When I understood

When you understand that you had not understood, what happens?


When I understood,
That I hadn’t understood,
An understanding, new,
Dawned upon my soul.
Then my mind’s eye saw
What I thought I saw
And what I had not seen.
Difficult is the walk
On the spirit’s path.
Some things we mistake,
Everything distort.
The chariot of knowledge
Moves on broken wheels.
Such was my journey,
My walk to the Light.
I knew I had walked
A few steps on the beach,
I knew I had swum
A few laps in the sea,
In the mountain range,
Scaled a hillock small.
And in ignorance –
Or was it arrogance?-
Thought I was a sage.
Scales fell from my eyes
With this new insight.
Humility, then,
Took me in her arms
And whispered wisdom’s chant
Gently in my ears.
Gone was my ego,
Weakened desire’s hold.
No more did I want
To be the leading rat.
A bit more humble,
A little wiser,
I resumed my walk
On the sunlit path



What is your body? How do you treat it?

Would I  defile a temple,
And leave its courtyard
Dirty and stained?
This body
Is my Lord’s Temple,
My mind, His courtyard.
Why then do I ill-treat
This holy Temple?
Gusts of anger bring in
Dirt and stinking refuse.
Passion’s gale winds
Sweep through,
Spraying garbage throughout.
But they come in wearing
The crown of moral rectitude or
The colorful robes of pleasure.
Absorbed in their false glows
I lose all my judgement.
Yet there are times
when my Lord,
Seated in His chambers,
Commands the inner doors
To open just a wee bit.
In that Divine moment,
I see my soul in Him
And the temple-
Glows with love infinite.
Then my eyes are fixed
On the inner doors
Hoping that one day
They will open wide
And stay open forever,
That this Temple of my Lord,
Can never be stained or abused.
But then,
The gusts and gale winds
Come back again…


Fake News

When the all-powerful,
Indivisible Infinite
Hides behind
The ignorance
Of His billion images,
When Eternity,
Agreeing to be bound by time,
Lives and dies a thousand deaths
In a progression of
Transient moments,
And Bliss unmeasurable,
Touches the soul
Through the mutations
Of joy and sorrow,
Is it an
Alternate reality?
Or the original
Fake news?


There are times
When a silence vast
Enwraps the soul.
In that thoughtless stillness
Ego’s knots are loosened.
Freed from the ego,
Unencumbered by the mind,
The soul feels
One with the whole.
Without the I,
Without the ‘not-I’
Something is there
That senses its own
Vast, undivided,
Blemishless self.
Without the knower
And the known
The event leaves
Its record in
The recesses of the mind.
And the mind
In periods of rare quietude,
Recalls those cryptic signs
And longs for a release
Whose nature it knows not.

Bulb horn

Yesterday  I came across this post. It dealt with a simple question: Can you write a sentence without using the letter ‘e’ even once? Attached was  a big paragraph penned by someone without a single word containing the alphabet ‘e’.

I tried the same and was able to muster up a paragraph, though not elegant.

But that thought stayed on in my mind and I asked myself the question would it be possible to write a poem without using the letter e even once.?


What do you call
A poem without an e?
Pom! Or better still pom pom!
Here is a poem dedicated to an old time symbol of automobiles— the bulb horn

Bulb horn
Highway or country road
Ubiquitous was this horn
Singing its rhythmic song
Pom pom!

School bus or motor car
Common to all was this
Bulb horn and its singsong
Pom pom!

So strong was bulb horn’s hold
Imitating cars in plays
Kids would sing with gusto
Pom pom!

No match to today’s horns
It is now history
But stays on in our minds
Pom pom!

Summer heat

Summer heat affects everyone… but the effect on different people is very different

Summer heat
Rules with an iron hand.
Not finding a cab
I hop onto a rickshaw.
Heat, like a gaseous shroud,
Stifles me.
The police erect a
The road now,
Like a choked artery,
Struggles with vehicle movements.
Cursing my luck,
I look around.
On the divider,
A little boy sits
Smoking an
Imaginary cigarette.
The paper stick
In his mouth
Tipping up and down
As he blows
Rings of smoke
(Imagined, no doubt)
Into the hot air.
Flaming tongues
Of the summer heat
Fail to ruffle him.
He is cool.