We The Living….


Stand up & mourn to the anthem of life…


As the flag of sham…hoists in the air of defiance….


And HE is born…the bearer…the savior ….my Warrior

Now that I have have no further that I look beyond & not behind….

The mind chaos atlast learnt what symphony is all about….& the heart sang a choir again.....


And together we sang through the massacres of life….where I recollect someone saying that a death of a man is a tragedy & mass death a statistics....


We sat together one more time on the heap of the inanimate…singing about the faceless mob……


Where deceit & love shared the same bed & appeared to be twin souls…..


Where the grass of life shone with dew & the grass of death swayed in smoke…. & shared the same promise as they both shared a joint....


Liberation & Chains made love…..


And together we drank from each other

Drunken Sage....

The intake of spirit made him sublime again….

Making love right there to his undying spirit as he drowned himself in the flooding lights of the amphitheatre

The fugitive dwarfs haunted no more….The callous past …. a passionate lover

That’s where I belong in the world of expansion & unison…without the spirit just a carcass…& that’s what I hate

A rocking chair…a cup of coffee… liberation of the present from the ancient ruins…buss that’s it

The spirit made me seamless again…

The opaque smog on Mohammedali road was almost choking the biped species on earth…
The loudspeaker just finished the Azaan…. & Zumzum Daseer rolled his pathani sleeves up as his strong arms needed to be active….his clean,strong yet creative hands had always created order. The talisman resting on his chest was glowing & enhancing his stature which looked imperfect without his Jinaah cap.
Greetings all across as he took his stride…but somehow the legs experienced fatigue now…was it the heat or his wrinkles….anyways the Sena guys had to be spoken to before it was too late.
The unfamiliar faces grew in number & the Sena office seemed never so far….the school fees had to be paid…he had promised ….& the dilapidated wall to be mend…the alms were arranged…the sound of Azaan grew louder…but it had just finished….an ethereal aroma filled him….it was Ka’ba his roots….a drop which was sent had to return back…he never felt so much of peace as the holy water stretched her arms for union…he looked like a child in his mother’s arms….he was drenched now…in love…in Zumzum.

This post is a tribute to a divine soul who lived for others & created a Ka’ba wherever he went….We miss you on earth…..

Mermaid Fry....

You can cut her in pieces....the uneven the better...

There can be deep cuts....harsh ones & gentle ones

You can marinate them in the salinity of her eyes...will be tastier

The heart can be minced or diced....

Preferred deep fry....

Served best with INDIFFERENCE.

Said the first raven to the other one......

"Say brother what wisdom do you bring today…." the raven slightly bemused said," I visited the hermit of the mountain who speaks about pain & sorrow, love & illusion, & about the light of wisdom & when his people leave him in the shroud of loneliness he wails in the dark for the loss of his love & condemns creation...... & what wisdom do you bring in young raven......."

"Oh, I visited the house of a condemned woman who speaks about trade to the young visitors, who teaches love through her pouting lips & imparts riches & receives gifts & when the young men leave her in the shroud of silence she sings but the name of the Lord & praises but His creation & rests with His name on her lips….

The truth spoke to me… sharp, icy & choppy.

The message is clear & loud you need to translate it into action. He screamed in my ears shuddering me to face him. He was aggressive & I was battling, defying & negating.

My truth distant…but clear, cynical but strong.

He overpowered, I wriggled… I found myself timid…..could not face him though, I clung to the words like an insecure child to a mother’s bosom, unable to find the warmth, for it was nothing but me in front of me.

There was a tinge of faint helplessness in the voice, as it did not know what to offer….it slay me to rise.

I don’t know what it left behind, maybe a believer.

A BLOOD STREWN….BLOODY RED VALENTINE….

He asked for it, her heart, after a series of possessions….


She laughed, took the dagger once gifted as she knew the next, not at all perplexed by her companion’s insist……..


It went right next to her left breast & the pain was no more as the culprit was set free, it pounded no more……..


It hanged lifeless on the window decors, in bargaining malls, commercialized lanes…….

A Dream.....
I ran naked on the street, the tar beneath acted as runway…..
With wings on her feet Achilles's daughter Zebruska ran leaving behind the neon signs, flooded lights, screaming posters, selling hoardings
She had gained some momentum now,she tried to take off
The crashing was crude, on the face, leaving marks….
She could not move now, the pinions badly damaged…
She looked like a nymph,but frozen…
My throat is parched; the lights hurt my eyes…
My body hurts, I am pinned down…
Zebruska gazed at the glistening moon, motionless…
She gave a shriek, a kind of a howl….
The call of wilderness…
The trailor has ran over me & I cry in pain…
The cry unheard, I struggle…
I need to wake up.

This is Zoya Khan reporting for…..
Well, this is Zoya Khan reporting for BBC….or was it CNBC
Zoya reporting…no covering
Is this what they call selective Amnesia…my head is reeling..what the fuck is this?
This was not a part of my vocabulary….the last time I heard this was…when…yes…when Kabir wanted his saxo & was denied by Abba, was the advent of this adulterated expression & Abba said “Khuda se darr (fear the Lord)”, I had never seen such conviction in Kabir’s eyes then “I love GOD I do not FEAR” ….he was termed Kaafir…non believer.
The mass of the Pentax was now shredding my right arm as the lenses & the positives & I don’t know what more added to it.
Successful war reporter Zoya Ali Khan clenched to the over sized man’s shirt she was wearing & the terrible pain through the abdomen was now rising towards her chest…
The smog was taking forms, painting pictures & creating illusions….
The celebration had started, women with veils admiring their leotards underneath had clustered in the inner room…the men crowded around the victim, as little Kabir was circumcised .He had cried for days together than average & the retaliating fever took days to be normal.
Don’t mark me, I do not wish to be uniformed, let me be one with my brethren.
The Siachen appeared as if a no man’s land, a virgin.
Zoya….the time has come…the search ended….no man’s land…God’s land….but where is he……in your heart.
The letter in the breast pocket
"Sis…
Mera Khuda, Meri Khudi ( My God is my own Existence)
My search has ended, I have found my God
There is a bed of crysthamum on which I lay….
The paradise exists in this smoke….
Music lingers in the chaos, in the massacres
He loves me, casts no fears
The boundaries vanished, its one world…entire…complete
Shedding this carcass behind, I go where I belong
He is not the Judgement….Fuck the world, fuck the Lord
He still dosen’t abandon
I go to him
Note for you: You are a bird, you need to soar, but there are more skies beyond than what appears… "
The pain was now networking in Zoya’s entire system; the metal had pierced the abdomen & rested in her flesh….
The lens started capturing as much as they can….Kabir’s room….the graffiti on the alcove THERE IS NO GOD, PINK FLOYD IS GOD & the cover of the letter carrying the same….Zoya was trying to match…..but the smog over powered her eye lens…she was tired now….the lens were wide open though lifeless.

