Postcard from the hills

Sometimes in silence, I reflect on love.

Love that I have, and, love that is gone.

What is gone often seems very close,

While what I have seems distant and cold.

As I sat surveying the hill side,

I stroked the grass and softly kissed it.

I unwrapped the dark chocolate that

I was carrying, and, paused to take a bite.

I could faintly smell the lavender from my fading perfume,

Creating a heady concoction with the surrounding sage and thyme bushes growing in profusion.

I touched the blue sky in my mind’s eye and thought harder.

In the name of Love, we give it infinite power To evoke hidden desires, our deepest scars and oldest longings.

Rewind, erase, let go and pause again. Repeat.

I lost track of time.

Bugle sounds from the army camp at the base of the terraced valley broke my reverie.

I stretched my limbs and knew it down to my bones that

Stealing a slice of time is never as nice as living it.

When we climb, we seek as to why, somewhere between the bottom and the summit.

Love is a bit like that too.

Caught struggling forever between the anticipation of a kiss, and its consummation.

With softened eyes and nerves of steel,

I rose and walked back to the car,

Having known now through many lifetimes

That self love is the best gift that I can ever give myself.

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By the river Ganges

I love the sublime mountains,

But the waters always haunt me. 

Oceans, seas, rivers, lakes, 

They all have me hooked.

And, if it is the mighty Ganges, 

Then all I can do is sit quietly by its banks 

Hoping that whatever flows from me flows like her.

Pure, free and timeless. 

No holding back. 

Like how a child flows. 

I want to be like that river.

Omnipresent, and everywhere simultaneously. 

At the source, in the mountains, in the waterfalls, 

In the valleys, the plains, and, at the mouth where it meets the sea. 

Timeless, and yet, ever so timely.

It’s said one never steps into the same waters twice. 

But even as you step in, the water continues to flow.

So is it even the same water ever? 

The river is never still. 

It is always there, but it is constantly flowing,

And in the process changing itself and lives of those it touches. 

Am I like the river, boundless, and infinite?

Am I growing, widening and deepening my life?

Or, am I growing stagnant, dirty and arid like the river bed? 

Should I allow life to dam me up and flow only in canals to serve my purpose?

Or, should I continue to course through life flowing gently where required and surging across rapids to plough a valley of my own? 

I wonder. 

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Finding Zen

Sleeping in late, still tired and achy from my travels, I vaguely remember it is a Monday. 

But there is no rush, no hustle to get up, to go anywhere or get any work done. 

I can see the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the curtains. 

Sitting up slowly in bed, I draw back the curtains across the large bay windows.

And lo behold, a view of the snow capped Greater Himalayan ranges greets me. 

A clear day, warm sunny skies, quite a contrast from the cold night that just went by. 

I hesitate to get up. Something makes me stall my steps. 

I could watch this view forever. 

Far from the noise and chaos of the city.

I can hear the wind whistling through the deodar trees, crickets buzzing, a cowbell or two in the valley below, wind chimes, and an occasional bird call. 

I walk out to the edge of the ridge, stretch my limbs and sit down continuing to be mesmerised by the mountains and the forests. 

Time passes by, probably an hour, but I am not counting. 

An otherwise intense silence, sometimes interrupted by two local mountain dogs barking and chasing each other along the edges of the ridge. 

Grateful for the sudden and random decision to be here, I soak in the peace and quiet of my surroundings. 

Spring has started growing its roots in the mountains, 

Stirring up emotions that haunt my wandering soul. 

I wonder what lies ahead of me this year.

The recent stretch has been quite unsettling. 

At that moment, ever so slightly the wind caresses my face and fingers my hair sweeping it across my face, 

As if to remind me that I am where I need to be.

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An April Haiku

Sunshine on young leaves

Cold breeze whistles through the pines

Spring in the mountains.

Posted in april, Daily Life, Musings, My Life, Nature, Poetry, Random Thoughts, Reflections, Seasons, spring, summer | Leave a comment

A March Haiku

Fallen flowers whirling

Along the sun kissed path

Spring disappears.

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No Respite

Just another ordinary day.

You’re in a land far away.

I wait by the phone

Thinking I might receive a call

But, all I ever hear is the

Distant sound of a squall,

Beating down the window panes.

You chose to move to another shore

Looking for another love.

I sit here patiently, knowing

You will never find another dove.

You walk street after burning street,

Looking for a respite from the memory

Of that kiss that still blazes your lips,

While the ashes whirl up and choke you.

The more you run, the more you’ll be haunted

By the devastation left in your wake.

In the agonised valley where you rally

Between love and hate, the hours and days

Pile up between a rock and a faraway place.

Regret is a very loaded word,

Strongly felt by those who cannot forgive.

In my mind, I called myself to make up

For the call that never came.

The happiness that I have will take

You a lifetime to arrive at.

Keep running my friend,

From yourself till you’re ready

To face the man in the mirror

And accept your share of grace.

Posted in Daily Life, Emotions, Experiences, healing, lessons, Life, longing, Love, melancholy, Memories, Musings, Nostalgia, poem, Poetry, Random Thoughts, Reflections, Relationships, Rumination, Thoughts | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Crash & Burn

I’d heard your voice at the other end of the line.

And in that very first instance,

My heart had sunk.

I knew that an inexplicable connect

Ran through our veins.

I could hide from you, but I could never run.

I chose to ignore the warnings of my gut.

Instead, I went crashing into your open arms,

Only to fall flat on my face when your heart

Could not expand to hold all of me.

And, when my face touched the ground

I could smell my hair burning with the

dying embers of your cigarette stub.

I crash, burn and resurrect myself

every single goddam time because

I know that men like you belong only

to yourselves and the Universe.

And, yet I know that the melancholic story

will repeat itself, unless blood runs its course,

And, I learn the lesson that the wheels of life

Intend to teach me.

Posted in Emotions, Experiences, lessons, Life, longing, Love, melancholy, Memories, Musings, Nostalgia, poem, Poetry, Random pieces of Moi, Random Thoughts, Reflections, Relationships, soulmates, Thoughts | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment