Showing posts with label Discovering myself. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Discovering myself. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

It is not about God!

It is not about God!
It is about Devotion.

It is not about the Guru!
It is about Discipleship.

It is not about the beloved!
It is about Love

It is not about the family!
It is about Kinship.

It is not about the friend!
It is about Friendship.

It is not about the destination!
It is about the Journey.

For all thing visible,
Is just a reflection as is,
Of the beatitude of the invisible,
Spirit and soul of the Beholder!

For Essentials are not only invisible,
But also Within!

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Friday, February 13, 2015

The Space!

Space! Yes it is the Space!
Empty space, that matters.
The source of everything Beautiful
Is that empty space.

The distance between me and Thou,
The gap maintained by the
Language constructs,
The punctuation and annotation,
The discontinuity in time and space.
The differences in interests, values and priorities.
The difference of comprehension,
The contrast of existence,
The difference in sensibilty.
Yes, it is the space between me and Thou,
That keeps the life going,
O Lord!

That known despair that
I shall never see Thou,
Neither touch or hear Thou,
Keeps me continue the breath,
Making stories in my mind,
Reflecting my own limitation,
Mirroring my own humanity,
Falling short every now and then.

I continue the journey,
I continue breathing.
Rejoicing within me the hallucination
That I am in the path to reach Thou.

The distance between the Sun
And the fragile vine.
The distance between the child's eyes,
And the twinkle in it from
The distant star,
The void of empty space,
Protectively padding the planets.
Keeps the love story going
Of Galaxies millions!

The hollowness of the flute,
The emptyness of the breath,
The distance woven by the culture,
By the providence and destiny,
Conspire together to keep the opera on!

The tainted blue glass,
Appears so, for it gives out that color.
A rose inspires,
For it gives out unconditionally
Her intoxicating fragrance,
And her flamboyant countenance.
In the act of giving,
A space is created!
An empty space to breathe and be.
And yes, Magic happen.

Whenever had the greed
Overtaken man to destroy the space,
Wars have been fought,
Jealosy have been sown,
Hatred have been fermented,
Death had been caused!

And then again!
Death weaves the space,
The distance and longing!
And again another story is created.
Another poem written!

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Thursday, February 12, 2015

The dark side of me!

How easily I judge,
Continuing to proclaim to the world,
Each time you judge someone,
You have a part of you yet to be healed!

How easily I succumb to hatred,
Continuing to proclaim,
Don't hate, meditate!

How easily I lie,
Continuing to proclaim,
I hate you lying.

How easily I get enamoured
By novelty and freshness,
Of ideas, books, perspectives.
Continuing to judge the other as manipulative,
For their natural urge to explore!

How easily I become a rude and harsh Scrooge!
Continuing to disdain his dryness and materialism.

How easily I mistake friends as my commodities,
Continuing to preach Eric Fromm
And his message of to "be"
Instead to "have".

How eaily I judge carefree freedom of others,
As shallow promisquity.
Continuing to proclaim
The uprightness of humanism and inclusivity.

How easily I slip into narrow totalitarianism,
Continuing to proclaim the wisdom of
Diversity, freedom, liberty and choice!

How easily I turn into the inertia of the "Mahisasur"
Continuing to proclaim the wisdom
Of the divinity of the "Devi".

How easily I take to extremes,
Continuing to proclaim,
The truth and profundity
Of the "Middle Path" and balance.

How easily I slip into
Delusive childish ways,
Continuing to proclaim
The wisdom of childlike simplicity.

How easily I let my mind
Be overtaken by self created delusions,
Continuing to proclaim
Respect, objectivity and humility.

How easily I cross that invisible line,
Differentiating humanism and barbarianism.

O Lord, I offer my head in your Lotus Feet.
Shamelessly I continue to ask thy forgiveness.
And yet again, I stand up and ask,
Give me that strength to be a Human!
A grown up full Human!

May Thou continue to be alive and potent,
Seated on the altar of my heart,
Inspiring me and holding me,
Enabling me to fufill my purpose,
Of growing to be a Human!


Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Thursday, August 28, 2014

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

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

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

Sunday, May 11, 2014

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

Friday, April 4, 2014

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

Thursday, April 3, 2014

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.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

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.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

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

Monday, October 14, 2013

The Beautiful Game of Life

From dream to the dream,
Here I tread the way
Who knows where I was before birth,
And who knows where will I go after death.

When I know the journey is not in my control,
Why I feign that I plan my life?
Probably just to make myself happy,
With the false hope of getting it the way I want.

Probably I will be never able
To even conceive the truth,
Discerning through the maze
Of diverse color and form.

Fearless, determined and with hope utmost,
Here I walk my own path.
When my heart curls inside in sadness of solitude,
Through the darkness of loneliness,
Sparkles the sky full of stars and the ever glowing moon,
Walking hand in hand,
With me, in my journey -
As companions in love - silent and pristine.

Where I am heading to,
What I am up to.
I know not.
Only know I one thing for certain.
I am in love with this beautiful life.
And here I explore the nature, the time and cosmos,
In sheer wonderment,
Of that invisible unknown mystery -
The mystery of that invisible Damsel Delight!

It is not just for the sheer diversity and novelty
The dream of existence fascinates me.
But also the web of Life -
The interdependencies, complexities and contradictions,
All making the mystery even more overwhelming,
Takes my breath off.

Certainly a simple play bores me.
So, here is the game that enthralls all imaginations anew,
With the transient landscape of all that is alive.
I try to make a sane sense of what is around,
Through the knitting together,
Tapestry of Life,
With the thread of Love.
The Beautiful Game of Life.

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Saturday, August 17, 2013

The Unknown but Knowable

The Unknown, but the Knowable
Plays hide and seek,
Every moment in this ocean of life.

The cycles of hide and seek,
Drench the whole being of existence,
In the rhythm of
Love and hate,
Ecstasy and pain,
Excitement and boredom,
Mundane and extraordinary,
Hope and despair.

All swing the cradle of life,
Civilizations after civilizations,
All embroiled in
Multiplicity of cults, beliefs and ideologies,
Extending across the vastness of the Earth.

Through all these ever changing,
Commotion of transience,
Runs through,
The constancy of the only Absolute.
The Absolute of the Unknown, but the Knowable.

The expanse of clear morning shine
Gets sometimes hidden
By the curse of black clouds,
Of Ignorance, trivialities, and all that is dark and small.
Only to eventually show up
The grandeur of the bright shine of
Enlivening Light of inspiration, passion, hope and aspiration.
But again the cycle continues.

Heartening to know the permanent sanctuary
Of that Unknown, but the Knowable,
Experienced through,
Spontaneous acts of creativity,
Visible through
The eyes of the heart,
The fluidity and dynamic dialectics,
Amazes every bit of my existence!

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Happy Friendship Day!! 2013

A day aptly dedicated to remember, and extend the gratitude to friends and the spirit of friendship.
Happy Friendship day to you all - my friends!

Friends - what does the word imply? Is it a group of individuals forming an inner circle for an my social group, who share my interests, and laugh with me at the same joke? Or is it a group of those, who know me and understand my idiosyncrasies.  Or are they the people who as they say, "a friend in need is a friend indeed"?

I think the word friend is much more beyond that exclusive set of people who make me feel accepted and comfortable. Equally indebted am I to those, who do not like me. Those, who make me feel small, wretched and embarrassed. For only due to the second group, do I know who I am, and who I am not. Only through the second group, do I know from gut, about my barriers and shortfalls. At the same time it paints in-front of me the immense diversity of the nature! More than the sense of loss, it is a sense of gathering new knowledge and new points of view! They show one the depth of the truth of life. How can one call them foes, and not friends? Do, they not equally contribute to one's growth as a fully developed man, to be able to relate to one's existence more closure to what it is, rather than what false conception one has, about oneself and life per se?

The point is that the journey is three fold.  First is about getting stuck in that smallness of considering the other, not friends. That space is that mean narrowness of considering the other different from the self. That space is rightly termed by Marx and other masters of humanity, as the state of "alienation". This primarily is a state of melancholy, where one perceives himself as a lonely entity, on whom the world ("others") are throwing stones. The most challenging part of this stage is not to give way to death, slipping the downhill of various symptoms of neurotic separateness, manifested as hatred, sadness, emptiness, depression, jealousy etc.

