They rose from amongst the yellowing leaves
And the fallen twigs of yesterday’s showers
They fed on despoiled flower petals
That lay weeping on the muddied ground.
They borrowed the gold from the specks of dust
That float about in the evening sun rays
Lightning gave them life and wind
Gave them flight to set sail
On their fragile, transparent wings
The butterflies of yesterday floated gay
Silently rambunctious, quietly wild
Their wings flared up woodfire stoves
And the vibrant turmeric of the kitchen jars
They neither spoke nor had a voice
Only the flutter of their wings and the soft thump of their tiny little feet
On the beaming crown of an expectant flower
Performed their chores dutifully.
All in a day’s work for them
And they quietly fade away in some dull, dark corner of the earth
Coils round and round, chokes
The breath, this serpentine mind
Hisses sweet lethargic rhymes, peeps in
From behind mossy piles of work, this uncouth child.
Flowers in hair,tinkling
Laughter echoes down the hall, shaking
Autumn leaves from her skirt, she bares
These fear serpents by the tail, devours them whole.
Mortals with her siren chants, leads one away skipping
Takes by the hand while duties lay abandoned, yawning
Stretching their heavy limbs in blissful slumbers.
As you become playmates, she strokes the hair
Singing nursery rhymes, enchanting beware
While you fall asleep, unaware
Of duties lying, oh so bare!
( This post is in celebration of Wesak, a festival which commemorates the birth, the attaining of Buddhahood and the death of Lord Buddha which takes place today. This festival is generally known as a festival of light where we light lanterns, adorn the houses in strings of light and basically bedazzle our environment in a festive, yet tranquil manner. The temple plays the major role in this festival thus giving it that sense of peace, serenity and fulfillment. I have tried merely to capture the overwhelmingly ecstatic aura which surrounds the household during the festival and this is just a fraction of it that I have managed to behold in my humble words. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ves%C4%81kha )
I lit three lanterns today
Red for love, yellow for happiness
White for peace, perpetual cravings
Of the heart, the mind and the soul
That shall not be appeased, for there is always
Something amiss for us
The mortals, the never satisfied.
Yet, the garden
Flecked with morcels of light sang
Happy songs, quiet and calm, it swayed
Under a full moon that hung precariously from the heavens
Perfumed with the frangipani of the morning and the kadupul
The queen of the night.
The globes of light swayed, lulled
With the sacred breeze from the temple, perfumed
With incense and oil lamps, it soothed
Bathed and cleansed, for a moment
For one fleeting moment,
The weight of the world fell off sagging shoulders
While the rows of lights blinked, winked and glistened
Bathed and dazzled a chimeric state of mind.
Thank you so,very much for the award and to all those who voted for me. Hugzzz!
Lose myself between words, get lost
Between the pages of a dusty old book
That nobody opens, curl up
Like a C, go to sleep
Warm and cosy
And hope that nobody will notice?
Hide between the leaves
Of a dewy frangipani tree,lulled
By the tranquil scents,smile
At a rising sun, float
To an embracing earth,borne
Upon the feathery wings,of a
Gentle flowing breeze?
Dive in to your arms, lose myself
In to the folds of your skin, dissolve
In to the pores of your flesh,hide
In the marrow of your bones, flow
Within the course of your veins
Without ever been seen but
5.30 Pm.Tired,I drag myself home after hours of skimming that dried out land of knowledge,perusing through book shelves of shops and ultimately looking down on empty hands,arriving at a dead end.Tired,I let my nose do all the seeing,the hearing,the sensing.My eyes,too tired from diving within words,passages and mysterious writings in a foreign language that I don’t quite understand.I walk,half drag myself home through the crowd,feeling as if I’m swimming against the currants as I wade through the flood of arms,legs and buttocks when all around me,people walk past in a different direction.I smell the vehicle fumes,the carbon wafting through my nostrils,lodging themselves in the brain,the artilleries heaving themselves under the weight,the fragile blood vessels bursting with pressure.I smell the laden fumes of leather,shoe polish,musty air conditioning and rubber,I smell the rather synthetic smell of new cloths mingled with the cool fumes of trapped air conditioning,plastic wrapping,stale sweat and cardboard boxes.I smell body lotion,heady perfumes,sometimes cheap,sometimes costly,sometimes chemical,piercing,confusing,sometimes subtle,simple and nice.I smell the fragile feminine fragrance of gardenias,jasmine, camellia and sometimes even roses as busy looking females bustle past,leaving behind only their lingering scents,left to roam the earth unattended.I smell musk,I smell that sickly sweet scent of a commonly used men’s fragrance,I smell that sublimely earthy wood that I find quite seductive,I sense that delightfully subtle scent of a masculine spicy cologne that I have always adored and still continue to do so.I smell sandal wood,resin and incense and I know that I’m walking past that little ayurvedic boutique that sells everything from herbal face packs to little dark lumps that you take with bee’s honey for stomach aches and digestive problems.I sense the delicious aromas of baking,of cakes and bread teasing the senses,tempting,titillating,alluring many stray dogs to flock at the bakery entrance,waiting and wagging in anticipation.I let my nose lead me away from the hustle and bustle of the city on to a quieter street where I smell tree roots,kottu,raw leaves and wet,dull earth.
