A Letter from God

Dear Traveler,

Do you wonder where you are headed, where you will end up? I sense you are afraid that you don’t know your purpose and worse, that you feel you may not even have any. Why your destination does not seem obvious when those around you seem to have it all figured out? Or have they?

You are worried that what you do not know far exceeds what you do know? That is only the first step to be a seeker. But wait, you have no need to be a seeker. Simply allow yourself to be found. “How?” I hear you ask. Come rest awhile, sit beside me. Advice is always free, mistakes may be costly, but only if they don’t teach you anything.

See the road before you? Keep your eye on the path and there is no need to focus on any destination. Destinations keep changing, indeed some journeys have no end. All you got to do is keep walking on and look around you appreciatively. Be not in a hurry, never ever hurt or distress others. This is, in fact, the easy part. The more difficult task is not to distress or hurt your own self. Remember you are your harshest critic.

What you gather along the way, be mindful of the fact that it is not you. Never confuse your experiences, thoughts and memories for yourself. As you walk all will be shed in good time, no reason to mourn for nothing is truly lost. How will you be found if you are well underneath all these layers?

And sometimes you should stop and dance like Shiva, the Lord of Dance. Let the entire creation shake in your own rhythm. When you sing let it be a meaningful and uninhibited Hallelujah. A time will come when you will need to resist. Then do so with the courage and intention of Hussain*. Fight reluctantly, only after all other means have failed but without fear, stand up for justice and against oppression. Though you are merely a grain in the bigger picture, you are a unique grain with an ability to transform the entire scene.

Moving every step forward, let my fragrance infuse into your very being but take care not to allow religion to taint you or instill fear. Blemished beliefs are the birthplace of bias and bigotry. Devotion could lie in serving others, words of prayer may be recited instinctively rather than habitually. Don’t merely pray, you have to become your prayer.

Take the help of your ego to propel you further. Yes you heard right, it’s not such a bad thing, use your ego. It is helpful in boosting your confidence especially with the doubters and the envious all around you. But then, you should also know when to discard it. Don’t permit the ego to feed upon you, replace it at once with dignity. Believe in yourself and bow before no one.

We still got a way to go, never look back except to check if you have left your footprints behind. Indelible and eternal they will become if you have been able to create something on your journey. Creativity equates you with me like nothing else, after all I am the ultimate Creator am I not?

It’s not a bad idea if you peek towards the future, don’t worry if you see nothing. Carry a dream, or even two, there is no baggage allowance limit on our journey 🙂 Though they may be fragile, dreams are easy to rebuild. All it requires is imagination… and a touch of hope, such a great companion to travel with.

And so I must ask you a question. Did you notice that though your intention was that you should be found, you never actually let it guide your way? Here’s the thing…the more you intend, the less likely it is to happen. Sometimes I love to have a laugh at your expense. So keep your plans a secret from me and we will get along just fine!

I have finally found you, my dear companion. This “God” gets lonely sometimes with everyone constantly seeking and fighting and humbling themselves (and too right, I see through their pretentiousness). All I ever wanted was for you to allow me to find you, bare and unlayered.

With much love,

You

***

*Imam Hussain – Prophet Muhammad’s grandson who sacrificed his life fighting injustice and oppression.

Re-posting this letter in full. It was originally written for the Walking with Intention series where I was encouraged by Sreejit to step out of my comfort zone of poetry and write in essay form.

Wallowing

Another interesting assignment from my poetry workshop
The voice is a wall that’s watching you. Yes, a wall!
The first poem should be during the day, the revised one at night
Both poems to retain the same word count

Wallowing

Indeed, ears we have

Alas! No tongue
To tell her of my longing

For those footsteps at dawn
Scent of sleep yet to dissipate
As she craves her first cup

Whirr of these curtain runners
Light pours within, better late…
She glides past me like breath
Which can only be felt, not touched
My eyes strain, though nothing new left to see

***

Resist the night, dark is lonely
Steady breath, stillness of a meditative mind
Frustration of playing the same notes over
How pleasing the sound, if only she knew
Conversations on #JKL, pink fleecy blanket

Unfinished poetry fills pages
Absent-minded, she chews a Pelikan pen
Unnoticed stands the observer

A final cup, before sleep takes her away
Secrets safe with me

The mute!

***

(#JKL refers to a TV talk show)

The subject matter of this poem was frustrating
My notebook bore the brunt of it :(
I never stared so hard at a wall in my life
More unnerving was the realisation that the wall was also looking at me :o

Observe the structure
Poems had to be written in a modified Fibonacci sequence
The first poem 1 line, 2 lines, 3 lines, 5 lines
For the second poem, the shape had to be inverted
5 lines, 3 lines, 2 lines, 1 line

I have mostly written freehand, unruly poetry
Being introduced to the concepts of structure is utterly fascinating
When we observe a discipline, something very different from what you intend emerges
So glad I made the effort of participating in the workshop

The time I decided to share my writing, I had a mere handful of poems
And no idea how I was ever going to fill up the blog
Today, I am inching so close to 400 posts!
I have learnt from this amazing 4 1/2 year journey – Just take the first step…

Red Stilettos, and a Pair of Shoes

high-heeled-shoes-285664The following poem and its revised version are inspired by my Poetry workshop.

The speaker in the poem is a shoe and it is written by connecting unlikely items.

This is a change from serious themes I tend to take on. So much fun to write about something ordinary and make it seem extraordinary or to be precise, extra ordinary. So here is…

Red Stilettos, and a Pair of Shoes

Ashamed, neglected, undusted
Squelching on morning’s marmalade
Sticky, bitter, eager
Uncollected mail, dejected heap
Red stilettos, sighs and goodbyes
Candle wax, insignia on wooden tiles
The piggy bank, hollow, implores
Chipped vinyl, forgotten tunes
Compass, lost and
A journey has just begun
How much…
How much have we left behind?

***

forgotten were those chipped stilettos that implored upon
the vinyl floor that morning, dejected with goodbyes
aroma of a bitter brew, neglected hollow tunes

red map with kingly insignia lay beneath undusted tiles
pointed to an unashamed compass, eagerly led
the pair of us to a heap of uncollected inheritance

***

image credit

the Unsaid

the unsaid prayer in the whisper of dawn weighs you down
like the unforgiven sin that suffocates your heart
and the unmeant praise to benefit your cause
all those unkept promises
. . . pave your way to hell

till you hear that unplayed music
touched by the unfelt sadness
each uncried tear finally pours out
. . . drop by drop

you prostrate gratefully
into the prayer that was once
. . . left unsaid

***

This poem was a request to write about AnKahi , the Unsaid
Such beautiful inspiration

The Lady Of Light

Though we identify light as revealing
The Divine’s noor* acts as a veil, to protect her
Adorned by surahs**, expressions of the revelation
Only she could counter humiliation with even more dignity
The confluence for defined and unperceived truths
Her presence was a mere tip of a mystical iceberg
A mother, an exceptional lineage

Would I be granted
Just the dust of patience she possessed
And a flicker of her fortitude toward injustice

She remains a name unfamiliar, yet sanctioned
She remains the Lady of Light, az-Zahra

***

Respectfully dedicated to Lady Fatima, the beloved daughter 
of Prophet Muhammad and the adored wife of Imam Ali

this poem was created upon request
something I am usually not able to do
and I am gratified by the outcome
and…
today is my mother’s 75th birthday

* Noor – Light
** Surah – chapter of the Quran

Disequilibrium – The Price of Civilization

I am re-posting my poem Disequilibrium as a response to Dungeon Prompt the price of civilization 

Disequilibrium

Straightened back, learnt to walk on two
Reached for the highest fruit
Tamed fire, sharpened your mind
Instinct on mute

Trekked over lands, navigated waters
Cruised through the air
There would have been plenty, all to live in affinity
Paradise to share

What happened
Do you recall?

Necessities are scarce, frivolities up for grab
More is never enough
False sympathy for that scrawny child
Suckling out of habit
Gather for a noble cause, exchange a morsel of words
Life carries on

Corrupting the wealth of your mother
Looking to abandon her for another
To
Rebuild
Resettle
Ravage

You presume the silence of nature to be subjugation
Have you never witnessed a woman scorned?

Where will you go?
Her blueprint touches all creation
Disequilibrium interpreted as wrath
As you tremble on your knees
Forgiveness!

Find your harmony within
Light exists as a medley of colors
Seek wisdom from the sacred
Recollect ideas once shrugged off
Respect the natural struggle
One thread strings us all

Use with gratitude the blessings breathed on you
Every pace onward, look behind
What have you stepped on?
Always a consequence

Rewind thoughts
Restore balance
Revive life
Let the revolution begin with yourself

***

This poem was initially written upon request
A dedication to mother nature
If we cannot get it right on earth, what do we hope to achieve differently elsewhere?

“Her blueprint touches all creation”
How easy it is to forget that there is
“Always a consequence”
Each one of us is accountable
“Let the revolution begin with yourself”