The next stage is about identifying the barriers of the self, which makes one alienated, and appear separate and disconnected from the other. It is about curling inside and knowing oneself more fully. This stage is difficult as it is about going beyond what is felt or seen on surface, through the tapestry of personal biases. It is about being able to move out one's own self out of the center of the world, and putting someone else in that place. It is about relating to the other from that vantage point, as they are the center of the world. Compassion represents succinctly this state of being. It is about relating to the other from the vantage point of love, with the attitude of respect towards diversity, with the knowing that what appears so alien, is something that points oneself to something so profound that one would have never even made a sense of that profundity relating to the world, by a lone self.

Obviously when these barriers are identified the task is to remove them, leading one to connect to his fellow humans, and relating to one and all as true friends. This stage of transcendence of one's own barriers, ushers one to that unbounded openness from which life springs out in love. This stage is un-folding outside in the one's pristine nakedness.

These three states are not separate from one another in the real life's stage. They happen together, and and happen always. It depends on one's capacity and skill how much one can beautifully play this game of dynamism, progressing from one stage to the next, and then suddenly regressing with a fall, and again getting up, fully determined to climb the next level, and go on - in the dance - enjoying every moment of the play. It is like a child learning to walk. He crawls, stands, falls, and again decides to stand and continue, only to fall again. The dance continues. But the beauty is that after every fall,  he decides to start all over again! What a beauty!

And again, it appears to me, whether friendship is limited to fellow mankind? Does it not obviously and naturally extend to non-humans; to nature as a whole; to the entire cosmos? Thinking more about it, it increasingly appears that friendship is universal. In fact it is very hard to clearly know for certain, where our individuality ends, and the surrounding starts. The point is that it is very difficult to demarcate the boundary where the self ends, and his surrounding starts; where "I" end and "my friends" start. May be both directs to the same? May be one is visible only due to the other? May be both - self and the other, appear together; always?

Like, for example we have more than 10,000 different species of friendly microbes on and inside our body. They operate in the level of our DNA, capable of switching them on and off, selectively, impacting our mood, perception and our perception. Similarly in our external world, we are increasingly dependent on both people who love us, and those who hate us - For only through the pain of rejection, do we realize for sure the glory of acceptance. Without one, how could we have even comprehended the other. Sometimes it occurs to me, this world both within and outside, comprises of just friends, whose member I myself am. Certainly major part of these friends are non-humans, though unfortunately we are fixated at humans, at most of the times!

Books, ideas, inspirations, visions, purpose, art, vocation, etc are another genre of our friends, who add new meaning to who we are. Certainly such friends are the most special. For they know only one thing - To Give!

The elements - air, water, fire, earth - for sure are friends magnanimous! No complaints, no need, no ego, no quarrels! They only know to give, to inspire, to seed a new idea! The transience and energy of fire, the tranquility and humility of water, the omnipresent space of the everlasting company of the air, the unconditional openness from the unbounded openness of the Earth - reminds of the archetype of friendship!

Friends are also, the times both good and bad! Good times nourishes us, and the bad strengthen! Can there be any friend better than time - epiphanies and trials?

Those memories of love and warmth. Those memories of pain and indifference. Are they not friends of equal importance! For memories are the friends who are permanent with us - Till eternity - leaving the footprints on the vast expanse of the fleeting time.

More I think, more it comes so real to me that may be the self and the other both is encompassed in the spirit of friendship. May be even calling some other entity is a friend, indirectly points that I am separate from the other. May be it is just another illusion. In reality probably I would be absolutely unable to experience who I am and who I am not, without the other. So, does it even makes sense to consider myself as a separate entity from the other? For example how can I experience standing, if there is no earth to stand on. In that case, does the process of standing not comprising of seeing myself only in relation to me and the earth? Can one makes sense of itself, without the other? This dance of dialectics makes life really interesting!

Coming back to friendship day, I take this opportunity to pay my highest homage to the spirit of this complex connectedness, some aligning with the other, and some opposing the other, in an eternal process of transient dynamism of an un-ending transactions, creating an illusion of a varied sparkle of this physical life. From childhood this amazing cosmic play used to be fascinating to me, each time I used to review the periodic table. Just by change of one electron, and the pattern of their arrangement, we have such apparently varied perception of elements. How different is hydrogen from gold! But the difference between them is just a pattern of arrangement of the same electronic wave, and their dance of interdependence.

To that cosmic dance of interdependence, here I offer my worship, on this Friendship Day!
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

My 35th Birthday!!

Today is my 35th Birthday. Having born on 17th July, my birth number is (1+7) 8. 35th birthday (3+5) matches the number 8. So it had to be special :). It was absolutely fantastic! Both at office and at home! I was absolutely ravished in pleasant surprise to see my cubicle decorated so thoughtfully by my team!! Had a grand lunch buffet with my team..and they so impeccably arranged for a cake cutting at the restaurant! There was a beautiful birthday song played by the restaurant folks in the background. All wished me!! Parents are with me after ages on my birthday!! The day was special. Very special. It was made special by my friends and family! Thank you all!!

Every birthday, I have a habit of looking back who I was, and who I am, as a man. I try to articulate the one most important take away life has taught me the last year. Most of this is based on readings I do, and my experiences when I try to apply those ideas into practice, trying to search my own truth. For me just reading great thoughts does not make sense, till I apply them, and feel their profundity. I have met many thinkers in my books. Have liked them often, have tried out their ideas, and then having gone deep into their thoughts. Many a times have taken various diversions, when the ideas did not resonate with who I am. In this journey I have abandoned many great men and women, and taken up new thinkers and ideas, which seemed to help me know more closely who I am, and who I am not.

This year also was spent in quite a lot reading, contemplating and practicing. Primarily, everything started with Erich Fromm. A deluge of enlightening ideas from this visionary social scientist. Fromm taught me what it means to love, and what it takes to be a man - he says - fully developed man. He introduced me to the thoughts of Karl Marx. Marx taught me what it means to be a fully developed man by being able to relate to fellow human, through productive and spontaneous activity. He has been teaching me the intricacies of economics, and how society is formed and shaped by the mean of production. Marx is an institution by himself. I have just started scratching the surface. Miles to go before I sleep! The ideas were also made more concrete by the writings of Kafka. I read his book - The Trial. The most symbolic book I have ever read! Thanks to Fromm. Fromm also deepened my ideas about Buddhism. I had a stint re-visiting the Christian mysticism, Sufi mysticism, etc, too. Along with that Karen Armstrong, and Fritjof Capra led me to the world of religion and physics and being again present to their interconnection. Armstrong is one of my person inspiration!

The most refreshing thing that happened to me between 17th July 2012 and 17th July 2013 was Fromm and Marx. I feel, they really helped me to know myself and the world better. I am still continuing Marx and Fromm. But recently since couple of months, I am deep into David Deida. With what a courage, audacity and truth this person speaks! Interesting perspective! Now continuing with his third book. A good place I am standing, trying to synthesize Marx, Freud, Fromm, Tolstoy and Deida! All experimenting on Love, God and Truth. Things going good!

Yes, I started growing beard and hair this year. (Family not happy) Do not know why, I am doing this. It is a fallout of a concoction many thoughts, feelings and whims. I myself am not very sure about it. I can always rationalize it saying something or the other. But, I choose not to do so, and just be in the place, without searching for any explanation and logic. I just want to be free.

Yes, this is the third year of my being a vegetarian. I am finding more and more that vegetarianism is something most natural to me. There is no feeling of righteousness in this. Neither there is any baggage of any ideology. It is just natural for me, and I would like to keep it that way. Again it is about freedom, and being authentic.

One thing makes me feel uncomfortable every birthday - being busy with all myself and me, from morning to night. Hundreds of wishes, phone calls, messages, etc. It certainly feels good that so many people love me! I feel pampered. But it tires me after sometime. It feels like being suffocated by only me, myself and I. The profound desire to break out from the dark bondage of myself, and reach out to others strongly raises its head. It is then, I try to contemplate on those beautiful words, expressions and efforts my friends and family has taken to wish me that day! It feels so good to be able to reach out to their heart, in that space of meditation, where they thought about me, and cared to either call, or send a note of wish. It feels like a communion with God - through fellow humans. It is by itself a profound state to be in! It feels so much more powerful being able to know the other, and relate to the other - their pain, inhibitions, dreams, fears and inspirations!

