ख़ामोशी कुछ ऐसे ख़ामोश हुई

उस दिन 

ख़ामोशी कुछ ऐसे ख़ामोश हुई 

की दिल का धड़कना और 

पत्तों का झड़ना भी 

शोर लगने लगा 

Us din 

khamoshi Kuch Aise khamosh hui

Ki dil ka dhadakna aur 

Patto ka jhadna bhi 

Shor lagne laga. 

dhoondh raha hoon

ढूंढ रहा हूँ उसे जिसने आसमां रंगा है
वो रंग मुझे कोरे कागज़ में भरने हैं

जज़्बात बनानेवाला कहीं छुपके बैठा है
मिले तो दो बूँद जज़्बात सियाही में डालूं

**** Transliteration ****
Dhoondh raha hoon use jisne aasmaan ranga hai
wo rang mujhe kore kaagaz mein bharne hain

Jazbaat bananewala kahin chhupke baitha hai
mile to do boond jazbaat siyahi mein daalun

A small step, a giant leap

I notice a spring in my step, hitherto unknown.
A small step towards what I love
is a giant leap expanding a magnificent life.

Sacred Space

From time to time
I reach that space,
the sanctum sanctorum,
the void of life,
the emptiness
brimming with fullness,
the womb of creation,
indescribable,
where words write
their own requiem,
as they fall graciously
like leaves
on the altar of autumn.

From that space
come to me,
random pearls
that I string together
and emerge on the surface,
a jubilant diver
with the necklace of poetry.


****
This poem was selected in the Highly Commended Section of Destiny Poets UK for the month of December 2014. Honoured :-).
http://www.destinypoets.co.uk/?page_id=107#comment-422300 

The cycle of love, crudely

A boy met a girl.
The meeting sparked interest.
Interest bred infatuation.
Infatuation brought happiness.

He made her feel beautiful,
she made him feel important.
They massaged each other’s ego
in an unspoken agreement
of quid pro quo
and called it ‘love’.

They heaped lavish praises
and made eternal promises,
they gave much more
than what was bargained for.
The excess deposits
were absorbed and stashed
in the bank of happy memories.

Promises got them closer.
Closeness enhanced familiarity
which revealed imperfection
and brought judgments
which gave rise to arguments.
Arguments distanced them.

Fingers were pointed and
bloated egos were pricked.
Both went bankrupt when
the deposits were withdrawn.

They went about looking
for a new ‘love’
to refill their coffers. 

The beginning of the end of mind

My thoughts are louder
than your words.
They float about randomly
not letting me
truly listen to you.

These noiseless noises,
are louder than
the whispers of life,
chirps of birds,
or fragrance of flowers.

They make me a
stationary vagabond,
worrying for the future,
hurting from the past,
whisking me away
from where 'I am'.

They suck life
out of life,
and create a pseudo world
much less potent
and lively than life
and then enslave me
in their fiction.

But now I know better
than to believe
in their fleeting illusions.
The mind knows that
its time is up
and is coming back
with a vengeance.

**
This poem was selected by Destiny Poets UK for the "Highly Commended" section for November 2014. http://www.destinypoets.co.uk/?page_id=107#comment-392755

Shashi Kapoor at Prithvi Theatre

Saw Shashi Kapoor at Prithvi Theatre Mumbai on 16th Nov.

Once called the incorrigible flirt and of course one of the better looking actors of his time was a shadow of himself, sucked in by age, bloated by weight, wheelchair bound, lacking in vitality, senses receding, listening to people whispering appreciation in his ears as if they woke him up from some open-eyed slumber and clicking his snaps as if to entomb him in their memory before his actual end. I took my phone out too to snap him but somehow couldn't; I couldn't make him the relic of an erstwhile glory.

Long live Shashi Kapoor. Keh doon tumhe ya chup rahoon...

Superman's Day - A mockumentary I co-scripted

I co-scripted the Mockumentary 'A Superman's Day' with Mohammad Lamrad for 48 hour film competition in Dubai 2012. It reached the finals of the competition and Mo Lamrad also received the Best New Actor Award.

The rules of the competition are pretty tight.
We receive the genre and conditions for the movie at the beginning of the weekend and we have to film it within 48 hours. This includes brainstorming, story conceptualizing, scripting, rehearsing, location finalizing, shooting, editing, music and delivering the finished product by the end of the weekend.

We remember driving like crazy to deliver the final CD and doing so just minutes before the deadline.

Enough said: Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ocJPkx-ZmU

I did a small part without a word ;-) ... try to spot me if you can.

How are you?

The question from you
took too long to come
to retain its relevance.

It once had
the power to heal,
raise my spirits
and lighten up my day.
But you walked away
when I was dying to hear
it from you.

Now its power is lost
in the labyrinth of time
and the maze of muddled memory.
It evokes a chuckle
if it evokes
anything at all.

The fiction of relationship

Most of us accept the sweet poison of relationship because we can't endure chewing the bitter pill of loneliness long enough until it leaves the sweet after taste of solitude - which is the peace and joy of being with yourself.

People don't fall in love so much as they run away from their ghosts of loneliness. They trade each other's loneliness disguised as love but don't say 'I trade you very much' - instead they say 'I love you very much.'

Our society also perpetuates this: the word 'single' is an implicit synonym for 'sadness' and the word 'settled' means 'having a family and job', while 'settled in solitude' is actually a much more natural state.

River of Life

A blade of grass

fell in a river

and was set adrift.

It had an ambition

to stop the flow

of the gurgling river.

It turned across,

breathed in deep

and grunted hard,

‘Today I will stop

you at any cost.’

A blade of grass

fell in a river

and was set adrift.

It had an ambition

to merge the river

with the endless sea.

Inspired it was as

it roared, ‘Follow me

you mighty river,

I will not rest

until I get you home.’

The river just flowed,

blissfully ignorant 

of the blades’ existence.

*The poem is based on the wisdom of Shiv Puran as described in the serial 'Devon ke dev Mahadev'.

The fork along the path

A long time ago, I went for
a walk to nowhere in particular.
In some time, I reached a fork.
One sign said ‘Accept’,
the other said ‘Deny’.
Since curious I was to check out,
I took the path of denial.
Then came another fork
with the same options;
and I repeated my choice.

Then came another, and another
And then many more
I took the same choice again,
and then even more.
First it was fun, this denial thing.
But then the path became darker
with every choice I made.
Every fork got darker,
but my choice
stayed the same.

Soon enough, the signs
were not needed.
I chose the darker
route by instinct.
Thereafter, even the
forks disappeared.
The darkness got darker
and became its own mother.
When it reached its nadir,
I became nocturnal.

I then saw many eyes
of my kind. Feeling at home
in the obscurity of night.
We denied ourselves
for so long that we
forgot who we are.
We rambled about
in the dark, tripping,
hurting, trampling,
cursing and loving it.

I wallowed in the filth
until I loved it no more.
I walked again without
direction or sight;
guided only by inner light.
Tripping, hurting, trampling,
blessing and loving it.
Soon I reached a hazy fork
where one path had
a faint ray of light. 

Two balloons

Two balloons that were tied to a rod
often hugged and loved each other.
Both knew no other way to live.
Both were sold to different kids
who loved them too.

But a day came when
they were set free
to soar up in the sky
where they burst
and became
the same air.

Confessions of a poet

I may sound wise,

but I’m not always so.

I may seem evolved,

but I have pitfalls too.

My best love songs,

don’t make me romantic.

They enthral me sometimes,

but don’t always give a kick.

A beautiful poem doesn’t

make me a perfect person.

For in the ocean of my flaws,

it’s just a wave of perfection.

I have my moments,

I have my quirks,

I get hurt too and

behave like a jerk.

I am as human

as human can be.

But when poetry comes,

It’s not just me.

Although it may seem like

it’s coming ‘from’ me,

the real truth is that,

It’s coming ‘through’ me.

I learn as much

in the process of writing

as you all do

in the moment of reading.

I sometimes don’t practise  

the wisdom of my own writing.

For I often slip, falter and fall

before I get up and get going.

But when I fall below the line,

I’m aware of the missed track.

My writing becomes my mirror

that I can’t face, until I’m back.

My poems become my beacon

that draws me out of the dark;

when I’m finally out in the sun,

they sing merrily like a lark. 

O' Mind! Let go

O’ Mind! Let go of your cocoon

and give wings a chance.

A life with flight awaits you.

Let go of the hoarding

and give sharing a chance.

A greater treasure awaits you.

Let go of your fear

and give love a chance.

A life more fulfilling awaits you.

Let go of the past and future

and give present a chance.

A life more aware awaits you.

Let go of your prejudices

and give acceptance a chance.

A life more loving awaits you.

Let go of your doubts

and give faith a chance.

A life so miraculous awaits you.

Let go of your competition

and give collaboration a chance.

A life more evolved awaits you.

Let go of your insecurities

and give existence a chance.

A life so fearless awaits you.

Let go of your limitations

and give source a chance.

A life so limitless awaits you.

Let go of possessiveness

and give freedom a chance.

A life more eternal awaits you.

Let go of the hurt

and give forgiveness a chance.

A life so wholesome awaits you.

Let go of your attachments

and give detachment a chance.

A life so Godly awaits you.

Let go of your chatter

and give silence a chance.

A life so divine awaits you.

Let go of your ‘self’

and give God a chance.

A life so complete awaits you.

O’ Mind! Let go,

In your withering lies the true blossoming.

Let go, for there is more where that came from.

मैं कहाँ लिखता हूं ? - Hindi Ghazal

मैं कहाँ लिखता हूं ?
मैं तो एक कलम हूं किसी और के हाथ की

मैं कहाँ फनकार हूं ?
मैं तो एक वीणा हूं किसी और फनकार की

मैं कहाँ कुछ केह्ता हूं ?
मैं तो खुद अल्फ़ाज़ हूं किसी और की ज़ुबां का

मुझमे कहाँ कोई हुनर है ?
मैं तो अभिव्यक्ति हूं किसी और अदाकार की

ये ज़िंदगी मेरी कहाँ है ?
ये सांसें तो कर्ज़दार हैं किसी और लेनदार की

Transliteration:
==========
main kahaan likhta hoon?
main to khud kalam hoon kisi aur ke haath ki.

main kahaan fankaar hoon?
main to khud veena hoon kisi aur fankaar ki.

main kahaan kuch kahta hoon?
main to khud alfaaz hoon kisi aur ke zubaan ka.

mujhme kahaan koi hunar hai?
main to abhivyakti hoon kisi aur adakaar ki.

ye zindagi meri kahaan hai?
ye saansein to karzdar hain kisi lendar ki.

Translation:
========
I'm not the writer.
I'm just a pen in the hands on another.

I'm not the musician.
I'm just a veena (musical instrument) of another musician.

It is not I who speaks.
I'm just the words in the mouth of someone else.

I don't have any talents.
I'm just an expression of some other artist.

This life is not mine.
My breaths are my debt to some lender. 

Madness filter

One day at a crowded station

as I waited for the local train,

through the crowd came a shriek

that pierced our busy brain.

“I hate you.

I love you.

I kill you.

I hate you.”

Every head turned to check

the source of the sharp noise.

The crowd split apart to reveal

a torn clothed man without poise.

We observed and ignored him,

gave space and let him be.

He blabbered what came to him

without a filter of propriety.

“Poor crazy fellow,” chuckled

the dapper man next to me.

We forgot him as the train arrived

in our hurried boarding spree.

Every commuter was lost

in his phone or her thought.

Every face, though silent without,

in an inner volcano, was caught.

There is a fine filter that masks

our emotions and projects peace.

It curbs our real thoughts and

creates a facade of pleasant face.

It’s the filter that separates us

from the ‘mad’ in our society.

Else, we’d be mouthing it all,

killing our purported sobriety. 

He and I

When he looks at the sky, he just looks at the sky.
When I look at the sky, sometimes I don't even notice it.

When he eats, he just eats.
When I eat, I read or hear news.

When he smiles, he just smiles.
When I smile, there is a reason.

When he looks at me, he just looks at me.
When I look at him, I profile him.

When he listens, he just listens.
When I listen, I prepare to reply.

His smile has a child like lightness.
My smile has a labourer's burden.

Even when he looks without, he comes from within.
Even when I look within, I am without.

When he doesn't speak, the whole of him is silent.
Even when I don't speak, I am not silent.

He lives without preferences and prejudices.
I'm neck deep in them.

He simply loves, trusts and lets go.
I fear, doubt and hold on.

He is rooted in spirit.
I am stuck in the mind.

He is enlightened.
I am an intellectual.

In the deepest core of me

In the deepest core of me
breath flows as symphony
and life flows as poetry. 

The Dance of Light

In the unknown distant future, 

when the lamps are burning low, 

a light will emerge from the dark

and draw us towards its glow. 

Such would be its purity 

and wondrous magnificence,

that just like moths of light 

we would choose obsolescence. 

We won't know its end,

nor would we see its origin; 

without a slightest care 

we would jump right in. 

We would joyously celebrate 

by unbridled singin' and dancin', 

when we realize that the light without 

is really a resplendent glow within.

Rainbow in Dubai

“The problem with Dubai is that

there are no rainbows,” I sighed.

“Then create your own,

I know you can,” she replied.

She gave me an insight

which was in my blind-spot.

I went looking for my rainbow

in Dubai - so humid and hot.

There are riches galore,

opulence knows no bound.

Burj is the crowning jewel

of luxury so unbound.

Built with labourers’ sweat

of colour a bright RED

In their exploitation,

the EARTH has bled.

I notice fragile relations,

and good scope for affair.

Where skin rules the roost

in fragrant touristy air.

In discos and in bars,

glamour shines ORANGE.

The WATER of life flows

in ways so strange.

The city has ambition

that is so palpable,

that it burns in its FIRE

anyone incapable.

With blazing passion,

it has built sky scrapers,

with all odds pulverized,

as smouldering YELLOW embers.

The city is blossoming

and in search of its heart.

Looking for its identity

through people and their art.

The desert city with hot WIND,

is trying hard to be GREEN.

An oasis of modernity

that wants to be seen.

Its actions speak

more than any word.

Focused on peace amidst

violent neighbouring herd.

Invites them all

like a lustrous glue,

with the attractions in its SPACE,

not a moment feels BLUE.

But then there are pockets

that I saw with my eyes,

that are so different

that it logic defies.

There are seekers,

in such wondrous flow,

they give me INSIGHT

and paint me INDIGO.

And then there are

CROWNing masters too,

found only if

your heart is true.

They help you rise and

get you out of closet.

Put you on the path and

bathe you in light VIOLET.

As I ended my search

of Dubai’s rainbow,

I felt blissful as

I found much more.

The colours of the rainbow match

those of chakras along my spine.

Why crib for a rainbow outside?

I found my very own within.

========

This is an esoteric poem which requires the below table to explain the significance of capitalized letters.

No.	Chakra English Name	Chakra Sanskrit Name	Associated Element or property	Associated Colour
1	Basic	Muladhara	Earth	Red
2	Sacral	Swadhishthana	Water	Orange
3	Solar Plexus	Manipura	Fire	Yellow
4	Heart	Anahata	Air	Green
5	Throat	Vishuddhi	Space	Blue
6	Third Eye	Agna	Intuitive Intelligence	Indigo
7	Crown	Sahasrara	Union	Violet

Rose and Coconut

Once there was a rose and a coconut.

The rose was a rose,

the coconut was a coconut.

And life was good.

The rose gave flowers and its fragrance,

the coconut bore fruits and its water,

the rose was short and coconut grew tall,

and life was bliss.

One day the rose noticed the coconut

and took fancy to its height,

it then wanted to be tall,

and life was desire.

Slowly the rose evolved into something taller,

the flower became a hard fruit

and the rose lost its fragrance,

and desire was materialized.

The rose was neither tall enough

to be called a coconut,

nor fragrant enough to be a rose,

and the rose was now a Roconut.

