Twisted Twilights..

Twists and turns of Life

Makes me walk at the edge of the proverbial knife..

I love looking forward to those twisted turns on my drive..

This twisted turn when one sees the end of one path

And looks forward to a brand new jive..

For, tedious is that long straight road..

Deprived of twists, it makes me want to implode..

Instead of imploding, I choose..

To concoct a brand new chapter..

Oh, I love being my own muse..

This twisty twilight I love..

Makes me break the daze of the everyday..

I behold myself with a little more compassion..

As I do with several silly little things around me..

In the morning I behold the Chennai sky..

At home, I put on a convenient disguise..

But soon, time to move on...with a sigh..

I feel a little absurd about creating these lies..

Of my penchant for these ponderous goodbyes..

Comments

Hotel California

I was dropping off S for one of her meetings. The conversation meandered into how some of our volunteer friends were talking about me leaving IYC. S was observing that we would have never got married if I was not a Isha teacher at that time. She also observed how my deciding to move to Blore was kind of thrust upon her. It was a fair observation yet painful for me to hear it. At some point, I felt the need to justify/explain/clarify that i am a seeker. Still a seeker. After I said it, I felt a moment of pause within me. Am I a seeker? I felt embarrassed that I have to claim me being a seeker in so many words. Am I really a seeker? What does being a seeker mean? Does it mean that I should be living in an ashram? Does it mean that I need to work 100% and more towards a larger-than-life goal? Does it mean that I am checking out of "Hotel California" ? i.e. I am done with the world and ready for something else? Does it mean to live a constant affirmation that I may not know every...

Shringeri

You are my baby sister that I never had. You are my daughter that I will never father.. You are my mother that I had lost forever… Let the throes of my folly remind.. Let the rapture of your embrace sustain… The scheming vagabond that I am, For all my incessant intellection, You are the perfect foil… The cool breeze that sweetens the long toil. How did you smite me? I know not. The unruly curls of your tresses – a part of your plot? What happens now… Now that I have decided to partake in this little game? Your bewitching mane.. Will I ever tame? How long will I be absorbed in the uncharted crevices of your body? Comfortably numb, Will I fall on my face? Let the throes of my folly remind.. ...

Himalayan Memoirs: Anbe Sivam

Prelude: The following was written almost 5 months into my self-imposed exile. It was written while I was staying in an ashram in a small village called Ganeshpur somewhere in the upper reaches of Tehri Garhwal . I spent my time working in the kitchen as a self-appointed cook. ------------------------------------------------------------------ It was a rare moment. Rare indeed is a moment when you clearly realize that you have lost it. It was almost 5 months since I have been off the grid. The first 4 months were really good. I had fun. I had very little money and hence for the first time in my life, I am constantly thinking about money and rationing it. But I liked it as a novelty. Physically also, it was very difficult but I liked to push myself more and more. But most importantly, my sadhana was really good. I meditated like never before. But a variety of circumstances made me impatient and eventually pissed me off. I was no longer fine with just living not knowin...

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