Belief...in disbelief...

'so...
Tell me...
Why are you here?
In this city?
Stranger?'
she asked him...
A stranger true...
Face sun burnt...
Arms tanned...
Legs agile...
Carrying traveler's signs...
And a bag on his back...

he was looking at the sky...
Searching for something...
he was not hearing perhaps...

'he might be a thief!
Or a fugitive...'
She thought...
Thinking...
'Otherwise...
Why did he not answer?
Is he just a traveler?'

Questions and doubts came hurrying
Into her mind...
'but ...
A thief
Or a fugitive...
i am not that to believe...
For they usually do not look up to the sky...
That too a sky which is dull conspicuous...
With no wonder in her...'
she was thinking still...
Messed up...
Troubled...
she had a terrible urge to believe...
And yet this man...non responsive...

'okay...i wait...'
she decided...
For him to answer...

Then she thought...
she heard him mutter...
Something like:

'heard people of this city
Talk about Your eyes...
As if they Love them...
So thought...
Why not i visit that Dame?
And stay awhile there...
In Her eyes?
heard people found ocean here
So thought
Why not i go there?
And take a swim there?
Plunging into the bluish green?
heard the sky here is springy autumnal monsoony and wintry the same...
All through the year...
So thought
Why not i go there
And take a flight into that sky?'

she thought she heard it right...
She thought he the traveler was right beside her...
she tried to believe that...
And tried she...
To believe...
All...
Like-
The breeze...
The drizzling morn...
The songs of cuckoos...
The smell of a french perfume...
The golf course scene-
Absolut green...
The sky scrapers spreading up arms to pray for Life...
The coconut trees sage like...
The moment of courting death and remaining alive...
The monastery with saffron flags aflutter...
The bridge that went straight to Hawai...
The vanilla ice dropping on a leaf...
Words written in blue on lips...
'relazione con dio...'
And several things like that...
she tried to believe all of that...

Another beautiful evening...a movie clip narrative stream...

Another beautiful
Evening...
As good as often seen
In movies set at hills...
Has arrived...
A particular movie forming
Though,
Here at this time,
Another beautiful evening...
Filled with a movie clip
Of a journey man...

Like journey made by a person-
The protagonist,
There reaching
One evening...
At the hills
Rainy...
With
Pine and deodar trees sending out mist
Of their own
Sweet...
And
A meandering path through the woods
Reaching a cottage-
Made of teak
Pure...seasoned by hurricanes...storms...heat...rains...
Faded green kind
But holding good...
Older
But just like a refuge
One,
Like the protagonist, would seek
Traveling miles...
(enjoying the beauty of the slopes...
Cultivation done on steps...
Shaded different...
And then at evening just
Reaching the path...
Before that cottage...)

A few cottages also placed...
Some adjacent...
Some distant...
Yellow bulbs low watt
Hanging from wooden long poles
Put by some people
Reaching there
Earlier...

And the traveler...
Dropping his bagpack
On the verandah,
His body slackened...
His mind soulful...
Would perhaps take a long yawn first...

Then he would preferably his arms folded place
On the woody rail
Resting his upper body a bit...
On it...
Acting like a support...

He would see the beauty of the place...
Taking in the hilly evening fullest
Into his heart...
The rainy cool breeze like a balm
Would surely come
To him then...

He almost dozing...
Would then be
Trying hard
To remain alive...
Keeping his self from dying happy death-
Caused by the silent faith
On the hills...the trees and the smell incense like...

He would search into his pocket of jeans
To bring out a packet of cigarette...
He would light it up...
The light would make the surrounding illumed a bit...
And also his face-
Tired...sleepy but
Happy bitten by Agape...

He would listen to the song
Of the evening
Standing there long...

As if the place
Always had his self
Hidden in those trees...
The hills
And the misty evening...
As if the place
Had summers turning
Into rainy tears...
And rains turning to be
Autumns...
And autumns becoming winters...
As if his being
And several years
Got merged there...

As if he had been part of the place such
That he never arrived
And never had a departure...

Such an evening
Has dropped
Here...
Another
Beautiful kind-
Blessed...
Peaceful...
Godly!

Searching her...And hearing her...

'are you there?'
he asked...
As if he asked her
And also his mind...

The blue of Grasse
Of the vast
Ocean
Took him
There...
And also
That sky...
And
That line...
Where the sky
On ocean lied
Restive...
In peace...
In Love...

he
Looked at the towers...
The pots brick colored
Hanging from them...

he
Looked at the musical morn...
Which only city of Grasse
(Named after an admiral
Francois Joseph Paul kind-
Who fought against all...)
For any human could only turn...

And
Asked
'Are you there?'

The slope of the hill
Upon which
Those houses were built
Was silent...
Largely silent...
As if
The slope waited for long
For a query so heartful
Like that...

That museum seen...
From the cliff
Standing like a glorious past
And hope of future too...
Of art and craft...
It was silent too...

And he thought
he was such a fool...
To find answer
Of a question
Never to be asked...

And then
he closed his eyes...
Taking the whole of Grasse...
A beautiful town...
Near Nice...
One thousand metres from the sea level...
Within him...
The feel...
Of the hills...
Those flower pots hanging in the breeze...
That stony street
Where Paul Rubens set His studio hut...
That house where once Fragonard lived...
That Saracen tower...
That fete du jasmin...
A festival of perfume and flowers...
That entry gate magnificient
Of Hotel de ville...
he...
Prayed to all of them...
Closing his eyes...

By Love so entwined...

And

he heard her...
her softest murmur...
Like a morning serenade...

'Oui...'
She murmured...
'I am here...
Open your eyes...
Dear...
Open your eyes...'

Finding Samson and Delilah...as Rubens...

And He
Samson fell asleep
Tired as He was
On Delilah's lap...
His arms fell off
Hanging...
His head rested in peace
He was in Love...
Was not He?
so ...
Upon His love...
Delilah's soft sweet lap...
He slept off...
Happy...

A few minutes before that
Perhaps He had told Her
Where had He so far
Kept His strength...
His hair...
The long uncut one...
The Hair...

And Delilah...
Was not She softened too?
Was not in Her hall
Placed right
Beautiful
At a niche...
There was Venus?
And Her little son...
Cupid?

But those soldiers...
They were also waiting...
They were also waiting...
At the gate...

No one knew them...
Delilah?
She got no wind of them too...

Only in the town of Grasse...
Rubens
At His studio
In oil on wood
Found them revealed...
He found the story true...
And He took pity so much on both
That spending His whole of heart
And double
Of soul...
He carved the wood...
He mixed oil with His tears and blood and color...
And placed it perfect...
On the canvas...

The same Rubens...
Being given
Love of God...
Did that...

He
Did that spending His eyes
Almost to several nights
And days...

The same Rubens...
Who did
Massacre of the Innocents...

He
Did that
Finding them
As
Oil on wood...

[note: On Peter Paul Rubens' (1577-1640) work 'Samson & Delilah'
..an oil on wood work]

Saying 'touche...' while bowing to Her...

How can one be really ignorant?
How can one take away one's both eyes...
Mind's and the mortal one...
If She comes thus?
If She all Her beauty pours?
As if She had given a call
And one just had to respond...
As if She had worn Her another deified form...
Mesmerising...
Eye opening...
Transcending
And sending
Waves after waves of Her visual glory
For mortal heart
And invisibly bright feel that could last...
For centuries perhaps...

And one can only acknowledge that...
Bowing...
Kneeling...
'touche...'
Saying...

As if hit bad
And yet happy to be hit good...

Bringing down a castle...stone by stone...

'have i built a fortress?
With a lot of grandeur...
Heartless thing?
have i been so ?'
he asked himself...
he made that self query...

Once
Coming out of a beautiful dawn
That still smelt cool and fresh
As if an essence...
Mixed with essential oils...
Extracted from flowers...
Lavender...
Rose...
Jasmine...
Marigold...
Tuberose...
A pot pourri...

'well...
If that is the thing
Why not i dismantle that poor thing?
And to earth...
To dust down it bring?
Why not i stone by stone
Tumble it down?'

he thought...

And took an axe...

he bled...
The axe bled too...

Wishing laissez faire...

Dear...
Went again far...
A traveler...
Am i not?
But you know me...
(As Truth knows truth...
As Time knows time...
As Love knows love...
As Hope knows hope...
As Faith knows faith...
Is it not?)

Anyway...
i am neither Bourne...
Nor Edward...
(my fav is a bard...
You know that God...
Do you not?)
Yes...
Yes...
i got several favs...
From Asimov
To that pianist...
And then that scientist...
And that violinist...
And that painter...
(Amadore kind...old one, with occhio della mente...
i mean...)
And that Harley rider...
(i consider him more as friend than God though...Harley rider that
With a helmet
With Apollo stud...
And long golden locks...
Flowing in the wind...
Remember?)

What to do?
Tell me...
A wanderer...
Who loves traveling...
Meets people always...
On the road...
People as good as gods
Little children of Him
Or Her...

Well...
Coming back...
(a drifter? am i not that?)
Fell in love with this place...
This sea side
Where people from all over the world
Come...
To just take rest...
Peaceful rest
(Non interfered...
By any agencies,
Laissez faire...
You see...)

Yet getting everything
Out of life...
Like watching pigeons hopping on roofs
With red red tiles...
Like watching the seagulls having a flight,
Like a screen saver morn full of light,
Like riding down the stony alleys...
Smelling so much of a flowery valley,
A
Lassiez faire...
Is it not?

Wish...
i could tag you along...
This small way of walking a real distance long...
This tiny way of getting into the big Life...
Wish just could bring you with me...

And then...
We could have just sat...
On that wooden bench placed right
With a lot of crafted thought
Facing the blue of both
The ocean...
And
The sky...

