The Still Mind

2012-01-30T12:35:00.000-08:00

As summer has left us here in Seattle and we're enjoying the wonderful winter weather! :D I thought posting a poem about spring might be nice.

This poem about spring that talks about more than spring. It's not about hope but about knowing what is surely going to happen someday.

It's also about love. I imagined a love between the Sun and the Clouds and of how even though we might think of them as opposites (metaphorically) but in another world perhaps they could be lovers. Written by the Cloud

Spring

Soon it will be spring…

The trees will blush in the arms of the sun;

Just as I would in yours.

Leaves will curl out of their cold bosom

And bathe in the warmth….until they turn gold

Soon the sweet nectar of life will flow forth

As the sun and rain spin magic.

One eclipsing the other-back and forth

Jesting and mocking

Then embracing.

Like lovers, spent

Watch, as across the still sky

Sprouts forth a smile in seven colours, content

The trees will blush…Soon

It will be spring.

----Megha

2010-09-13T22:11:00.000-07:00

There are times when we feel like we're making the same mistakes again....except we aren't. Times when we feel like inspite of our decisions being right, they feel wrong intuitively and the things we most want to get way from are the things that we also crave the most.

Life itself seems like a journey where even though we may have learnt much, we feel still like there is much much more to learn. We start at the beginning and no matter how hard we try, we just come back to the beginning realizing that life is too magnificent, too vast and infinite for us to grasp with our little hands.

Like the Red Queen's race in Alice in Wonderland, "...it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run atleast twice as fast as that!" :-)

This poem is a sense of my travels so far:

Travels

Having freed myself
Why do I now desire
Most deeply to be bound?

Having scaled the peak
Why do I now crave
To come back down?

Or perhaps I have fallen
Instead
Not risen, not freed
Still am I tempted
And no longer sure
Of what I desire

Have I woken or
Am I just dreaming yet
Another dream?
Searching searching
I thought I had found
‘Twas an obsession
And in it I am now ground.
Maybe in circles I have
Been walking
Thinking I’m going
But only returning

A wayfarer for lifetimes
It seems I have been
At each birth, only to come back
to the beginning

The empty pull inside me
Holds no bounds.
So I start over and over
On a path where
Beginning is End
and the End is a Beginning.

--Megha (09/13/2010)

2010-08-31T13:48:00.000-07:00

A grave little poem to go with the grim September weather of Seattle. I really don't know where this came from, but somewhere inside, this is what it feels like. As usual I write from my experiences....but I don't know what experience would cause me to feel like this. Enjoy anyway! :-)

--Love,

Megha

End of Life

Looking ahead,
At Life in front of me,
A vast ocean I see.
Quiet, Serene, Deep and still Blue
Solemnly I sit at it’s banks,
Bathing in the racing darkness.
Waiting for a promised Ferry

Eloquent in it’s silence
It beckons me to begin
Without Ferryman or Light or
Even the Wind for my sails

My feet hesitate and
My steps are unsure.
For I know that when,
The black waters embrace
This skin, surely
I am to drown in it’s passion

There is no other shore to this Sea
There is nowhere to arrive
But a journey must be begun

The darkness is complete,
The waves hasten to
Tug at my shores
But I push them away for
Another day

The Moon rises and I wish
Upon all the stars
That my Ferryman may soon come
So my travels may end

---Megha (08/31/2010)

2010-03-29T13:04:00.000-07:00

Learning to be Mad

In September of 2009, I went to McMinnville, TN along with 274 other people from all over the world to participate in an event that would potentially allow us to have experiences that are not so much in the physical realm. I arrived at the Isha Institute of Inner Sciences (iiis) along with 3 other participants a few minutes after 6pm (and late) on a Thursday evening. The days that followed were typical of any time spent with Isha meditators...full of surprises. Which is one of the reasons why I cannot speak of all the activities we did. :-(

There were about as many volunteers as there were participants. This place was buzzing with 600 odd people half of whom (the volunteers) were trying to make things happen in the most perfect way for us. It rained cats and dogs most of the time but that didn't deter them from bringing us food or the awesome hot teas that they are so good at making. As usual everything was so well coordinated that 3 days went by very quickly. I slept in a place consecrated by Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev known as Mahima hall at night. It's a huge hall with a red dome with pillars only around the periphery and none in the middle. Even though I probably slept only about 5 hours each night, waking at 4:30 each morning I always felt well rested. There's something special about that place that every time I go there I don't need much sleep to wake up fresh as a dew!

For 3 days, we did things that would have made us look so crazy to the outside world. For 3 days we looked within ourselves and found ourselves not just inside but outside; in every person, stone and leaf. Even in the wind and clouds and the wonderful rain. My tears didn't stop flowing for 3 day...I wasn't sad, just overwhelmed by what I was experiencing. I felt so foolish for being the way I was and the way I had lived. I believed that looking inside means cutting off everything that outside provides because these outside forces are distractions. In the process I had really stopped living. As my tears washed off these imaginations and prejudices I had, something inside of me grew bigger and bigger to encompass everything that ever existed and allowed me to melt away completely. Unfortunately these experiences did not last long. This was just the jump that Sadhguru was providing so we could (as he puts it) see what lies on the other side of the wall.

I don't know what other people experienced and I'm sure all of us experience different things or even the same thing differently but all of us came out on that Monday with a fresh set of eyes and a sense of how one can live joyfully, without effort if we just remember the experiences we had and how much they meant to us. The programme is called Bhava Spandana... which literally translated means a reverberation of senses/emotions and it definitely made my resolve to continue on the path I'm on much stronger. Here's a poem about that experience

How Foolish

The night is warm

And the skies are clear.

But the streets are rife

With winds of change.

The rain that is to come

Will swallow us soon!

Completely drenched we will be

Like babies or madmen

Rocking or dancing or screaming in

Ecstasy or anticipation.

Ready to put our bodies down and watch

The Final Procession

As wood turns to ash, watch

Ourselves disappear and melt into

The sky, the sun, the rivers, the stone

Into somebody else and into nobody

Foolishly how long have I been lost

And how long before I'm found and gone again?

Oh! how much longer before it rains

And lightening strikes this slumbering seed inside?

Pulling life from the I in me until

I am not and never again will be.

