Wednesday, December 26, 2007

The season to forgive...

And there is much to forgive...
Much anger to release...
Many wounds to heal...
Many burdens to shed before the new year.

May this last week be a journey towards trust in life...and wholeness.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Confessions of a Pilgrim

I've been reading Juan Arias' interviews with Paulo Coelho and they've stirred in me confessions of my own. Confessions I must make to myself.

I've always found Coelho's works full of light. He speaks from a place of depth - beats a rhythm that my soul marches to. I've read all his books in English and what I love is his ability to seamlessly bridge the gap between the inner experience and the outer experience. The Fifth Mountain is the one work I left unfinished. I was reading it at a point in life when my struggle seemed as ardous as the protagonist's and it felt like I was carrying double the burden - mine and his, as I waded through it. It felt like all the pain, all the suffering and all the loss in the world was ripping my heart apart, as it was his. Someday, when the time is right, I will go back and finish it.

My confession is that I have realised (and accepted) that almost 90% of my existence is sourced from within me. My inner core is a fountain of richness, wisdom, contentment, understanding. It's a vast, exciting and amazing place of vitality. It's where I do most of my living. It's where I do most of my perceiving from. It's where I spend most of my time and feel complete. Only 10-15% of my living is in the outer world. All experiences are assimilated, even experienced through the inner core.

It's hard to explain. And harder still is acknowledging to myself that the kind of partner I would ever take on my journey is someone who has as rich an inner world as mine. Most of me is really this magus, pilgrim, warrior of light, shaman - call it what you will...I call it "a spiritual being on a human journey..." and I confess I can only share my life with someone who lives from his inner core and assimilates his outer experiences with the wisdom of Spirit, turning them into the light that fills his well of magic - his inner world.

To live from the inside out - that is my journey.
Exhilarating and dramatic.
Pristine and fulfilling.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

The light in your eyes...

I wrote this many years still makes my spine tingle. It carries with it the warmth, the passion and the magical connection between souls...a connection that must end...and with a heavy heart I bid it farewell. There is, however, this poem to remind me for years to come...what magic feels like...

The light in your eyes

The light in your eyes has won me over, beloved.
I am alive again.
A part of me, long forgotten, I had hidden away,
Kept in a secret corner of my heart.
But in your presence now, I feel safe
Safe to rediscover those long forgotten parts of myself
Somehow, with you, I know
That my beauty cannot be hurt.
And I am happy
In the joy
Of finding an old friend.
The light in your eyes has won me over, beloved.
I am alive again.

Saturday, November 10, 2007


Where time flies, I do not know.

I'm lost in the world of magic woven in words by Trudi Canavan. Now I am Priestess Auraya; now Auraya, the Wild. I draw magic to myself, as she does. I can sense it vibrating around me - pulsating - not different to the spark of cosmos in each atom.

Or can I?

Between "fictional" trilogies of magic where faeries and sorcerors, gifted men and women live in, with, and by magic - I'm suspended - not totally a part of their reality, and not totally a part of my 21st century existence. What a fascinating time it must have been when the Celts worshipped at Stonehenge; when the Egyptians adored Isis, Osiris and Seth; the Vedic rites were performed on the Sindhu-Saraswati and the Aborigines and Native Americans wove dream and waking togther in their Shamanic rituals.

Damn! I miss those times. Life must've been way more exciting when you could manifest butterflies blowing on your open palm. That would have been a better pick-me-up than a beer at the neighbourhood pub. Or awesome summer solstice gatherings where everyone pools in their magic under the moon - I'd choose it over a Diwali card party any day!

As far as reincarnation goes, I'm pretty sure I missed the 1200s to the 1970s. Medieval nonsense and the razzle dazzle of the nineteen hundreds just don't appeal no more! Give me a cloak and butterfly manifesting abilities - I'm in my element.

Ah well... we all have our fun places to go when we need to escape the world closing in on us. Mine has sunrises by the waterfall with jewelled dragons soaring across the sky and faeries whispering secrets till its time to get back to 2007...


To live...

Diwali brought with it the exuberance of celebration and a reminder that we can be civil to each other in the name of festivity. Is it just me? Am I the only one holding my head in my hands wishing I could vanish off the planet?

I love life. I love living. But every day that I live, a part of me painfully reminds me that my life is getting more and more disconnected from Nature. I pass the malls being constructed close to home and I dread the day they will be open to the public. I dread having to choose to enter those malls for the sheer convenience they offer me. I dread that I, who adore Nature, will be shopping in hundreds of square kilometers of concrete luxury that now stands where a forest once thrived.

Can I really be a part of this city and not its systems?

Sigh. This is why the act of living has become painful. One makes so many conscious choices knowing full well the damage one is causing or supporting.

I don’t want to squash the part in me that feels the pain. I don’t want to cover it in a blanket and throw it into the deepest recesses of my unconscious, where I will never access it this life time. I want to keep it alive because only when it is alive do I feel I am in tune with life. Only when it is alive do I feel connected to every living being and the Universe. Only when it is alive do I feel the wonder of being part of such spectacular creation.

I admire the architectural wonders we have created in this age – the glass covered buildings, luxurious palaces of shops – they are beautiful too. But there is a haunting sound that grows louder each decade…it feels like the planet is close to explosion point… we are taking too much for granted. Way too much …

Sunday, July 29, 2007


With one stroke of her enchanted quill, JK Rowling has awakened mystery and magic again. What a stirring set of seven books! What a stunning story!

I've spent the past week re-visiting the movies on the first four books. Oh! Pure, unadulterated joy. I wake up in the morning half expecting my toothbrush to fly into my hands by the sheer force of my will for it to do so. But alas, Shambhalla is a long way a way...

Truly though, Rowling has ignited that belief in something beyond and through Harry, Hermione and Ron, we learn so much about life, about love, about integrity.

I love the way the last book deals with death, seeking and the journey. That difference between seeker and knower. Beautiful!

It takes a Muggle to bring Magic back to the 21st century. Hats off and sparkles of light to Rowling!

Friday, July 20, 2007

Back to School

So good to be back in school.

It's crazy. It's madness. It's wild and it's lots of hard work.

But it's the most beautiful feeling ever. I'm back with Kirti and our 27 kids and it's like coming back home.

The hugs, the smiles, the tears, the hilarious moments - this is life!!!

Where else can I sweat like a pig (in the humid and hot classrooms) and yet manage to laugh through most of it?

Where else can I withstand the sound of 27 human voices talking their lungs out at the same moment and yet love each unique voice in that group?

Tired and exhausted at the end of the day, I offer my gratitude to the Universe...for keeping my soul alive and happy through the work I do.

Friday, June 29, 2007


A new flavor is filling my awareness.
I can't define it, but I can feel it on the periphery of my life.

It's hurtling towards me at a terrific speed, almost working its way to my life step by step.

And as it gets closer, I can almost taste it, smell it.

I feel like it's going to knock me off my feet one of these days.

I love the wisps of fragrance that I get from this new flavor...
It smells of happiness and fun and pure energy!

A new flavor is filling my world...
I feel if I stretch my fingers far enough, I can almost touch it...

If I close my eyes, I can almost see it...

A new flavor is filling my world...

I cannot wait
to taste it completely!

Wednesday, June 27, 2007


Walking. Long strides. My arms swaying naturally. Sweat trickling down my nose and forehead...I look up at the sky and thank the humid weather for that!

An obese black dog trotting behind it's briskly walking owners.

I duck as a soccer ball narrowly misses me.

Parineeta's "Kaisi paheli" on my ipod. Soon switches to the groovin beat of Hum Tum and then Maroon 5...

I start mouthing the lyrics as I walk...
Everyone else fades away...
I'm smiling to myself.
Not because of anything.
I just feel free enough...
From worry, from expectation, from guilt, from fear, from any of that stuff...

Free enough to smile.

At nothing at all.


Friday, June 22, 2007


Sometimes I wish I didn’t feel everything as intensely as I do.

When desires and hopes I could almost touch, crumble to dust…
Pain, like a knife stab in the center of my heart.

When an old, old friend visits the waterfall, and then chooses a different path…
Grief, like an unforgotten song that haunts my dreams for years.

When the future looms bleak and lonely,
Fear, like a stone in the pit of my stomach.

The only good part about feeling such emotions so intensely is that it’s so much easier to step out of them and watch. It’s such a physical pain, that it’s easier to disconnect from them. And as I watch, they fade away. Perhaps that’s the secret of can step away and watch it.

It’s equally easy to step away from the brighter emotions…and often I do…but I enjoy them a while longer…

When the first rains burst upon the city and two wild little 4 year old boys run up and down the street stark naked, reveling in the heavenly shower…and I watch them, an unconscious smile hovering on my lips, mesmerized by their dance of freedom…
Flight, of my heart, taking wing and soaring into those free skies beyond concrete paradigms.

When I talk about my dear old friend Mock and our soulgroup - Manjula, Kamini, Sai G, Neha…
Joy, that bubbles and overflows through my eyes into the people listening, making my voice tremble with emotion.

When I can “see” the dance in my head as I hear music playing…
Power, that surges through my nerves and muscles pushing me to dance it out.

When a dog looks into my eyes with all the hope of a lifetime and wags its tail in the first move towards friendship…
Compassion, that tingles right down to my finger tips as I stroke his forehead.

When Kirti’s baby daughters gently remind me of the larger picture with their out-of-the-blue, startling, intuitive expressions…
Lightness, a feeling of floating beyond the limitations and barriers of this one human life.

Intensity is a good thing, and I wouldn’t want to lose it.
As long as I get to step out of it at will, I will manage.

Monday, June 18, 2007


I sat by my waterfall…waiting for you.
I saw your shadow playing with the butterflies
I heard your footsteps in the sound of the whispering trees
And each time I turned to find you
You were not there.

I wove my dreams in silver thread
And waited for you
So I could breathe life into them
But each time I turned to look for you
You were not there.

I sighed, as I waited
Afraid that you had walked away

I laughed, as I remembered
The sound of your voice
calling my name.

I cried, as I realized
that the hand that held mine
would always slip away…
That moments of togetherness
Were but a fleeting pleasure
on my journey.

I sat by my waterfall…
And wove my dreams
And I will give life to them now,

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Mirrors of my soul

I’m tapping my right heel on the steel foot-bar of the wood chair I occupy. My arms rest on the pine table; my fingers clasped together. This is how I stared out at the world, even when I was seventeen.

The weirdest thing about my observations of people is that I only seem to take in their eyes. I don’t observe the skin, the wardrobe, the feet, the fingers. Sometimes I notice exceptional jewelry that stands out – like a pair of startling emerald earrings that my friend was wearing the other day. Mostly, it’s just the eyes and the posture. If I fall in love with someone – it’s always his eyes. If I look at a child – it’s the eyes. If I want to know what this person has been through till this point in his/her life – it’s the eyes.

Most importantly, if I want to ensure that my opinion is not known, I avert my gaze. When people are talking about something I’m not interested in, I don’t want to be a part of, or I have a radically differing opinion of, or it’s a subject I happen to know too much about and don’t want to sound like a pundit on, I avert my gaze. I look at the ground, I look at my hands, I basically look away.

I know my eyes give me away completely.

Which is why, that hot summer day, ten years ago, when Arushi rushed to my table, breathless and slightly disheveled, I smiled faintly at her, and looked straight into my coffee mug.

“You’re up for Head Girl,” she declared as she slid into the chair opposite me and dumped her bag on the third chair at the table.

“I know,” I said, beginning to stir the perfectly stirred coffee.

“You knew and you didn’t tell me? God! This is like the most prestigious thing! You’re going to be Head Girl in our final year of school – that’s like Head of the Student Council – that’s like the most important…”

“I know what it’s like.” I cut her off. “It’s alright, not that big a deal.”

“For you, maybe!” she said. “Well everyone knows its going to be you, you know…all the teachers just love you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It will probably be me.” Didn’t she understand? I didn’t want to talk about it.

“So, you have to promise us a treat when you’re formally selected.”

Dear, dear Arushi. I look at her and smile. So absolutely full of zest for life and that bubbly vitality that goes so well with teenage-hood. Treats, parties, movies, boys…this is primarily what makes up Arushi’s life at the moment. Throw in lots of school work too.

“Of course I promise you guys a treat.”

