossom lips 

And your scarf darker than me.

38. Between my favorite breakfast and your favorite dinner

The day that passes by like a stream of consciousness poem. 

39. It is in these conversations that I find warmth through my day.

40. It is in these conversations you find safety in your stride. 

41. Let’s speak from our heart as today’s your birthday, our new beginning.

Stranger Things

You're...

The freer of my love.

The pardoner of my past.

The gift to my soul.

The taste on my tongue.

The orgasm of my heart.

The beauty in my eyes.

The future of my dreams.

The love of my life.

The alpha to my omega.

The Z of my alphabet.

The truth of my love.

The reason for my existence.

Heaven is where you hide.
Hell is where you're absent.

Darkness is when you exhaust your laughter,
Light is when you smile,
And, bliss is when you look at me.

Happiness is your kiss,
Love is when your eyes flutter;
My heart beats in the same rhythm.

And, Stranger Things may have happened on this planet, 
but none stranger and stronger than our love.

Sacred altar

You're an elegant lady, 

A cup of jasmine tea. 

You're the gentle breeze that lends ear to a wind chime...

A mother, who rushes to her children's room. 

You're that face of kindness, which I recall

From Ramana and a few more. 

You're a gentle greeting, 

Not a WhatsApp wish. 

You're the one who brings words for my poetry 

From your chest full of memories. 

You're that gentle kiss 

On past wounds.

Come, let’s love like it’s our last life on this planet.

Come, talk to me of your past lives. 

And, let me touch you as if you're a sacred altar. 

I know, you were sent to me

To walk an uncharted voyage. 

Come, let's fly away, 

To a world of sunlit truth

Where your fears have no more power 

To pin you down.

And, in our journey, 

You shall find safety in your stride.

Annadhanam

As I was having annadhanam at Mammiyoor Shiva Kshetram today, I remembered a Westerner's concerned exclamation to me at Thiruvannamalai, "There are no free lunches in the world; free lunches happen only in India."

We're so used to it, right? 

I remember my first partaking of annadhanam was at Dharmasthala, Karnataka. I was in school, probably in 7th grade or something. I don't remember the Manjunathaswamy temple or the bus ride; all I remember even now is that annadhanam we had. My mother, brother, and grandparents.

So many temples, ashrams, and gurudwaras across India give free food that it's not news or disbelief anymore. In fact, people stand in queues to have such annadhanam as they consider it prasad (god's own offering).

Thiruvannamalai has so many temples and ashrams that give free breakfast, lunch, and dinner that all the sadhus and others, who stay on girivalam don't need to beg for food at least. Many devotees also cook food in their homes and distribute it along girivalam.

Ramana Ashram also has a free dispensary and a free library for all. Food that satisfies hunger, medicines that take care of illness, and food for thought, all offered for free.

Annadhanam is such a beautiful concept because what it eliminates is an instinct that doesn't discriminate. Hunger is a great equalizer. The rich, the poor, the needy, the greedy, the blind, the atheist, the leper, the sadhu, the householder, the seeker, the adwaitin, the agnostic, the dwaitin... they all feel it. Annadhanam feeds them all. 

Therefore, it's the greatest daanam of them all.