--Megha (2/28/2010)

2009-11-17T14:47:00.000-08:00

7 Months of Meditation

In March of this year I remember struggling with a lot of things in life. Mostly my emotions and my hyper-critical nature was making living with myself a little difficult. I wrote a post then about my encounter with Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev and was planning on taking the "Inner Engineering" course. Well, so I did take it in April and have been meditating every day since then. It is now 7 months and no part of me wants to give up the 1/2 hour I spend on my inner wellbeing every day. I wonder where Isha was all my life and why it took me so long to find something that worked for me.

First off, I have done a few yoga courses and tried my best to continue with them but somehow it didn't work for me. I couldn't find in myself the sincerity or the resolve to do any of the practices I was taught. 7 days of Inner Engineering did not somehow transform my life, but it stuck with me. The Shambhavi Maha Mudra Kriya that I was taught seemed to be what my body and mind instinctively accepted. Somewhere inside of me something decided that this was it and whether I liked it or not and whether it was convenient or not, I would not give up.

I didn't always understand what (if any) transformations were happening to me and initially I thought I was just imagining somethings. But in the first few months I had the experience of falling in love with almost anything. The woman on the bus, the homeless man who smelled really bad, the trees, even the pavement...animate or inanimate, all I could feel was love ( and I wasn't trying). I'm not saying that my most irritating colleague suddenly became closest to my heart. All I can say is that I felt love for everything.

A lot of the times I struggled with a wandering mind...especially if it was the end of the day and I was very hungry and had to do my Kriya before I could eat dinner...sometimes all I could think about for 30 min was FOOD! It's bad.. I know! :D

At some point after a few months of practice, I became better at all the techniques and my back hurt much less than it did the first time. On more than a couple of occasions I had the experience of partial dissolution of the body, i.e. I couldn't feel my arms or legs or most of my body for maybe 10-15 sec. It felt so wonderful to not be so physical in existence.

I think everybody has their own set of experiences with Shambhavi. These are mine. It's definitely worth the time and effort.

Oh and of course VOLUNTEERING! Once you take a class, you can volunteer for upcoming classes and you keep learning and learning and perfecting what you've learnt. I'm a Virgo...while I don't believe in astrology to a large extent, still a few things are true for me:

1) I like work

2)I like to aim towards perfectionism

3) I like to be in the background and make things happen

Volunteering was wonderful for me. I could work so that I could give back what I received. Make the class as wonderful an experience for the new Meditators as it was for me. While volunteering, I'd feel as if all the volunteers were on single entity and we had dissolved to create what was happening in the class. I was nothing, a nobody and yet something had come out of me!

The last class I volunteered for was held in Olympia, WA ( a new center). 27 participants and only a couple of men. On the last day..the closing day, I remembered how grateful I felt on the last day of my class for the gift I had received... and then suddenly I was feeling what the entire room of women was feeling.

Now, I've grown up in a environment full of men, been a daddy's girl, haven't really had a sister and had more guy friends than girls. I just didn't get women and still don't completely understand them and here I was feeling all the feminine energy around me and tears rolled down my cheek for the last 10 min. WOW! Women are so wonderful! It blew my mind away! I wanted to go and bow down in front of them and say, " You women! You are just fabulous!"

2009-06-03T17:39:00.001-07:00

I derive a lot of my descriptions in poetry from the world around me. My last poem "Decide Already" included some descriptions of images I see practically everyday. Just thought I would post them on the blog.

I can't show "cracked water on a frozen sidewalk" or "white trimmings on edges of leaves" because it's summer here in Seattle and in the images below, I'm sure the statue isn't very cold :D and of course the trees aren't very bare either....but here they are anyway!

Cold Statue on a High Pedestal

Bare trees behind a Purple Haze:

2009-05-12T10:37:00.000-07:00

I recently wrote a poem for a blogger friend Vineet.

Read it here.

Do also read his other posts. They are quite funny...especially the one about out of office responses.

---Megha

2009-03-25T12:00:00.000-07:00

Over the past month or so I have been struggling. I am a very critical person and tend to criticise every thing, animate and inanimate :-D ...including myself. Sometimes it's very difficult for me to live with myself. So I decided to stop thinking so much and not be critical of things and that has definitely made me a happier person. But it is difficult to do....to not think, for me.

Out of the blue, yesterday, I went to a talk by Sadguru Vasudev who happened to be visiting Seattle. I've been to many talks and have heard many sadhu's and saints speak and when I sat down in the hall after a long day in the lab, I was not in a very receptive mood.

Still Sadguru Vasudev was the best I've heard so far in the sense of how he applies yoga practically to the problems of todays world. He talks of uncluttering the mind (which all the great sadhu's tell us to do) ...but somehow he says it in a way that seems more achievable to me. And I slowly began to listen to him.

I have always believed that a persons joy should be independent of all external circumstances. A persons happiness should not depend on their spouse, children or other relatives, neither should it depend on ones job profile, salary or vacation time. While a good personal life and a good work life can bring immense joy, we should not be dependent on these things entirely.

He gave an example yesterday where he asked us to remember how many time we had been genuinely happy in the last 24 hours. GOOD QUESTION! Then he said that when we were little children, we were probably always happy and that somebody had to actually do something to us to make us sad. Joy, was a natural state of being. Then by progression, it means that by the time we are 30, we should have been exploding with happiness......but this didn't happen. Why were the equations reversed? Where did our mind change?

We can be happy whenever we want, wherever we want. This isn't other peoples decision...it should be yours. Choose to be happy inspite of the chaos. Just thought I'd share the thought. He has many videos on youtube also, so check them out and see if you feel the same.

I'm planning on taking his "Inner Engineering" course in April, if I can sort out my commuting issues....otherwise I'll have to petition them to hold a workshop near my area.

Getting to the center isn't a problem but coming back home is, since not many buses run directly to my place(University District) from where it's going to be held (i.e. in Factoria) that late at night.

So people in Seattle/Bellevue/Redmond/Renton area, if you are going or if you know somebody who's going, please let me know. I would very much appreciate a lift just to the nearest transit center and I only need it while going back home.

2008-11-25T16:47:00.000-08:00

An old old poem I wrote. Have you ever seen a person who is so fragile that you think they might break at the slightest touch but when you look in their eyes, you see a resilience beyond words?

