The song of gratitude


“Love so much that the song arises in your being — the song of gratitude.

 Be grateful and sing the song of gratitude so that you can become more and more capable of love.

 This is how one reaches higher and higher peaks, and one day, your love and your song have become one. 

That day is the day where one disappears as a wave and becomes the ocean.

 That is called enlightenment 

All those who have reached to god have reached through love.”


Pack me a gift

In the empty streets of city

My dreams search the eyes..

Desperate to enter into their world hollow,

Of misery, lies, and sorrow

Left them blinded not asleep

With colors of some fading evening beneath diamond lit sky

Birds of unbroken empire of dusk, shrugging thier wings to fly

Hey you angels of far off land..take me down to those ruins of time..

Pack me a gift from days young..

Where lips had smile, and hands were full

With sand of time.. hey you angels of forgotten times,

I do not want wake up anymore,

Day streets are empty

No one is mine.

My birthday 

So, today it’s my birthday,

So what can I do?

I’m now one year older…and I want to boohoo,

But it’s time to be happy,

A time to rejoice,

A day to remember…that I have a voice,

To express my opinions,

To say what I feel, 

To love and to cherish…all things that appeal,

So, my heart feels gladdened,

I want to cry aloud,

“I’ve made it one more year”…and for that I’m so proud,

But what is life’s purpose? 

Do we to just live and die?

Or should we investigate…the what and the why?

I believe in evolution,

of consciousness — not form,

Yes, my soul is eternal…and I was not born,

For this, I am thankful, 

To my teacher and parents 

Who taught me the Satya…that I’m like no others,

We’re all sole expressions,

of a Superior Godhead,

While remaining still persons…we’re also united,

Simultaneous and different,

And yet united as one, 

The doctrine of Chaitanya…shines like the sun,

Illuminating our consciousness,

With the sound of Harinam, 

My heart soars so high now…on the wings of Sri Ram,

I’m no longer fearful,

Of a thing called, “being dead,”

That ugly grey monster…that hides under my bed.

I now know it’s fiction,

to keep us oppressed,

in a world of illusion…and sensually obsessed,

The “keys” are now with me,

I’ve got the way out,

“Just master the tongue”… I emphatically shout! 

And so, that’s my mission,

To share this simple fact, 

Through practice and precept…my final soul act.

Please share your birthdate so that I can add it to my wish list 

Feeding my mother 

I always thought 

Mother had a small stomach 

Now I realise 

She has a big heart too 

Feeding me till I get satisfied 

Then she eats  all the leftovers 

So today I made her eat first before me 

She was reluctant 

But today I made her plate 

Full of food 

It gave an immense feeling of happiness and joy to see her eat free from all worries 

An unfulfilled appointment 

Our dreams lasted too long
But all the reality
Nothing but an unfulfilled appointment!
For once I was unable to decide
What pains me more
This poignant or the life without it!
The feeling of this aloneness
Amongst everyone around
The torment of this love unsatisfied!
It was so easy to love you
Never realised
Would be so hard to forget you!
I hear your voice — in silence
That you speak to me
In unspoken words!
You detach me from God
And replace Him by yourself
And I wonder whom to worship!
Now I am waiting
Till your memory leaves
The chambers of my heart!

I can clearly see

To lie awake each night

Body aching


Almost screaming for rest

But how can I drift away

Softly slip into slumber

When my thoughts run wild and free?

The night has become the dawn for my imagination


The stars hold the key to my inspiration

In the darkness I can clearly see….

Wait Monday please wait 

Sundays are special days when I enjoy company of my father.

However I am just not able to figure out as to why time flies so quickly on Sundays. I hope Monday could wait a little longer 

If only Monday could wait just a little longer, 

My father would have spent more time with me;

I would have told him how badly I missed his hugs,

And would have fake laughed on another one of his bad jokes.

If only Monday could wait just a little longer,

His body would ache less;

And I would have slept on his shoulders, 

While he would have caressed my forehead.

I would have told him that I wanted his time,

I would have told him how I loved him so bad;

And I would have seen that dimpled smile of his,

If only Monday could wait just a little longer.


​The words meditation conjures up the images of hermits and sages sitting in dense forest in equally deep reflection. 

We have read stories about how they would meditate for ages and sit still for eons the birds would make nests in the knotted hair on the top of their head.

 You can see the mountains around and the forests singing the wild tune. The nature and the five elements create, nurture and destroy at their own pace. The hermits would sit still to observe the cosmic motion and commotion it creates. The order of chaos or the chaos of order whatever it is. 

The nature in the wilderness can be merciless, very fierce and can make you totally reflective, in the great heights of the mountains which are covered with white shawls of snow the trees with the leaves or even without them as fine silhouette on the backdrop. 

The seasons in forests are very intense. The five elements – space, fire, earth, wind and water the Panchmahabhutas as called in Sanskrit are literally that Mahabhutas-strong, wild, ungoverned, unsuppressed …Each plays its part to perfection, the earth blossoms, blooms when Sun touches her with love. It is amazing to watch the colors with infinite shades of green and yellows and crimsons rise of the barren landscape as spring paints with deft fingers. 

The blooms live the life in a day, dancing in the wind, soaking in the rains, and soaring to the space above and then go back to mingle with mother Earth. A life where regret plays no part neither do the feelings of envy, jealousy and competition. 

Rivers flow through the forests meandering their way through valleys and plains to flow to the sea. Silence in such places is echoes with spirit of the wild. 

The birds chirp and flip the wings, the leaves rustle, the twigs crunch and crackle, the water of springs hums a lovely forest song while the rivers sing a soft symphony. To sit among these trees and just to listen to all the surround sound is pure delight for the soul.

 No wonder our ancient mystics used to meditate in these places. That is one reason why many of the temples and pilgrimages are situated on the mountains, lest we should visit and see the grandeur of such heights.

All the rituals in every religion do have a sound scientific base even if we do not realize. The knowledge must have been lost under the dust of time.

 The instruments of rituals always fascinate me. The shining silver, the golden brass, the rich copper, the dazzling gold all have so many tendrils of myths and history around. 

Every household has these heirlooms. As a small child I would observe these rituals with keen interest and curious wonder. I asked questions which were answered with great patience by the elders. The clay lamps with cotton wicks, camphor and incense spreading the fragrance around, the flowers, the doob grass and leaves in the room-a scene which is etched in my mind.

 The flickering flame on the delicate cotton wick of a lamp has strange strength. I always feel blessed sitting near a clay lamp. The Earth and fire come together. It is an irresistible attraction which connects with the divine. 

Praying is essentially very personal. I can never pray in the temples which are in the center of bustling markets. You hardly connect with the divine. Such temples are all business centers, involved with the monetary side of life.

The temples which are isolated, ancient, in the deep forest intrigue me. Not many people can be seen there at any given time. But the atmosphere is positive and mystical. The myths and tales around such places are captivating. Here, the whole being resonates, bows, meditates in the silence of nature. For me God is Nature, the five elements.

My mother 

Looking at you sleeping beside me 

These thoughts run in my mind 

My mother I seek my love in u ..
A love to dare 

So full of care 

In a love to never go 

In it our heart to bare ..

For you are what life is made of …

In an endurance built in so rare ..

Rearing to go in its love …

Everything in life to dare ..

Giving  everything taking Nothing 

My mother in your love everything to bear ..

In a life holding all love 

In it to capture the whole world ..

Gods love to ensnare 

In her god even dares 

In a love so unselfish 

In her love 

God takes care 

Going in his love ..

In his love  picking life in her life 

In her life god lives blissfully unaware ..

Blessed in a life …in gods care 

In her to see his mother ..

Looking through him ..

In his eyes to dare ..

I m your child you I live …

My dear mother do take care …

In your godly love 

Giving god a taste of his share …

In his love life to dare …

Because I am the love of god …

Gods look down at me 

Engulfing love in a life filled with despair 

Making a nest of life in sticks so brittle 

In to break n tare 

In the tear of life 

Never failing 


in her strength to lay down her life …

Willingly for she was made for life it alone to fare …
Was life made for her 

or was she made for life 

Life whispers to her lovingly 

Don’t leave me 

In you my life 

Lives without care 
My life 

You I cannot spare

What you mean to me 

One more of my writes dedicated to the person whom I first followed on wordpress it’s you dear Asha

Who are you?
Despite being a writer, I’ve never written about you. So, today, I decided to give this a shot and give words to what I feel for you.
I think of what you mean to me. Are you just my love or my best friend too? 

Aren’t you the one who I owe most of my smiles to? Or the one from whom my tears don’t shy away?

 Are you not the one who pushes me to my best? Or the one who makes me not want to quit?
Every time I try to write about you, these questions don’t let me. I fall short of words while answering these. But, today I have an answer. An answer that’s probably meagre of what you are to me.

You are my sunshine.
No, not just the one that lights up my life.
You are the winter sunshine. The sunshine that warms me when the winter chill breaks through my window panes. 

You’re the sunshine that catches hold of my hand and takes me out to the nature’s beauty. The one that gives me solace.
My sunshine. My serendipity. That’s what you are.