Paradise Lost

Last night, I dreamed of someone I had loved and lost. Someone who my near-thirty years of innocence and desire had slowly, steadily moulded into life... and then, destroyed. Someone who was the climax of my older, younger ardour, the crystallisation of my spartan, monotheist faith. Someone who I dreamed into life, lived into religion, religiously summoned from the sphere of souls to love, cherish and protect. Someone who made me want to believe in the existence of a being who answers your prayers, provided there is enough power and patience in them.

That someone is no more. One day, I woke up and he had disappeared. He had died, I think.

With him, had died all the love I had breathed , so much of it that it had made me wonder.

With him had died all my elations and my illusions.

With his death, I now know how to feel when you love and lose. But better that than never having loved at all.

It's only that enlightenment has come at a cost : I'm alone with myself again. And the dreams are no more.

But yes, I now know that that being is there.

Be careful who you wish for. It might just be answered.

Ode to My God

For the greatest man ever born :

GOD

No idolatry for me –

I invoke

You,

the formless incarnate;

the highest truth,

the deepest desire,

the wildest wish,

the subtlest spring,

toforestall my fate.

(Today, at any rate.)

There is a prayer

repressed in my bower –

it begs words

to stoke its fire.

For all I have

is

a helpless love

even

your treacherous glances

cannot tire.

(In spite of all the mud and mire.)

Help me,You,

whose name I breathe,

whose breath I feel,

whose sky is blue.

All time stands still

in this moment

I steal

for this my cause,

its Cause to reveal.

(And this is my Hour.)

In darkness bright

I plead my right

I sell my soul

for this insight

to me

long due.

(Tell me,

God,
my God,

Who are you?)

Faith

My eyes were covered and closed: eddying darkness seemed to swim round me, and reflection came in as black and confused a flow. Self-abandoned, relaxed, and effortless, I seemed to have laid me down in the dried-up bed of a great river; I heard a flood loosened in remote mountains, and felt the torrent come: to rise I had no will, to flee I had no strength. I lay faint, longing to be dead. One idea only still throbbed life-like within me--a remembrance of God: it begot an unuttered prayer: these words went wandering up and down in my rayless mind, as something that should be whispered, but no energy was found to express them--

"Be not far from me, for trouble is near: there is none to help."

It was near: and as I had lifted no petition to Heaven to avert it--as I had neither joined my hands, nor bent my knees, nor moved my lips--it came: in full heavy swing the torrent poured over me. The whole consciousness of my life lorn, my love lost, my hope quenched, my faith
death-struck, swayed full and mighty above me in one sullen mass. That bitter hour cannot be described: in truth, "the waters came into my soul; I sank in deep mire: I felt no standing; I came into deep waters; the floods overflowed me."

Jane Eyre
Chapter XXVI






FAITH


Tears
Torrent,
Fears
Ferment,
Debts
Torment.
Words
Serpent,
Weapons
Dent.


The memory of
Yesterday’s
Unholy
Loud
Proud
Laughter
Coming apart
In slow
Hollow
Shreds,
Seizure of art :
The very thought
of
Today :
A Blasphemy.


The smooth
Uncouth
surface
Can no longer soothe ;
Serrates
Smashes into
A Million
Senseless
Smithereens;
Each staring
Ecstatically
Sarcastically
Into
Each other’s
Reflections.



*


I cannot recall
What
Whom
I walked away from
The prodigal
Why
Begging
Impeachment
Reproach
Mired in material
Mirages.


But
She accepts
Surrender
Submission
Forgives
Sweeps up
Forgotten fragments
Promises
Vows
Renews



*



I
Kneel
Before
Her
Head on heel
Humbled
No words
No tears
No fears
No spears
No arrears



The Omniscient



My soul
Stands redeemed
Unconditionally
For
Seeking within
I have found
In silence
A miracle :
Faith.


GARGI MANDAL
22-04-2009

And because this is one of those rare days when my soul bares itself to you all, this is for you :

Peace.

Two Pujos at New Jersey, 2008

The pujos at Ananda Mandir and Bharat Shevasram Sangha respectively...

we visited them on the evening of Shashthi, after a sumptous lunch at Sabyasachi and Moumita's place, followed by a film at Regal Cinemas and a bit of grocery shopping at Patel's Cash & Carry in Somerset...the pujo at Ananda Mandir seemed a ghorowa pujo, my perception owing much to the thinner but quite-at-ease crowd and the friendly banter that floated to and fro, across the hall when we ousiders entered it for the first time...it was rather chilly that day and the warmth of the gathering was infectious. We left after paying obeisance to the goddess and the ubiquitous round of photography. A tall gentleman in a rust coloured panjabi politely solicited us to partake of bhog. We said we would come back. We had other plans, none of which included paying $40 per head for a single night's dinner. More so when you still haven't outgrown the habit of calculating the rupee equivalent.

Bharat Shevasram was a pleasant surprise for the senses. I wondered at the presence of so many Bangalis when I had already reconciled myself with the significant absence of the commmunity from the place where we live , that is, Somerville. We were greeted by a crowd that jostled but did not push, where sarees and skirts, dhutis and jeans shared wardrobe space, where the infectious rhythm of dhaaker baajna intersected with the American accents of NRIs and an announcement of the "recitation of a kobita", where patiently queueing up for choronamrito, proshad and vegetarian bhog (jeera rice, alur dom, chhola, papad, chutney) did not deter the public from generous donations in dollar notes and where traditional christmas tree decorations cohered with colourful hand-painted thermocol cut-outs of dhaakis. I was impressed at the disciplined mass that offered pushpanjali to the goddess and stood eating a spartan bhog in open spaces around a makeshift tent, respecting the spirit of the festival and the essence of the gathering. The volunteers were simultaneously friendly and firm, the children playful and difficult, the worshippers devout and doubtful but the atmosphere was indubitably peaceful and pious. My heart went out in reverence for the monks at the ashram who were managing so many and so much with so little help and so much humility. God bless us all.