It’s only a matter of time till my nose delights in those homey aromas again.
It’s quite a treat after a tiring day,coming home to that comforting smell of belonging,home cooking,smells that welcome,cleanse of all the hatred,the hostilities of the outside world,envelops in a warm lovely embrace and make it all go away.These are the essences that I grew up with,have learnt to seek refuge in, as a result which they have grown a part of my extended self.I am home when I sense my two doggy poos licking away at my palms.I am home.
Stepping out of the shower dewy and refreshed
smelling like a field of flowers after the rain
why my fever speaks to me in encrypted tongues
It sings to me
in tune with the pitter-patter of the rain
untold stories flow in the drains.My fever hums
you can hear the angels weep,the flutter of their wings
as they flee the wrath of untamed beasts
The thunder growls unheard chants
My fever hisses in my ear,its shrill wicked tongues
lick the ear lobes,burning,drills inside with piercing cries
Drenched birds harmonize
Hop across the railings in a frenzied,ritualistic dance
Strange though,no whispering wind
murmurs in my ear secrets swept across the lands
of forbidden things.
The thunder growls unheard melodies
My fever sings in tongues,I listen, enthralled
beguiled,hypnotized,I listen with bedazzled eyes
The sky weeps so,in heart rendering cries
the lightning’s harsh,the chastised raindrops
droop to the ground.Music needs no language
to speak to the soul.
The rain seemed lonely.It sang so sweet
of solitude,of anguish
and other melancholy deals
Let the rain in,opened my doors
Kept each other company,my fever,the rain
And a hazy-eyed I.
It’s 4.30 in the afternoon.The world seemed diluted in this deliciously syrupy golden glow that the sun generously ladles out usually at this time of the day(which reminds me of my mother’s afternoon snacks of pancakes,patties,cheese cake,miscellaneous tit bits and animated conversation) Everything’s quiet except for the silent swish-swishing of the neighbor sweeping her lawn,the yelps of my two darling pups downstairs and the squabbling of the squirrels and the birds who haunt the many nooks and corners of the garden.The mango tree out at the front rustles it’s leaves at me in greeting and tiny,transparent specks of dust are dancing in a ray of light which emerges out of the lush boscage of jade-green leaves,undoubtedly drunk in this honeyed aureate glow of the sun.I realize that I’m smiling.All alone sitting out here with my cup of afternoon tea and armed only with my notepad with its various scribblings I’m thinking….these are the moments in life when you actually feel thankful that you’re alive.The breeze just brushes across the cheeks,plays with the hair and leaves me in utter ecstasy.My fingers scribble across the pages in a frenzied tribal dance.In this afternoon glow,the world seems less menacing than usual,more amicable and somehow,more intimate.It is homey and comfortable,fresh,as a newly hatched baby bird slowly preening its unformed fragile wings,still uncorrupted from the grime and grit of a merciless,polluted world.And that’s what I felt like – like a newly hatched baby bird,rejuvenated,pure and untouched.This is the height of utmost tranquility and peace of mind,away from the daily peeves and chagrins,away from the cares of the world,the ultimate etheriality of the soul.Simply,a beautifully lucid moment in an otherwise complicated life…..
My usual cup of afternoon tea seemed distinctively gratifying than usual.