Abheek's Rendezvous with the Sage

Walking down the coastline of the Andamans,
Abheek in depth of melancholy
Was trying to cry out loud
Through the tumultuous waves of the ocean.

He knew he was wronged by Vibha.
He knew his world was all devastated.
He lost his most precious one.
And that too - just like that!
Out of a whim of the other!
A deluge of hatred, self-pity and anger
Was washing him off.
He shouted, "Why me, why me, why me??"
"What did not I do for her?"

The moon was reflecting the light from atop.
She was calm, accepting and quiet.
Ancient stars were twinkling from eternity,
Watching Abheek with empathy and care.

Walking down the sea shore,
Abheek's eyes got stuck to the grand full moon,
With all her beauty.

Suddenly the thought came to him,
Why was the nature so beautiful,
Why was the nature so happy!
It was as if a beautiful flower,
Thriving on the sad and spent bed of compost!
He was feeling like that compost,
Which was all spent and sacrificed,
For the happiness of all around!
Was there not such a big smile of happiness
And refreshing fulfillment in her twinkling eyes,
When she just snapped everything off? Everything!

In his mind he could see,
All gray compost - all in black and white,
With the bring yellow and red happy petals,
Thriving with joy!
He was sad. Very sad.
And she was all happy and indifferent!!!

Something happened suddenly.
His left feet was stuck behind,
As he was walking forward.
He turned and saw the mutilated sand,
Holding his feet.

The sand appeared to him as a sage,
A sage who was deep in meditation,
And his feet just fell on his head.
The sage was all wet.
Abheek thought it was tears of being wronged!
Apologized Abheek immediately to the sage.
The sage smiled, and said,
"My tears are of not sadness, but of joy!"
No feet can wrong me, No matter how it appears.

Abheek was curious at the speaking sand.
He squatted and came nearer to the sand.
He asked, then what wrongs thou, O sage?
The sage smiled again with tranquility,
It is my arrogance and jealousy
That wrongs me. It is not your feet,
But my pride, that holds me higher than your feet!

Being one with One dream of the God,
The sage continued,
I can see God in all creation, in all circumstances,
In everything around!
What appears mutilation and being wronged to you,
Is just a "prasadam" for me, O Abheek!
"Prasadam" from the all pervading Self!
To show me the Truth.

As Abheek sat there, listening the sage,
The wave of the ocean came on,
And washed away the sage forever!
The sage disappeared in the vastness of that night!
Abheek did not know when the sage of born,
And why suddenly he perished!
He questioned the ruthless indifference of nature!

But then, from somewhere,
The soul of the sage whispered in his ears,
"It is my arrogance and jealousy that wrongs me,
Not nature or anything out there!"

(PS - This is part of my forthcoming novel - MISFIT. Abheek Bose is the main protagonist of the story)
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Recurrence of Loss

So Abheek continued...
I used to think the cloud fades just once.
But then I realized it fades continuously,
Each moment, forever - leaving that sinking emptiness in heart,
Till eternity.

I used to think I couldn't go a day without your smile.
Without telling you things and hearing your voice back!
I used to think atlast I got you forever!
Like the two sides of the river,
I thought we will live together till eternity in that bond ecstatic!

Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard
But the next was harder.
And I knew with a sinking feeling
It was going to get worse and
I wasn't going to be okay for a very long time!
A very very long time!
Probably Never!

Because losing someone isn't an occasion or an event.
It doesn't just happen once.
It happens over and over again.
I lose you every time I think of RS
I lose you every time I think of A'L
I lose you every time I listen to that song
I lose you every time I watch that movie
I lose you every time your favorite phrases appear in my memory!

I lose you every time I think of kissing you,
Holding you or wanting you.
I go to bed at night just to lose you again.
And when I wish I could tell you about my day,
Start from the early morning or then after the tired long day,
I lose you again.

With every breath I take in, I inhale a painful prick in my heart of your loss,
With every breath I release, I give away another moment of my life,
Sanctified with your bleeding Loss of your nearness.

