Journey

I journeyed today.

From the monotonous gloom of this room,

From the deepened boredom of  the weekend,

Into the city, colourful,

Into its  joy and  into its ecstasies.

Into a restaurant, large and cosy.

Relishing a taste, fuming and  hot.

Into the fatigue of a boiling afternoon sun.

Comforted by the chill of a lavish mall.
Diving to the icy depths of a cold ice cream.

Into the thrill of a new film,
Forgetting my self in a loud applause.

Into the warm pleasure of an evening beach.

Into the anonymity of the crowd, therein.

In the long wait for a setting sun,

Who hid his blushing face,

In a white towel of fresh clouds,

Shying away from the sight,

Of young pairs, in numbers countless,

Entwined in love, on the moist sands.

From there, floating in a street ghazal,

Into a bookshop, pretty and neat.

Into the lines of my dearest Kamala*.

Into an ancient courtyard through her lines,

That had the scent of a grandmother,
So placid and so loving.

But to return,

Into the beckoning voice of my friend,

Before I could absorb it in full.

Hearing his words, “Let us go back”.

Into the lit up streets of the dark city,

Into its subtle beauties.

Into the reality of a night, too late,

And the thought of an impossible return.
Into the tension, pleadings, arguments.

Into a long traffic block,

Caused by a religion, and back,

Into the safety of this room,

Holding tight, the hand of an unseen God.

Into these pages of mine.

Into the words that I spill here.

Into my Self trapped in them.

Into myself  and into its bliss.
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* 'My Grandmother's House' by Kamala Das

Ballads of a Free Soul

Ages back, me, a Krouncha bird;

Perched upon a branch, courting.

Brought me down, a man's hunger,

The sharpest arrow stole my life.

Janmas passed, and me, a hunter.

Aiming this, and aiming that.

Saw a bird among the greens,

A gasp I heard, upon the shot.

Alas! The Blessed One it was;

Seeing Him die, stood I, in pain.

Silently, the pain I bore,

And by fate, a Mother I became.

The Princess whom a prince renounced,

To seek the eternal Truth.

Hard is the way this cycle goes;

And strange it is that I can't flee,

For, I became a mere tree.

A Bodhi tree to light up a soul

A Bodhi tree cherished by all.

I became a bee, I became a bud;

I became a drop and I became a ray.

I became this and I became that.

Again and again I went around,

And again and again I was bound.

Came out at last, I, lost my Self.

And found myself everywhere.

Free from deeds, and free from all.

Nothing I am, and nothing I am.

And yet so dull this Freedom is,

Better had I been that Krouncha bird!!!

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1.Krouncha bird:A type of bird, the death of one of the sort among a courting pair at the hands of a hunter, is believed to have inspired Valmiki to write Ramayana.
2.Janma : A Sanskrit word for 'lives' or 'incarnations of the same soul', according to Hindu mythology.
3. The Blessed One : Krishna
4.Prince : Gautama Budhdha