The primary state of being that I am in communion with through this birthday, is the spirit of being in the state of unbound openness of Love. It is about ravishing the world and myself, in profound openness. From that canvas of openness, I am trying to create every moment, relationship, and institutions, being the possibility of boundless Love. Being in that state, it is all about how I give the gift of the truth - who I am, to one and all. It is about penetrating the world with my gift of openness and Love, in the spirit of service. It is about feeling through my desires and expressing them with my gift to the world - through my words, poems, actions, and work.


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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Saturday, May 4, 2013

The Solitary Vagabond

There lies the vast expanse,
The green meadow,
The strip of crimson flowers,
The dots of flowers and fruits,
In colors yellow, green, blue, and red.
The trees, the stream, the mountains and the sky!
All varied and unique and so special!


The vastness of the sky,
The grandeur of the mountain,
The still and strong tree,
The shy bushes,
The frigid touch me nots!


The Solitary Vagabond roams
From meadows to stream,
From trees to falls,
From oceans to deserts.


In his journey, he stops often.
Either to the pink tulip, or the green cactus.
Sometimes to the clean flowing stream,
Or to the passionate roaring ocean.

All elements in nature,
Established in their own beauty,
Flourish, Blossom and Thrive!
The Solitary Vagabond, stops by,
Listens to their song,
Hums it a while, loves the music,
And kisses them, as he goes by!


He is in love,
With the flamboyant Albatross,
And the coy turtle,
For he knows all have a heart of Gold!
He tries to touch them,
From the core of his truthful heart,
With the touch of his throbbing Love.


The cactus bleeds his fingers,
The touch-me-not closes her away,
Vanishing in the closeness of darkness,
The Albatross takes his new flight
Charting a horizon new,
Leaving him abandoned.


All continue to follow their journey,
Some love the Solitary Vagabond,
Some hate him from core.
For all are different, unique and so special.
They have their own language, their own fears,
Their own songs and their own strokes.
All see the Vagabond colored in their own colors!


The Vagabond continues to be solitary,
Always being in Love,
He continues to stop by,
And touch all with the touch of his soul,
From the depth of his pure heart.

With every touch, and every hurt,
With every stone toppling him,
With every new pain, and scar deepened,
He has a new impression,
The impression of Life and Love.


For the Solitary Vagabond,
All the scars, sweat, pain and tiredness,
Is the gift of Life,
For he is able to see the invisible,
The archetype hidden in beneath
The surface of all the diverse chaos.


Bliss sails him through in ecstasy,
Pain churns his soul,
And brings forth the pearl of wisdom!
All play their own role,
Nourishing the Vagabond in his journey!
For, he knows for sure,
The truth is just One - Love and Only Love.
It is just he has to know it better,
With every scar, with every blow.

Sun is about to set,
Vagabond is tired,
Every joint of his body is pain.
Stops he not.
Continues he the journey eternal.


Sun sets, and Moon rises.
Stars come up twinkling in amazement.
The Vagabond continues his journey,
Going beyond all that is non-essential,
Beyond all barriers
Of hatred, meanness, closeness, and delusion,
To touch all, in his purity of Love.


He has no one with him -
No person, no thing.
He is solitary and alone.
But more than what he has,
He is happy with what he is,
For he has been able to Love,
In equal fervor -
The Cactus and the Tulip.


At the sunset of his life,
He knows nothing will be take with him.
When Death hides him
In the dark shroud of the unknown,
He would know that he is happier,
For he has been able to touch the Heart of All,
Knowing the bliss,
Not by what they felt or gave back,
But by what he was able to give, and discover!


His God is the invisible core,
Of all that is alive,
Beneath the bustle and chaos,
Of all judgement, illusions, transience,
That Truth which thrives
In the Space of the perpetual Sanctuary,
The Sanctuary of Love.

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Simoni's Closet

Ever changing is Time, as the Things.
So do people, feelings and seasons change.
Good that memories don’t.

