Dark clouds hovered,
the sapphirish Sun
came crashing down
in my emaciated lap.
Bushfires of prophetic
visions of dog licking
maggots spread on the
thin perforated roof.
The ancient ritualistic
fires had to be ignited
but it had already
begun, engulfing the
peripherals of the brain.
I went down with the
sapphirish Sun, It
was an absolute
eclipse.
Met a wise man once,
Not a chiseled, silver beard monk,
But a weathered limping man.
A prophet he started to narrate a tale,
Not a saga of god and ablutions
Nor sordid scripture of poverty around
Standing majestic on the banks of holy river
He whispered softly in my ears
listen to the melody of the flowing water
Touch the humility of the trees
Feel the burden of the Mother Earth
Enjoy the seven colors of rainbow above
Tell me about God, if you a saint?
Mischievous he started to laugh,
So he spoke the words of wisdom,
A hypnotizing look and calm demeanor,
God painted on the canvas of nature
A beautiful portrait of you my child
The first word of God is Adam,
The last word of Adam is God
God can not exist without man,
For creation is the master of creator my lord.
Stupefied I stood on the holy bank,
As prophet knelt and kissed my hands.
“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”
Rumi
Someday you will be able to hear
The hollow whispers of the blue sky
The gentle heartbeats of Mother Earth
The sad songs of the little sparrow
Soft mooing of the folds of waves
Fluttering of the withered leaves
Someday you will be able to narrate
Your story on Earth to God.
Yesterday saw a dying man
lying breathless on the cobbled
pavement, near the majestic Promenade
A face so fragile, marred by the ailment
called life, a look of a victim
and hardships endured
An appearance of a sullen
disappointment, masked beneath
the scaly, withered skin
Hanging on to one thread of breath,
life gradually dithering,
in his emaciated body.
Cries of pain and suffering
echoing a tale of broken,
promises and misfortunes so heavy.
Crowds gathered around to,
witness the grand finale; the
the spectacle of death so cheap.
A sigh of relief a gentle,
reassurance, glance at the sky
for thank god, it wasn’t me.
Creaking sound of creature’s
cries, torturous unbearable
to the refined human ear.
Terrified at the final performance
crowds dispersed, thinking of
the share they might have to offer.
Life oozing out of the blob
of flesh, a gush of air exhaled
from the parched mouth.
A faint voice, oh god!
lighting struck, ending the tale
of a man who lost the battle too soon
Tanya Shukla
I was also the son of my father
Born of his destiny
Hunger raised me with a lot of love
Slept under the vast sky
Earth as my mattress
A homeless board my
A ceiling of abode,
Made secret love to pillow
squeezed tight between legs
Mocked at the sane people
Who yelled called me names
Beautiful woman scorned
Disgusted with my looks
I terrified of their hearts
A cop took me in his cell
Wretched didn’t catch a single thief
Young children giggled laughed
Hurled stones, thought I
One day they will also grow up
A wasted husband in a drinking spree
kicked my balls last night
Poor he again fought with his wife
A neighbor of mine went missing
Heard run down by a lorry
Glad his life was indeed a suffering
-Tanya Shukla
The new disciple is excited when he’s seeing the Master for the first time. He jumps at the opportunity and curiously asks, “How do you practice Tao, Sir?”
“When you are hungry, eat,” thoughtfully the master says, “When you are tired, sleep.”
The answer is astonishingly simple to the disciple, as he is expecting something sagacious. “Isn’t that what everyone does anyway, Sir?”
“No,” says the Master matter-of-factly, “Most people feed themselves with thousands of desires when they eat; and dream of thousands of designs when they sleep.”
Pondering deep. The disciple nods his head and is happy with the new insight.
“Manifest plainness,
Embrace simplicity.
Put others first.
Desire little.”Lao Tzu Tao Te Ching 19
Once a man from mountains
Prayed in a little cave, carved
By the mighty slopes, in his
Dark little den, the hermit
Sought the benevolent god
Twenty-eight days and nights
Storms howled, giant trees
Uprooted, jackals growled
But the denizen without
Flinching sat still, on the
Twenty-eight day of the ninth
Month, a vision bright as thousand
Suns appeared before him
Midst topaz light, copperish
Radiant wings visible,
What seeks though? Asked
The spirit replied to the humble
Hermit, I only seek god
A loud laughter, a roar
You seek lord in hollow caves
In empty graves, for god
Rests where humanity dwells.