Something in them touches you to the very core because they are curious but shy, gentle but sturdy, they know it all but appear confused. They are an essence that is fleeting and intriguing. An idea that is contradicting but in sync.

Touch

This is my touch

Like Poison, Like Love

This is my Touch

Delicate vine on a dry wall

Lightly;

Now here now gone

A shiver from tip to toe

Flickering but alive

Like locks of hair across my face

Interfering and invisible

Dandelions caught in the wind,

Butterfly wings, humming bird's kiss

Eager and shy.

Like a sleepy child;

Confused. Now reaching out then curling back

bewitched and scared

angry and forgiving.

Like Poison Like Love

Now Here Now Gone

This is My touch

-----------Megha(09/07/05)

2008-09-02T12:07:00.000-07:00

Thoughts on the occasion of my birthday.

Birth

Born in August
I'm a child of fall
Of a time of change.
A transformation of colours
Pursues me.
Of dying leaves and
Emptying Boughs.
Those crows with beads
On their feet have departed
As the blue sky, like a Mother,
Gathers her tufts of gray,
It turns dark quicker than it did yesterday.
A quiet rain is to follow.
Muted but wild.
With no fight left to finish,
All that remains is to relinquish existence.

In the frigid winter
Hearts drawn on frosted windows
Are snatched away by layers of ice.
A cold breath exhaled
The final sip of water
What survives is long gone.
Asleep somewhere perhaps
To awaken again someday.
Or is Death the true awakening.
This is the darkness that we all come from.
Like a mothers womb
It nourishes us until we are ready
To live again.
Whether it is the interval between plays,
Or the play between intervals,
A tragedy or a comedy,
Whether we like it or not,
Darkness follows the spotlight
And a change of costumes follows us from the moment we are born.
---Megha (08/30/08)

2008-08-23T13:58:00.000-07:00

MOTHERHOOD

This I believe. Motherhood is a big step. It should be by choice and not force or chance.

Many women risk their lives to end a pregnancy that is unintended or dangerous . It is indeed a difficult decision to make. I believe that these women aren't doing it just because it is a convenient thing to do but they are doing it due to pressing life circumstances.
In 2001, there were 6.4 million pregnancies in the US. Of which 3.1 million were unintended. 44% of the unintended pregnancies ended in a live birth while 42% ended in an abortion.[1] That would mean that if abortion were illegal, about 1.3 million women in the US would have no choice in the matter of their own reproductive rights. It would also mean that women and mothers getting illegal abortions would be criminalized and possibly be sent to jail. This website asks anti-abortion activists the question, " If abortion is illegal, what should the penalty be?"

While it is safe to say that most women these days use atleast one method of contraception, some of those methods are not very effective. Suffice it to say that while we do need to improve accessibility and generate awareness about these methods, it does not make much sense to take away the right of a woman to decide whether she is capable of sustaining another life.

A lot of pro-life activists say that abortion is the taking of a life but refuse to realize that no woman would go through the process unless she had absolutely thought about what she was doing.

This I believe. Abortion, for many, is a difficult choice to make. It should however remain.....a choice.

Dorothy Fadiman was taken to the ER because of a botched illegal abortion after her doctor refused to provide her with a safe abortion.

In 1991 she created an award winning trilogy "From the Back-Alleys to the Supreme Court and Beyond" that covers the abortion rights issue beginning from the time when it was illegal through the struggle for legalizing it to the current situation and the fight to keep it legal.
You can watch the important extracts of the trilogy (27 min) or the whole thing (about 2 1/2 hrs) here .
If you are pro-choice this documentary will help deepen your understanding of why the protection of this choice is imortant.
If you are pro-life, please take 30 min to listen to the other side of the story and understand what women go through.

----Megha (08/23/08)

2008-08-15T13:05:00.001-07:00

Vande Mataram!
Happy Independence Day everybody
---Megha

2008-08-13T17:39:00.000-07:00

Children. Why do we have them? I'm talking about biological children and I'm looking beyond the basic instinct to procreate. Is there a reason?
How true are the following statements?
We have kids because they are a source of happiness.
I want a child because I want a little person that is in my own likeness.
It makes me happy to see something I've helped "create" that has my eyes, nose, hair etc.
Because having a child feels like a miracle.

However, are those reasons enough? That is not to say that children do not make us happy, they absolutely do. But how is it that in a materially oriented society where we are so unemotional with everything/body else but when it comes to babies, suddenly we talk about miracles?

Also, are those the REAL reasons? So many couples do it because "they are supposed to". So many people do it for what I think are the wrong reasons. So many people do it even though they might not be able to provide for their expanding families.

One day, during a conversation with a colleague of mine, I told him that I did not want any children of my own. I wanted to adopt. He called me selfish and went on to lecture me about my debt to society and to my parents. In his view, the reason for my existence was because my parents made a choice and so, being indebted to them I must repay this debt by having my very own biological children. Well what about those children that need parents. I really don't feel entitled to bring another soul into this realm unless those that are already here get good homes and families!

"Well, in that case," he said, "you should have one biological child and one adopted child." WTF! Is that really how society thinks?! And what if I want only one child? A lot of people I talked to also believe that the first child should be biological and the second adopted. Seriously, are we discriminating against children that aren't made from our very own DNA?!

In my mind, very biological child I have means a lost opportunity to parent an adopted child....and that according to society is selfish.

Hinduism believes that by reproducing, we allow our ancestors to be reborn in human form and give them another chance at salvation (or whatever we're supposed to be doing). And if we (or more precisely the men) don't do what we're (the men are) supposed to do, then upon dying, our souls enter the realm of "Put" from where there is no release (i.e. the soul is in some deep shit!). This seems more of a scare tactic to me. I wonder if an impotent man or woman was looked down upon back in those times? I wonder if this “you must have children” thing was done only so a man could prove that there was nothing lacking in him. And if there really was something lacking, then there were alternate routes provided to help with the issue.

And everytime I ask a question, I get provided the means to answer it my self. As I was working on the few paragraphs I've written, I got a little dose of baby time from everywhere. The first was a labmate of mine who just a few weeks ago had a baby and brought her in to work so every one could meet her. I noticed the interaction between parents and child (even though she was in VERY deep sleep). The parents were both tired but happy. Recently someone else I know had a baby and of course the parents are happy about it.
Then I got invited by a couple to a barbeque. They had 5 children. The oldest was probably somewhere in the mid to upper teens and the youngest was probably around 6. As a big family there was lots of work to do but everyone was lending a hand. It was a relaxed and happy atmosphere. Were any of those children adopted? I don't know, but I don't think so. Would they be just as happy if the children weren’t their own? I’d say you’d have to be a really narrow minded and small hearted person incapable of true love to not be happy.