The Death of A Brahmo.....
He was slouching on the couch as I entered the clustered room; it had some remains of the previous night & more of the yester years. He gave me a sheepish smile, but I could still see a flicker of life in his eyes, maybe as I was dressed in rouge, the color of his poems, of his rebel, of his music, of his drive, the one with which he could easily relate.
My heart still yearned for him as he looked a bit sleepy, his stubble grown chin & his disheveled hair, my perfect Adonis. His face was a bit perplexed though, as he was trying to understand the occasion of me loosening my hair rather than pinning them up in a cocoon.
He looked at me with a slight hunger (still have to figure out the reason) I guessed it was because of my appearance, the wear was concealing at the right places to make a man’s fantasy go feral coz I garbed me for a man today, an alien. Everything about this alien was familiar though.
I picked up the guitar & played Moby, he tugged me closer , I kissed him on his mouth, he tried to refrain he was a bit uncomfortable to kiss when unbrushed, but I liked it that way. .
He said “Come to me baby, everything will be just fine, I know you are a hippie at heart, I like you this way”. He tried to soothe the bruises on my face, I wondered his gentle touch still made me quiver the same way it used to when we bunked our classes to creep in the old library trying to compare Einstein to Descartes’ having chai & cheap cigarettes (I still wonder how it could be managed in the library) & he had this fetish to touch my chin every time.
He mustered words “We need to be practical at times (I have to understand this syntax - yet not that evolved), I am sorry, this can be worked out" (no harmony, all off beat). He broke down in tears now “The multi dimensions don’t permit peace, mockery is that I see, a dead end, grant me my savior, my healer, grant me tranquility.” The words carried voidness now, the face no more vibrant.
Applause. “We need a GodFree world, where we come over the PHOBIA God”
Applause. “ Freedom is not that I ask, its my right to soar, & so is yours, a NoNation, a NoEducation is thy world .”
Applause “I am the seed with all dimensions, me the creator, the destroyer, I am God” jhaaang….down goes another string of his guitar.
The man with me was no more that…I wiped his tears & took his head on my lap. Took the unfinished wine bottle & made the drink.
He looked at me gasping for breath “Desdimonia….” The socio-political comtemporary thoughts all chorussed "Desdimonia"... the resonnance of sound perfect...harmony
He was lying peacefully like a child, no fears, no dualities, the journey of Brahmo to the DOORS to Renaissance all lay in peace. Descartes’, Huxley, Hume were no more disputed. Karl Marx finally settled. A world never mattered whether it was GodFree. I kissed on his forehead, the turbulence had ended.
I had to leave now...
His clothes had to be folded, the gramaphone cleaned, the black dress to be ironed & made ready

Two bottles engrossed in a deep conversation....
Introspecting, contemplating & trying to know more about the potion contained in them.
The first one said to the other one “I think I know my purpose of life, I am born to tranquilize pain, paint unrealistic & superficial portraits for the less blessed souls, I also have the capability of turning blood into a colourless liquid which is often called water.”
The other one was still mustering some courage to voice his thoughts cause he was still to know his aim & reason of existence; all that he knew that he was contained with a potion not very different from his neighbour’s.
The first bottle added to his brag “They say I am a miraculous invention out of lot of decaying matter but have the supremacy on the class called man as I take them to a temporary realm of bliss, & hope you are partially as blessed as me so that you find your life fruitful, the more I am absorbed the more they seek for me, I am that drop that can drive man to his end, I think my tales of valour may make you in awe of me, but I cannot help friend if you are not as blessed as I am."
The other was still in loss of words.
Just then a man trying to steady on his feet came & grabbed the first bottle by his neck….
The other one’s fate was etched by the alchemist of the nearby town who engraved on his body “Elixir of life” & who was the most celebrated amongst the wizards.

Every morning I went in search of the sheep that I lost….
It was just beyond the dark mountain that I had took him grazing & I missed him somewhere…
Now that I call for him, I can find him nowhere.
The fellowmen say that they last saw him with a man who had the hands of a carpenter, & eyes of a philosopher.
Some say that they saw him going in a trance under the old banyan tree.
I had woven many dreams for him & counted the pennies in my mind. His mother is wailing for him & so are his friends.
How could he betray me for an unknown man, the man who was seen roaming in the mountains….
& I really feel like uprooting this banyan tree which stood here for hundreds of years but I never realized will be the cause of my miseries
The wise old man from the neighbouring Bedouin tribe says that an enlightened sheep visited their tribe who spoke about a world of bliss & a city of gold, who healed the sick & blessed the poor
I will be visiting him tomorrow….might be he will recognize me amongst the rest.

This post is dedicated to my sweetest bro Arnab

The luminious globe of light stood in front of me...
I proceeded towards him & he enfolded his pinions & the gleaming daggers stretched themselves out of the refuge , they appeared to me like thirsty serpents wanting to taste what was flowing through my veins
I knew what was destined, a part of me had to die.....a silent death
I had to lay down my arms & just be a spectator as I saw it breathing its last breath, it suddenly seemed like an alien to me.....the one who etched in me fear, ambition,desire, antagonism,rage...the one who never left me as I conquered & posessed in life. It laid there in peace in front of me, the turmoil had ended.
Now I could proceed. I stared at his face as he undressed me & bathed me in the fragrant oil & the music of the harp melted in my ears, as he draped me in his robe & gave me his crown, led me through the passage where the celestial bodies were in awe of my grace & we walked through the foyer which was taking us towards the Divine Feast .
We were entwined in an eternal embrace as he offered himself & i had to eat from his flesh & drink through his blood.... & we were no more divided....as i became a part...i attained my Salvation.

As I was walking in the woods...
Which took me by its stride, no pathway, no dead end but I travelled. The journey which had the left overs of the autmn & no signs of the spring, the journey which maybe destined to be the destination & i pondered why was there a mirage created about Spring. We feel that the birds sing, bcoz somebody told us they do, & the trees dance as new leaves spurt out & the whole process of Nature is turned into one rosy celebration & once again our inflated ego wants to personify Nature.
The most selfish invention of Grammar is Personification & it takes all the liberty. We want to personify the inanimate to leave our mark & also use it on God to claim, then we go a step ahead & term it as creative poetry & take the oppurtinity to personify anything & everything. I dont know about political states but human minds can be as democratic as possible. I have seen a Metaphor used with personification but it is not termed as bending the rules of written language.
It also shows our reach & the power of being all pervasive, trying to spread across each thought & each object & speck... animate or inanimate. This feeling of personifying makes the object YOU & there is no diference between the object & you which can take you the state of Samadhi.
Cool.... I remember myself writing an Autobiography of an old Umbrella in my school days, trying to think like a stupid umbrella of all the things... but it was the beginning of a Satori -a deep lasting enlightenment, an innate power that you posess to personify things which was taking you by its stride might be to a destination called Samadhi.

The scent has still not left my nostrils… and the maggots still piercing my flesh…
I met my degenerated body the other day. People covered their nose, & swiftly passed including me & there he slept, unmoved, peaceful. His peace is not letting me rest in peace. He lay under the bridge & was in his dream state not at all bothered about the stench that he spread across, not even bothered by the maggots thriving on his flesh. I still don’t know whether to term him as morbid or it was a state where your material body matters no more. Is this the state that we are craving about? I can’t believe myself that I was in awe of his peace. When I say, is this the state? I mean, where you can be in peace all the time.
My body mocks me…
As I am in awe of the most morbid thing that I have ever seen
My beauty mocks me…
As what I saw had an ugly exterior
My wisdom mocks me…
As it speculates the turmoil between me & him
My self mocks me…
As I find him more elevated than me

Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?

That which cannot get affected by fire, water, air is what we all have in us… So let us be One with it & participate in the Divine Celebration.

Sati...