Is this just a loss? Or is it something more?
For it is my own sacred secret.
It is my own sanctum, my special personal altar!
It is something very special - my own,
Which none can take away!
Its my well-cherished love,
My well-cherished pain!
For more than a decade of this life,
And countless births before..
Is not just another story of love!
It is a saga of the pursuit of God!

Praying for you...
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Love Laden Eyes

Beauty is visible only to
The love laden eyes.
For love cleanses and shows the truth.
Without love, all beauty is undone!

From the blind darkness
Of the potential in the womb,
Redeemed is the soul,
To behold the preciousness of the world -
Beauty and magnificence,
All visible through,
The love laden eyes.
Birthing to the sacred promise,
Of being human!

In the beginning was only love -
The only truth.
And then one soul lost herself to the other,
And was a creation in the womb -
Of a potential - of a possibility,
Of a promise of love renewed!

On this day auspicious,
Celebrates the world,
The cause of all what is so beautiful -
The stance of Motherhood -
The stand of love,
The stand of beauty,
The stand of truth!

The spirit of Simoni blesses all mothers -
The genesis of life, love and inspiration!
On this auspicious and holy day!

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Love dieth not

It's not that love dies
Rather its the focus on love
That gets dissipated by
The ignoble forces of our nature
Which haunts us
In the form of 
The shallow busyness 
Of  the daily life!

The vocation of Simoni
Is to be centered on his Love,
And the trance of the beauty
Of the most beautiful eyes.
Focused and ever creative,
Not lured by the easy busyness
Of the daily life.

Through his songs, work and toil
Simoni continues to nurture 
His meditation on his love -
His ever youthful love,
Rediscovering himself every dawn,
In the ever fresh and warm blessings
Of the Golden Deluge of the sage Sun.

As Sun re-kindles his fire of ardor 
Of his Love for the Moon,
Recreating and realizing it anew forever.
So does Simoni,
Through his art and inspiration,
Reclaims his redemption 
Every new morn, and every new eve.

It's not that love dies
Rather its the focus on love
That gets dissipated by
The ignoble forces of our nature
Which haunts us
In the form of 
The shallow busyness 
Of  the daily life!

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Copyright© Samrat Kar. Kar Conversations.

Not the boulder but the Lotus

The blue clear gem
Lay abandoned
Amongst the lifeless boulders -
Arrogant and numb to life.
They proclaimed of having known the truth -
The futility of love and life!
For the black boulders
Were serious and veterans-
They knew all are transient shadows
To bind them to painful attachments.
Hence they lived undisturbed and unconnected,
In that far away world,
Foreign to any season of life and love.

In there stony heartless being,
They missed the point -
Were they not being attached to
The aversion to attachment?
Would ask the blue clear gem -
For he could see through the mirage.
Wanted it to transcend
Its limited predicament among the boulders black.

Eons of penance he did,
Passing through the burns
Of the blazing sun,
And the intimidating thirst.
But never he allowed his own clarity
To be blackened following the destiny
Of the boulders black.

Mother Earth could not bear
The burden of his pleadings.
Nor could creation take it anymore.
There was on one sunny day
Sudden springs of fresh water
Did burst out of the heavy heart
Of the Earth.
Saplings sprouted,
Flowers blossomed,
Clouds came and yielded to rain.

The springs and the fountains
Of satiating joyous water
Embraced the land all around
The clear blue gem.
Purified he became,
Of the veil of doubt,
Gushed was he
To the bank of a newly formed pond.

The new love and life of water
Brought seasons of freshness
and bounty all around.
The clear gem glistened at the bank
In playful moments
With the fishes and frogs.

There was a Lotus white
Right in the middle of the pond.
Mingled in all what was around,
Wet was it but damp was it not!

The clear blue gem
Saw in front what he was yearning for
An equanimity to both
Craving and aversion!

The lotus was at peace
Surrendered to all around -
The ruffles of wind, moss around
The freshness as well as the stink.
Neither was it fallen in attachment
Giving in to the wilting dampness,
Nor was it averse as a concrete slab.

Passing through the play
Of life and love,
Of the form and the formless,
Meandering through the valleys
Of drought and deluge,
The lotus saw all, played all, loved all!
But was always open and transfixed
To the Unity - the Absolute
Overarching the thousands interplay of forms and shadows.

The senses, the forms, the pains and joy -
All were gateways real and concrete
For the lotus to know the One!

The clear blue gem was enlightened!
He transformed to a shrine.
A shrine of love and life.
A shrine beyond attachment and aversion.
A shrine thriving in the sensuality
And the juice of life and love,
Knowing the One in process.

The Lotus was wet.
But never damp.
The shrine was a stone.
But never without spirit
Of the clear blue gem.

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Copyright © Samrat Kar

Beyond Right and Wrong

Beyond what is right,
And what is wrong -
There lies a valley pristine.
I will meet you there!

How simple it is to see through
And find faults, O Lord!
But isn't life not
A court for judgment?
Isn't it not at all,
An examination to pass?

For every sigh of Love,
Is nourished with the will
To suspend that disbelief,
To be blind to that shortcoming.
It is that poetic ardor,
To see the beloved as the Goddess.
Isn't every inspiration
An experiment with naive idealization?
Is not romantic fatalism,
The bedrock of a potent existence?

Sitting on the rock by the sea,
Simoni watches with amazement,
The love-making in the starry night,
Of the moon and the sea!
Had not the sea not even noticed
The blemishes of the moon?
Or might it not have
Created a romantic poetry
Out of the stuck stag in her,
Who is housed in its shyness
Of helpless and profound love?

As he plays the melody of love,
Through his gentle flute,
Simony spreads the symphony of Life,
Singing the voice of Beauty and Love,
Beyond what is right
And what is wrong!

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Copyright © Samrat Kar. KarConversations.

Destined to Love

Simoni sat on his shrine.
Was he meditating on his breath.
Thoughts from past,
Shallow and profound
Paid their visit unasked.
Like an old and bosom friend,
He welcomed them,
Made them feel comfortable,
And continued being one
With his breath.

The Sun, wind, rain and trees
The Earth, rivers, oceans and falls,
The songs, poems,
Equally the noise and discord,
All held Simoni amidst
Life's tapestry -
Alive in equanimity.

With all was Simoni in love!
All were special,
All were attractive
All were luscious.
For he knew,
The source of love and life,
Was not out there,
But very much within!
It was single and undivided,
The One.

Simoni was not destined
To be in love with just an aspect one.
But he was destined to be in love.
Just be in love.

For he knew the lady with the most beautiful eyes,
Shows up sometimes
As a silent and stoic canyon,
Or at times as the passionate and loud ocean.
Sometimes she is a pang of the most painful pain,
Or at times she is
Grace of healing love.
She is omnipresent all around,
Transcending time and space,
As the essence of life and love,
In forms innumerable and dissipated.

Meditating on the One truth,
The essence of his beloved,
Simoni continued his eternal journey,
To be in love,
In his sanctuary of meditation.

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Copyright © All rights reserved. Samrat Kar.

Its all about getting back home

As the breath leaves, it rushes to get back home.
The new born is already in its path to get back,
At the altar of death, beyond which it belongs.
The dawn is counting its moments,
To reclaim itself in the dusk,
The creation eager to be back in the quietude
In the lap of Goddess Night.
Its all about getting back home.

Meadows feel the bliss,
Listening to the thunder.
For impending is the shower of union,
To make all feel at rest.
The tired eyes look forward to sleep.
Joy for the spirit,
Health for the body.
Its all about getting back home.

Hidden with all the glitter and never-ending flux
Is the constant ardor and grief,
Whispered faintly in the longing sob of the gray dove,
The leafless tree standing in penance,
For the onset of the spring,
The gushing Ganges flowing onto the sea,
The westerly wind rushing to his beloved,
The fragrance of the incense at the God's altar,
Eagerly diffusing into the limitless expanse of life.
Its all about getting back home.

