Welcoming the baby

He had made up his mind. His knotted hands trembled as he clutched the precious seeds in the palm of his sweaty hands. He had heard his son and daughter-in-law whispering in the dark, a few days back. ‘Where do we put the baby?’ The utter helplessness in their voices had put the idea into his head. At first, he had wished it away. Unbidden it came, again and again. Pushing its way to the surface of his consciousness; until he was forced to acknowledge it for what it was – a master solution.

As his feet trudged over the cracked earth, the heat waves hit his face and made his weak eyes water and blur. He walked on resolutely. The faces on the way were grim. Not a single drop had fallen from the skies for days. For months. He passed by a crowded house. The wailing had just started. He forced his mind not to think. To imagine how it be. Soon. Now they would lower the body. The wailing would start. The beating of the chest. The thumping of the drums. The rhythmic death dance. A few flowers purchased on credit and a few wild flowers thrown in for free. Then, the government would step in. An official would come - usually a thin reedy man with a trembly voice awkward in his responsibility. He would give a cheque after a short speech, which would be drowned in the wailing. Then the family would feast. Eat after maybe days. There would be a few photographs taken. Sometimes, the local politician would join in, if he felt it would add to his mileage.

His face or behaviour gave no clue of what was running in his mind. He wiped his dry dusty feet on the dry dusty mat and went in. The poor girl was almost done. Well into her pregnancy. His eyes shifted vaguely trying to avoid looking at her helpless face. She served him the meagre portion of the gruel.

In the night, he woke up to the dry heat and moans of labour. His daughter-in-law was trying her best not to disturb him by stifling the cries of pain. He knew the time was right. He put the tiny pellet into his mouth and then lay down again. The last he knew was the wail of the baby as it came into the world.

At dawn, they found him dead. The precious seeds for the next season clutched tightly in his hands. The house that could only hold three people had a place for the baby now. The wailing started. Both, from the new born baby and for the dead.

The rains came, as they started the death dance.

The lone eagle flies

The lone eagle flies

high above. 

reveling in the height,

the sheer joy of the view.

Seeing the world far below.

Proud of its aloneness.

And ruggedness.

The feathery white clouds

stealthily enroached 

and enveloped it

in its white softness.

Wonder what became 

of the eagle ?

A strange thought!

Why is it when we can understand that the image in the mirror is an illusion, we always think we are real in some way? What block in the mind prevents us from seeing the temporary and illusionary nature of our own self ?

Afternoon Ramblings [ Srividya Srinivasan]

The Cosmic Cycle

In the Cosmic Cycle,
How would I ever know
if the current is a result
of the past
or it is the cause for
an effect in the future ?
How do I use
my free will unless
I know this ?

- Ramblings -
Srividya Srinivasan

The preciousness of it all

I am the rare flower,
that you have to treasure, nurture and protect.
I am the precious gem,
that you have to discover, polish, flaunt and secure,
I am the uncommon,
fast becoming extinct unto ordinariness.

If you are not the connoisseur,
and failed to see my rareness,
for all you can see is the common,

Is that my fault or yours?

When you were thinking of sex

When you were thinking of sex
I was thinking of advaita, the cosmic fusion.
When you were thinking of love
I was thinking of soul mates.
When you were thinking of you and me
I was thinking of us.
When you thought that 'I' am begging,
'I' had already surrendered my ego to love
When you thought 'I' am Vulnerable
'I' was the strong one with all of me given to Love.
You are the one who is running,
You are one looking for a escape route,
You are the one afraid to look into yourself and let go.

You come from a world where two separate souls meet, interact and
move on carrying what you brought in.

For me, there is no 'I'. My love is a seamless merging.
That is why I cannot let go. You are in me.
I have fused myself into togetherness with nothing separate.

Where can you go ?

Now, do you comprehend the depth of my pain?
It is the pain of the womb,
As the child is forcibly separated from the mother,
It is a mental tearing off,
limb by limb,
trying to identify
what is yours and
what is mine.

- Srividya Srinivasan

Responding to the Cosmic

Do not take credit or feel pride for anything
you have done or achieved.
Your intelligence was given.
Your physical looks were given.
Your fit body with no deformities was given.
Do not measure my world and yours by
the number of children we had;
the number of cars we owned;
the amount of money we have in the bank;
or the investments we have done.
In the passage of life these mean nothing.

Do not weigh your personality
with psuedo words, pride and position,
or the arrogance that you know it all.
Against the simplest test of intelligence,
you would fail miserably.
They were all given.
We have earned nothing, we own nothing.
Not our body, not our minds, not our intelligence,
not our wealth, not our health, not our children,
nor our parents.

Your opportunities were carved out for you by
the world and the cosmos.
If at all you have a right to take any credit,
it is only that you recognized your potential,
that you utilised your faculties,
and
that you seized and responded to the divine cosmic,
and went with the larger flow for your own redemption.

- Srividya Srinivasan

Is Adwaitha really possible ?

Is Adwaitha really possible ? Truly ? For even that tiniest fraction of time if it does, would not it be the most magnificient phenomena as all dualities merge seamlessly right from the largest to the tinest i.e the proton and the electron to the entire cosmos that is held in balance due to duality losing itself ? Pralaya.What a thought !!

Srividya Srinivasan
[ Midnight Ramblings]

The resultant is everything or nothing!!

When the individual consiousness merges with the supreme consciousness,
when dwaitha merges into adwaitha,
Would the resultant be nothing ?
or everything ?
is it nothingness cos no properties exist or everythingness as all properties are merged ?

Srividya Srinivasan
[ Midnight Ramblings]

Bliss

Anandha lies suspended between the clutter of the past
and the nebulousness of the future.
A fragile pulsing moment of pure life.
I am in bliss.