She sat there like an unblemished effigy. Her thick mane darker then the colour of the smog created around her. The unveiled glances still trying to capture her voluptuous beauty. She looked like a Devi unperturbed by the chaos & din around her as she sat on the funeral pyre with her master’s head on her lap. Soon she was going to be set ablaze & her existence will be brought down to mere ashes which will be blown by the breeze, soon she will be proclaimed as a Devi a Sati devi, even the chowk named at her honor was decided, it was the same one which Hira the maid servant was mentioning the other day about a hippie girl being molested by a panda.
Suddenly a smile emerged on Roma’s lips as she remembered how she & Hira had tried to hide her father-in-law’s specs & got caught & everyone suddenly hailed at Sati Mata’s name seeing the smile on her face. Roma was now feeling dizzy looking at the man on her lap somehow she could not relate to the unresponsive, lifeless body neither she could recollect about the relation that she shared with the deceased. But somehow she could relate being a Sati. She remembered Rohini they used to call each other twin souls, inseparable….Roma & Rohini under the amla tree trying to savor the beauty of the month of Kathik…..Rohini was send to Belur as she married the man with hundred maidservants at his badi (villa). Soon Rohini was sent back as the man with hundred servants (that’s how Roma recalls him), died. But Rohini came with different tags attached to her, the women at the ghat used to call her a witch devouring her husband & refusing to walk up the pyre, some also called her a loose woman as she refused to shave her head. Roma remembered Rohini’s tear filled eyes when Roma refused to meet a blasphemed woman like her. Rohini was burning everyday not with the scorn of people around her but the discomfort of her dear ones. She remembered Sudhansu whose writings could cause upheaval in the society & who was one of the active members of the Brahmo. His thoughts made Rohini free from the grief that pricked her bosom & with lots of courage she confessed her feelings to him & Rohini became a Sati that very moment as she was burnt breathing by Sudhansu’s poison tipped words for her & the whole Brahmo Samaj was set ablaze in front of her. No one heard of Rohini thereafter.
Roma knew the taste that lingered on her lips it was pure ghee, thamma used to give a lot of it when young, another pot of ghee was splashed on her. Roma realized what was happening, she screamed for help but her voice subdued in the din & she was hit by something hard on her head might be with the holy fruit- coconut. Roma could see Sudhansu smiling at her & even Rohini had accompanied her on the pyre & then she saw all the hundred maid servants of Rohini’s badi jumping one by one in the pyre. Soon the sound faded & Roma knew she will be unlike Rohini & she smiled & became unconscious.
The author’s note: Roma & Rohini are close to me & so are the maid servants, I feel that the pratha of Sati still exists. A Joan of Arc was declared as a witch as she used to dress like a man, Speak to God, get revelations & hence burnt alive, she was proclaimed a saint after 500 hundred years of her death. Sati is an immediate title of Godhood given by a man. This blog is for us to think how many times are we made a Sati & burnt alive!!!!

I went through my grammar lessons again & again....
Could not punctuate Death.. is it a coma or a full stop.....

Do I require a Guru,its mentioned time & again that you do. He is the one who brings you to the destiny. A Ramkrishna who had the dark & beautiful form as his companion also required a Guru. What is that, that I am seeking, is it a confusion or turmoil. No its a cry from within. The turmoil is about the identity of the Unidentifiable, of seeking the form which is formless. And suddenly it grips me from all sides & tries to shreik in my ears & i resist, yes the turmoil is between the gruesome self & the Utopian dream.The unbound tresses try to cover my gleaming face which wants to reveal its radiance & illuminate the Kaynat- the universe.And yes the yolking will take place then when the unseen force will engulf me & I will be nowhere & everywhere.

Lets walk hand in hand in the tavern of eternity & thou shall get peace.......

I am therefore I exist........

Existence bound by two dimensions namely Space & Time, Einstein said its only one its Spatio-Time but the art is when you transcend both Space & Time.
The substratum of Existence is Unknowable.... It has to be for it is not bound. For to bound some thing you require two. The boundary between countries, continents, states, the boundary between you & your neighbour...it all requires two. But Existence is One so it cannot be bound & man is a part of this Existence that is Unknowable, coz you are a part you need to stand apart & seperate to see it as a whole. When you are standing at the border & you see emptiness still it exists.
AUM is said to be the sound of Existence which may be divided in three A, U, M thats energy divided into three you may call it Electron, Proton, & Neutron.
When you walk,the walker exists.... When you talk, the speaker exists
The state when you are EXISTENCE & not a part of it there is no two, no division you are the walk & the Speech, no duality.
One all pervasive & Omnipresent.
May the light Of the Luminious One Touch our Souls.

My first blog......Starting with a zero
Absence of thoughts is not the zero state of mind.To understand Zero itself you need a thought.
Wisdom and Ignorance are the conditions or states of our mind(apne dimaag ki upaj)- it takes birth from dualism (dvait),but self is full of this Wisdom and Ignorance,it illuminates by its own.To see your self you do not require any other self.
People do not vacate their minds with the fear of loosing themselves in this zeroness.They are really ignorant about the fact the real zero is their own mind itself.
An ignorant resists himself from facts and not thoughts,but the wise resists himself from thoughts and not facts.
If you have created this Zero inside you then your soul will be as pure and white as the ice.But if you have lost yourself in the matrix of life then you will be in a different state altogether.
The mixture of all the colours churns out to be white which is the colour of effervescence.