The Roconut was now unhappy.

It was neither here nor there.

It prayed to be restored,

and life was remembrance.

Gradually, the fruit became softer

and the divine fragrance returned.

The rose was now short and in acceptance.

And life was good. 

Happy Mother's Day

My mother doesn’t surf internet. She will never know that people all over the world go berserk with tweets and wonderful messages on Facebook eulogizing their mothers one moment and then taking them for granted for the rest of the year. She probably doesn’t even know nor does she care that there is a special day in a year reserved for mothers around the world.

The last time I told her, she responded with a question, “So what happens on Mother’s Day?” I told her that this is the day when the whole world recognizes the contribution of mothers around the world. It is a way by which the world has decided to pay back the mothers. She twitched her brows in part appreciation part confusion, hugged me and went about her chore. Even if I tell her today, she will probably forget the concept tomorrow. The bottom-line is that, to her and to a vast majority of mothers around the world, the concept doesn’t matter, nor does it make a difference.

The larger question is “Who is the mother here? “

Is the interpretation of ‘Mother’ to be restricted to our biological mother? Is it the mother who became ecstatic when we kicked her from within the womb? The mother who we continued kicking while suckling, the mother who we quite literally continue kicking when we grow up, the lady who cares enough to prepare the dinner whether we eat or not and just don’t care to apologize if we don’t or thank her for her efforts, the lady who groomed us when we couldn’t do anything ourselves, the lady whose only strength and weakness is us, who would not, cannot ditch us even if we keep taking her for granted like door of the house, the house that she turns into a home.

Or does ‘Mother’ represent the goddesses from various mythologies? Or is it the Mother Earth that nurtures us all, absorbs all our infringements and still goes about giving and caring for us. Is it the mother that we shamelessly plunder to meet our godforsaken ambitions which know no end?

Or does ‘Mother’ mean the space that holds the Earth in place? Or is it the ‘Cosmic Womb’ from which came the universe just as we came from our mother’s womb? Is it the nothing that gave birth to everything?

If we go by the philosophy that there is a male and a female in all of us, then all of us are potential mothers. In Spiritually Evolved Societies, everyone is a mother – the whole society - because everyone cares and shares. The responsibility of parenting is not limited to the biological parents. The whole community grieves if one of them sleeps hungry. The whole village strives to love and recover the hurt of one.

The problem is that we have restricted and localized our idea of ‘Mother’ to that one individual. A mother is not just who bore us and breast-fed us; a father who caresses us after office while we are asleep is a mother, a neighbour who shares the sweet dish she made is a mother, a person who gives up his seat in a bus for an elderly person is a mother, a teenage son becomes a mother when he lies to his ailing mother that he had dinner at friend’s place, a friend who eggs you on when you’re down is a mother, a wife who takes leave from office to take care of her sick husband is a mother, a giver of alms is a mother to a beggar, someone who says no to plastic is a mother to environment, people who care for street animals are mothers to nature, a stranger who hugs you for no reason is a mother too.

We don’t have to bear and rear a child to become a mother; we become a mother the moment we love and care selflessly for that is what a mother does best. This is not to undermine the absolutely wonderful biological privilege of carrying another life within you that only the female gender can experience.

Let us celebrate this mother’s day with this new conscious understanding. It is mother’s day for you if and when: you made a difference to someone, you lied prostrate on the ground thanking the Earth, hugged a tree in gratitude, caressed a flower without plucking it, removed a stone from the road or filled a pothole, just spread your arms around feeling the air, thanked everything that holds you in place, just smiled – as if you know a secret – the secret that is love and the love outpours as tears of joy for all that is.

Every day is a mother’s day and every moment a potential mother’s moment if we operate from love. Let us pat our backs for all such moments that have brought out the mothers in us.

Happy Mother’s Day!   

Elements and me

I placed my feet on the ground

with so much love

that the earth felt kissed.

I made so much love to the sky

with my eyes

that it climaxed with thunder.

I caressed the wind

with such tenderness

that it brought me heavenly fragrance.

I drank water

with such gratitude

that it quenched my thirst of lifetimes.

I felt the flame

with such warmth

that it kindled the fire within.

======== 

This poem came to me during a meditation session with Dr. Pradeep Ullal. Thank you Pradeep for taking me to the realm of these wondrous lines. 

Poetry reading / recital at Delhi Poetry Festival 2014

I had the privilege of reciting my poetry at the Second Delhi Poetry Festival 2014. Below is the link. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ROnMgKjx9r4 

The essence is untouched

A sketcher cannot sketch light. He just shades the darker portions of an image. What is untouched is perceived as light.

A writer cannot describe the essence within. He can describe the periphery and leave the rest in silence. What is unwritten is the essence.

Get off Facebook

Facebook, Twitter and Watsapp are awash with all the good to great messages, inspiring videos and lovely heart warming stories that we watch, like, comment on and share daily. 

And yet, how many of us truly live those messages of love, compassion, following our heart, seeking our real joy and really really start living. Fundamentally, all of these messages are the same, bundled in different wrappings. 

I wonder how many such inspirations we will need before we truly wake up and rise, how many wrappers we will unwrap, say wow but then go back to the same old mundane existence, how many such stories we will read before we make a story of ourselves, how many such messages we will need before we become the living message, how many times we will fall before we get up and dare life not to let us live our passion, for how long we will be satisfied with just being an audience and applaud the performance of those who gave up their comforts, their sleep, their jobs and everything to follow their dream and create something magical - something that makes us stand in a queue to pay, to watch and wonder how they could do that. 

If the messages you've received so far can't inspire you to act, not many other things can. So get off facebook and find your calling, get off twitter and find your passion, get off watsap and follow your passion. 

Go within and seek the innermost treasure inside of you that is waiting to create the magic that people would die to watch, seek that inner calling that is waiting to explode at the slightest nod it receives from you. Allow the real you to blossom.  

Wow Moments

In the movie Avatar, we look at the suspended-in-space mountains and wonder at film maker's imagination and graphics.

Yet we forget that the stars, moon, sun and earth are all suspended in space and we see them daily. When did we truly wonder "how the heaven this huge sun stays suspended in space like that?"

If we truly connect with nature, those wow moments await us on a daily basis and not just from Avatar to Avatar - pun intended.

एक आवाज़ बुला रही है - A voice is calling me

एक आवाज़ है जो बुला रही है
बिना डोर के खींचे जा रही है
केहती है मुझे 'आओ पास मेरे'
तुम्हे करीब से ज़िन्दगी दिखानी है

ज़िन्दगी के कई पहलु हैं
तुमने अभी देखा ही क्या है
काम की चार दीवारों में
तुमने खुदको चुनवा दिया है

इस नदिया के उस पार
उठाओ पतवार और चले आओ
चीर दो इस पहाड़ को
और नई एक सड़क बनाओ

निकल पडो एक ऐसे सफर पे
जिसमें अगले पल की खबर ना हो
जहां बैठें वो बसेरा बने
जहां आँख खुले सवेरा हो

उठो चलो आज, अभी,
कहीं देर ना हो जाए
कलियों को खिलते देखना है तुम्हे
तारों को टिमटिमाते देखना है तुम्हे

ज़िन्दगी के रंगों में रंगना है तुम्हे
हर उतार चढ़ाव को शब्दों में पिरोना है तुम्हे
हसी का अमृत और गम का ज़हर पीना है तुम्हे
फिर हर कहानी में ख़ुशी के आंसू रोना है तुम्हे

==========
Transliteration
==========
ek awaaz hai jo bula rahi hai
bina dor ke kheenche ja rahi hai
kehti hai mujhe aao paas mere
tumhein kareeb se zindagi dikhani hai

zindagi ke kai pehlu hain
tumne abhi dekha hi kya hai
kaam ki chaar deewaron mein
tumne khudko chunwa diya hai

is nadiya ke us paar
uthao patwar aur chale aao
cheer do is pahad ko
aur nayi ek sadak banao

nikal pado ek aise safar pe
jisme agle pal ki khabar na ho
jahaan baithe wo basera bane
jahaan aankh khule savera ho

utho chalo aaj, abhi
kahin der na ho jaaye
kaliyon ko khilte dekhna hai tumhe
taaron ko timtimate dekhna hai tumhe

zindagi ke rangon mein rangna hai tumhe
har utar chadhav ko shabdon mein pirona hai tumhe
hasee ka amrit aur gum ka zahar peena hai tumhe
fir har kahani mein khushi ke aansu rona hai tumhe 

The Metaphysical Sex

All the world is exchanging energy all the time. Your energy is pushing out, touching everything else. Everything and everyone else is touching you.

But now an interesting thing happens. At some point midway between you and everything else—those energies meet.

To make a more vivid description, let’s imagine two people in a room. They are on the far sides of the room from each other. We’ll call them Tom and Mary. Now Tom’s personal energy is transmitting signals about Tom in a 360-degree circle out in the universe. Some of that energy wave hits Mary. Mary, meanwhile, is emitting her own energy—some of which hits Tom. But these energies meet each other in a way you may not have thought of. They meet midway between Tom and Mary. 

Here, the energies unite (remember now, these energies are physical phenomena; they can be measured, felt) and combine to form a new energy unit we’ll call “Tomary.” It is the energy of Tom and Mary combined. Tom and Mary could very well call this energy The Body Between Us—for it is just that: a body of energy to which both are connected, which both are feeding the continuing energies which flow to it, and which is sending energies back to its two “sponsors” along the thread, or cord, or pipeline that always exists within the Matrix. (Indeed, this “pipeline” is the Matrix.) It is this experience of “Tomary” which is the truth of Tom and Mary. It is to this Holy Communion that both are drawn. For they feel, along the pipeline, the sublime joy of the Body Between, of the joined One, of the Blessed Union. Tom and Mary, standing off at a distance, can feel—in a physical way—what is going on in the Matrix. Both are urgently drawn toward this experience. They want to move toward each other! At once! 

Now their “training” sets in. The world has trained them to slow down, to mistrust the feeling, to guard against “hurt,” to hold back. But the soul . . . wants to know “Tomary”—now! If the two are lucky, they will be free enough to set aside their fears and trust that love is all there is. They are irrevocably drawn now, these two, to the Body Between Them. TOMARY is already being experienced metaphysically, and Tom and Mary will want to experience it physically. So they’ll move closer together. Not to get to each other. It looks that way to the casual observer. But they are each trying to get to TOMARY. They are trying to reach that place of Divine Union which already exists between them. The place where they already know they are One—and what it is like to Be One. 

So they move toward this “feeling” they are experiencing, and, as they close the gap between them, as they “shorten the cord,” the energy they are both sending to TOMARY travels a shorter distance and is thus more intense. They move closer still. The shorter the distance, the greater the intensity. They move closer still. Once more the intensity increases.

Now they stand just a few feet apart. The Body Between them is glowing hot. Vibrating with terrific speed. The “connection” to and from TOMARY is thicker, wider, brighter, burning with the transfer of incredible energy. The two are said to be “burning with desire.” They are! They move closer still. Now, they touch. 

The sensation is almost unbearable. Exquisite. They feel, at the point of their touch, all the energy of TOMARY—all the compacted, intensely unified substance of their Combined Being. If you open yourself to your greatest sensitivity, you’ll be able to feel this subtle, sublime energy as a tingling when you touch—sometimes the “tingling” will run right through you—or as heat at the point of your touch—heat which you may also suddenly feel throughout your body—but concentrated deeply within your lower chakra, or energy center. It will “burn” there especially intensely—and Tom and Mary will now be said to have the “hots” for each other! Now the two embrace, and they close the gap even further, with Tom, Mary, and Tomary all filling nearly the same space. Tom and Mary can feel Tomary between them—and they want to get even closer—to literally meld with Tomary. To become Tomary in physical form. I have created in the male and female bodies a way to do that. At this moment, Tom and Mary’s bodies are ready to do that. Tom’s body is now ready to literally enter Mary. Mary’s body is ready to literally receive Tom within her. 

The tingling, the burning, is now beyond intense. It is... indescribable. The two physical bodies join. Tom, Mary, and Tomary become One. In the flesh. Still the energies flow between them. Urgently. Passionately. They heave. They move. They can’t get enough of each other, can’t get close enough together. They strive to get close. Close. CLOSER. They explode—literally—and their entire physical bodies convulse. The vibration sends ripples to their fingertips. In the explosion of their oneness they have known the God and the Goddess, the Alpha and the Omega, the All and the Nothing—the Essence of life—the Experience of That Which Is. 

There are physical chemistries as well. The two have become One—and a third entity often is created of the two, in physical form. Thus, an outpicturing of TOMARY is created. Flesh of their flesh. Blood of their blood. They have literally created life! Have I not said that ye are Gods? 

That is the most beautiful description of human sexuality I have ever heard. 

You see beauty where you desire to see it. You see ugliness where you are afraid to see beauty. It would amaze you to know how many people see what I’ve just said as ugly. 

No, it wouldn’t. I’ve already seen how much fear, and ugliness, the world has placed around sex.

This ... dance that I’ve just described, this energy interaction I’ve explained, is occurring all the time—in and with everything.

Your energy—beamed from you like a Golden Light—is interacting constantly with everything and everyone else. The closer you are, the more intense the energy. The further away, the more subtle. Yet you are never totally disconnected from anything. There is a point between You and every other person, place, or thing which exists. It is here that two energies meet, forming a third, much less dense, but no less real, energy unit. Everyone and everything on the planet—and in the universe—is emitting energy in every direction. This energy mixes with all other energies, criss-crossing in patterns of complexity beyond the ability of your most powerful computers to analyze. 

The criss-crossing, intermingling, intertwining energies racing between everything that you can call physical is what holds physicality together. This is the Matrix, of which I have spoken. It is along this Matrix that you send signals to each other—messages, meanings, healings, and other physical effects—created sometimes by individuals but mostly by mass consciousness. These innumerable energies are, as I have explained, attracted to each other. This is called the Law of Attraction. In this Law, Like attracts Like. Like Thoughts attract Like Thoughts along the Matrix—and when enough of these similar energies “clump together,” so to speak, their vibrations become heavier, they slow down— and some become Matter. Thoughts do create physical form—and when many people are thinking the same thing, there is a very high likelihood their thoughts will form a Reality.

-          Excerpt from the book ‘Conversations with God’ by Neale Donald Walsch 

जरा जरा आओ आज - zara zara aao aaj

जरा जरा आओ आज
थोडा सा जी लें हम
जरा जरा आओ आज
साँसों में ज़िन्दगी भर लें हम

जरा जरा आओ आज
ज़िन्दगी का कानून बदलें हम
जरा जरा आओ आज
खुल के हस लें हम

जरा जरा आओ आज
थोडी ख़ुशियाँ फैलाएँ हम
जरा जरा आओ आज
ख़ुशी को भीतर समाएँ हम

जरा जरा आओ आज
बचपन को दौहराएँ हम
जरा जरा आओ आज
थोड़ा बड़प्पन दिखाएँ हम

जरा जरा आओ आज
ख़ुद को माफ़ करें हम
जरा जरा आओ आज
ख़ुद से प्यार करें हम

जरा जरा आओ आज
ख़ुद में डूब जाएँ हम
जरा जरा आओ आज
ख़ुद में ख़ुदा ढूंढें हम

zara zara aao aaj
thoda sa jee lein hum
zara zara aao aaj
saanson mein zindagi bhar lein hum

zara zara aao aaj
zindagi ka kanoon badlein hum
zara zara aao aaj
khul ke has lein hum

zara zara aao aaj
thodi khushi failayein hum
zara zara aao aaj
khushi ko bheetar samayein hum

zara zara aao aaj
bachpan ko dauharayein hum
zara zara aao aaj
thoda badappan dikhayein hum

zara zara aao aaj
khud ko maaf karein hum
zara zara aao aaj
khud se pyaar karein hum

zara zara aao aaj
khud mein doob jaein hum
zara zara aao aaj
khud mein khuda dhoondhein hum