Getting merged...
Both the blue...

And

From that location
One could also see...
The town moving, sleeping and also waking...
life happy just like a boat on tranquil water floating...

Wish...
You could be here...
Ah...
A life
Lassiez faire...

'and us?' a question left unasked...

'And...
Us?'
She him asked...
As if a question
She left for him
Unasked
For several years...
Which she kept
For long
Within
Like her girlhood's song...

he being in France
The last half of March
And the first half of April...
Thought only about things to be done...
Good food...
And perfume
And wine...
And painting...
And so many other things
Like french novellas...

But she came with perfume french...
Reminding him of Grasse...
A small town
With sand colored towers
With clocks...
Twenty kilometres away from the sea coast...
Near Nice...
he saw houses made of stone
And roofs on them made of tiles...
Sloping and deflecting light
And the sea breeze...

And soon
he got submerged
In
Lavender...
Myrtle...
Mimosa...

he got the aroma
Filling ...
Chanel...
Caron...
Dior...

'au revoir...'

She muttered
And his dream
Broke off...
Perhaps...

he saw her walking away...
she who left a question unasked...
'And us?'

he smiled...
And
Opening his note pad
Wrote only:
'je t'aime...'

And placed that note
On the bench where he sat...
Put a small star like stone
Brought from his pocket...
On that piece of paper white...
And walked,
singing a song-
a french one probably,
And he walked...

Have you seen them?

Have you seen the night
Outside?
Tonight?
The sky?
White clouds visibly uncommonly bright...
How is it possible?
It is night...
Coming soft...
Held aloft
Perhaps by those stars...
Seen them?
They are happy twinkling...
Are they not singing?
Are they not joining in
A choric song?
For which once a mother longed...
Sitting beside an ocean...
Where her son had gone...
To fetch a bag ful dreams...
As often seen
In oysters...
In shoal of red golden fish...
In sea horses...
(as they swam like little absurd forms reddened )

Seen them?
The mother...
The ocean...
The sky...
Those stars...

Wonderous?

An evening...a suicide theme...and God and Pete...

'is getting back to life
And Life...
That much difficult?'
he Him asked...
One evening...
Hearing someone with brilliant acting skill
Committing a sin...
A suicide...
Feeling people in hordes
Actually embracing forcibly ...
death...
Violating His choice
And order
And
Harmony...
Everything...

'why?
Hey You!
God!
The omniscient...
The omnipotent...
Why?
What is this?
Why there is so much unpeace?'
he asked...
Him...
The Silent...
The Unborn...
The Eternal...

He said nothing...
He had nothing to say...
Saying is not always His ways...

However...
There was a cool breeze...
And a tune of
A common
Song...
Of Pete
Came
From someone's balcony...

Someone might there be playing a music player loud...

he passed by that balcony...
Slowing a bit...
Taking in old Pete's unforgettable
Universal number...

Twilight football...

Seeing the golden red ball
Upon a building tall
Placed neat...
As if like a football tournament big
Would be organised there...
A big event...
An extravaganza...
Like a World Cup one...
Only for them-
the Gods...
One beatified
Twilight...

he thought
'it is time to do nothing...
Only to sit
Quiet
And watch the game show
Of light...'

And the twilight filled him more
With happiness galore...

he saw birds joining in too
By their flights...
he saw clouds resembling crowd
Of happy boisterous spectators...

And he stopped
And just watched...
(the match
Of light golden red
One twilight...
Which lasted a few minutes though...sigh...)

After a long time ... Catching the highway... and the chai stop...

'after a long time...'
The old man with crowfeeted eyes,
smiled
And gushed almost...
Seeing him
At his chai stop
By the highway...
And the banyan
Right at the middle...

he smiled back...
'not very long...'
he reminded him
Joking...

The misty foggy highway wore a pure autumnal feel...

Mist...fog...a slight chill...
And a chai stop...

he walked up to his favourite spot...
The old grand banyan tree...
He -the grand ol tree ,
looked pretty fresh...
he placed his palms on His trunk...
Moist...algaic...wet... Soft...drenched...cool...silent...balmy...

The tea arrived...
With two biscuits...
he shared one with the chaiwallah...
he was not willing...
he insisted...
'we are kind of friends...
Are we not?
You...me...this banyan tree and the road...?'
he asked...
The old friend on road smiled...
The Sun peeped through the cloud...
Gold...
Not measured by any carats though...

Misty road and speeding down...

'is it autumn?
Nay...
It is monsoon sure...'
he thought
Riding through
By chance almost
A stretch of road
Which ran wide
And lone
Straight through
A wasteland almost...
Where mist gathered
Made visible only by headlights
Of zip zapping cars and bikes...
And of course
Sometimes
By posts of lights
Standing like round spread areas of yellowish bright
space...

he pressed by reflex
Clutches
And moved down...
Slid
From fourth to third...
he felt he did not need speed...
he felt he needed less speed...
Lesser one
So that
That curious eerie mist
Could his visor gather...
A bit...

'this wasteland...
She is breathing out...
Mist...
She is just breathing out moisture...
And so this mist here...
And i don't want to miss it...'

he analysed...
Thinking
Biological...
Thinking stomata...
Thinking chlorophyll...
Thinking that tub with plant by plastic cover experiment
Learnt...
In his childhood...
With and without light...

If a roadie writes a letter ...

'Dear...'
he wrote...
Sighing both
Happy and sad...
A bit sad...
Not much to be overcome such
That Happiness got hurt...

'roads...
Are meant to be traversed...
Rode through...
With the feel of air...
Happy breeze...
Trees lining fair...
And be it dark
Or bright
The sky above... there...
Is always a company...
A company either sunny...
Cloudy...
Greyish...
Blackish...
Or simply silvery by moon
Or starry...

Roads are meant to be
Traversed...
Just that...
The roads are made for that...
And we both too!'

A conversation on seasons...between the two...

'i just love rains...'
he exclaimed...
She heard that
And smiled...
'last winter you claimed
You loved that season...
And before that
You loved Autumn
And even scorching summer too...'
She just reminded him...
Knowing him...
She just wanted really
Not to query
Cause she got no doubts
Or fears...
She got faith and Faith
Of smiles
And those smiles were actually purified by happy tears...

So
Kinda playful...
Her soul by the rain already filled
She just asked...

He looked at her...
Her eyes...
Her oceanic eyes
Where once Neptune's daughter died happy in Love...
He looked at that peaceful yet playful dove...

'i guess...
When one is in Love
One finds beauty and love
Everywhere...
Every season...
Every moment...
Every tick tock of that huge grand clock...

But rains?
Well ...
Can't you see dear
How she came?
Look at her...
Her flame...
Her calm...
Her dress awesome...
Look...
See...
Feel...
The rain...
All over me...
my neck...
lips... throat...
wet wet blue coat...
shoes...
toes...

Look...
See ...
The light...
Traffic flow
Painting red green yellow...

Blue...
Also there
Painted by that neon sign...
Blue
Like a giant advert
Of red red wine...

And
Still...
Do you seriously feel?
The rains...
Is She not playing?
On you?
On me?
On people?
On the city?
On the road of life?

What's the point
In dissecting a small life so?
By only useless doubts?
And fears useless the same?
What's the point in holding onto each
And every kind of worry?
Why?
When there is another a few hundred journeys pending?
With no ending?
Dear...
Lets be
Rain...
Lets just be
Rains...'
he said
As if he prayed...

And she...
Smiled...
Knowing him...
She just smiled...
Faith
Affirmed...
Hope affirmed...
Love ?
It was all over her
Already...
Even before she
Made that query...
Much before that...
A few million years before that...
Perhaps...

Journey back and forth...

'I dream for a living...'
a living God
once declared...
quite understandably...
His works were dreams...
His works are dreams...
His works will be so...
A living God...
who had set a certain benchmark no doubt...
on Dreams caught
in certain milimetre scope...
A jew by birth...
A lover by choice...
Perhaps...

'why not i try
To at least grasp
That God 's choice...
A choice...
Working too in its own way
Within...
Very much...

Strong...
Felt on skin...
Checked by nerves...
Sent to brain...
To nerves again...
To blood...
To mind...
And finally to soul...
And after that
To the whole being...

Up  there...
He smiled...
'taken the journey back?kid?
Well...from t to T
And then T to t...
A journey back and forth...
Is a journey made good...
Full of worth...'

He whispered...
And he
Only scribbled...

a wind post for her...

'this beautiful moist wet silent afternoon...
and...
this trance...
still...
you flew...
still you felt
works in your limbs...
still you felt
math...
trigonometry...
mrnsuration...
algebra...

this peace...
this satiated soul ful mind...
this leafy feel...
this softened wood of the oak...
this cuckoo songs dripping like honey all over...
still you thought
of hardest sum...
a polygon...
a hexagonal dimension...
an improbable numberscape...
how come?'

he wrote
on a piece of paper...
and
through the running post
of monsoony wind
sent it...
praying...
evoking...
invoking...

love

peace and dreams carried forward...one morn...

'this start of the day
is Peace...
this moment is bliss...
this moment is eternal...
this moment is living...
this moment is lovingly good...'
he thought
through the casement foggy
as he looked outside...
a dreamy silence...
awake but still...unmoved...
like an unperturbed being...
those coconut trees -
they were meditative too...

the street as seen as a part...
like a smudged painting
by the moisture on the glass...
looked calm and serene too...

and those houses...
structures still rising...
concrete after concrete slabs...
they looked silent and sleepy as well...

'must be the effect of last night's rain...'
he thought...
as he felt
washed...
bathed...
refreshed...
by the rainy feel...

freedom...a generic program...

'freedom lies there...'
he thought
looking at the leaves green
with drops of rain
hanging onto their fringes
like diamonds sparkling...

