As haven’t you heard,
Heard,
Dark is beautiful,
Dark is beautiful?
Kali is dark,
Dark the myths of Creation
And the universe,
Dark the myths
Muffled in mystery,
What it is dark, let it be,
Let it be dark.
Dark is beautiful,
Dark is beautiful,
Haven’t you,
Haven’t you heard,
Heard it,
Dark the myths of Creation
And the world?
What it is dark, let it be,
Let it be dark,
Dark is dark,
Dark the mystery of creation,
The myths of the world,
What it cannot be resolved,
Resolve you not!
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Tusu,
Into the handsThe women folks singingAnd asking for,Singing the songsIn her honourAnd telling ofHer love and painThrough folk songs.
Autumn came it
Dancing in the wind,The dew drops drippingLate into the night,The cchatims tree blossomsHanging in clustersAnd with them Durga DeviComing.The kash bloomsAtop the tall standing grassesBy the marshy plotsOf the river banksJust like the white beardsOf the old menOr the beards of the old Santa Claus.The blossoms in clustersOf the old cchatim treesFragrancing the evesScented withSo…
All the time, such a temperament
In the mission and vision of life,I do not ask you to be a moral policeman,The local guardian of morality,But at least think you womankind,Writhing under domestic violence and bruises,Flesh trade and woman trafficking,Slavery and kitchen workAnd from these, there is no escape fromAnd above all, the birth pangs intolerable,I mean the creational pangs!
Coming from the hamlets,
Hills, valleys and the wilds,They playing their folk songs and dances,Beating drums, traditional instruments,Blowing horns and sticking flowers and twigsBut I hearing from my homeTheir songs and dances and music played,The music of the indigenous people,Ethnicand racial peopleSinging, dancing and playing their indigenous songsWhich humanity seems to have lost,But I lost in the gait of…
How to beat summer,
With scorching sunFull of burning sensation,The loo bowing,Sucking in blood,Ruffling it all,The sunlight falling straight,The heat intense,Burning heat,Blazing hot sunSpewing fire flames,The earth parching,Parching and cracking,Drying and baking in the sun,The fire flames scorching it all?Don’t,Don’t be disheartened,Stay you indoorsOr take to outings boldlyKeeping an onionTo beat it off,Take you drinks,Cold water,Salad,Cucumber, water melonEnjoying itAnd…
India’s poor girl child,
A tale of poverty and poor conditions,Living under impoverished circumstances?Drinking tears live you anyhow,Somehow passing your days of lifeIn sorrow, trouble, pain.Bharat ki garib bitia,Kaisei kahun tumhari kahani,Ek kahani garibi and garib awasthayon ki,Garib mei rahatin huyin?Anshu pikar rahati ho tum,Kisi tarah jindagi basar karti huyinDukha, kashta, vedana mei.
As dark is dark,
Will remain dark
Unto the last.
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Ladakh
Nor could weIts culture, society,Art, myth and mysticism,Language, trend and tradition,Costume, dress, food habit,The glory of the land and the people,Its rivers, valleys and mountain rangesTaking us whereto,To what, what territory and rangesFrom where how to be back to,Back to beAs a traveller, a story-listenerListening and telling the tales of Asia?
Bhagabati, how difficult is it to know Her,
The Eternal Inspiration,The Maternal Power,Unknown, Unseen and Unknowable,Birthless and Undetermined!
The glow worm, how the tiny creature, flying with the light,
And the path it lighting upon,Decorating the night,The bushes and the creepers,Flying into skies.A yellowish and grey looking worm,With the dotted eyes,It keeps lighting and radiatingThe bushes and the creepersAnd the paths lonely.When not with the lightReturning all alone on the muddy ways,I fearing the snakes,Find you lighting,Glowing and glimmering.The glow worm a strange gift…
The images in which you like to see him,
Or in meditation under a Bodhi treeOr crossing borders in the Far EastGiving his gospels and sermons,Artisans making the statues of BuddhaFrom stone, clay and metals,Buddha is Buddha,Where is he not,In your soul, in your heart,On your mind,Just feel you, feel you it,just search you, search you it.
But who has at least striven to know,
Marauds her poor selfOf the dark daughter,A girl so humble, so meekWhich the treacherous worldKnew it not for so long,A girl so poor and humble?
History is not history
History is hidden under earth,Excavate you, dig you the thingsWhich know you not.