हाँ, मैं कवि हूँ

मैं सूरज को पानी पिलाऊँ
और बादलों में नहाने जाऊँ
मैं पहाड़ों में गोते खाऊँ
और लेहरों पे चलके जाऊँ

मैं तितली की सवारी करूँ
और झिलमिल तारों से बतियाऊँ
मैं चिड़िया संग उड़ जाऊँ
और फूलों की पिचकारी बनाऊँ

मैं समंदर से सूखा निकलूं
और सूरज में भीग जाऊँ
मैं बिन जहाज चाँद पे पहोंचु
और मस्त चांदनी में जल जाऊँ

मैं सफ़र को मंज़िल बनाऊँ
और हर मुकाम पे गीत गाउँ
मैं ख़ुशी में आँसू बहाऊँ
और ग़म में हँसी लुटाऊँ

मैं सोच की बीन बजाकर
कल्पना का पिटारा लाऊँ
ज़िंदगी को मदमस्त कर
नाग की तरह नचवाऊँ

मैं शब्दों की दुनिया बनाउ
फिर उसका खुदा बन जाऊँ
और कागज़ के अभिनेता को
मैं अपनी कटपुतली बनाउ

मैं जीतेजी मर जाऊँ
फिर मौत में जीवन पाउँ
जीने के मायने बदलूं
और अपने नियम बनाऊं

मेरे शब्दकोष में कहीं
नामुमकिन जैसा कुछ नहीं
शब्दों के जाल बुनकर
मैं बनाऊं स्वर्ग यहीं

मेरी कोई सीमा नहीं
नवरस का मैं सागर कोई
जाऊँ जहां सूरज नहीं
मैं हूँ कवि, सिर्फ एक कवि 

या तो - या फिर (Either - Or)

या तो आसमां सम्पूर्ण है
या फिर मैं अधूरा

या तो सूरज रौशन है
या फिर मैं अंधेरा

या तो समंदर विशाल है
या फिर मैं हूँ छोटा

या तो हवा में जीवन है
या फिर मैं मुर्दा

या तो जल में तृप्ती है
या फिर मुझमें तृष्णा

या तो भोजन में ताक़त है
या फिर मैं भूखा

या तो जीवन मुक्त है
या फिर मैं बंदी

या तो पैसों में अमीरी है
या फिर मैं ग़रीब

या तो खुदा मुझसे दूर है
या फिर मैं खुद्के करीब 

When God chose to patent life

I woke up with a jerk

gasping for breath.

Panting and suffocating,

for I felt no air.

My heart went berserk

pumping like crazy,

needing more oxygen

but not getting any.

My bones felt weak,

yet I rushed out of bed.

Too heavy for my feet,

I fell with a thud.

I crawled out painfully

into the open balcony,

and raised myself somehow

to just breathe normally.

To my utter shock,

it was not just me

who faced this fate,

but the whole humanity.

Men and women writhed in pain

On pavement, road and portico.

Crawling, agape and smothering -

we were being wiped out and let go.  

Suddenly the skies thundered

and soon it rained.

I opened my mouth

and stretched my hand.

Again to my consternation

water didn’t wet my hand

nor quenched my thirst;

events I failed to comprehend.

I saw birds chirping merrily

while dogs pranced around.

I wondered what pandemic

could be just human bound.

I felt my senses slowing

and the brain getting numb,

as to the lack of air

I slowly started to succumb.

Even as death stared at me

and the heart faced seizure,

a faint prayer came through

as I looked at the fading azure.

“God, show me my fault

and tell me where I erred.

To be punished this way

What have I really caused?”

A voice came from nowhere -

baritone, calm and assertive.

It jarred my senses back

and kept me attentive.

“I made you free and let you be,

but you have forgotten me.

I watched your game in silence

waiting for you to remember me.”

“In separation you believed for eons,

thus seeds of vices you have sown,

ownership framework you created

that is yours and this is my own.”

“My creations you copyrighted,

then made the haves and have-nots.

Formed barriers to divine flow

causing rampant life clots.”

“Today I choose to play your game,

to patent life and make my name.

Follow ‘your’ rules to grow my fame

then beat you at it and deepen your shame.”

“So now pay the price for your life,

for all the good things that came free:

for your body, mind and soul,

for air, water, food and tree.”

I protested, “Oh God, how could you

treat this way your very own children.”

The voice responded, “I mirror now

your treatment of your own brethren.”

“I’ll give you what you want,

but let me just breathe.

Take everything from me

but let me just live.”

“Arrogant it is to think that you can

give me something I need.

For I need nothing but your love for all,

in thought, word and deed.”

“You think in this vast universe

You can own a thing?

When in this boundless existence

you are a speck of nothing.”

“See the spirit before you see the person,”

said lovingly that voice,

“See all, not as separate, but one,

believe in their virtue before vice.”

With repentant eyes, I begged for mercy,

apologized for letting fear catch my fancy.

Hoping to get life with divine clemency,

I promised to keep loving with consistency.

I woke up again with a start,

breathing normally as I usually would.

I thanked providence for my life

and breathed as deeply as I could.

I ran to the balcony to check

if this was just a dream.

I saw people hugging each other

as love filled life to the brim.  

I closed my eyes in gratitude

as birds chirped merrily around me.