- Srividya Srinivasan

I hate tears

I hate tears.
But they come unbidden.
All the time.

I hate being lonely.
But I am all the time.

I love to laugh.
All the time. 
But the humour is drying up
The tears stay.

- Srividya Srinivasan

And then there were none...

One said I am there
for life.
He was. And wasn't.
I was right there
but as good as dead.
Another saw.
Came.
A user in disguise.
brought in hope.
came with the rope.
I cling.
It's a long journey.
together.
So i think.
Lo. He spies another
greener pasture.
And plays a dual game
nay a multiple game.
he torments by making
you watch it as well.
The long journey was
a farce.
What an old fashioned fool you are.
whimper. in a corner.
cring.
lo, comes another.
wiser and nicer.
full of goodness.
pull from the quagmire.
now i have you on level ground
come on. wake up.
Punch. Punch. Punch.
Come on wake up.
You can do it.
Punch. Punch. Punch.
You are alone.
Love it.
Punch. Punch. Punch.
Come on dream.
Punch. Punch. Punch.
Had you this time. Ha ha ha.
Punch. Punch. Punch.

Have you seen ?

Have you seen the depths of despair?
the absolute bottom pit of loneliness?
the dark nights of nightmarish terror?
Have you ever felt so lost that you are blank?
Have you ever felt you are an angel banished
to hell?
Shorn of all glory and power.
Have you ever cringed to go out,
feared a crowd,
Felt yourself ugly inside out?
Have you ever longed for a word of praise ?
For a single act of solidarity instead of criticism?
Have you ever been where you are not on trial?
Judged for all that you have done and not done?
I hope you haven't been and never will.
It is a trip to hell and back my friend,
I hope you don't.

Can't you see ?

You are asking me to be lonely,
not just to be alone.

Please don't

Don't be kind to me and then be harsh,
Instead be harsh always.
Don't love me now and leave me later,
Instead don't love me at all.
Don't be tender now and then be mean,
Instead be mean from the start.
Don't make me believe and then pull it back,
What do you think I would be left with?
Don't bond yourself with me
Mind, body, Soul
And then walk away.
What do you think I can do ?
Don't show the heaven of togetherness
and then ask me live alone.

The Divine Connection

It is a special someone who sees a problem
and risks stepping in instead of moving on ;
It is a special someone who at your lowest point
still sees you as a person with a problem
And not as THE PROBLEM;
It is a special someone whom you can call at midnight,
and he listens with his heart and soul to you;
It is a special someone who can empathize with you,
and wait for the right moment to tell you are wrong ;
It is a special someone who cries 'cos your hurting,
And loves you for your giggle;
It is a special someone who stands by you even if the entire
world turns its back on you;
It is a special someone who thinks of you all day long,
and takes the effort and the time to let you know;
It is a special someone who can bring the touch of the divine,
to light the candle of hope in your heart;
It is a special someone who can make you feel
that life is worth living after all;
It is a special someone who makes you feel beautiful inside out,
It is a special someone who is so pure at heart
that you feel at peace with him;
And after all this,
when such a special person says
It's all over and it didn't mean a thing,
What is one to do ?

Your complete woman

I am the witch with the magical powers,
I am the temptress with the bewitching smile,
I am the enchantress with the sparkling eyes,
I am the intellectual who would drown you in thought,
I am the romantic who would show you the stars,
I am the infant who would cry for your arms,
I am the child who would long for your glance,
I am the helpless who would need your hand,
I am the invincible who would need no one,
I am the innocent with the ready laugh,
I am the stealer of hearts and of yours,
I am the one to mother your child,
I am the lover who matches your fire,
I am your prayer,
I am your salvation,
I am your dream,
I am your nightmare,
I am your sanity,
I am your despair,
I am your mother,
I am your child,
I am the dreamer in Us,
I am the doer in Us,
I am the believer in Us,
As long as i live.

- Srividya Srinivasan

I seek you

My eyes seek the crowds eagerly.
They seek you among a thousand faces.
A muted laugh somewhere
makes me turn quickly.
Is that your laugh that I hear ?

Every gait looks familiar.
Surely that is you ahead ?
I rush ahead in my anxiety
to find a stranger’s face.

I walk the ways alone
seeking and longing for your company.
Every wayfarer shall bear your name,
every visage your face.
Every voice will sounds like yours .
But no ! It is not to be.
And, as I trudge my way along life’s course,
I make it searching for ye.

- Srividya Srinivasan
  October 1998

BROKEN DREAMS

The moment mocks at me.
It represents the death of all that I believe in.
I smile.
The ghastly artificial smile of one who weeps inside.
All around me are laughing gay faces.
They are rejoicing for me.
They think that they share my moment of joy.
The flowers in their brilliance, the canopy of lights,
the strains of music, the snatches of conversations,
the bright faces, the sheen of silks.
All for my perfect moment in life.
I suddenly absurdly want to laugh.
And cry.
“This is not what I want ” my mind screams
... silently.
I hide my tears.
Have you ever shared a perfect moment with the wrong person ?


- Srividya Srinivasan
October 1998

BIRTH-DEATH

A second passes...
And a moment is born...
and a moment dies.

Suspended between both am I.
Suspended between birth and death.

Should I rejoice for the moment to come
for the birth of new Mes ?
or
harp on fond memories ?

They say that
everything that ever happened is in the air still,
in time and space suspended somewhere in infinity.
I wish I could bottle up all those I treasure,
draw all events unto myself ,
Capture its essence like a fragrance ,
like a glorious piece of music,
to open at will
to feel the same emotions wash all over me again.

Then, I could go ahead with living,
and rejoice in the birth
and not mourn the death of the moment past.

- Srividya Srinivasan
1997