The Power

If one is a seeker
the power to remember
is important,
but the same seeker
needs the power to forget
in their journey
towards enlightenment.

The power to let go,
to forgive
is as lucrative as
the power to achieve.

Enemies

Make friends
but not enemies.

To lose friends is
easy, but to lose
enemies is difficult
cause even in their
absence you behold
them everywhere,
you don't let go of
them ever, you hold
them in your heart.

The Choice

Give your body
and mind to the
world, it'll destroy
you, kill you
while you're still
alive in an invisible
cage.

Give your body
and mind to the
Self, the bonding
will build you,
heal you while
you're living, it'll free
you from every
bondage.

the mistake

 

Translation of a poem by Mirza Ghalib

সারা জন্ম ধরে একটাই
ভুল করে আসছি,
ধূলো লাগা মুখে আমারই
তবু আয়না পরিষ্কার করে চলেছি। 

---

Throughout my life
my one vital error,
with dust on my face
I kept cleaning the mirror

---

Tout au long de ma vie
ai-je commis une seule erreur, avec de la poussière
tout autour de mon visage
j'ai continué à nettoyer
le miroir

The incomplete rhyme

"Early to bed and early to rise,
Makes a man healthy, wealthy,
and wise."

Late to bed and late to rise,
Makes a person unhealthy,
craving for wealth,
worried and unwise.

The Brahman

We, so
drowned in
name, utility, form,
we forget
we're Brahman.

That the universe
wasn't ever created,
it just appears,
like the nonexistent
blue sky
doesn't sink in.

We're bounded from
without, trapped
within.

Illusions powerfully
staring at us in
tables, chairs, lecterns
that we miss the wood;
necklace, bangles, rings
that we don't heed the gold;
gender, colour, words,
that we never sense the soul.

Though wood, gold,
and the soul
are all there is
the rest just appear
to be.

Influenced by the #Mandukya Upanishad

the error

Gazing at the waters
flowing down the bridge
I sense a hook pulling
me down towards it

there's a side in me
that wants it to end
I guess

I desert my view and
walk away

looking at the bird
in rehearsed dismay
biting its reflection
on my window
how futile
would it not know

is the commonality of
the blow

I look at my time and place
where there is none
an empty hole
infinitely in search of
somewhere to go
in a moment that stays
a flow that doesn't
pull me down
to be at peace with
the self that doesn't fight
in the middle of the waters
flowing, and flowing in a race
the image insecure with the
contemplation of the mirror
beyond time, outside space

reality

 

Wake up, mister and miss
to the world of peace,
the violent reality
you construct is but
a myth, it is blissfully
amiss

The rosary

 

In silence, the seekers are
seeking; intention, instrument
much the same, the difference
is but in the names,
not in the divine game.

They all hold a rosary 
in their hands
eyes closed they pray
their nimble fingers play
to end their major misery,
wars, trumpeting the seas
and the sands.

If all are praying for
peace, then why is 
the bliss amiss?
Are we getting drowned
in the words instead of 
sailing across to reunite 
with the unique thought!

Pointless

  

There's no point explaining anything to anyone. Deep inside, we rest loyal to our thoughts and are completely unwilling to move an inch from what we think is right. It's like the terrorists, or like the present government in west bengal; we think we are right in doing what we're doing; killing of the innocent, promoting and sponsoring corruption, violation, murder; they have their logic to play out on society.

We are destined to be miserable. Raising our voice has no meaning. To give up seems to be the only solution. We cannot sweeten the sea by adding sugar to it.

Nonetheless, the effort to bring about a shift in the mindset must go on, hopelessly, pointlessly.