Life finally found its rightful place 

when man let love flow and just be.

kuch aur hindi mein

दो अधूरे प्रेमी मिलकर कभी पूरे नहीं होते
भरे जाम छलककर भी अधूरे नहीं होते
ये तो अनंत सागर हैं प्रेम के जो
पतीली भर पानी से खाली नहीं होते

Do adhure premi milkar kabhi pure nahin hote.
Bhare jaam chalak-Kar bhi adhure nahin hote.
Ye to anant sagar hain prem Ke jo
Patili bhar pani se khali nahin hote.

की आज ये मोहब्बत रंग लाई है
आज हमने अपनी असली कीमत पाई है
जहां रोज़ ढूंढते थे खुदको काँटों में
आज गुलाब में देखी खुदकी परछाई है

Ki aaj ye mohabbat rang layi hai
Aaj humne apni asli keemat payi hai
Jahaan roz dhoondhte the khudko kaanton mein
Aaj gulab mein dekhi khudki parchai hai.

चंद पंक्तियां हिन्दी में - A few lines in Hindi

वो प्यार ही क्या जिसमें अकेलापन हो
वो यार ही क्या जो यादों से गुम हो
वो इंतज़ार ही क्या जो खुदके लिए ना हो
वो राज़ ही क्या जो खुदको खुदसे ना छुपाए हो

*****

कोशिश तो की थी हमने
पर भुला ना पाए हम
खुदको खुदसे जोड़के
जुदा ना कर पाए हम

*****

उसकी ख़ूबसूरती तो किरणों का ख़ेल है
वरना चांद तो बेजान मिट्टी का ढ़ेर है

Transliteration

Wo pyaar hi kya jismein akelapan ho
Wo yaar hi kya jo yaadon se gum ho
Wo intezaar hi kya jo khudke liye na ho
Wo raaz hi kya jo khudko khudse na chupaye ho

*****

Koshish to ki thi humne
par bhula na paaye hum
Khud ko khud se jodke
juda na kar paaye hum

*****

Uski khoobsoorati to kirno ka khel hai
Warna chand to bejaan mitti ka dher hai

On the other side of thoughts

Our real potential awaits us
on the other side of thoughts.
Let's go there often.
Come, lets meet there in silence.

The simpler my poetry becomes

The more I evolve,
The simpler my poetry becomes.

Rumi visits me sometimes

Rumi visits me sometimes and whispers in my ears.
Gibran bumps into me often and paints life through my eyes.
Tagore calls in as well and composes mystical symphony.
Tulsidas comes over to recite the greatest poetry ever told.

They all come randomly, and take me over.
They don't knock but knock me over.
They mesmerize me and leave me gasping.
They show me the real me and leave me yearning.

I go there often now
And wait for them to come.
But now they don't come to me,
they come through me.

मुझसे दोस्ती करोगे

बचपन में काफी दोस्त थे मेरे
जो हमेशा साथ रहते थे
बड़े प्यारे नाम थे उनके :
खेल, मासूमियत, समय और ख़ुशी

मैं बड़ा होता गया
नए दोस्त मिलते गए
पढाई ने हाथ बढ़ाया
कहा मुझसे दोस्ती करोगे ?

क्यों नहीं ? मैंने कहा
मैं तुम्हे ज्ञान दूंगी
पढाई बोली।  ज्ञान के साथ
समझदारी और दुनियादारी भी आए।

दुनियादारी की दोस्ती से
मासूमियत ने मेरी कट्टी कर ली
खूब बुलाने पर भी
उसने एक न सुनी

मैं बड़ा होता गया
नए दोस्त मिलते गए
ज़िम्मेदारी ने हाथ बढ़ाया
कहा मुझसे दोस्ती करोगे ?

क्यों नहीं ? मैंने कहा
मैं तुम्हे आधार दूंगी
वो बोली।  आधार के साथ
बोझ और मजबूरी भी आये

बोझ के तले दब कर
खेल ने दोस्ती तोड़ दी
मस्त चिड़िया की तरह
किसी और डाल पर उड़ चली

मैं बड़ा होता गया
नए दोस्त मिलते गए
पैसे ने हाथ बढ़ाया
कहा मुझसे दोस्ती करोगे ?

क्यों नहीं ? मैंने कहा
मैं तुम्हे शौहरत दूंगा
पैसा बोला।  शौहरत के साथ
काम और नाम भी आये

शौहरत के पीछे भागते हुए
मुझसे ख़ुशी का हाथ छूट गया
नए दोस्तों की होड़ में
फिर एक पुराना यार बिछड़ गया

अब ज़िन्दगी के मायने बदल गए
एक दौड़ सी है, बेचैनी सी
किसने शुरू की, क्यों चलती है
अब कोई ये पूछता नहीं

सब कुछ तो है
फिरभी मानो कुछ नहीं
पैसा भी है शौहरत भी
पर ज़िन्दगी के लिए अब समय नहीं 

Starry Illusion

Sometimes when I look at the stars,
I wonder whether they see me.
And if they can,
does their heart sing and dance
like mine when I see them?

Mind tells me to grow up.
“They are too big for you.”
But the heart says they are too small,
"See, I can crush them
between my fingertips."

Mind says they may not even exist;
they’re just the play of light,
for what you see is light years past.
But heart objects, for it can see
the stars with its own eyes.

I had a choice to believe
either in the starless night
or the twinkling sky,
the unlimited nothingness
or the glittering spark.

I chose the latter.
For it gave me company
in the lonely night.
For the illusion was well lit,

while reality was way too dark.