Life Inspires

dying embers... the kohl beneath his eyes unsmudged

There's a reason why I started writing this blog at 4am in the morning. I was woken up by the deep philosophies Vijay sometimes mumbles in his sleep. And then I made the mistake of picking up my phone and checking email. I had submitted the following Haiku for critique on one of the forums: dying embers... the kohl beneath his eyes unsmudged The poem elicited starkly contrasting opinions. While some were offended that I chose to use "unsmudged", instead of "not smudged", other objections were far more existential. I will get to those objections in a second, but let me dwell on "unsmudged" for a minute. According to many traditional dictionaries, "unsmudged" is not a word at all, and even as I am writing this post, blogger is diligently putting red squiggly lines underneath "unsmudged". Blogger too is trying to bring this poem in line with traditional language, so why should biased, opinionated human beings be any different? But &quo

drizzle of parijat... the      lone          walker          skirts     the puddle

spatter of shattered hopes chalk outline of empty dreams... life crashed here

gravity— promising great forevers, Earth broke away from the Moon

Indian Summer— shimmering heat from metal blurring the world

waiting for that time when wilted flowers would bloom again at your tender touch

past trapped in time's bewildering rhythm baits me, mocks me

noon wears silence tarmac melts and sticks to shoes hot wind dries skin

wings— shock of them taking off at gunshot

proud sparrows  bring fancy things to pay for the grains meant for them

 

  is it worth the risk? mantis asks his praying muse let's find out, she says

coward — plants a kiss on her nose his heart safe in minefields

deer calls jungle holds its breath time stands still

books carry wisdom of years trees spent growing roots and gathering rings

  that vine inching towards the tree — that's not just love

  cracks appear little heads break through tiny turtles find breath

  a plant that looked dead sprouts new leaves, again— stubborn life

When I started writing the little poems that would later be published as " Loveflakes : Memories of Mirages ", I just wanted to express myself. Yes, I always knew that I would like to see these verses as part of a book some day, but I never thought that the book would move and inspire people of all generations. I was so pleasantly surprised and immensely grateful to Dr Vinod Prakash when I found out that he has been silently translating some of the verses into Hindi.  Dr Prakash attended school in his village, studying under the cool shade of old trees. He completed his Master's, B. Ed, and D.Phil from Garhwal Vishwavidyalaya, Srinagar. He spent his professional life teaching primary, intermediate, and Degree classes Hindi and English, before retiring in 2011 from Intermediate College. He loves reading poetry and is especially draw to the works of poets like Keats, Wordsworth, Kabir and several others. At present he is studying literary and spiritual books such as Geeta ,

darter missed fish swam away ripples faded fast

  she knows not her charm wanders lost in the streets, amid many saviours 

  distracted robin vigilant shikra watches — few feathers linger

waves lap at my feet I ponder on the deep chasms around and within

  a school of herring a class of hungry penguins murmuration fades

sounds of night retreat an odd quiet heralds dawn— a songbird wakes up

  threads of spider silk bind walls of tailorbird nests — foxily fragile

  spectral fleet plies high against an indigo sky — geese on a world tour

beady serpent eyes reflect bright blue robin eggs— snakes can know no guilt  

wispy mist surrounds unobtrusive castle keep of a busy Newcastle

  I chase mirages and my faith in actual lakes keeps diminishing

that single green leaf on whose diligence, jasmine endures harsh winter

a shooting star burns— its failed quest to reach the Earth still deserves fireworks

in sultry Delhi a pine sapling raised its head choice, not a mistake

  candles and wishes on a chocolate castle in his mirror eyes

leaves lifted from ground orbit whirling dervishes— dust devils run aloft

  trapped in spindly threads numbed, we surrender our wits to vast World Wide Web

  this heavy outpour after an unbearable weightlessness of drought

  that smile has no scorn that face no anger - that "you" of my memories

stumbling upon turns adding years by accident I chose not to know

   signed canvas of ruin proud legacy of carnage man's success enshrined

  creeks of blue-green veins deep furrows on sunburnt skin eyes with too much fog

  ebony clouds gather at the horizon luminary moon rises late

WELLTTA stands for World English Language Learners, Teachers, and Trainers Association. The forum organizes two lectures every evening from 7PM to 8PM and 8PM to 9PM. Last week, I was fortunate to be invited to speak on a topic that is very close to my heart "Exploring Infinity Through the Prism of Love and Poetry".  I divided the talk into four sections: Infinity - The Great Humbling Reality Surrender - The Total Perspective Vortex Cosmic Infinity and Love Blurring the Boundaries with Love This concept of infinity as the great humbling reality is not a new one. We, as human beings, have one common fault – a massive ego. While the misconception that the Sun revolves around the Earth was dispelled centuries ago by Nicolaus Copernicus, almost all of us still believe that the Universe revolves around us.  It was this ego that confused Arjun in Mahabharat, when he accorded undue importance to his emotions when fighting the people he loved. Lord Krishna revealed his Virat Roop to