Why this reluctance with giving a child the love and affection it needs? Why label an orphan as someone else’s mistake and hence not our responsibility? Are we so shallow that we somehow think that our children are superior because they are our own flesh and blood? Why do so many people believe that if you adopt a child, then there is something "wrong" with you? Are we using our children to prove something?

Shame on us for submitting to the ridiculousness of society.
----Megha

2008-07-01T11:40:00.000-07:00

Started this over a week ago. Added some stuff last week and then finished it on a flight to Los Angeles. My brother got married to a beautiful person. I wish them fulfilment out of life and beyond and each other.
And although this poem had nothing to do with them since it was triggered by completely different circumstances... I dedicate the last two lines to them

Questioning Faith

Back to square one
But it feels like
The end back
Where we started
It's the beginning of the circle
Except
It becomes
Smaller.. each time

So hard to live
In the moment
When it lays
Waste
In the Past and Future
I see
The broken person

The fury and tears
And the frustration
With Love

Anger at insensitivity
And selfishness
One sin sent to right
another

I think
I am
Better
Alone
Not unlike God

But unable to give
And forgive

I think
I have
Lived
Much in love

But as tears go unseen
My love
I your hands
My heart unheard
Dies a silent Death

That brings us to
The End
Where Love
Begins

Outside of it
We all but
Die
So what glory is there
In breaking tethers
When Love is
All we are.

----Megha (06/26/08)

2008-05-01T18:03:00.000-07:00

The two strongest negative feelings we as humans have are of anger and betrayal. I hated these and so chose to not feel them and in the process cut out all emotions from my mind. There was no other way. And so I never loved. For a long long time. Not even once. To open my heart to love meant to open it to anger, hate and jealousy also. So I built a wall around it and left it there. But my heart, it wished to be alive.

Wishing For a Heart

I’m cold. Shivering.
Wishing for a heart.
Wishing that with all that I’ve given, that I could give some more.
Wishing for once that I would not think.
That for once this blade that cut me would make me bleed.
This skin that was red and white that trembled and burned, yet never bled.
Wishing the fragrance in my hair that was stolen be stolen again.
Like felines one agile the other powerful, predators on the prowl,
Wishing that they might be prey to one another again.
Silent; this cold heart, yet it screams.
This mind, unthinking, yet calculating.
What trap have I set for myself?
That the more I free myself, the deeper it ensnares me.
And still…..I wish.
For a heart.

--------Megha(October 2005)

When I say "wishing for a heart" I don't mean for another persons love, but rather I wish to have a heart myself. Hope it makes sense.

2008-04-22T12:59:00.000-07:00

I wanted to write something on my childhood. It was spent with very few toys. The only toy I really had ( and infact still have) was a pink bear. As a solitary kind of kid. Even though I had a tonne of friends, I loved to spend time alone. Just looking at stuff. I think my parents preferred that I spend time outside instead of inside. And they never got angry if I came home covered in mud as long as I had fun.
I spent a lot of time on trees. The unwritten rule between my brother and I was that if there was a tree, we had to climb it. He was and still is better at it than I am...although getting down is a whole another issue. Another rule was that if the tree bore fruit (mangoes, guavas, jackfruit) then they had to be stolen. I was never allowed to accompany him to these expeditions since they usually occurred at 4 or 5 AM. He never got caught!!! Although I think he has been chased but never identified. If I had a house with a yard with trees, I would absolutely allow the neighbourhood kids to steal the fruit...it's a part of childhood. I might even fake chase them. :-)
I also spent a lot of time with insects; caterpillars, ants, butterflies, dragonflies, spider. We hung out with scorpions and snakes even, although not in very close proximity. Lots of different kinds of birds, squirrels, mongooses were common. Yeah it was wild! Occasionally I'd dig out some dirt in the backyard and wet it with enough water to make it mouldable like clay and make stuff out of it. Of course I had to break it down and clean up the mess..but playdoh wasn't on my list of things to buy. And no , I didn't get sick. I think it helped my immunity.
And just as soon as it started, it was all gone. Sigh! I wish I was a child again.

Easily Distracted

The dancing wind,
Turning everything
Inside-out, Upside-down
My umbrella and the sound of rain
Wet, drenched
To the soul infused
And on a branch perched
A king on a throne

Caterpillar walking, my finger tickled
Spiders weaving webs, waiting, sparkling
Ants working, a string, single-minded
Of black or red
Leaves burning, falling, burning
The feel of mud on little hands
And the scent of burnt grass

Running after the remains
Of a dandelion,
Mesmerized
By hovering humming birds
Or dazzling dragonflies
Spellbound by butterflies
A pebble in a well

Squirrels chased or a cat stalked
Up in the branches
With the sooty crow we flew
A breath taken, A veil dropped
A heartbeat in silence

The quiet sounds we heard as children
The symphony.
It ends before it even starts
Bewitched by the world
Above and below
Engrossed.
Distracted
By Childhood

2008-04-16T11:25:00.000-07:00

Prayer

Every time we pray, we ask. For strength or happiness or health or success. Sometimes our asking is directed toward an idol in front of us. We go into a temple or church and kneel and bow our heads. For we feel that whatever this idol symbolizes, controls things that are out of our very human control.
We give our god a form by looking at him/her through messengers or deities that imbibe the powers that we do not ( or we think we do not) hold so that he/she becomes more comprehensible to our limited(or so we think) intellect!
And then some of us decide that if we can't even understand what god is, we shouldn't assign a form to that god. The form only gets in they way of what we really want. I agree with that

But then what do we want from life in the end? Really. How long will our material acquisitions keep us happy? And aren't we perhaps being greedy by continuously asking? And when our wishes are fulfilled, how do we give back to god? Burn incense, donate our time or money to charitable causes?
Maybe god sees it as a good thing to do, but has anyone asked god what he/she really wants?
I mean supposedly there is an entire universe to take care of, does he/she need any help with that besides our little charitable attempts?
Hindu's believe that the divine is responsible for creation, sustenance and destruction. It's a cycle that gets repeated over and over again. And the whole point of that is...? God knows...I sure don't!
I guess we are really giving a hand with the destruction part for now though.