Opening the huge closet, Simoni was about to
Start the Journey to the bygone lanes of his memory.

The closet of red velvet, lined with glistening gold,
Opened into precious memories
Of years gone by!

There were rings, bells, books, notes, book-marks,
Plaques, and trophies.
All impeccably placed, clean and shining.

In one corner was a rolled red muslin.
Seeing it Simoni remembered it!
Unrolled he the muslin with peace,
Was there a strand of hair,
And note of thanks! - Still Fragrant in that youthful Love.

Started he reading through the lines,
Between the words, and letters.
For started surging the invisible waves
From forgone years of abandonment.

The waves of feelings, emotions,
Vulnerability, fear, pride, honor, and Love.
The note, the letters and that
Most Beautiful handwriting!
All appeared like the Harp of Venus,
What was more essential for Simoni,
Was the hidden Symphony.
The Symphony of that pristine Love.


The color and texture of the paper has aged,
Simoni’s eyes have gone weaker,
His fingers has wrinkles many,
The Love from Her, is now lost
In the commotion of years gone by.
But then, what was still young, fresh and unchanged -

Are the memories, the throbbing of the heart,
And that surrender in the space of Love,
Simoni was going through.
It was all the same then,
It is still the same now!

It was about a century ago,
When the Love was born,
Out of an innocent liking.
In that space in time and dimensions,
Before She loved him, a century ago,
And after she changed, and never loved him again,

In that space behind and in-front,
Simoni was sailing on his suchness of Love,
With shimmering phantasm of
Emotions, lust, longing, sensations,
Rising and dying on the eternal ocean of
The Suchness, and Permanence
Of the Sanctuary of Simoni’s Love,
Always present in Peace.


His possessions in his secret closet,
That strand of hair, the note, the book mark,
The ring, the bells,
All appeared to him keys to the mystery,
The Mystery of Life and Love,
The Eternal, un-changing, constant and un-altered,
Axis of his every youthful Love,
For Her.


For more poems on Michel Simoni and his love - 

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Letting Go

Growing up and letting go,
Flowing like the clear stream,
From tip of the fall,
To the vast ocean,
Life is all about letting go.

The seed in the soil,
Lets go to the sapling supple,
Innocent, soft, and naive.
The sapling lets go to the huge firm tree,
Giving shade to the travelers weary.
The tree lets go her flowers and the fruits,
And then after years of giving,
She lets go herself to the Mother Earth,
Mingling to the dust, from where she came.
Letting go for another seed, another sapling,
Fruits and Flowers anew,
With colors more vibrant,
And songs more melodious and novel.

The infant lets go to be the toddler,
The toddler lets go to the teen,
The teen, to the adult, and then to the old.
Finally all lets go to the finality of death,
Just to open up new possibilities,
Of new generation, better and more beautiful.

The whisper of the hidden hopes of the expectant dawn,
Lets go to the crimson quietness of the tired dusk,
The throbbing heart of arduous passion,
Lets go to the awareness of the transience to unfurl,
Into the cold spread of the reality of pain.

In this game of letting go,
Its exciting to be part of the roller coaster,
Letting go the hope, equally with fear.
Letting go acceptance, equally with rejection.
Letting go pride, equally with embarrassment.
Letting go all that a man can have,
Letting go all that a man can be.

It is that surrender to the mere suchness,
The suchness that I was when I was born.
The suchness, that I will be when I die.
The suchness, that I was always before I existed.
The suchness, that I will be eons after I die.

All this play is a transient rising tide.
It will rise, and then gain fall,
Mingling into the eternal train of the line of eternity.
Nothing matters,
At the same time,
All that is - Is just this. And nothing else.

In this practice of letting go,
Somewhere deep inside my heart,
A deep ridge is sown,
With love, understanding, compassion, openness and courage.
In this breaking apart in openness and surrender,
I absorb the nectar of being alive,
In all its color, sound, smell and appearance,
Knowing for the first time, every moment,
Yet again and again,
Who am I, and who am I not.
Engulfing the eternal expanse of life,
Within me, All that his human, All that is life.
Both in its exquisite zenith of inspiration,
And it its darkest nadir of existence.