After a little more gossip, I pay for my coffee and exit the cafĂ©. Walking back home, I wonder about being Head Girl. Sure it’s cool. Sure it’s great for my record. Sure it will be an awesome experience in management and leadership.

I know I’ve been elected. I’ve already been through the interviews, though I didn’t tell Arushi about it. The selection committee’s informed me of their decision. But I’m not ecstatic. To me, being Head Girl is just another way of labeling me. Singling me out from the rest of the crowd as someone “different.” Magnifying my multi-talented nature almost to the point of making me stick out like a sore thumb, when all I want to do is blend in. Desperately, blend in.

I want to be able to know the one thing that I must do, and just follow it – like everyone else does. Instead, I am torn between my numerous talents and I cannot choose which one to pursue with complete focus and which ones to leave out. They are all a part of me. How can I let a part of me just wither away when I know it’s alive?

I’m all over the place. I live on stage. I write, I sing, I compose, I dance, I choreograph, I speak, I act, I direct, I study. I’m everywhere. Some days, I’m so tired of being everywhere, I’m so tired of hearing my name called all the time – I can’t imagine why my peers aren’t sick of me yet! I’d be sick of me if I was them!

The Principal calls me into her room the next morning, and formally informs me that I am the new Head Girl, and Head of Student Council. I smile and nod and express my gratitude to be invested with this honor. I promise to live up to her expectations and do my best.

But my eyes give me away.

If she looks deep into my eyes, she will see the sorrow, writ large in them. I am accepting this role, but I know it will separate me from my peers. It will be just one more reason for me to be labeled “the perfect student” and therefore, the un-cool one.

I cannot hold her gaze for too long, lest she read the truth in my eyes. So I look at the name plate on her glass desktop.

I am proud, yet I am sad.

For a long time to come, I will be lonely.

This, I know.

Only my eyes will give me away.

Friday, June 15, 2007


Monumental stupidity is something we are all capable of.

Sometimes it’s the retort that’s sitting on the tip of the tongue, which slips out because you just have to have the last word in an argument. Such stupidity causes detriment to the self because it makes non-inflammable situations conflagrate with incredible intensity.

Sometimes it's knowing that you’ve done something terribly wrong and yet being unable to apologize to someone you love because your ego is so magnificently huge that it prevents you from seeing over it.

Sometimes it’s blatant blindness; you choose to ignore what you don’t want to see. And you create more lies to cover up for yourself what is so obviously staring you in the face.

Monumental stupidity indeed!

Something we are all capable of!

Wednesday, June 13, 2007


If I could see the silver string of Light
That connects me to you
And you to everyone else
And all of us together;
Then perhaps I would think much deeper
Before I harmed you.
For in harming you I would be hurting myself.

If I could ask for one gift
It would be to see these cords of Life
That unite us.

Let me see them every moment,
So that every thought of mine
Becomes a song of compassion.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007


Phone cards.
From the US to India.
Excruciatingly irritating.
Mostly, you just hear a garble…which you try to make intelligent sense of.
The only clear words happen to manifest when each person is yelling:

“Can you hear me?..”
“Yes I can hear you…can you hear me?”
Back to garble.

Amazing – its like the connection has an intelligence of its own…it only transmits the “can you hear me?” lines with clarity.

On a particularly bad phone card day, when bro called from the West:

Bro: Heyyy…how you doin?
Me: I’m good. How about you?
Bro: I’m fine
Me: So whassup?
Bro: I need help with my resume
Me: I miss you too, bud
Bro: I said, I need help with my resume
Me: Valentine’s day? Was good. Had lunch with PD.
Bro: I SAID, I need help with my re-suuu-meee.
Me: WHO passed away?
Bro: Damn this card! I’ll call you later.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

A New Day

Alive with the wonder of new possibilities.

I love it. That place deep inside my soul, that is already shape-shifting, surging into the new moment, flying unfettered, free of the past.

Alive with the wonder of new possibilities.

I love it. Being able to laugh hysterically at the circular routes life takes. To have travelled a lifetime and realised that I am back to where I began - me.

Alive with the wonder of new possibilities.

I love it. Another sunrise, another breath, another story.

Alive with the wonder of new possibilities.
I love it.