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To Pray or not to ... ?


Prelude : I kept my promise today. I'm back with a post.

My first tryst with prayer was mainly due to my gluttony. Yeah,you read it right ! A sin-laden virtuous beginning. As they say, it is the age of Kali.

I remember my father saying prayers in the puja room, scent of incense wafting in air, the little bell ringing and the beautiful peda(a sweet) served on tiny copper plates. Needless to say, I loved peda and that drove me to that room itself. Yes ! Temple bells fascinated me. It felt awesome to wake up someone from a nice siesta.

At school, we had prayers at the assembly, before classes and after classes too. I hear some schools have prayers before lunch break too. The words still remain etched in my mind. Serene. Pure. Just as I told them then. Without much understanding of course.

There came a phase in life where I stopped praying. I rationalized that there is no one to listen. So why waste time ? After all, one cannot be fooled all the time. I never was a big-time temple goer. So it didn't quite bother me much.

But,there is always a sting in the tail. I came to peace with myself. The raging war within waned with time. Maybe it is still on with a considerably low intensity. I feel there was no reason now to get angry with anyone. Maybe its the cycle of karma. Or something else I cannot lay my finger upon right now.

I re-visited those old prayers. Their words. Meaning. Significance... to a certain extent. I realized that I was lucky enough to be taught to pray. To believe in someone who can do everything. Not that I got my bag of excuses for a lifetime but someone whom I can pour out all my troubles. Anytime. Free of cost ( I told you, it is the age of  Kali). They may not warranty fulfillment but yeah, a sense of comfort is guaranteed.

It took me long to know it well. Prayer is not about give and take, its about self-actualization.  

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I CANNOT REMEMBER MY MOTHER ~ Rabindranath Tagore

I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.


I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.


I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.

WAITING FOR YOU

Concealed by dark clouds
You keep shining.
Bright streaks of light
Dazzle me.
Enchant me.
And keep me waiting..
Waiting for you.

Amidst Soul-lessness

There is smoke somewhere. 
I cannot seem to figure out where. 
The lights are here, the music is here.
Has it been home here ?
Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.
Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.
Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. 
Or maybe when I realized I was okay.
Had it been always like this ?

Not really. 
Things clicked, took effort and blood. 
Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,
Played this game. 
Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. 
Maybe appreciation.
Another journey, another dry spell. 
Will it ever be home again ? 

P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017