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.