'freedom lies up there...'
he thought
seeing a bird on glide...
her wings stretched wide...
her happy float...

'freedom lies right here...'
he thought
riding down a passage of a road
still sleepy dreamy watery springy flowery...
as if a Path...
as if a Truth...
as if a song by Ruth...
as if an open book...

he thought
feeling the wind
on his face...
his arms...
his legs...

he felt...
freedom
rising up
like a curtain...

and he
looked inside...

he stared hard
within...

'freedom lies there...
like a generic program...
conceived and generalised...'

and he thought David and Alexander...
and the Idea of God...

genesis...

'And God said:
Let there be a vault
between waters...'

And so we two waters are so seperate!
i a vault of water...a mouthful and wordfool sky...
and you ocean...

'And God said:
Let the Land produce vegetation...seed bearing plants
and trees...'

And so i remained the sky
and you the ocean...

and so you became tree
and i a sky...watery!

seeing my self...

we walked
we two
the kid
and me...
two of us...
and a street...
not crowdy...
decent
and wet...
'dad! can i jump onto that puddle please?'
he asked...
the kid...
playful always...

thought of first forbidding him
'but then...
this evening...
after a squall
so good...
this street shiny
with leaves fallen
and colored
by flowers too...
and this breeze...
southern...
smelling only love
why not we play?
what's the point in living such
caged...bound...chained...
when mother Nature had put her grandest evening on display...
before us?'

thinking such
i sang out
'hey kid
jump on to the puddles...
there's no worry...
no muddled a thing...
jump onto life
always kiddo
when only happiness He here brings!'

and he made a jump...
danced a bit...
i watched
and
saw myself
in him...
as he danced
on glassy floor...

you in Her...

and she said
looking up to the sky...
dark...
cloudy...
flashes happening distant but bright...
'lets get back...
it is getting dark dear
and i fear...
we might not be able to reach home...'

he looking all the time at the sky
Opening his eyes
And trying to hear
The cuckoo's song coming from far...
'we are home already...
Can't you hear
How He sent Her...
Only for us...
To be drenched pure
To be drenched bare...
Can't you hear
The cuckoo singing
Invoking love?
Can't you see
How in her blackest party dress she
Has arrived...a silvery pendent
Platinum...
Dazzling sharp...
Hanging and swinging...
Can't you get and feel
Her happiness?
So please...
Just sit quiet
For a while...
and let me see...admire
she in you...and you in Her...'

'I Am Love...' when He sang...

'how do you do that?'
he asked Him...
the Communicator...

'cause I Am
Love...'
He whispered
into his ears...

and he realised
how well
by His Self ...
Alone
He could communicate...
with all beings...
all...

how birds listened
to His call...
how cats looked into His blue eyes
with happiness...
how elephants felt good with Him
how horses jumped in joy just seeing Him...

'how well and deep
A Communicator
He is!'
he thought...

objectified...

with the only object
to discover you
new
every moment
i travel...
wandering aimless...

with the only object
to plant rush of love
in you...
every ticking by
minutest moment...
i fly haply...
singing merrily...

with that only object
designed and printed indelible...
i sail
across seas and oceans
every tiny moment...
of this life...

(and i know
this clip of mine
is in no way objectified
like that Gary Hustwit made
way back in two thousand nine...)

a dawn alive...

when the first light
of the day
with carefree softness made a descent
on this life
like a blessing
then one got only the idea-

how flowers also capably sang...
how rivers also danced in tune...
how trees also wrote down stories...
how the sky also dipped herself into paints...

when the first light of the dawn fell
on earth...
one had got the feeling
how out of a deep city dive search
sparkling waves of ocean one could meet...
how on vacant sleepy numbed streets
life really to his heaven destined reached...

visiting the country...Wagner kind...

'This silent and cool afternoon...
the nestlings playing...
the trees waving as if self possessed...
and a Wagner...
die walkure...
the second one of the four operas...'

he getting sunk
thought of an idyllic pasture...
a small cottage...
a woman
serving him food meagre...
and
the wood pecker
chipping into an oak...
some three hundred fifty year old...
chipping in
with a rhythm...
a tap on hollow  wood
as if,
somewhere a cow mooed...
and a flock of hens seemingly hopped
and played...

a stack of corns...
a farm house with wooden blocks...

a road dusty
a cycle kept idle against a wood post...
rusty...

and all around vast green...
field whispering story of love and peace...

he thought
he had been there...
a million times
in his city bred life...

feeling the vibes...

after traveling twenty five
he felt the vibes
of the sky...
sending jet lines pink
originating
from the east...
jet lines bright
pink
sending message as if
a rebirth was happening...
somewhere...
up there...
a rebirth...
so much prayed...
so much with beads said...

he paused...slowing down
placing his left palm
on his left side of heart...
it was throbbing...
it was responding...

'Thank you my Lord...'
he almost sobbed...

and
the eastern sky was sending
beams...
pink orange red
across the blue...

a prayer...for Life...for all...

he looked at the clouds...
clouds of so many...
people with mighty hearts
bitten by Agape...
he looked at them...

and silently
only prayed
to Him
who kept him alive
even
after being hacked...
by what not...
billhooks
of worst meanest senseless kind...
weapons coward like...

'i have no issue with death...
i have no issue with being alive even...
for recycle is continuous...
recycle is Your mechanical design...
a perennial motion...
no one can actually devise
on earth...
but...
those lovely people...
if they think of having feet upon grass...
if they think of posting cards with blueness all over...
if all people become so together...
kill me...
just kill me once more...
hack me...
jack me...
pack me
with dynamites pure...
just keep them smiling...
just make them believe
Agape is the only pure...
and the rest is useless...
so useless
that masks
or pretentions
are never required...
never...
for Agape takes care
of all Truth...
even of killings too!'

returning to g

'even if one tries
to travel back
wise...
to travel back ...
to little life...
there is also not an escapism?
like climbing down...
fast
acceleration
towards the g...
gravity...'

he thought
with
drizzling beauty
of rain
one evening
all over
him...
his sense...
his connected soul...
his disconnected heart...
his city looking good...
his teak wood within
drenched soft...

'what is g?
only a force...
how it arrives?
where is its destiny?'

he asked...
to Him...
knowing
He might be standing
there
silent at Ionosphere
where
charged droplets were colliding...
creating flashes blinding fast...
by His providence just...

'g...
is nothing but a force
centrifugal...
or an acceleration-
linear one...
may be...
and can be achieved all the time...'

he got the reply...
from the sky...

and drenched in rain...
rain with charges electric shooting across
the sky...
like swords of titanium bright...
he wondered...

'g is a created thing...
by Him...
like all of us...
like those planets and stars...
like that galaxy...
like several galaxies...
g is just another creation
of the Infinite...'

just then
his cell phone rang...
someone calling...
and he felt if he had taken the journey back...
it was always happening...
returning to g...
is like returning to Him
is like loving His all creations...

hey dear...just stand there...

'dear me...'
he murmured
looking up
the sky...
how rain filled she becoming...
rain!
monsoony rain!
loving rain!

rain...
so fun filled...
rain
so full of the cool...

rain...
arriving like a wide spread dream
over the city in an afternoon...

and he standing
glasses reflecting
the dark wide love
drenching already
in anticipation...

thought of
calling her...
'Hey Isabel...
wake up
will you? dear?
just go to the window!
if possible climb to
sixteenth floor...
and stand there
and look up dear...
please...
look up...
rains...
they are coming...
fast...
just go
and stand there...
unfurl
your scented jasmine hair...
fling out all your cares...
just stand there...
spreading your nimble arms...
wide stretched like ready for a flight...
just stand there bare
for the rain...
and
for me...
dear...
please...
where ever you are...
just go up...
climb to the open terrace
and stand there...'

when Achilles on Briseis' bosom died...

'you gave me
Peace
in my lifetime of war...'
gasped Achilles...
dying...
an arrow from Paris at his heel...

Briseis was crying...
she tried
to stop Paris
from throwing arrows lethal
at her hidden forbidden love
Achilles...

But...

was not Achilles
an enemy?

Paris
the young prince...
how could he not kill
an enemy?

But
This
Briseis...
she knew
Achilles...
she knew
the respect and love
she had seen in the warrior's eyes...

She was crying...
holding the enemy of state...
to her bosom
defying everything...
only for the sake
of love...

and Achilles...
before closing his eyes
just muttered:
'don't you worry
my dear Briseis...
we would be meeting
in another time...
surely in another time...'

another afternoon...another birth...

another beautiful afternoon
of the city...
so so sleepy...
the trees even look drowsy...
as if they had like Shelley, the poet
taken opium with wine...
laudanum...

that cliff of that distant hill...
where so many times i climbed,
looking at it...
got a feel as if
i can always climb...
Experience...
they call it...
and an experience sublime...

that city book store
where once a Brida kind
woman my eyes met...
with eyeliners black...
curved right...
in red red dress...

they call it
experience
again
those saints
living in almora caves...
a meagre yet plentiful existence...

o what a coming back...
as if in a dream...
as if a movie seen
and yet to get out of it...

o what a return...
another birth small
within a tiny scale of tiny life...

is it not an afternoon
to die again...
blissful?

lovingly yours...

Dear...
Have i told you
i am missing you?

haven't i?
well...
i don't lie...
and listening to the cuckoos...
methought
why not i repeat?
those ageold lines...

got the seed of origin dear
from the Space unseen...
and
from the Time too...

only to
beautify
this small life...
before
another journey call comes...

got all the Time for you dear...
that Time
which in atomic heat display
could cause a destruction
of small world...

got that too...

but knowing you...
and knowing me...
what's the use?

the wrath of the Lamb
when He had willingly given
to both of us...
what 's the need to
think of even for a nanosecond
that Time...
as  written
as verse
sublime...
just like Him
so potent?

just thinking...
why not
we beautify...
this small time of smallest life
with more flowers?
why not we just be drenched
in Light
of the unborn
and the born The Eternal Child?
why not we just be in love
with Love?

Coming back to you...Isabel...

Dear Isabel...
Come stai?

i am good
And writing this only
With a lot of eagerness...
For i need to tell you something
Which probably you would like
(got that feeling...)
After traveling
From t to T...
l to L...
now...
Being so much blessed by Him...
Top to bottom filled...
A journey having been made
To lemniscate
(almost...
Not it is within my reach
For it is only His...
am i not just a dot?)
methought...
i need to make another journey...
A big and important too
For me and for you...
The opposite...
The return...
From T to t...
From L to l...

God!
am i not excited the same?
am i not so so exuberant?
am i not learning and unlearning big and small?

Hope...
Only hope...
Dear Isabel mine...
i cling onto
Every thing i got
From the journey
That brought
So many things...

hey!
Isabel?
Are you not crying?
Visioning me flying
Back to you dear...
Back to you...
After several days...
For it is for you...
Only you dear...
i made that journey fair...

Now
Coming back...
Rapid and fast...
For so eager am i
To meet your blue blue eyes...
Afterall ...
Reaching Agape
Is such a learning
That it only to love one's brings...
With more of Love...
More of Hope...
More of everything...

So...
keep smiling...
Just keep smiling...
Only a just a few oceans away...
Just a few kilometres...
(compared to Lemniscate...
Do they matter? )

Hey Isabel...
Coming back...
Version of me...
The same...
And yet so different...
Version.02...
You may call me that too!

Love and love...
Faith and faith...
Hope and hope...

-Frances
(bought a sack of special corns
From here...
At a market like that
Of Hay...
For pigeons there...
At the piazza...
Thought
We need to fill up
Always our stack
Of corns...
And bought other things as promised...
And another thing...
Putting everything i learnt
Through this journey
From t to T
i mean...
Into a form...
What about a book?
Work is half way through...
On that...)

at a new place...

'wow...'
The was the first thing that came
Out of him...
Seeing the virgin green...
A new place...
he had discovered...
Traveling...the same...

And the beauty of the place
Simply him floored...
Cause it was full of trees...
Trees various...
Trees sacred smelling...
Trees incense breeding...
Trees vertical
And wide wide spread...
Trees filled with flowers...yellow...white...pink...and red...
And big trees...
Very big...
With trunks strong...old banyans...
Aged and full of experience...
Trees carrying last night's rainy sense
Still on their leaves...
Moist...fresh...and so so green
As if the golden sparkle
Just coming out
From the Sun
Under the cloud...
Made those trees and their beings
Even more beautiful...
So filled with life...
Life full...

And he placed...
his feet...
Opening his shoes
On the carpet green...
Moist...
Leafy...
Softy...

he there stood
Silent...
Filling him up
With the cool under feet
And
Closing his eyes
he opened his ears...

And got all the chirpings
Of birds melodious...

he stood...
Silent...
Being filled
By nature
The Holy Mother...
At a new new place...

Splendid life...one death after...

'splendid!'
he thought
Gushing
Within...

As he saw and rode slow
A drenched wet monsoon evening road... tired was he...
A few moments back...
Even...
he was thinking
a death virtual and real kind when happened...
'i need to keep my thoughts within...
What's the need?
To make thoughts
Globally pasted
On walls?'

But then...
This monsoony evening so drenched...
This puddle reflecting only lights
Varied...
Like lightscape
Catching the dark's own delight...
Catching a heaven too
Different kind
But so true...

And one will just see it
And never think
And never get into
The poesy on float?

'is it actually possible?
Not to be in flow
When an evening wet
Such pictures of light
Present so marvellous?
So musical?
So Neptune like?
So dravidan?
Such?'

he smiled...
And smoothness
he felt all over his tired mind
And he rode...
The road...
The teacher...
As the road always stays...
The road of life...
Full of potholes
Which hold watery puddles...

when one's own flower blooms...

son's smile...
What more one wants...
Than one's own
Flower
Blooming
Like an evening rose...
White ...
Innocent...
Full of happiness
As if drenched by the drizzle...
Coming to one
Like a sense of hope
As if from far away
Inaccessible...
Yet so close
Right one's bosom...
Smiling...
Cuddling...
Playing soft...

Bonds...
Are they not like that?
Harmony...
Is it not nature's only cry?
Happiness...
Is it not only life?

A birth-death combo with rains...

'ah...
This awesome rain...'

Is it not like love?
The love that comes soon after pains?'

he sang out
Seeing the clouds
Grey but full of hope
And love...

The rain
That connected him
With those
his dear ones...
Whom
The virtual death
From him kept seperate...

he remembered
Their faces...
Their smiles...
Their kind words...
Posted on white boxes...
Clicked and tapped...

he remembered...
Mothers...
Sons...
Daughters...
Sisters...
And brothers...

And
Beautiful lovers...
Them all...

And
The rain

And
The fog

And...

More

Of rain
Came
Where he stood...

Between a death
Accepted by him
Complete
And
Another birth
Taking place...
Within...

Only...
Only...

Wished
he could have
Corrected
All...
he could by only Love
Caused a serious correction...

But then...
'who am i?
i am not He...
Or She...'

he tried to console
his pained soul...

And
It rained...

It seriously rained...
Inside...

Virtual death...

'Death experience is good
Even if it is virtual
Afterall... We are more virtual
Than real nowadays...'

he thought
After dicovering
Someone...
By mistake...
Has taken control
Of his virtual self...
Where he posted only poems...
And love...

Someone...
By mistake...
Loved him so much
That his poems
he or she has taken full control over...
At least on a virtual social networking level...

'that is another death...
Very painful one...
But who am i?
To prevent all these?
People can't be
Always shown...
The path...
They themselves need to take care of that...
Who am i? Really?
A miniscule dot...
Compared to the
Vast...
Infinite...'

he thought
And sighed...

Hacked account...

'sometimes...
You need to keep silent...'
Said He...

So he kept silent...
And
Saw
How
Someone
Has hacked him to death...
Virtual death...

his cloud account
he saw
How had been hacked into...

he just saw
And prayed...

From sun to cold star to black hole...a journey

'i wonder ...'
he thought
Taking a cue
From a friend far
'why the Sun dies?'

Then he thought
Of a journey...
Heat inherent
In the Helios...
He is cooling Himself down
As per thermodynamics...
He is trying to get cooler...
Cause the atomic blasts
In Him
In fusion and fission
Is nothing but
A severe chaos...
And by dissipating heat
Oneday He would be at peace...
With Him self...
Cold star...
Dead apparent...
But then more journey to be made
By Him...
The God of Energy...

He would be
A black hole...
Where
Space and Infinite Time
Will have dilation...
He would be more powerful then...
And an unifier too!

Colored sky and a deity...

'God...
Never seen so much of glowing pink...
Spreading from the east
Spreading ...
Spreading...
Catching every brush stroke of the cloudman...
As if the whole sky
Had become a printed saree
Primarily blue and white
With pinkish orange gathering
All over...
my God...
He
The Helios
before rising what an arrival
heralds...
He is such a good painter...
As if His arrival mere
Is a painting too!'

he thought
Looking up
At the sky...
Of dawn...

Standing quiet on a lawn
Wide too
Full of green and dew...

The spectacle stayed
Longer than other dawns
he had seen...
It stayed...
Probably allowing him
To gather and swallow
As much as his throat possibly can...
in this small life...

Then
The pink started to fade out...
Fading out quiet...
Silent...
Graded...
As if by water
He was gently wiping out
The sky...
Only to return
To the primary...
White (with most soothing nerve impulse creating as per the scale theorised by another God...a color expert)
And mildest blue(the second most soother of eyes as per the same scale)

And
he thought
'why?'

Then he remembered
Some colors are primary
And some
Are compound colors...
Like elements
And compounds
In Chemistry...
Or Physics molecular...

appreciating this beauty
Of Nature
The eternal mother...
he thought
Of dying again...
A trance...

he sat on the grass...
Soft quiet dewy...
And prayed to that deity
Pantheistic...
With him to forever stick...

From t to T, love to Love...a journey

Dear Isabel...
Come stai?

Have i told you...
have not i?
That i
chose death...
Last night?

O dear...
That choice
So many times i made...
And
So many times
i am born...

For You dear Isabel...
For You...

reading history is knowing you too...
Blood shed and carnage...
And also love...
Knowing geography is loving you more...
For He there how in
His beauty manifest...

Plunging into the eros
Is knowing you...
As traveling
From t to T...
From love to Love...
For from eros
Comes philos...
And from philos
Comes Agape...

Dear Isabel...
loving you
Is like...
Having the biggest widest and
The most prolific journey made...
Loving you takes me to Agape...
Loving you makes me younger
Like that General Relativistic one...
Astronauts clocking younger
Coming back
From Space
To space...
From Time
To time...
In General Relativistic terms...

Only for you
i got everything...
i got a being...
A Birth...
And
An euthanasia...

No words
Can rightly proclaim
my gratitude...
As no words
Can rightly assign
Values numerical
To the Agape kind...

Probably lemniscate can...
Probably Faith can...
Probably Love can...

And nothing else...
None...

Loving you more...
Believing you more...
Living and embracing Hope more...

And giving away them more...
Sure...

Grazie...
Dear Isabel mine...
Grazie ...
Once more...
(my thanks giving to you is becoming endless...
Infinite...
And i know
You believe
In that sign...
The lying eight...
The sleeping restive one...
A recycle kind...)

-Frances.