The essence of life, they ask.
Isn't it the only essence?
Is it the need of bliss,
Or an eternal permanence
Or a sanctuary of solitude?
All what is craved after
Its all about getting back home.


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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

God's Ardor

One step did Simoni take,
And came God running for his sake!

On the Pegasus white,
Galloped Simoni with Her in his arms.
Flying up, mingling with the clouds.
Simoni in his white robe
Was Zeus personified,
And She was Venus embodied!

Sun was golden and the breeze was warm.

All the nature was aroused to see Her beauty. 

The passing wind whispered in Simoni's ears, 

"I envy you, Zeus to have the woman,

With the most beautiful eyes, 

And the body of Gold in ur arms". 

Simoni was proud n grateful, 

But laughed at the naiveté of the wind,

For he knew she was not just a woman, 

Who was in his arms,

But the embodiment of the creation of own Love,

His own God - eternal and ephemeral!

Simoni continued galloping on the horse, 

Her silky hair kept winnowing,

Her luscious bosoms bouncing. 

All were excited in deep pleasure of passion,

The sky, moon, stars and the cosmos!

Her magical moans of fulfillment 

Mingled with the lovelorn wind, echoed all over. 

The sky was stunned to see this magnanimous spectacle on earth. 

The Earth was aroused in that extreme lustful scene. 

Simoni kept galloping and flew in the air. 

For the wind embraced the softness 

Of love within him. 

All fairies and Gods, were singing with pride and accomplishment! 

What an exquisite creation they beheld! 

They sat in penance reclaiming that power of love.

For they knew very well 

Her beauty is the artifact of their own potential!

For they showered the petals of their blessings, 

On Simoni, and Her, on the white Pegasus.

Galloped they, basking in the glory of that celestial love. 

Her magical voice reverberated all around 

Sanctifying the place holier in Her flamboyance. 

What a fantastic vision was it!

For It was a deep trance of Simoni's regular prayers,

To his Lord, his Art, his Love.

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Paper Doll

There stood the paper doll,
Afraid to be alive,
Scared to death would she be,
To risk the stance be throbbing with life,
For she knew then, death cannot be denied!

She remained  a paper doll,
Hidden, frigid and scared throughout,
With impeccable pleats and folds,
Not a drop of water to wet,
Not a speck of dust to be shed.
In the same way she was made,
She remained forever,
Immortal and unchanged!

Seeing the permanence of the youth,
The ever present shimmer,
The never ending glow,
All were attracted to
The paper doll, in a row.

Seeing the gathering of men, young and old,
All around the paper doll,
Simoni passed with a smile of disgust,
For he knew the impeccable shine,
Was death in disguise.

For Simoni knew,
It is not the flesh and form,
That makes one beautiful,
But the grace of activity
That one enters into,
That brings in the beauty,
As a grace ever fresh and new!

For beauty is not in the wings,
But in the flight.
The beauty is not in the mouth,
But in the voice.
The beauty is not in the breasts,
But in the promise of that inseparable warmth,
Of belonging and intimacy.
The beauty is not in the paper or the ink,
But in the poem from a beautiful mind!

People long for a cozy house,
And a palace by the sea,
To rest in peace!
But Simoni knew,
The heaven of peace is not out there,
But in an effort to create that sanctuary,
Out of art, knowledge, skill, efforts and wisdom!

The paper doll remained perfect.
But never could she know what beauty is,
Never could she know what love is.
For love and beauty are the poet's song,
Flowing in the wind of creative efforts.

It is in the handwork of the sweaty nomad life,
It is in the toil of the peasant in sunny fields,
It is in the meticulous chiseling of the sculptor -
Busy searching for his true love.
It is in the twinkle of the fiery star,
Burning in the fire of his love lost.

Simoni, kept walking to the dusky horizon,
He knew not where he was unto.
Only that he knew,
He was weaving a tapestry of Love,
Through his song,
Amidst that dreary desert sand -
Where nothing stayed forever,
But all got created anew,
In fresh promise of eternal love,
Ever youthful promise of eternal beauty!

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar