I felt my eyes opening just a little. The sky wasn’t dark anymore-so it must be getting nearer dawn. Before I decided I was awake, I realized that the skull consuming godforsaken headache hadn’t left my head yet. It was a month or so I guess, or maybe just 2 weeks, but I had lost count of time. The sciatica nerve related pain had decided to limit itself to the top of my bums for now and I felt rather relieved. It was going to be a beautiful golden glow dawn. I could see a patch of the still soft warming up sky through the elaborately carved papaya leaves. There was no red in there yet, but I knew there’d be in some time. I wanted the hours of dawn to last longer before the world woke up, before the glaring light made poetry seem silly.
For these hours called for poetry and did not make prayer seem like the self assurance of the weak to strengthen themselves against the hurling disturbing blow of the world at large. At this hour when the wind blew softly in gusts and the sky wasn’t glowing like light reflected off a shiny gold globe- hymns felt natural. Only that I knew none. And just like that day during the last FIFA world cup, when after a late night match I had gone to the lakeside and sat looking out at the pre-dawn cloud filled vast sky overhanging the grey waters of the lake-I felt the same sitting on the old mattress on the floor, looking out at the slice of sky through the window.
I knew why the rishis had written the verses of the Rig Veda. I knew why they had made the sun and wind and earth and thunder and rivers Gods and Goddesses. After all the disturbance which eats out your innards, leaves you with chronic headaches that never seem to go away, -after all of this comes the soothing caress of dawn. And that moment of fleeting peace simply feels divine. Everything around feels divine and whether or not they are gods, they sure do feel like ones, showering the tired battle worn mind with soft delicate flowers of elusive peace. It is then that the showers at dawn feel like blessings from heaven. For hell is in us. So is heaven. It is here. Right here and nowhere else. For hopeless agony without any light in sight is hell and inner peace is heaven. The Kingdom of heaven is indeed within us, when we can reach out to it.
I had forsaken my peace. I couldn’t control it anymore. I was caught up in a tangled web of disturbed minds suffering acutely of I know not what, and in trying to make my way through it I had been caught up like in the branches of a wait-a-bit tree. I couldn’t free myself- I was much too deep in the jungle and knew not what lay outside.
I downloaded Tamiswaranang and Yademi Prasfurranniba and felt eternally grateful to Rabindranath for having taken two tiny slices of Vedic hymn and bringing them to mainstream. Maybe Debabrata should have sung a lot more Vedic songs. Thank you. Who do I say it to? For once I want an omnipresent consciousness to pervade the void around me. I want to say Thank you to You. It was a blessing while it lasted. And maybe, after having lost my way and getting beaten and battered and worn out by life, I will attain that inner joy of the music of the orbs playing inside me-Nataraj’s dance throbbing in my blood. The joy of feeling a part of the natural principle and absorbed to annihilation in it.
For these hours called for poetry and did not make prayer seem like the self assurance of the weak to strengthen themselves against the hurling disturbing blow of the world at large. At this hour when the wind blew softly in gusts and the sky wasn’t glowing like light reflected off a shiny gold globe- hymns felt natural. Only that I knew none. And just like that day during the last FIFA world cup, when after a late night match I had gone to the lakeside and sat looking out at the pre-dawn cloud filled vast sky overhanging the grey waters of the lake-I felt the same sitting on the old mattress on the floor, looking out at the slice of sky through the window.
I knew why the rishis had written the verses of the Rig Veda. I knew why they had made the sun and wind and earth and thunder and rivers Gods and Goddesses. After all the disturbance which eats out your innards, leaves you with chronic headaches that never seem to go away, -after all of this comes the soothing caress of dawn. And that moment of fleeting peace simply feels divine. Everything around feels divine and whether or not they are gods, they sure do feel like ones, showering the tired battle worn mind with soft delicate flowers of elusive peace. It is then that the showers at dawn feel like blessings from heaven. For hell is in us. So is heaven. It is here. Right here and nowhere else. For hopeless agony without any light in sight is hell and inner peace is heaven. The Kingdom of heaven is indeed within us, when we can reach out to it.
I had forsaken my peace. I couldn’t control it anymore. I was caught up in a tangled web of disturbed minds suffering acutely of I know not what, and in trying to make my way through it I had been caught up like in the branches of a wait-a-bit tree. I couldn’t free myself- I was much too deep in the jungle and knew not what lay outside.
I downloaded Tamiswaranang and Yademi Prasfurranniba and felt eternally grateful to Rabindranath for having taken two tiny slices of Vedic hymn and bringing them to mainstream. Maybe Debabrata should have sung a lot more Vedic songs. Thank you. Who do I say it to? For once I want an omnipresent consciousness to pervade the void around me. I want to say Thank you to You. It was a blessing while it lasted. And maybe, after having lost my way and getting beaten and battered and worn out by life, I will attain that inner joy of the music of the orbs playing inside me-Nataraj’s dance throbbing in my blood. The joy of feeling a part of the natural principle and absorbed to annihilation in it.
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