Musings...

2006-07-16T05:28:00.000-07:00

Seashore

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead
and the restless water is boisterous.
On the seashore of endless worlds
the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand
and they play with empty shells.
With withered leaves they weave their boats
and smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships,
while children gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children,
even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with children,
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
Tempest roams in the pathless sky,
ships get wrecked in the trackless water,
death is abroad and children play.
On the seashore of endless worlds is the
great meeting of children.

-- Rabindranath Tagore ji

2006-05-13T10:54:00.000-07:00

The Cloud

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,

From the seas and the streams;

I bear light shade for the leaves when laid

In their noonday dreams.

From my wings are shaken

the dews that waken

The sweet buds every one,

When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,

As she dances about the sun.

I wield the flail of the lashing hail,

And whiten the green plains under,

And then again I dissolve it in rain,

And laugh as I pass in thunder.

I sift the snow on the mountains below,

And their great pines groan aghast;

And all the night 'tis my pillow white,

While I sleep in the arms of the blast.

Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,

Lightning, my pilot, sits;

In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,

It struggles and howls at fits;

Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,

This pilot is guiding me,

Lured by the love of the genii that move

In the depths of the purple sea;

Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,

Over the lakes and the plains,

Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,

The Spirit he loves remains;

And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile,

Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,

And his burning plumes outspread,

Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,

When the morning star shines dead;

As on the jag of a mountain crag,

Which an earthquake rocks and swings,

An eagle alit one moment may sit

In the light of its golden wings.

And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,

Its ardors of rest and of love,
And the crimson pall of eve may fall

From the depth of Heaven above,

With wings folded I rest, on mine aery nest,

As still as a brooding dove.

That orbed maiden with white fire laden,

Whom mortals call the Moon,

Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,

By the midnight breezes strewn;

And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,

Which only the angels hear,

May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,

The stars peep behind her and peer;

And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,

Like a swarm of golden bees,

When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,

Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,

Are each paved with the moon and these.
I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,

And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;

The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim

When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.

From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,

Over a torrent sea,Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,--

The mountains its columns be.

The triumphal arch through which I march

With hurricane, fire, and snow,

When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,

Is the million-colored bow;

The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove,

While the moist Earth was laughing below.
I am the daughter of Earth and Water,

And the nursling of the Sky;

I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;

I change, but I cannot die.

For after the rain when with never a stain

The pavilion of Heaven is bare,

And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams

Build up the blue dome of air,

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,

And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,

I arise and unbuild it again.

-- Percy Shelley

2006-05-08T03:59:00.000-07:00

Ocean Oneness

Silence is round me, wideness ineffable;

White birds on the ocean diving and wandering;

A soundless sea on a voiceless heaven,

Azure on azure, is mutely gazing.

Identified with silence and boundlessness

My spirit widens clasping the universe

Till all that seemed becomes the Real,

One in a mighty and single vastness.

Someone broods there nameless and bodiless,

Conscious and lonely, deathless and infinite,

And, sole in a still eternal rapture,

Gathers all things to his heart for ever.

-- Sri Aurobindo

2006-04-30T05:42:00.000-07:00

Song Of A Dream

Once in the dream of a night I stood
Lone in the light of a magical wood,
Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;
And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,
And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed,
And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.

Lone in the light of that magical grove,
I felt the stars of the spirits of Love
Gather and gleam round my delicate youth,
And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth;
To quench my longing I bent me low
By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.

-- Sarojini Naidu

2006-04-29T08:46:00.000-07:00

Invitation

With wind and the weather beating round me

Up to the hill and the moorland I go.

Who will come with me?

Who will climb with me?

Wade through the brook and tramp through the snow?

Not in the petty circle of cities

Cramped by your doors and your walls I dwell;

Over me God is blue in the welkin,

Against me the wind and the storm rebel.
I sport with solitude here in my regions,

Of misadventure have made me a friend.

Who would live largely?

Who would live freely?

Here to the wind-swept uplands ascend.
I am the Lord of tempest and mountain,

I am the Spirit of freedom and pride.

Stark must he be and a kinsman to danger

Who shares my kingdom and walks at my side.

--Sri Aurobindo

2006-04-28T00:11:00.000-07:00

To The Thawing Wind....

Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;

Give the buried flower a dream;

Make the settled snow-bank steam;

Find the brown beneath the white;

But whate'er you do to-night,

Bathe my window, make it flow,

Melt it as the ice will go;

Melt the glass and leave the sticks

Like a hermit's crucifix;

Burst into my narrow stall;

Swing the picture on the wall;

Run the rattling pages o'er;

Scatter poems on the floor;

Turn the poet out of door...

--Robert Frost

2006-04-27T02:17:00.000-07:00

The First Jasmines

Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands
with these jasmines, these white jasmines.

I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
I have heard the liquid murmur of the river
through the darkness of midnight;

Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of the road
in the lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil
to accept her lover.
Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines
that I held in my hands when I was a child.

Many a glad day has come in my life,
and I have laughed with merrymakers on festival nights.

On grey mornings of rain
I have crooned many an idle song.

I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven by the hand of love.

Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh jasmines
that filled my hands when I was a child...