(p.s.- take care of Cicero...ask him not to go fast on lanes while riding his Paginale...
And thinking of gifting Amadore a set of new paint brushes...
A Revell?
What do you say?
And for you
i will only be
Bringing me...)

Death is such a humbler...

'death is such a humbler...'
he thought
Looking at a pyre
On fire...
A pyre
By his favourite river...
Lit red orange...
'from fire we are born
And in fire we die...'
he thought
Looking at the fire...
By his friendly river...
One evening...
A breeze still playing
With his hair...
A moon like a sickle still...
Silent...
A peepul tree with leaves astray...
Falling ...
Falling eternal...
To get floated into the shiny glittering water
Of
Il fiume del dolore...
The river ancient...
The river immortal...
The river like a verse
From heaven...
The river like a teary flowing sense...

he sat...
Quiet...
Absolute...
Dying...
And
Living the same...

Far away some dots
They flash...
They stop...
They flash...
Like hyphens and dashes...

And
he listened
To the river's own song...
A song that purges...
A song that reveals vessels of gold
Of truth ...
A song that sublimates...
A song that purifies...
A song that only death white becomes...

One fall...and a prayer...

'that one fall...'
he the kid recalled...
'was it selfish?
Was it for me?
was not i dragged?
At the start?
was i not?'
he asked...
Dissecting his own self
Like he did so many times...

he cried...
he thought he had failed his breed...
he thought he had failed his mother...

'Kid...
Don't cry...
She is not crying...
She is smiling
For she knew
you...
you gave her life...
A new life...'

His voice came...
' but...
this traveling...
i could have stayed put...
helping her more...'
he muttered...

'you could not...
One should help oneself...
you just pray for her...'
He told him...

he knelt down...
At once...
Crying...
Crying ...
Crying...

'help her...
As i am not there...'
  he just that prayed...

mountain fog in June? God... You must be my umbrella man...

a fog came...
straight from hills...
the same hills that he felt
that same hills where he once saw God...
standing before him
once
one foggy morn...
at a point...
from where only
the two options had then
been kept....
a steep down deep...
and a climb...

he had then
chosen the deep...
camikazie knot tied
he himself dropped...
into the deep...
knowing death
was about to plant
Her sweetest kiss
on his dry dry lips...

She did...
then ...
she gave her everything...
her moist smell...
her green leaves
dripping mist...
her
every bit of
Forest
where wild flowers bloomed...

after that...
that particular death
it took eight
roughly eight months
to climb back...
and
from that deep
he happily rose up...

bidding adieu to her
and loving her very much...

at the hills...
he met God again
while climbing...
whispering him Love...
in the smell of monasteries...
in saffron...
in posts long
that swung in the breeze...
in sombre gongs...
in copper heavy bells...
in happy go lucky life...
in children going to school walking all the way singing...

in jeeps manoeuvring good
in holding on rocks that stood
Like sages so lovely...
in incense burning
Front of statue...
in smell of lager
Filling at evenings...
And
In finding Ajoy...
A happy happy lad
with his guitar...
In finding Wanshai ...
In finding Paia...

'God...
A fog in June?
Here?
You must be my umbrella man !'

he thought smiling
And a picture postcard
Dropped...

He...and he..the boy...one afternoon...

'cheer up boy!'
he heard a voice...
He arrived...
timely as He...
always...
never late...
never early...
just timely...

'yes...'
he stood up...
afterall He came
to his tiny house...
where to put Him up?
the ground floor is occupied...
first floor?
air conditioned comforts?
nah...

what about the terrace?
the open...
the vast...
For He the Vast
can't stay in coops...
even conditioned proper to soothe...

'why worry?
about Me?'
He asked...
His gentle soft eyes...
O they were so calm...
so bright...
luminous...

then He placed His palm
on his heart...
a bit aching...
not much...

he closed his blind eyes...
his closed eyes got opened...

and...
the breeze came kissing...

he was dying...
a death...
a death again...

and...

he thought...
dying and living too...
'what was actually low?
what happened?
i have not done any wrong...
and if kindness is wrong...
then ...
then...
the whole world is wrong...'
he thought...
and saw Him...
bringing showers from the sea...
faraway seas...

he saw flowers blooming...
he heard Phil Collins singing...

a song...
a girl...
with blisters on feet...
and a man
walking on the street
stopping...
drooping...

'are you hurt?'
he heard the man asking the girl...
he saw tears dropping
from the man's eyes...
and the girl ...
who was suffering...
smiling...

he saw the man...
and the girl...
and God
smiling...
kind...
the supreme kind...

uninhabited...

'Gosh!'
exclaimed he
as he did see
a Ferris wheel...
unoccupied...
standing quiet...
against a blue and white
springy sky...

he paused...
his blue darling horse
was purring mild...
not panting...
not tired...

for he the blue horse knows him
in and out
without doubt...
a slight push on the racer...
he the horse becomes a speedster...
a mild tap on the disc frontal...
he the horse knows there's a need of sudden stop...
a slightly long press at the rear
brake...
he the horse knows he got time to take
a stop...

here...
he knew
he wanted a view...
not moving fast ...
not moving almost...
yet moving...
a balance...
a perfect balance required...
so the horse blue
allowed him to have his view...

and he looked
at the Ferris wheel
standing lone
against the blue
absolutely uninhabited
yet sinking...
sinking to the depth
of another Being...
a George Ferris Jr.
he remembered...

a Ferris wheel
not moving...
but taking in the blue and the white
of the sky so so wide...
and the Sun so bright
as if high dimension flat vision...
clarified...

a technical snag...and a salvation with rains!

'why this android mine
holding up so often?'
he thought
fiddling with it...
the kid...
curious always...

then he realised sudden
that too many applications were on...
the cloud...
he chooses to stay with it...
for it is the primary thing...
then the music...
okay...
he decides to stay with that too...
then the word pad...
he simply can't neglect that...

but
pouring?
it is an eternal thing!
so...
'Even if ...
i die...
(which i do every alternate hour...
for Agape...
for Faith...
for the two sets...
for Hope...
for love...)
pouring...
will stay...
for...
it is
Perennial...
lemniscate!'

thinking this
he thought about only pouring...
and...
it rained...
he got drenched...
tears ran like flood...
he bowed...
he bowed...
he died...
only
to get
another rebirth...
with lots of faith...
lots of hope...
lots of goodness...
lots of scope...
lots of peace...
lots of sleep...
lots of fire...
and
lots of ice...

white and blue...

He was painting...
this morn when he went to Him
He was painting...
a big canvas
got colorful by His soft brush...
'i wonder...'
the kid murmured...
'this Man keeps me forever thus
on hooks!
look...
He is painting...
and what a painted canvas...
He is doing here...
blue and white...
and a lot of orangy pink...
spreading out...
a pattern...
but why so much of blue and white?
perhaps He loves Sky...
and Ocean...
but if that is the cause...'
he the kid paused
his childish thoughts
for He the architect looked up...
smiling...
the young old smile...
for which he would die
any given day...
any given moment...

'human eye...'
He started...
the Lightness of the morn
all over Him-
His canvas...
'can only catch dear
430-790 THz ...
frequency of light...
and...
in the scale
of Munsell
white is highest...
carrying value nine...
and that mild sky blue
that is sitting fine...
just after that...
and...
you know something?
it is quite amazing...
the higher the lightness...
the higher is the nerve impulses...
per nerve fibre...
per unit time...
the small time...I mean...'

He the omniscient...
the architect...
the Him...
smiling...
muttered soft...
as if Her was thinking
something...
His brush held in His hand...

he the kid...
said nothing...
he just ran
to the balcony...
to see the sky...
it was white and blue...
with pinkish orange spreading...

he the kid smiled...
did he not feel
once again Happy?
Inside?

for You...a traveler...

Dear Isabel...
come stai?
i am cruising...
and my boat is fine...
here it is night
and it is so full of Light
dear...
so full of Light
that i feel blinded...
and also awake...

'why am i so awake?'
i asked me...
my self...
and got the answer...
just scribbling them down...

(i got some works
so the words are a bit disjointed
Hope you won't mind that...)

feeling like an orphan
here...
an orphan
and also
a man
and
a child
and
a father
and
a mother...

a daughter?
that too!
a beggar...?
si!

a king...?
sure!
a pauper...?
that's i...

all...
for you dear...
and you know it all...

in You i find everyone...
and everything...
dear...
a big and wide world...

that Queen of the Night...
that mellowed Light...
that moon's silvery beam...
that white swan...
the little rose on bloom...
that fifth dimensional Space...
that ever widening room...

in you...
i am
so rooted Happy...
find you everywhere dear...
from Kalinga to Kentucky...
from Gaya to Mecca...
sure!

in you...
i find blood and fire
and also whiteness fair...
in you...

Dear Isabel...
are you not smiling?
see...
how i got out of me?
only by traveling?

only for You dear...
only for You...
i stand orphaned
and chose to be
a traveler...
so that i can bring gems and jewels
for you dear...
for you...
(am i not a Lover? too?)

now tell me
how are you?
how are all people?
those lovely little kids?
how are they?
do send me
a skypost...
quick...
okay?

-Frances.

(by the way...
forgot to add one...
in you i find that river...
il fiume del dolore...
remember?)

Q & A...

'do you love and respect your blue horse?'
Asked He...
'yes i do...'
he made the reply....
'do you not love the road of this life and respect it the same?'
another query came...
'yes i do love and respect the road...'
'do you love and respect this evening?'
He asked again...
He the eternal crosser...
with his dossier
in His hand...

'yes i do...'
'do you not love and respect both t and T and l and L?'
'yes ...i do...'

'do you have love and Love?
do you have faith and Faith?'

queries were coming fast...
rapid...
like waves...
sparkling...

'yes i do have two sets of each...'