All I know is that I was born and now I have to live until I die. If some good comes out of my life...that's good. And if I die uncared for or unloved or unrecognised...that's just fine.
Will I be happy? I think so
Does it really matter? No
Will any one really care? Not really besides me!
Feel free to share your opinion.
In the meanwhile here is a Sikh prayer (with translation)that I really really really like, because it doesn't ask for anything. These are the opening lines to the Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji.
In my mind they are beautiful and no matter how many times I repeat it, when I get to the end, I want to repeat it again and again and again (sometimes my brain is like a gramophone stuck on a record). If you're wondering whether I'm Sikh, I'm not and it doesn't matter. Just like idols can get in the way of what is really important, many times the same is true of religion.

Mool Mantar

Ik Onkaar

There is only one God

Sat Naam

His Name is Truth

Karta Purkh

He is the Creator

Nir Bhau

He is without fear

Nir Vair

He is without hate

Akaal Moorat

He is beyond time (Immortal)

Ajooni

He is beyond birth and death

Saibhang

He is self-existent

Gur Parsaad

He is realised by the Guru's grace.

Jap

Recite this prayer

Aad Sach

He existed in the beginning and was the Truth

Jugad Sach

He has been existing through the ages as the Truth

Haibhi Sach

Even now he Is . The truth

Nanak ho se bhi sach

Nanak says that this Truth shall forever be.

Sochai soch na hovayi je sochi lakhvaar.

Cleansing the body cannot make the mind clean.

Chupai chup na hovayi je laye rahaa livtaar.

The mind cannot be silenced by remaining silence continuously.

Bhukheya bhukh na utari je banna puriya bhaar.

Greed cannot be ended by being given an abundance of wealth.

Sehas syanpaa lakh hohe ta ik na chalai naal.

Even if ones cleverness was to become infinite, this intelligence and shrewdness is not the way to God.

Kiv sacheyara hoyiyai kiv koode tuttai paal.

How can one be true and pure enough to be on the path to God?

Hukam rajaee challnaa Nanak likheya naal.

By leading life according to God's will.

PS: I've added a link to YouTube for the song from the movie Rang de Basanti. If you missed it in the text, here it is again

2008-04-02T13:48:00.000-07:00

This little poem feels more like prose to me. It just doesn't feel good enough to me. But I've been working on it since September 2005. I give up. This is it and I'm not really happy with it.

Sometimes

Sometimes. It hurts.
Like plucking a flower or
Trapping a butterfly.
Words come before thought
To look at a crowd and see no smile.
To see people laugh
only so they don't cry
When people speak
Only to feel alive

A friendly hand seems a trap
Every good deed only an opportunity
It hurts.
When friendship is nurtured by the material
And love is guided by the cynical.
When it feels selfish to give
Or impolite to help.

Scaling mountains for happiness
But never content.
Arrogant, we build our lives
Like castles in the air.
Ignorant enough to believe
They will hold
Through all Time.
But to know that this will not last
That the spirit is caught
In so much that shall be lost
But that glorious loss is the goal.
It hurts
Sometimes that we will never understand.
----Megha (09/25/05)

2008-03-25T15:19:00.000-07:00

This, once again was on my old blog on yahoo:

"Gratitude"
The sweetest thing anyone ever said to me was,”Be careful. You are a nice person and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” (And no, he wasn't drunk; at least not yet.)

Sitting here, alone in my apartment, jazz streaming through my windows from the club situated a block away, I wonder. In a society where almost every lavish word feels hollow and is usually just payback for assistance rendered what does it take to earn such a complement? Something so sincere and pure and without expectation. So giving in its nature. It touched me.

Someone thinks I’m nice. I am flattered.

NO. no.

I’m grateful

Grateful, that in your company I've learned much; that you chose to share your joys and sorrows and were more than willing to listen to mine; and that indeed though we might be people of few words, that we still understand. For all your help, I’m grateful.

And yes, for the priceless advice you have always given me; dear friend like the one above, I shall forever be grateful.

----------Megha
I'm happy today because I have a friend

Well that was two and a half years ago. And that friend (when he wasn't getting on my nerves) taught me a lot more since then. Then he graduated and got his PhD, then he did an awesome job teaching an O Chem class. In the meanwhile he got a postdoc...and today he left. We hugged, I cried. I usually don't cry at goodbyes. He means that much (inspite of being irritating :-))

2008-03-20T18:03:00.000-07:00

My overworked head has too many words in it. And playing with words has kept me occupied through many a boring times. Funnily the only time I ever get bored is if I have to talk.
Any way so I came up with some thing...I feel like it's still incomplete, but I started it 2 weeks ago and 4 lines in, I had nothing more to say. Today I stumbled over those lines in my forgotten notes somewhere and added a few more lines...and I don't think I'm done. Yet I'm done with it for now.
That's why I'm calling it infinity, because I'm not sure which verse it should start with and where it should end..and if it should end at all

Here goes:

Infinity

Am I trapped in the whims of the stars?
Between thin lines on palms am I?
A child of the earth born to live
Bound by dates and numbers,
Mere mortal am I?
Timeless life has no time for me then?
What meaning has it for my troubles or joys?

In deep waters,
What storm will brew
If this droplet seeks
Becomes a cloud?
The sea will come and go in waves.
And with its ebbs and flows,
We add some and we take some
Or we think we do
And still it remains as is, as was
And as ever will be.

If I was born
Out of eternity
Then was I ever really born?
And when was it that I lived?
Before or after infinity?
And when I was
An animal perhaps...where then were
The lines on my palms?
And when the stars
Were not born yet
Whose whims made my destiny?
What makes me...me
If I am or if I ever was?
---Megha (03/20/08)

2008-03-18T11:22:00.000-07:00

Gazals

I LOVE gazals. The first time I was really intrigued by a gazal was when I heard Jagjit Singh sing "Kal chaudhavin ki raat thi". I was struck by the sheer helplessness of the writer with respect to the beauty of his beloved. Of course what followed was listening to my dad's collection of tapes by the usual Gulam Ali and Mehdi Hassan.
Sung in the more popular style with a chorus that is repeated after every couplet to keep the audience going and the couplets sung a tad faster than normal and the language tended to be more hindi than urdu.