-- Rabindranath Tagore ji

from 'The Crescent Moon'

2006-04-26T00:46:00.000-07:00

Morning

When the golden rays of the sun
Are eager to have some fun
I get out of my bed
Ready to be well-fed

Then I rush to meet
With my pattering feet
The bright new morning
Which seems to be frowning

Suddenly, the sky becomes dark
And the sun leaves no mark
Of brightness and sunshine
Which I often wish was mine

Raindrops fall like shooting stars
I think they are from Mars
Clouds clash and thunder
Making my outing a blunder

Then the ordeal stops
And a Rainbow mops
All the sorrows of the world
Which leaves the sun unfurled

The day is bright again
And the sight gives me no pain
I enjoy it till the sun becomes the moon
Then I find that I have to hurry in soon.

-- Akshaya Shivkumar

2006-04-26T00:21:00.000-07:00

The Moose, the Goose and the Wizard of Refuse

Once upon a time a Moose
Said to a solitary Goose
‘Why, oh why am I so wooly?
And why do creatures think I’m a bully?’
‘Well,’ the Goose replied
‘That’s because you’re too tongue-tied
To talk to creatures and wish them morning
And to shoot a smile ‘round the turning’.

The Moose’s ears drooped
His tiny tail looped
‘Am I so bad?’ he moaned
In his baritone so well toned
The Goose stomped up and down
Upon his face was a peculiar frown
‘There is a way,’ he said at last
‘To make you popular very fast’
‘Tell me, tell me,’ implored the Moose
‘What in the world do I have to use?’
‘Ga-ha-ha,’ guffawed the Goose
‘Follow me and naught will you lose
In fact, Moose, you’ll surely gain
Your heart’s desire without any pain
At dawn, dock below the Rosewood Tree
Relax, and leave the rest to me.’

The twittering of the tiny birds
And the croaking of the turgid toads
Ushered in the new day
While the Moose sat sighing on a pile of hay,
‘Where, oh where is the Goose so marvelous
Compared to him, I’m so frivolous…’
So sudden was a sudden sound
That the Moose shot up and whipped around
Yonder stood the Goose at last

‘Come on, Moose, follow me fast
‘Lest we don’t get there before noon’
‘Where?’ ‘To places quite unknown
To you, but for me, too regular a haunt.’
Piped the Moose remorsefully, ‘Don’t flaunt
My friend, I cannot comprehend
Your words, so please do lend
A helping wing
Responded the goose, with plenty of zing,
‘Let’s now keep walking
There, you’ll know I’m not conning.’

Then, unprecedented, the ground fell
Below them, and the shock spread to every cell
‘Help, we’ve fallen through!’
Screamed the Moose, ‘Moo, Mooo!’
‘I’m being squashed to death!’ wailed the Goose
For he had landed underneath the Moose!
Hastily did the Moose rise,
But jumped and yelled when he saw three mice!
‘Well, we’re here!’ grinned the Goose
While the Moose thought he’d lost a fuse
‘Where are we?’ the Moose demanded
‘At the Grotto of the Wizard of Refuse, never reprimanded…’
‘Ewww!’ said the Moose, ‘Yuk!!
What are we doing in this gooey muck?
Goose, I refuse to meet the Wizard of Refuse
Coming so far has been of no use!’

Tentatively, the Grotto filled with light
And as the Goose jumped with delight
A towering Wizard said to the Moose,
‘Hello, Moose, I’m the Wizard of Refuse!
I’m only visible to needy creatures who
Think I’m of no use, too!
I grant their wishes and solve
Their problems, and around me does this forest revolve.’
Said the Moose with great humility,
‘Oh, Wizard, my life is sunk in futility
I have no friends, I’m hated by all
And I haven’t been happy since last fall’
‘Well, my Moose,’ the Wizard said
‘I’ll give you a recipe instead
Of your wish’ Then said the Moose,
‘Thank you, Wizard of Refuse!!’

So sang the Wizard, ‘Moose, heed
My words and follow my lead
Take a dollop of Sweetness,
A pinch of cheerfulness
And a dozen kind words
Which will surely work wonders
Add a dash of Satisfaction
And a splash of Precision
With a meaningful Smile here and there
And a Helping Hand everywhere
Moulds of Appreciation and Assurance
And a humungous scoop of Confidence
Mix them together in the bowl of Honesty
And garnish with a sprinkling of Sincerity
Serve it with a Warm Heart
And soon, the Good Times will start!’

Smiled the Moose in apprehension
‘Dearest Wizard, I must mention
That you’ve made me see the Light
I was wrong and you are right
Thank you for your Words of Wisdom
Now I can happily return to my kingdom
And Goose, my dear,
You turned out to be my Saviour!
Thank you so much for all that you’ve done
Together now, we’ll have a lot of fun!’

And so from that day, the Moose
Put the Wizard’s words to good use
He became everyone’s friend
And was loved by all till the very end.

--Akshaya Shivkumar

2006-04-26T00:05:00.000-07:00

The India of my Dreams

The India of my dreams
Is a matrix of perfection
Self-reliant, and compounded
With an unshakeable foundation

In every nook and corner
A sense of integrity prevails
And in every Indian’s heart
The flame of humanity ne’er pales …

Corruption and condemnation
Have all been tided over
And our ‘leaders’ have finally relinquished
The pragmatic pick-axe of profane power …

Our sacred scriptures and scholastic sciences
Have entwined and culminated
And in peace do we find solace
For rationality and understanding have amalgamated …

My Dreams can be our Future
If only we walk hand in hand
Come, let us put all differences and discriminations aside
And work together to glorify our Motherland …

-- Akshaya Shivkumar