'do you know swimming?'
He asked softly...
muttering...
looking sharp...
quiet...

'no...but i got faith and Faith on t and T and life and Life...and love and Love...
and they incorporate everything...
i think...'

he answered bowing...
kneeling...
kissing the road...

There was somewhere a song...
a Kenny G
playing...
a song on an evening...
he closed his tiny eyes...
he closed his ears...

for he wanted to see more
and to hear
more...

gratitude...

'i find my truest child...
in you
and in you
i in my smallest life
die...
severe
and several...

in you i also get born...
i in my smallest life...
like a sun...
like a son...
like a lamb...

in you...
in you all...'

he wrote
feeling the sense
of bonhomie dense
growing denser...
feeling love
reaching Agape...
all over...
the sky...
so blue...
the earth so green...
the ocean unlimited...
the small time becoming celebratory...
small life becoming a big party
of
Love...
and Happiness...

on Space and Time and Agape...

Dear...
thought to write an oneliner...
but then
oneliners are often too puzzling...
so
just few lines...
a brief letter of sorts?
how is that?

time and space
unify...
Einstein spoke of that
Time -time and distance-Space dilation...

they actually unify...
General relativity...
is all about that...
in my tiny head
i got that...
(not the math and notation part...
that's really a brain storming...
and i can never be a scientist...
But Einstein was God...
Otherwise He would not have thought...
such a mammoth work...
like Schrodinger was...
or Max Planc...
or for that matter...
Oppenheimer...
He was famous for His curious habit
of loving people
and gifting them The Gita...
infact,
Schrodinger the God...
broke into spontaneous slokas...
after the Atomic blast
straight from Bhagwad Gita...
verse xi probably...)

anyway...
space time dilation is proven
by math...
He did that...
and many scientists
(they are no less than God too...)
also believe still the same...

theories evolve...
however...
but Love remains...
Agape remains...
Faith remains...

they are like that...
they are just like that...
they are part of Lemniscate...

it may sound too philosophic...
or jarring...
but Truth
can be philosophic
and jarring...
but Truth remains the same...
all Truths of Life...

communicating...

Finding Him non responsive absolute
Only communicating by Signs
Was natural...
So when this morn
he went to Him
he just sat...
a few feet away from Him...

He was just sitting...
Eyes opened
And he knew
They were closed...

The east was taking a pinkish hue...
A cloud white...a single patch
Was floating Happy...
The sky was blue...
She had taken her best blue...
A kind of blue which was soothing...
A kind of blue that took away everything...
A blue festive...
A blue restive...

His labrador...
His newest follower
Was sitting quiet...

he was silent too...

Only birds chirped...
They were communicating...

'this silence is Godly...
This place is Godly...
This mother earth is Godly...
This little whitish brown cuddly dog
he is Godly too...
For they are all silent...
And those birds
They are Godly...
For they are on song...'

he thought...
The Sun...
The Source code
of The One...
The giver and the taker...

He blessed the hall
with beams...
beams came slanting...
beams came singing...
beams came germinating...
Love for the both
life and The Life...
time and The Time...

he felt at perfect ease...
he felt by Him kissed...
though He was still silent...
not looking at him...
but He was communicating...

with His Supreme Benediction...
by His bene...dicere...
by His well speak...
and
by His Faith...
and Silence...

Two nuns...

Found them
The two...
In the market
Full of shouts and daily life
tiny...
Found them
In white...
Nuns two...
Silent...
As they were
Happy faced...
Coming from some orphanage
Or home for those
Left away...
Deflated...

Found them like
Walking silent...
Thought to follow them
Where they went...
On faces of whom
They the whole day Hope laid...

But
Were not they tired?
Were not they with Him involved?
Their faces glowed
Like little stars of the evening...
Tired...
Yet happy...
As if they by their works rested all
Of their faith...
To the sky
Of the city...

Felt their silence...
Felt their ways...
And
Paused a bit...
An aimless
me...
Hovering around...

Paused a bit...
Just paused a bit...
(did a half christ...
just
As per His advice)

They being so connected
Perhaps for me they also prayed...
In their own unique way
Silent...

For a cool breeze from nowhere felt
In the market crowdy loudy...

'got a mother
Today...
A smart one...
But also a child...
Just like me...
But mother no doubt...'
he looking at the birds returning home
Across the twilight sky
Singing
'take me home...'
Thought
And smiled...

the mother must be smiling too...
Surely...
he knew...

Finding sudden someone...

'I'm looking through you
And you're not the same...
You don't look different
But you are changed...'

She sang passing by
him...
On a street...
On the same street
One dark dark night...
When he and she
Fell apart...

'I thought I knew you
But what did  I know?'

She sang passing by
him...
On a street
The same ol' street
One dark dark night
Where he and she fell apart...

he stopped...
Shocked...
And smiled
With all of his kind...
And moved on...

he had to...
A traveler...

But she was singing still
'your lips are moving
But I can't hear anything...'

he hiding his tears
Sped a bit from there...
And at a lonely spot
Wiped soft
Those jewels
From his eyes...
And kept them
in his white and blue envelope...
In the name of God...
And prayed all goodness for her...

The architect's dimensions...

'tell me...
i never asked you though...
But today...
As we are sitting here
And your face seemed
Quite blessed...
Can you please me tell
Where from you learnt these all?
These tricks of art ?'
he asked...
Sitting by his side
On a quiet...
Sunny afternoon...
In his hall room
With long and wide glass opened to let in
The breeze and the green...
And the wine intoxicating
As caught by the songs of cuckoos of spring...
In fullest voice...
Intermittent...
But music nontheless...

He smiled...
His closed eyes
Had remembrances...
His face had sweetness all over...

'Friedrich Weinbrenner...
Heard him ever?'

'no...'
he said...
Waiting...
Curious...
Eager...

'he did churches
There at Karlsruhe...
Both Protestant and Catholic...
And you know something
he was only a carpenter's son...
From there he rose...
At Karlsruhe
He rose like
A creator so godly...
He did mints too...
But...
If you would see...
All his works
Had a sublimity
....
As if...
As if...
He got God within...
God within...
Otherwise...
He would not have done
Those...
And you know ...
What was his favourite place...
Other than Karlsruhe?
Italy...'

He opened his eyes...
His eyes old had glitter renewed...

he saw churches...
he Him...
In Him again...
The Architect...

And he bowed...

Outside...
There saw a sweeping cool breeze...
That long cocunut tree...
Swayed a bit...
Was it bowing too?

Letter to her...

'Dear Isabel...
Come stai?
haven't written to you...
For the last few days...
Hope you are well...
How's the breeze there?
Is it not calm and soothing?
Is Napoli winning?
How's Cicero?
And Donya?
And Abramo?

i think you people are working it out quite good...
Together...
i can feel it from here...
togetherness is in the air...
i can feel it...
Kids on the streets playing...
People singing...
The bars are running full house...
Gay Odin having thronging customers...
And
That Macdonald's near the Clinica...
It has installed a new big display...
i can feel it from here...

How's Amadore?
his hands got swollen?
Are his eyes alright...
Please request him not to paint at night...
he is getting old...
Why not you go often to his place?
Why not help him a bit with chores?

Yes...yes ...
you got works...
i know...
Do you feed the pigeons at the piazza every morn?
i think you do...
You can never run out of corns...
To be given away...
i know...
have Faith...

Me?
Bene...
Just experiencing more of twin shapes
Or you may say
Four dimensions
Of two primary things
Which is governing
The two...
And you will be surprised to know
That out of these all...
A fifth Space is opening up...
Like...
Like mixing colors you see...
Two colors fusing to create a new one...
In which two remain...
Like inherent...
In this case two sets are fused...
Out of which One
Only One
Is emerging...
Every moment dear Isabel...
Every moment...
(that is also a color...is it not?
Or a drop of water...
Of an Ocean...
is it not?)

Carried a Cross ...
Over shoulders dear...
Remembering Petre...
And you...
i did it...
it bled...
Still
i did it fine...

And another thing...
Did i tell you?
Perhaps forgot...
Love you...
Loving the journey Isabel...
Loving you more...
Nowadays...

And
Just to remind you
As i end here...
That lovely phrase...
L'amore e un viaggio...non una destinazione...

-Frances

Willingness...

'If you dear...
Can and so wish...
you give...
All your pains to me...
Free...
i think i can handle them...
For the sake
Of Agape...

And from me...
i assure...
with all Love and humility...
take Flowers...
And mornings ...
And the breeze...
i am willing...
Actually willing...

For by doing that
you are actually helping me...
And i am not so selfless...
That i will not take anything in return...
i am not such...
So...
Give me all your pains...
i can handle them...
Sure...'

he
Bowed
And wished...
To the Helios...
A selfish wish...
Placed at the cliff...
On a small rock...
Shining bright...
And trees all around
Silent...
Listening to his wish...
Selfish...

time and Time... And a journey...

'God...
what a life miniscule
You gave?
Hey You ?
My friend?
Are You listening?
Now tell me friend
What's this?
A few moments ago You me kissed
With flowers white and dew...
And now the same You
Kissing me again
With tears...
What's this?'
he thought...
And then coiled back a bit...
'i got it...
Those white blossoms angelic...
Must she be there as well...
At least one...
The one who smiled the most
To me...
Perhaps...'
he thought
Thinking of the journey
Cindi made...
A friend so far...
And
he bowed...

'i need to go to that cliff...
That cliff again...'

he on road decided...
'this morn...
i need to pray...
Only...
Away from the din
And bustle...
Before
i would be plunging into
this tiny life...
And tiny time...
All part of that Infinite...
Lemniscape...'

For Cindi...

i remember...
From seven seas far
Once she coming
To my cloud
Where i post my gibberish no doubt...
And she posted her love
And her smile...
i remember...
She coming on another day
Only to say...
Nice words...
i remember her...
Her face...
Her smile...

God...
learnt just
She had taken the journey another...
She could have told us
She was preparing for
That journey?
May be...
Within...
Without she was so indulgent...
Writing ...
Poems
And sending them
To her cloud...

God...
Make her strong
Next time around
For we need her...
Did not we?

(note: on Cindi Silva...a poet..and a lover sure... She had made the journey far...)

©moinakdutta
www.theboatsong.blogspot.com

Trespassing to Paradise...

he just stopped
By a wall...
Over it
he saw
Wood roses on fall...
Slowly
By the breeze of the morn
As if He...
Had down come
With His whitest dame
Of peace and tranquil sense...
And those trees
Their shadowy cool
Only swept him so
That he
Trespassed...
Yes
he tresspassed...
to that garden...
Of Paradise...
And those wavy long long green lushy grass
Were not they happy too?
For they had all the blessing of dew
Moist on their leaves...
he drooped down
Caressed and kissed them...
The dewy cool on his face they placed...soft...
On him He with His serene most self dropped...
And those little angels
Smiling little ones
Aha!
They had the smell...
The smell that poured such an ethereal happiness
That he touched them
One by one
On his palm they them placed
Little white with yellow centre
They sent him
John Denver...
Country song...
They sent them
Bliss...
They on his cheeks
Planted moist kiss...
And
he felt
he...
The tiny traveler...
Had nothing more to do...
he drooped further down
To gather their balmy view...
And songs of love by automatic choice
Generated in him...
he got lost
Into pinkish dream...
'aa chal key tujhey...'
A song...
Of yesteryears
he sang...
As if it was his morning's prayer...
he had another death...
A death sublime
A death blessed
A death buddhist
A death pure
A death desired
A death with opened doors...

Elixir.. wood rose morn...

O you white little fragrant angels of heaven
Where have you been?
Why have i not you seen?
Or
Actually have not i?
Through my dreams...
My eyes of mind?
Every spring?
Since was i a child?
Playing with you ...
At the morn so bright...
And so full of dew...
And lolling over the softest carpet
She the Mother for us always kept spread...
O my morn's woken up delight...
This garden...filled with a coolness so
i am dying...
Dying again by your angelic smell...
Laden
Across
A green wet moist heaven...
O in what a pleasure my whole being gets dipped
in the coolest bless
i just elixir sip...

Confession box...

'Dear...
thought
when there is only He the God
why not share with you
my faults?
past history a bit?
like thinking you my confession box?
not a wooden one though...
not a box even
but a cloud...
an infinite shape?
to me
a shape and form
where my goodness only placed so far?
what i actually fear?
to share?
a bit of my darkest past?
like...
say...
well...
marijuana days?
or
my hyper state?
a sense of revolt?
against everything?
burnt now
but not to be hidden?
like my hamartia?
hubris...
as well...
a perfect concoction
to become acidic?
a bit demonic?
even?

a lot of booze...
a lot of downslide once?
like finding animal...
a beast...within once?
finding no good in anything?
like that Grotsby
in Saki's 'The Dusk'?
too much cynical
and so duped...
and too much material
like a chaser of honey?
like copper coins
to be earned
only to be wasted
on a wasted self?

how is that?
a wrong man?
a fallen ?
a man with expressions sullen?
well...
that was i
too
dear!
that was i too!
without shame
sharing that ...
for what i fear?
when you are there?
i can never be only goodness portrayer...

my own decadence

i think i should myself bare...

Judgments are left to the river
And to you...
Dear...
And
To the cloud sure...
For i don't want to be a pretender...
Unmasking me self so to you...
Dear...
It was always a pending thing...
told you...
you need not to pay me with flatter...
told you and even promised...
eulogies i find so hurting...
the same i who had of course
Chosen insecure
The most secure...?

Hope you will be
A bit kind
And 'changeling' idea
you in me
Find...
A bit though...
For
Journeys are yet to be made
To get your Love pure...'
he wrote
Sitting there
before Him
Standing bare...
And bowed he
After the write...
Bowed he
Shameless he...
Not about being bothered
If he was actually going beyond
The set...of austere norms...
But ...
he also got the thought
If confession boxes are really there
In churches...
And when he is takng his scribbles
As no less than from heart...
he can never assume and wear
A pretense...
Though whatever he wrote
he knew
They were mere past tense...
Still...
Past one should not forget...
Past inglorious should never be papered
With falsities...
Or idiotic claims...

'Hope a Catharsis will descend...
Hope a Peace with acceptance will fall
In their proper assigned place...'
he hoped
And prayed
A salvation...

to Somnath...O my friend...a long time back!

what an evening...
a terrace...
a song...
a music player...
a song...
and one friend
with whom spent sleepless nights long...
with cups of coffee....
sheets of paper works...
Ginsberg...
To Robert Frost....
and some sweet sweet recollections...
and a sense of bond...
overwhelming...
am i not still weeping inside?
am i not again dying...inside?
am i not sinking?
are we both not...
now that the terrace is also listening...
to our silence...
our pauses....
and our talks...
our drifts...

just...
this life...
this life
a snap shot...
will it not also be stored
into the long and widened celluloid
of Life larger than that?

Good evening friends...
lets live with Only joy...

and what am i to tell you
dear Somnath?
you got my all...
my love...
my Sylvia Plath!
my dewy death...
my self assigned Path
and Isabel...
italian refuge...
and
rain coat
all over a wet soul!

When Love came unescaped...

'God...
why have you given
this tiny heart
so much of Your Love?
why?'
he cried and wept
as he prayed
seeing the sky
the blue getting dusky feel
and a scent of rain
in the flowing breeze...
and the blossoms looking up
waiting for the moisture to stop
on their petals...

'why this curious play with me?
why i see flower pots on houses more?
why i go unasked
to just have a look
if she is happy and not closing her windows...
why?
why i go from meditative rest
to a rapid run?
only to see if
she is there still weaving her tales...
and those little children of hers...
are they playing in the twilight dust...
why ?'
he asked
looking at Her
this time...
sitting beside Him...
a perfect pair...
(knowing she carried the exact sense...
just like Him...
and He just like Her...)
and Life
came
like never felt...
Love came unescaped...

an afternoon like this...and a death...again

'that love in your eyes
which makes me cry
with joy...
and makes me humble more
as if i have become a beggar...
as if i am penniless... having lost
every part of me...
in you...
for you...
that love has enveloped me so
that i just look at my beggarly state
and yet i live without unrest...
i search for nothing...
no gold mine...
i search for nothing
not even time
the lashings of which once
made me only run
from one end of the earth
to another end...'

he whispered to the afternoon sky
who came to plant a kiss
on his sleepy restive forehead
like a mother helping her child to sleep
and he with that prayer just closed his eyes...
he just closed his eyes...
so much peace she
his love
had sent to him...
so much of Hope she
had showered...
that he embraced sleep...
with an ease...
he died with an ease...
he died youthful
sure...
he died by dreams lured...

eulogies and Love...

'hey kid...
How are you feeling?'
the Architect him asked...

they were on the grassy land...
and the blue sky with white
and the sun gold
they were there too...

but His voice had a sternness...
stern...
'i must have done something wrong...
but where? when?
in recent times?
when i was only ten?
or fifteen?
or twenty three?
or thirty?
or thirty four?
when?
where?'

he quizzed his self...
looking at the green...
envisioning his past...
pathos...
dust...
lust...
caged...
proud...
without innocence...
perhaps...

'not here...
but here the same...'
He replied...
he had nothing to say...

'are you getting proud? kid?
so many people...
and eulogies?
eh?'
He asked...
lying on the bed
of grass...
medium sized...
waving ...

He looked up...
the Sun...
a bit hot...
not gold

'i got it...'
he said
and opened the cloud account...
straight...
moving away from Him
who was sleeping...

and he posted
a few lines there:
'i am nothing...
i am just the Architect's servant...
and i with a firm assertion
only repeat...
i wish to remain in Love
but not be proud...
Never...
for that would only cause real death
which only i am afraid of...
and Love i still believe more...
Isabel...
she is there i know
but she must be having full understanding
of this assertion
of mine...
i want to be in Love...
but not Proud...
Eulogies are bad...
them i fear the most
they are my only far...
still now...
oneday i am sure
i would make a journey
beyond that fear...
i pray...
that journey happens to me
and us all quick...'

meeting death...living life...and doing Christ...

'sometimes meeting a miniature death
is so needed...
like now...
am i not dying
seeing this beauty of the Sun?
again so pinkish round...
soon He would be an orange ball
and after that He would be all melting Gold...'
he thought thinking and smiling
And praying too...
within...
a prayer always ringing...
a prayer...

'as long as the dawn breaks
with Him
so soft and gay...
and pink all over the blue...
as long as the moon in her silver shines...
as long as the birds sing in a chorus...
as long as i am dying a death
and getting rebirth...
as long as He with all His perennial splendour wash me with heavenly delight...
as long as i am making journeys...
there is no turning back
from loving more
and dying....every day
and living this life
before Another sets in...'
he made a promise...
like that he made last evening...
soon after the burnout...
kneeling before Him
standing straight
staring at his childish state...
sweating profusely...
(meeting insecurity to the extreme
only to get more
of Faith and Security...that's burnout
or Christ...once
the architect had him told
at a training session...)
because of the adrenaline
that swept him through
he was sweating no doubt...
yet in a super controlled manner...
that whole thing happened...
cause Burn out demands Control
on one
And one's horse...
loving the horse...
loving the flank of the road...
a bridge's stretched wing...
very very close
to death
staring at God
of death
and loving Him the same
like Loving Aphrodite
or Cupid...

it requires Controlled rush
of Love...Faith ...
and adrenaline...
over clutch...
over accelerator...
and yet tight noose
on speed...
like running full throttle
yet not flying off...
keeping the horse tamed
down...
and taming one too...
knowing death is watching one...
kissing one...

'bravo...'
the architect had smiled then
when after some cycles
he looked at Him...
for His sign...

He the Silent had
only signalled to stop...
people were gathering...
and he was not a showman...

'Now...
the Christ? '
he had asked...
willing...
as he bowed...

'what about...
putting doing Christ
into a regular practice?
like...
doing half Christ
whenever you pray...
to Him?
whenever you are riding i mean...
even in the urban motorised contamination...
even while running to work
and coming back...

and a Christ proper
Only when you are uninhabited...
like making journeys through a highway...
or
passing by a temple...
a mosque...
a church...
or
a grave yard...
a school...
a library...'

He suggested...
smiling...

'that would mean
i would be standing on the horse
all through...
that you mean...are not you?'
he had asked...

'no...only when you are uninhabited...
i told you...'

'what about including one more place...
like Your House?'
he asked...smiling...

He looked at him
fixed
'i might be sleeping...'

'still ...'

'you better not include me...
i am your friend
and so
i need no that kind
of obeisance...'

He had stated then...

Now...
looking at the Sunrise
thinking of all these...
a journey made last evening
and meeting death
and getting kissed by Him...
and now again dying and living the same...
thinking pink deep...
Love...
Isabel...
the Helios...
he smiled...
blessed...
'i need to do a Full Christ...right now...'
he thought
walking fast
to his blue blue horse
resting a bit...
after all
the horse had been also doing
what he had been practising...

blue and white and gold...with love...

the sky blue and white
and that
golden crimson light
playing with those distant long
leaves
designs etched on him...
as he stood
on the sixtyeight...
the elevator dropped him
at sixty...
not moving up
some technical hiccup...
those crop
into newly installed things sometimes...

'Perhaps...
He knows that...
the Architect...
what he is doing?
at that basement?
He knows...
me know not...'
he thought...
looking at the city
bright
drenched by the gold...
the last few drops
of the day...

'But He saw me...
catching the elevator...
when at the basement
i parked my blue horse...
and He even looked up
with His blue pair of glassy eyes...
clear...
and even smiled...
knowing all...
still He did not leave His work...
what a man...
A Man...
travelling all Alone...
getting old and new every day...'
he thought...
looking at the sky...
blue and white...
and like a kid's most blessed art
the clouds shone
in crimson fading daylight
of Spring...
as if a lot of water
with pastel he mixed...
a lot of water...

'true...
water is the source of Life...
tears...
from Heaven...
true...
Eric Clapton kind...'

without looking back
he knew
He had come...
sixty eight...
without any huff...

'the sky of monsoony spring is so beautiful!
ain't she?'
he asked...
not asked confessed...
not confessed thought aloud...
not thought aloud
expressed his desire
to float
with Him
the Architect...
standing straight
a figure in white shirt
and a pair of deep blue trousers...
a shiny new pair of leather shoes...
'going somewhere?'
he asked
looking at Him...
simple
but eloquent...
a non being kind
yet a being...

'Yes...
we are going out
to seek some speed...
you are getting too slow...'

'what we will do?'
he asked...
a bit afraid...
for knowing Him
he might be put to some test...

'that bridge you see?
from here?'
He the Man
showed him
the bridge...
full of cars and vehicles...
and people...

he nodded...
'well...
I want you to go with me there...
and there
I need to be made aware
by you...
how many turns you
can do in a minute...'

'a burn out?'
he asked...
'hmmm...
and a Christ too...'

' im...po...ssi...ble...'
he slipped out...
his tongue slipped
he was fumbling...
he sought pardon
immediate...
by placing
his left palm
on his left of breast...

He with a smile him graced...
a pitiable smile...
'You are not requested to do Christ there...
for Christ...
you need Space...
just the burn out...
at that little widened flank...
can't you see?
it is easy...
that flank no one uses...
that was built only for repair and
other emergency provisions...'
He strategised...

'as You wish...'
he looked up
to the sky...
the golden light
had vigour...
and awesome Love...
a Love that makes one bolder...
stronger...
he thought of Isabel...
he saw her smiling but a tad worried face...

The Architect?
He was looking at the Sun
praying...
for him
and his blue horse...
he knew that...

not being wasteful...on such a day...

'this beautiful afternoon
of
this day...
which had a glorious rise
of the Sun...
how can
it to a wasteful turn?'

he thought
looking at the passage
of a day...
warm...
loving the same...
the same love
that binds...
that chimes...
that touches...
that emancipates...
that sublimates...
that causes deaths...
and rebirths...

and
he thought of her...

'is she also feeling the same?
hasn't she smelt the pollen grains
non allergic?
has she not seen the beauty yet?
of a day...
the passage...
the roads...
the streets...
the lanes...
the alleys...
the silk route
to a music...
as inceived...
as conceived as well...
as derived...
and given easily away...
for only happiness
as married with the calm...
as the softest purest balm...
a sleepy life...
kept precious...
bright...
only for more of Light...
and more of dark...
so that more sparks develop...'

he thought...
his ways...
thoughts getting added with Love...
and with Hope...
and with God...

a letter sent to the Cloud...

'Dear...
Thought of writing a long one
A real long one...
A letter...
as long as my journeys so far...
many journeys...
a collection of memories
of time...
Not that Time...
the eternal one...
for that is not my scope...
that is a Be...
that is the highest expanded form
imaginable...
unimaginable...
just like Love...
and the sky...
the outer side
of the sky
visible to us...
the outer...
the brighter...
the limitless...

found all these in you...
All...
just make a switch
to those pages
blown by the air which got uncomfortable
by the heat...
of Helios...
after all summer
has his force...
too...

but monsoon breeze
and the rains...
they also reside...
together...
like seasons...
a part of a single year...
each and every single year...
several years...
quite a thousand years...
from the origin
of this planet...
at least...
that time is measured....

and that time
is also part of Time...
the immeasurable...

like me...
we...
all
are part of
He
or She...'

he wrote
on a page...
and
sent it to the Cloud

the same technical one...
beginning with an 'i'...
the virtual one...
but with unlimited possibilities...
at least Steve conceived it that way
before His death...
for His another journey
perhaps...

Online @offline... Once more...

'how the offline
Becomes online...
How real tends to be the virtual
And yet so so real...
How mind
The only virtual
Dips into the real
And out of it
Goes virtual again
To come up with something real...'
he thought...
Re thought actually...
And looked up at the sky
Again...
And prayed
Again...
Yes
Again
And again...
For without prayers
Peace can never be attained...
Sans peace Love can never come..
And sans Love
The whole existence is so banal...dumb...

So he thought
Of Anuoshka...
and
Monideepa...
And Ved
And little Sonai...
And
The Gita...
Again
After writing all about them
Some few hundred pages...
A fiction though...

Still he the pained
Thought...
To leave all...
Cries of Hope...
Faith...
Love...

'that will be a defeat...
Of a cause...
Love...
Agape...
Smileys...
And
Mornings...
And
Nights...'

An answer came...
So he thought
Of
Loving more...
Opening all doors...

Looking at the sky...
So beautiful...
Listening to chirpings of birds...
They are collaborating...
Are not they singing?
Is not the breeze still carrying Hope?
Is not that church bell still ringing Faith?

so he bowed
Again...
And thought of Agape...
And
Love that is an evolution thing...
Love that is the primacy of all beings
As bestowed by Him...
The seer...
The soul provider...

Calm begets calm...

When coolness of the marble
Into him seeped
Like a feel of a liquid...
Sitting on the ghat
Of the river
he felt a little warmth
And opening his eyes...
Him he saw...
On the rise...
A round ball...
Neat
Without any distortion
A picture developing in slowest motion...
A round deep orangy pink
On the rise...
And the river...
Flowing by
Eternal...

he watched
Helios
On rise...
Orangy pink His shape
With calmness He draped
The flowing Infinite...

A fisherman's boat arrived...
One old man
On the hull...
Sleepy...
Not looking at anything...
Not knowing the Eternal...perhaps...
his work was his only worship...
Last night when the moon plunged deep
Towards the east...
he took to his friendly river...
he must have then prayed
To the river
For a journey safe...
he must have then
Sprinkled water from her
On his boat...
Before
Embarking
Into the deified flow...

Now on return...
he seemed tired...
Asleep...

his young son
However was awake...
he was holding the stake...

And those cane baskets had their reap...
Their fruit of night long work-worship...

he looked at the sky...
wide...
Another perennial shape...
This dawn she came dressed
In his favourite
White and blue...
White flakes
Of pale pink
On her...
The saree like that perhaps
Caught the mind of the river
Too...
For the river had dressed up...
Following the sky
In same pattern...mosaic of white and blue...
And flakes of course of the pink...
Afloat...

he looked at the temple...
It was being opened...

then he thought more of calm...
'Calmness breeds more calm...
Like love begets love...'
he thought
And he went in...
The shape of human
Put in marble there stood
he knew he could not relate
To God given any shape or form particular...
For he finds Him or Her
Everywhere...
Still he bowed
More to get calm...
The marble floor...
Cool...on that
his forehead
he placed...
And again that liquid coldness
Started to flow...
Now from top to below...

there...
Envisioning the sky...
The river...
his Isabel...
his avowed friend...
the kid's face...
his dad...
his mother
Who had taken another
journey altogether...
he wept...
Not in grief...
Not in any pain...
Only by feeling the deep...
The perennial...
The calm of the morning breeze
Which smelt so much of woodrose...
And hearing at the same time
The most beautiful song
Of a bird...
A bird singing for her love perhaps...
In tune
With the perennial calm...