Then one day my father put on a CD that I think he bought. The artiste was Begum Akhtar. I was stunned. What was she doing? She hardly had a chorus to repeat and wait she took her time with the verses. She knew her power lay in the delivery of the essential couplet and she NEVER rushed through. What drew me in further was that I couldn't understand a lot of the language she used.
Urdu sounds sooooo beautiful, especially when you don't understand it. Makes you want to say words like, uzr, ibtela or ahzaan.

Anyway so finally a few days ago I decided that it was time I understood 100% of what the Begum was trying to say to me. One of my favourite gazals sung by her is called "Unki berukhi mein bhi" . So I hit the urdu-english dictionary to figure what was going on. Heres what I found

उनकी बेरुखी में भी-(Ameer)

उन कि बेरुखी में भी, इल्तेफात शामिल है
आज कल मेरी हालत, देखने के काबिल है

Even in his indifference, there is mercy (Iltefaat actually also means kindness and friendship, so I'm not sure but I think the word mercy fits best here)
My situation these days is worth seeing

क़त्ल हो तो मेरा सा, मौत हो तो मेरी सी
मेरे सोग्वारों में, आज मीरा कातिल है

If one were to be murdered it should be like me, if one should die it should be like me
For amongst my mourners sits my murderer

मुज्तिर्ब हैं मौजें क्यूं, उठ रहे हैं तूफ़ान क्यों
क्या किसी सफीनी को, आरजू -- ऐ - साहिल है

Why are the waves (ecstasy) impatient? Why are storms brewing?
Is there a boat out there that desires the shore?

सिर्फ़ राह्ज़ंही से, क्यूँ अमीर * शिकवा हो
मंजिलों की राहों में राह्बर भी शामिल है

Why is Ameer- (the poet) complaining about the robbery during his travels
When in the routes to the destination the guide is also involved?

If you get a chance listen to it here

PS : This stuff doesn't translate very well into english
PPS: WTF do all my "इ's" appear after the consonant they are supposed to be attached to.

2008-03-10T15:04:00.000-07:00

I had this on my old blog. I can't believe I didn't put it up here. I had been in the US for about 5 months when I wrote this. Not homesick, but as a daddy's girl, I had just realized how much I loved my mom. As I flew out of the nest, I never once looked back. Didn't see her anxious face. But many months later, this little ode came quite naturally.

Sleep Content: -----For my mother-----

These starry nights, are they the same that shine at home.
Tell me they twinkle the same and sing the same lullaby I hear each night.
Tell me Ma, it is the sweet music you whisper to them that rocks me in its soft melody.
Gently each night as I look up at this space and ask the Moon of its travels that day,
It tells me it has seen the place where I was born
And that it knows of the people I love
Tell me Ma that someday soon,
I will gaze at these same stars
And hear that old lullaby
My head in your lap
As I sleeep content
After many a dreamless night
--------Megha (02/05/06)

2008-03-05T14:04:00.000-08:00

The stuff of dreams

I used to dream that I was flying. I'd take off down the secluded street that started at the end of the driveway of the house that I associate with my childhood. I could fly only as long as I believed in it and if there was even a sliver of doubt, I'd fall and break a few bones. Also for some reason I believed that I could only fly if I was a kid, the day I grew up, I would lose that power. So I kept trying to practice flying..in my dreams. Soaring above the trees feeling the high of laving gravity behind and occasionally being skeptical about flying and (hence) dropping from the sky but the trees underneath me always caught my fall.

It taught me belief. I know it's weird, but I apply it to my everyday work i.e. doing reactions. No skepticism allowed not even in my dreams about work! Mostly it works (but comes with a don't try this at home caveat). I mean things don't work just because you believe them...right?
Working in a chemistry lab has taught me however that there exists something which is the equivalent of "bad juju" called the lab gnomes or lab-mates peeing in your reaction problem ( this would of course be very difficult for a woman to do!).
And then there is nothing worse than believing in something all the time and then loosing that belief at a critical point.

After I was grown up a little, my flying dreams continued...I was however taking off in arizona near the canyons. I'd take off with great strength and be soaring and then I'd look underneath me (bad idea since I'm scared of heights) and realize I was over the canyon and loose all faith instantly with no trees underneath!
Fortunately dreams can be woken up from. It's what I'm hoping for with life.
---Megha (03/05/08)
P.S.: Maybe this says something

2008-02-29T18:39:00.000-08:00

Destiny

The ink is red
In destiny's book
It tells us things
And we'd rather not look

Deeds to be done
Words to be said
Wonder if they will be
Just as we dread

We gain to lose
When we could lose to gain
So put our heads on ice
Let go of this vise
And this grip of belief

Will we love our Life
When She chooses to desert us
Standing at the threshold
She looks a little cautious

With all our trappings and baggage
She strips from us our pride
And she turns to the other side
And if we accept and accede
Bow down and vanish already
These things we fear
Wouldn't seem so dreary

----Megha (02/29/08)

2008-02-20T12:45:00.000-08:00

I hate it when it takes me forever to finish a poem. I never stop thinking about it. The words keep turning in my head back and forth adjectives mixed up and I'm never sure where I'm going or when it will end. Many times I start on one topic and the words seem to take a life of their own and weave something quite different. I leaves me...dissatisfied, to say the least. The epiphany of having found something or learnt an important concept about life ( or what ever it is I'm trying to learn about), it never comes.
Ironically this is when my brain is thinking and my heart has given up.

Mindful?

Easy, Unfeeling, Dead,
Mindless
Without teacher or guide
Awareness is rare.
Yet, when I ask
I am answered and I receive
To open my heart
Be fearless
Know compassion
Oh but to keep from hurt also
Watch as it swells
In its joys and delights
And shrivels in anger and misery
How quickly this wretched mind
It barges in
And tramples what little
In my garden grew

Must this ship be tossed and turned
With every beat it begs be returned
Wishes this mind withdrew
Ashore perhaps
or into the profound and tranquil blue
----Megha (02/20/08)

2008-02-06T12:52:00.001-08:00

I feel like a poem named "Perhaps" sounds so cliche'd. But I could not think of a better word. Also, I feel like I've heard some of the lines before. But I might just be dreaming.

So Perhaps
Perhaps it is not love I know.
For on a bed of pins,
My wounded heart you stow.
Perhaps it is not meant to be.
But I believe,
Love (Man) is beyond destiny.

So in spite of all that was,
In our own separate lives,
Separate paths we chose

So perhaps we will be lovers
Or perhaps be friends.
And perhaps, I will see you someday again.
Or maybe I will walk
Away from you today
And this will be the beginning of the end
----Megha (02/05/08)

2008-02-01T13:50:00.000-08:00

For sorrow that lies beyond tears.

Still
I cry not for your father or brothers
For they still have your life in them
I cry in hope that you may be fulfilled.
Be happy.

Even though I may not be perfect,
Here, hold my heart and feel content

I know that souls live their own life paths.
And there is nothing I can do about yours now.
But I wish I had tried. I wish I had known.
Hold my heart now in your cold hands and
In the stillness feel the warmth.
----Megha (02/01/08)

2008-01-30T19:03:00.000-08:00

I often wonder why most all my poems are about me. I feel selfish for thinking only about myself. But then I think...there is nothing I can write about better. When a poet writes about anything, are they not writing about how they feel. I rarely write in the second person.
Maybe because I try and feel what the other feels and write it as if I was the object on whom the life experiment was being performed....I think it fulfills me to feel another persons experience. And so I write as if that person was me...although I write a lot about myself also.

Explaining poems is on the list of my non-fun things. But I should because it makes me think more and maybe better the writing. So here goes.
Being a person with an unassuming and contented personality can have its cons. One of them is that people often think that you are not driven or dedicated or passionate about anything.
But such people often have very deep convictions about life. One of them is that they do not need to show off their love or drive for something in order to be successful. Another is that they find happiness in the more subtle realms of life....such as just being.
What good are the wants of life that drive other people (into the frenzy of life) anyway?
These are people with the blue flame....the people that look beyond life and at times its pettyness and seek to fulfill a greater vision. The person in this little poem is trying hard to understand this flame and fulfill it while it rages inside. The irony being: "But it asks for nothing, and I cannot give"

My fire: Why are you happy?

Must I answer? …..Because I am.

No, why? Truly?

......I have no answer.

Why?

Must I reason?

I am where I want to be

Why is it here that you and to be?

It is here that I want to breathe.

But… it is not what I want to be

The fire has fizzled and burned out then?

I want to be….nothing.

Of no consequence

With no reason, no cause

No beginning or end

Empty.

Is what I want to be.

Empty is where I want to be.

My fire, it has not burned out.

It lies there waiting to rage.

It lies in my nothing, in my empty shell

My blue flame, it stings and mocks me.

Because it asks for nothing.

And I cannot give.

It asks for something I may not achieve.

For I have tried but it is not enough.

And so I lay as if I am content.

As if my passion is lost and forgotten.

I am happy. I must be

-----Megha

2008-01-22T19:15:00.000-08:00

This is when I fought with myself. I don't know much about love. And in May of 2006..I was probably absolutely puzzled by it. It pulled me in one direction when I wanted to go in another equally important direction. The dance in the end at that point was a wish to be free of this tug-o-war and to go in the second direction that I had longed for all my life. In hind sight, I believe that when truth cuts the tether that I will not struggle between the two things, instead I will see them as one and it will be like a delicate dance of the two. Here's my fight and dance.

Dance

Love is for the strong hearted and feeble minded.
And as my heart takes flight,
This miserable mind stays strong.

I cry
because I pity myself.
Not because I see
that love is better but because
I must.

Not because I believe
That I should be happy
to Live, but because
I must.

I cry,
Trapped in the conventionality of
Life
I’m expected to
Live.

I cry
Trapped but actually free
I can pack my follies
and walk out with nothing.
Cry
because I know I will not
…….not yet…not yet
I’m still bound
With each passing day
I entangle myself even more.
Some day
Truth
Will cut this tether.
It will pull the strings
Of my heart
And I will dance with abandon.

-------Megha (05/20/06)

2008-01-17T18:40:00.000-08:00

I realized that quite a few of my poems remain in the lala land of yahoo 360. I'm going to start publishing them here.
Starting with my first poem that I actually felt like sharing with others. :)

Run Free

Run away,
From East to West,
Run towards the setting Sun
Catch it before it drowns into the ocean
Colour yourself in hues of blue and gold.
Watch, as the Sun dips itself into the inkpot of the ocean
And writes our fate in red

Defy fate, rewrite your destiny
Reach tomorrow before the light does
Believe you can and you will.

Stop Time
Bring Past and Future to the Present

Run….Run Away
Become Free from the clutches
Of Day and Night
Free from the circle of Life and Death
Independent of your destiny
Free to do as your Soul desires
Free to transcend above space and time
Free…

---Megha

2007-10-09T08:12:00.000-07:00

One is Not Enough

One is not enough
For some reason makes it worse.
Maybe two, maybe ten
Maybe it’ll deaden my senses
I still want to stay drunk
I want to stay high
I just don’t want to cry

One just makes it bad.
Everything I keep sealed
Comes flooding out.
Need to stop feeling what I feel
Will it kill everything if I do?
Will it kill me if I don’t?

How far will I go?
Just to be tied?
Just to be loved?
How will I pull through?
Or do I want to?

Just don’t want
Anymore.

-----Megha (10/08/07)

2007-09-22T00:34:00.000-07:00

Lost

Is it not silly,
To cry over things
That do not last?
Like Life.
Like Love.

Is it, that we live
Or are we lived?
What we hold on to
Always lost.
Like Years.
Like Tears.

It's not depressing.
It's just meant
To be that way.
What do we earn
From our struggles?
What we treasure,
In the end
Must give.

Why? Why cry?
It's a dream
Like the morning fog.
It burns away
With approaching dawn.

"Is there a meaning,
to all this?"
Left unanswered

But...
Why pull at my strings
And make music that must die.
Why live,
Just because I am alive

-----Megha (09/22/07)

2007-02-12T12:17:00.000-08:00

Little Girls

It's 47 F , the wind is blowing so it's chilly. I'm on the phone walking to work asking someone if they are happy.
See a young woman with dark curly hair standing with her back to a wall. A little girl on the wall 3 years old waiting for an unusual ride. I watch as her mother, with her back still to the wall bends forward and little bundle of joy gets on her back, balancing herself on her tummy while mommy tries to secure her by tying a red shawl around both of them.
Big mysterious eyes on a small face lock on to mine as I walk by...unruly locks of hair sway in the wind as she enjoys her little balancing act...maybe it tickles her tummy;maybe she anticipates a joyride; maybe she just loves life. I smile at her, she smiles back not taking her eyes off of me. I walk a few steps past them and turn around...shes still looking at me; smiling.
Being happy is so simple...I may be prejudiced, but I think little girls know this better than little boys. :-)
They secretly know about Maya that veils the Truth....it shows in their eyes that cut through all Illusion and show contentment and joy that is unaffected by circumstance.
They know how the spiritual world is actually connected to the sensible world.
They know that we very easily forget this as we grow up and begin to believe that only the sensible world is real. That only circumstance(a sensible concept) can make us happy(a spiritual concept).
We forget that the sensible world is a manifestation of the spiritual world and therefore an illusion....Maya.
Its all that keeps us from giving our most genuine smile to strangers.
But little girls know...they really do!
---Megha

2007-02-04T17:03:00.000-08:00

Waiting for the Bus

“I wonder where the bus is?” she said.

“It’ll be here soon.”

“I’m wearing four layers and mittens and I’m cold. Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m okay.”

“Do you know where I can turn in an ID card? My friend found it and it has a UPASS sticker on it, so he gave it to me and asked me to use it. I don’t want to use it you know. Maybe this person needs it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s got a new card by now. It won’t hurt anyone if you use it.”

“But I don’t want to use something that doesn’t belong to me you know. It’s not right. Can I turn it in at Oodegard Library?”

“If you know where that is, I’m sure you can.”

“I’ve been to Oodegard. My friend and I sneaked in after hours. You actually aren’t supposed to do that, you have to have an ID to do it. But we needed a place to stay for the night. So we stayed there and slept on the floor once it became empty. It got really hot though. Never did it again. Have you been to Oodegard?”

“Yes, but never at night”

“I’m tired and sleepy and cold. I just want a place to sleep. Look at those people; I’m sure they have a place to go to at night. You probably have a place to go to at night.”

I smile politely and I say in my head “I do.”

“I’m sorry. Am I annoying you? I’m just upset. I must sound like I’m just rambling on and on.”

“It’s alright. I understand. It is cold. It is late. You probably don’t want to be at a bus stop right now.”

I thought…..”one talks when one cannot be at peace within themselves”

“Yeah. I’m 21 by the way and I’m homeless. They drew me out of the shelter you know. Now I have to go to down town. But it’s late and I should be in bed right now. That kid should be sleeping!! What are his parents thinking by taking him out at night?!”

It was 9:45 pm.

“Have you ever been in a shelter?”

I shake my head.

“You’ve never been homeless? Ever volunteered at one?”

Shake. “I’m not from here and haven’t been here long enough to do that.”

“Where are you from?”

“India”

“Don’t women have to cover their faces there?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But women in rural areas, villages, often do. I don’t. Is there a homeless shelter around here? Where are you coming from?”

“There is one at the Episcopal Church. But they have so many people come in that they have a draw for who wont be allowed to stay for the night. It’s a nice place and I like it. But they kicked me out. It’s happened 3 times this month. Now I have to go down town to this special women’s shelter. I know they will take me but it’s so late.”

“My friend complains about being homeless all the time. I don’t like that. If you don’t like it then do something about it. Don’t just sit there and complain.”

The bus comes along we get on it. I sit next to someone so that I don’t have to talk to her. I didn’t ask her if she was trying to do something about being homeless…or did she just rely on social security money and homeless shelters to get her by. It seemed to me that she was much too disturbed and I would not be much help.

21 and homeless. I couldn’t see dreams in her eyes….only needs….the need to be warm and sleep.

She was fed, clothed, and sheltered for the night, fulfilled at the very basic level maybe…but left with a mind starved of the will to fight. Bereft of desire to be more. Maybe one needs to be only a little more than human to be happy.

What a pity! If I had access to a library; provided I had eaten and was rested and not on drugs, would I not be fascinated by atleast one of those books?

At 21, most of us with an education were in college and looked forward to doing something with a newly acquired degree. I wonder what sapped her of the drive to live a fulfilling life. And I don’t mean that she should have a bottomless bank account and a mansion in Mercer Island.

The fact is that this is her life. She gets one chance to live it. Does she really want to spend it on the street waiting for a bus to pick her up?

“But if you in your pain call birth an affliction and the support of the flesh a curse written upon your brow, then I answer that naught but the sweat of your brow shall wash away that which is written.”

---Megha

2007-01-12T14:14:00.000-08:00

"Spirit"

These tears will not fall

This spirit will not buckle

blade of grass braving a storm

Inconsequential…. this little life

a design billions of years old….

why would I care for a weeping heart

one day I will die...wont matter if I cried

a leaf falling off a tree…don’t matter.. coz its free

don’t crave for better things

or a different life…

Won’t fight myself…

This one chance I have, I give, I love

----Megha

2007-01-11T19:21:00.000-08:00

Wow its been more than 3 months since I've written ANYTHING on my blog....thats not to say that i havent been writing....it mostly wasnt polished enough or yeah whatever

"Rebellion"

Can't be tied down
Can't just walk around
Hands behind my back
Swimming through quicksand
Chains on my feet
Sometimes it hurts to be me

Want to start running
Walk on water and take off
Just dont want to belong
Dont want your time on me
Cant see where my heart is
Or dont like what my eyes are seeing

I'm not a pretty flame
Here to light you up
I won't just burn and die
But I'm going out soon
Bursting into a blaze
Making sun and moon

Dont amuse yourself
Feel the flutter with me
Dare to take wing
Touch me...come touch me....burn with me
----Megha

2006-10-05T20:43:00.000-07:00

For those of you who care to read my sporadically updated blog on yahoo, Im moving to blogspot. Hope to write something soon. For those of you who just happened to stumble on this blog, you can read my old posts on my yahoo page:
Wanderings of an Uncertain Mind

Maybe I'll transfer all my posts to this one site...maybe I'll get lazy and wont...we'll see
Megha