Tanzerin

WAVES OF BEAUTY In the light of the candle I saw her. A glow so radiant that it was blinding; As it was scintillating. A bejeweled crown that shone As if it was her pride. Blackness all around Her dark body seemed to throw. A crimson tongue reeked of anger with weapons to aid. With a garland of skulls, Morbid seemed the goddess. Demons lay at her feet, Frightened by her strength. Her matted hair disheveled Like that of an ascetic. A goddess embodies grace, Is it not I wondered. Then why worship such ferocity, For peace is what prevails?! And then I looked at her eye, I take pride in my children, They seemed to say, Not arrogant by my strength. My blackness is my power, They seemed to say, An energy so potent That it encompasses all. My weapons will rise They seemed to say, When you sin. Devote yourself for good and you won’t stumble. Evil will be vanquished They seemed to say, In every age and ti

Rule # 1 Long ago: Oldie: At dawn, sprinkle water in front of the house. The dust will settle, you can smell the earth and you will get to hear the birds sing- what a beautiful start to the day! Some time ago: Oldie: At dawn, sprinkle water in front of the house. Girl: Why? Oldie: It’s good for you and for the house. And don’t keep asking questions- it’s disrespectful. Now: Oldie:  At dawn, sprinkle water in front of the house. Girl: But, it’s Saturday. I want to sleep till 9. And if I sprinkle water, my neighbours will slip and fall. Oldie: What a generation! No discipline. Rule#2 Long ago: Oldie: The clothes must have dried. Bring them in before you eat or you’ll get a cramp in your tummy collecting and folding all the clothes. Sometime ago: Oldie: The clothes must have dried. Bring them in before you eat. Girl: Why? Oldie: That’s the rule. And don’t keep asking questions- it’s disrespectful. Now: Oldie: Bring the clothes in before you eat.

The Atman cries out to the Brahman “Who am I?” Not hearing a response, he cries out again “Why am I here?” Baffled by the silence of the Brahman, the Atman proclaims “I am the supreme manifestation of reality.” To which he hears no argument but what stirs within him is an unexplained restlessness. He is angered by his mute spectator. “Your silence only tells a story of ignorance”, he reluctantly exclaims, half in anger, half in despair. “I will figure this out on my own”, he says determinedly and sets out.  He travels far and wide. He consults with magicians. He consults with ascetics. He asks the winds and the rain. He asks the swift sand about her maker. “Who made you?” she retorts sarcastically. Stamping her into the earth with a hurt ego, he sets out further. He speaks to the mountains, he speaks to the snow. “Shouldn’t you aim to climb up once in a while?” he asks the snow over Mount Kailash. “Your descent is your end- as you melt and trickle down the plains only to end in