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Blessing of the Fakir
















The fakir, wanders the barren land,
Down the rocky ways, meandering streams,
Lost in the world of the music of his poems.

He watches the vastness of the blue sky,
The generosity of the great Banyan tree,
The acceptance of the Mother Earth,
The carefree stream of loitering water,
The passionate tides and tireless ocean,
Mesmerized is he to feel his Lord,
Invisible through all that is manifest!

Amazed is he, just to be in the presence,
Of that limitless Being,
Invisible, but so real.
Continuously claiming herself,
To each of the patient eye,
Each longing heart!

What else I want,
Utters the Fakir,
The nearness of my Beloved - my Lord.
So close you art with me,
For I see you in me, and me in you!

The Fakir blesses his Love - his Lord,
For being so alive, dancing with life,
In forms unlimited,
From the small acorn,
To the giant oak tree.
From the thin trickle of stream,
To the limitless ocean,
From the darkest nights,
To the brightest days.
All manifesting in multitude,
Just the One.

Quietly the Fakir lies down on the footpath,
With a smile in his face,
Relaxing in the bosom of the Mother Earth,
Caressed by the beloved Moonlight,
Cuddled by the fleeting sensuous breeze.
Lost in the intoxication of his love,
He partakes another journey in the world of his dreams.
But as in the world of matter,
So in the world of his dreams,
His beloved is always with him,
His love - His Lord!

The fakir, wanders the barren land,
Down the rocky ways, meandering streams,
Lost in the world of the music of his songs.
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Monday, February 25, 2013

The Fakir's Symphony








The warrior amidst the battle, singing the song of the Truth.
Playing the symphony eternal,
There he strolls carefree - The Fakir.

With dirt on his clothes, hair in shambles,
Mud and dust on his face, dried is his throat,
But continues he sings, the song of his heart.
There he strolls - The Fakir.

All the twinkling stars up in the sky
And the curious Moon shining up high,
Wonders at the mystery hidden in his heart,
Giving way to the symphony and the Profound Trance!
There he strolls - The Fakir.

In the fond remembrance was he,
Meandering the memory lanes
Of those ageless stories of truth,
Which all think just folklores,
Those momentous sighs of the longing heart,
Which men dismiss just as gush of breath.
Those lightness of the naive heart,
Believing the illusion for the truth!
There he strolls - The Fakir.

Ages and eons passed by
For he was looking for his Beloved, out there in the world,
Trying to snatch and have that shadow for himself,
Only for himself - To have her for ever.
For sure he bumped upon idols, temples, signs and posts.

He mistook them for his Beloved.
Sometimes he believed he got Her. But then, she was again gone.
Like that luscious mirage eluding the thirsty traveller.

Till the Fakir, on one of those solitary strolls,
Lost in his fantasy of his Beloved,
Bumped onto his song! His own song!
From the inner chords of his own heart,
With the accompaniment of the beauty his own mind.
Now the Fakir strolls as the creator,
Eternally bonded in love with his beloved.
Invokes he, his Damsel,
At any time, at any place.
For he knows, his Beloved and he is One.
There is nothing outside there,
But all is within - Here and Now
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

The Futile Struggle

That struggle to bring Her into form,
That sense of awe,
That feeling of likeness,
That solace in heart,
Is a futile errand.


Each time I attempt to put in words,
That inspiration, or that ecstasy,
Each time I try to bring into color,
That wish, that dream,
Each time, I try to sing
That unsung desire.
All what comes to form,
Is not that inspired in the first place.
All in the world of form,
Appears just a metaphor of
The real Invisible.


I think with awe, about the masters bygone,
Who could bring into reality,
Their love, their vision,
From the labyrinths of hidden darkness,
To the light of the day.


Why then I can't carve out my Love,
That inspiration, that enchantment, that Divine,
In my poems, in my song, in my life?


I know the struggle is futile.
But I shall keep trying.
May be this is what life is for me.
Being in the journey of a disciple,
Lovelorn for the Ideal,
Trying to see her in my poems,
Trying to feel her in my songs.


For one day for sure,
Before I cease to exist in form,
Before mingling into the invisible again,
May be I would have found her,
My Ideal, My Lord.
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar