GLIMPSES OF ETERNITY.........

“GLIMPSES OF ETERNITY ETCHED IN STONE”

          ---------AJANTA AND ELLORA-------

Hard and unyielding rock, molded with such sheer grace.

Timeless yet beauteous images carved on the rock face.

Bedecked, with frills, etched ornaments silk, and lace.

Cave after cave, inspiring awe and wander.

In a line, one, after the other, the next, better than the other.

What was the magnificent inspiration, to create beauty, so rare?

Caves and viharas, with sculptures and paintings, mesmerizing.

Unparalleled skill and techniques on display, tantalizing.

Ruins! Yes but taunting the demons of time and their brutal ravaging.

Exquisite themes, of the Master’s Enlightenment.

Immense grace, contentment and fearlessness, arising out of attainment.

The cosmic fragrance, of this mighty flowering, stilling all argument.

All chiseled in cold stone and, yet so throbbing and vibrant.

Centuries and colossal quantities of grime, failing to dim the ecstasy and delight.

Eons old and yet so current, clear but somehow confounding is their sight.

The puzzles inherent in the cycle of life, painful but fulfilling too.

Agonizing without the wisdom, of the One present in the two.

Uncertainty and death, powerful youth, so effervescent, understood by so few.

Ananda and his swooning bride, depicted with the Buddha and his begging bowl.

Reclining in Samadhi, with Ananda tears streaming, finally peeping into his soul.

Searching for what he had seen in his Master serving in the attendant’s role.

Majestic, and out of this material world.

Are the caves of Ajanta with many a story untold?

In this saga of apparent creation and destruction, which with time does unfold?

---------------WG CDR PSIS PAUL-------------------------

                             TURBANS
Simple headgear!No much more than just that!
 A symbol of respect,mark of dignity and all that.

Blue ,green,black and red both untidy and neat.
Big and small, of all shapes you can meet.

Pristine white,passionate red for all occasions prescibed,
be it marriage,mournful funerals or simple parties.

With pride it is worn,a soldiers emblem of valor,
pointing to responsibility borne,and saffron the inspiring sacrificial color.

Be it a bloody battlefield,or the peace of a monastry,
the turban is there ubiquitous as the rosary.

Representing pompous royalty,loving fidelity and sombre gravity.
The grandiose emperor of all symbols to say it with brevity.

21/3/90-At afmc-psm lecture

                                OF POETS AND MESSIAHS

In the cloak of dark pierces a ray of brilliant light,
highlighting ignorance,superstition and cowardice urging people to fight.

The mass like junkies addicted to misery as are cocaine addicts,
revere clergymen  who are nothing but masked bandits.

The 'light' calls out and speaks the truth,
but to what avail?,for it enrages and no one does it soothe.

It(the mass) does not comprehend but in a crescendo it condemns,
for what is said is against present beliefs,like the pontiff on contraception.

Naive and trusting,they are in the grip of 'pillars of society',
who in fear of loosing their grip and sway,

like enraged reptiles try with all their might to crush this 'light'.
that penentrates the dungeon of falsehood and brings in joy bright.

Infuriated they shackle and tie him in an attempt to chastise,
they refer to him as mad and evil,ensuring his pain be maximized.

Beaten and abused the poet smiles awaiting the final deathly decree,
for it alone can take him away from hypocrisy and lies.

In fear he is crucified,poisoned or stoned,
yes he dies but is thereby for ever deified.

Even in their reverence they are clever,
exalted and away is he held like a divine leper.

Yet even on their burning pyre or tied to cross in agony,
only a plea for divine mercy for all and everybody.

Why such is the fate of such mesmerizing beauty ?
so gruesome in a world that runs on His bounty.

A WALK THROUGH THE PORTALS OF HISTORY

       A WALK THROUGH THE PORTALS OF HISTORY

One sweet morning,before the sun had risen,
we stepped out of the shackles of time's prison,
by some inner burning passion driven.

Harmonious and peaceful,unconscious of passing time,
walking and silently communicating of no materialistic grime,
heady from the vista of an age in its spiritual prime.

A steep rockface and rock cut steps,
undaunted and curious we climbed one of natures rocky laps,
breathless, tired and breathing in gasps.

There we stood at the gate of a cave,
where monks had dedicatedly courted a spiritual mate,
a tribute to their fervour, the pillars did radiate.

Mighty as ever they stood as if in prayer,
to the haloed stupa entrusted in their care,
through an arched window did the sun bathe it in it's light fair.

Arched and cracked the two thousand year old teak wood,
drooping,yet still sturdy with responsibility it stood,
pious pilgrims and murderous vandals did what they could.

To time's vagaries are they vincible,
A monument to divine mysteries unsolvable,
to awe, disgust or inspire us mortals vulnerable.

Were they heros or cowards?, that chose to live away,
far from the madding crowd and it's materialistic sway,
to contemplate on some abstract power which has held seeker's at bay.

So far incredibly difficult to assail,
in hardship and purity but to what avail?
to escape from the clutches of MAYA to fall into a divine jail.

This landmark of history is condemned to stand frozen in time,
to highlight their cowardice or glory sublime,
society moves on unheeding,uncaring of lessons buried in time.

In reverence to the flabergasting 'eternal riddle',
to live,sin and suffer or run away and in hard rocks cuddle,
or to be on the safe side and tread the Golden Middle.


( trhe 90's again written after a visit to the Karle caves in maharashtra near Pune)

Sunset Splendour

                          Sunset Splendour

              The Kohinoor of nature set yesterday,with such splendour,

               that I was left breathless with joyous wonder.

               So utterly magnificient was the setting sun's grandeur.

               Dark grey clouds acquired a heavenly golden yellow hue,

               blue sky and soft beams of orange sun seen by so few.

               A halo of light cast by a retreating God ,so strong and true.

      

               A riot of colours strewn on the canvas of the sky,

               by the strokes of a master artist, was created this rare beauty,

               resplendent leave taking ,after performing a life giving duty.

               As if in reverence, the flowers opened and blossomed,

               A cool breeze blew and the surroundings transformed,

               into a scented and divine garden like Eden,that man in his folly abandoned.

              Drinking the ambroisia of natures unparalleled beauty,

              All her crteations were exuberant and tremendously happy.

              So exotic and strangely sensual is nature in the height of ecstasy.

              

              Then like a wave which rises and falls, then finally dies out.

              The mighty sun even in death, finally defeated in this bout,

              and then rushing in comes Black night,full of fear and doubt.

              So transient and momentary, this jewel's brilliant light,

               yet so fulfilling and satiatingly bright.

               that everything else seems so puny and of very little might.

(dates back to June 1990 at AFMC)

My Mother-in-law

(It is one of the several ironies of life that the first of my blogs is dedicated to' my mother', a person; widely feared and admired ; in that order; including by yours' truly , who has a somewhat turbulent relation with the said protagonist.That I choose to say this story from  my better half's point of view is strictly a matter of choice.)


Majestic!........... clad in an ochre yellow patiala suit and a fiery red shawl , she looked like royalty; suitably fleshed out and stern looking as if in a perpetual state of disapproval.To her right , stood a bemused looking tall dignified man , smiling through his military moustach eand golden white neatly tied beard.He raised his bushy eyebrows and 'winked ' at me, and  all of a sudden all my apprehensions melted, as I felt every pore of this gentleman ooze compassion and warmth.                                  
As I bent down to touch her feet, even her stiff disdaining visage melted into a smile of temporary acceptance. All my 'inadequacies" were swept aside , to be dealt with at a later date, by any means. The scrawny look, lack of lipstick, loose T-shirt,acid-washed jeans were perhaps not her idea of how a future 'bahu'should be dressed. To top it all off , were my'  pop- singer ' like hair.Each strand in a state of rebellion, electrified by 440 volts of electricity, giving a raging'standing on the edge ' look.
The end effect of it all was perhaps,best described as whisky and water mixing .
She , dominant, and I submissive and meek.
Her stock of knowledge was abundant and I was a willing learner.
The mother and teacher in her, literally took me under her wing, Gourmet recipes were demonstrated and taught.All my culinary skills developed in her spotless kitchenlined with green granite. The fine art of kneading wheatflour into a soft dough and thereby rolling them into 'aromatic' rotis were all part of the package passed from the master to the disciple.
She stood by me through all the 'Faux Pauxes' that I made. Like a fierce muscled watchdog ,she saw me through my pregnancies. Watchful and cautionaing at times, she was there as well while I endured the pains of bringing up two daughters(lovely). Etrernal gratitude pours from the very depth of my being for all that she did.
The call of parental duty took her across the seven seas to quell domestic unrest in her youngest child's haven. Months of unflinching service were rendered to the joyous bundle of innocent flesh and blood-her grandson, while the immature parents battled to sort out their differences.
I was destined to meet her for the first time at a railway station.............,where i saw the 'blue blood'.Years later I was to receive her again, this time at the international airport. Wheel chair bound,sitting crushed and broken.A balding middleaged son pushing her towards us while she clutched desperately at the urn which contained the ashes of the person who hitherto had been her 'ATLAS'.
Her ever smiling husband had always been unshaken by whatever turn life and destiny had chosen to take while he lived,making him a giant of sorts from whose shoulders, she had had a birds eye view of the worldand now.........he was no more!
A decade has gone by since then and the 'BANYAN TREE' of our lives departed ,yet she has survived without the shade or the heights that were an inseparable part of her life in the form of Dad(in law).
Decalcified bones weakened by years of existence coupled with an artificial right hip, two external eye lenses and a hearing aid(the use of which she abhors) are now her constant companions.
PAMPA........PAMPA, she calls in her quivering high pitched voice sending ashiver down my spine each and everytime she calls. Fear of a fall, a break or god knows what else!!
Suddenly,as if from nowhere, appears this apparition of my smiling dad-in-law , with his wonderful moustache and beard, naughtily raisig his bushy eyebrows and giving me his trade mark 'wink'  . The fear and apprehensions vanish and I rush to her side.The auditory hallucination of the childlike voice of his mothers voice(my mom in law's mother in law), who had to endure nine long years of post CVA disability in the form of severe left sided hemiparesis , calling. 'GYAANI', she would cry out and with the alacrity of youth my dad in law would respond with a smile and child like fervour.
Waves of energy, as if from another world suffuses my being and a spring  enters into my step as I jump to answer the call of my own mother in law.................... !