Showing posts with label On Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label On Life. Show all posts

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

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.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

The Path to Death

I meander through the valleys and hills,
Being the clear stream -
Banked between boredom and thrills.

I remember not, from river which, was I born,
I keep flowing just they way I am,
Know not I, ocean which to shall I fall, worn.

Resilience of being a water,
Is the destiny of being a stream.
All that I know for matter.

Being part of the dynamic whole,
With the open blue Sky,
From the galaxies to the black hole.

The bright warm Sun,
The friendly bedrock of smooth stones,
And accommodating banks ready to be won.

Altogether we fit-in as kith and kin,
Completing each other,
With a faultless overarching sheen.

Privileged am I in this being.
A peaceful yet another vein of life in the cosmos vast,
Seeing myself as not just a disconnected stream.

Being yet another little note,
In the symphony magnanimous,
Feels good to bear a meaningful connectedness to tote.

I meander through the valleys and hills,
Being the clear stream
Banked between boredom and thrills.

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Monday, December 9, 2013

Affixed in her Penance

Silent and constant,
Affixed in her Penance,
Nature exists in all her grandeur!

Simoni does not know
For whom is the penance,
He does not know for whom is the longing!
But does he see,
That resoluteness in the silence profound,
Transfixed is Nature,
Affixed in her Penance.
She is quiet but is alive!
Through her closed eyes,
She sees the past, future along with the present.
With power of creation
Throbbing in her viens,
She stands there all powerful,
Feigning the silence of the surrendered!

At times being lost in pride,
Of his own creation,
Simoni derides Her,
Showing his indifference to her.
But the ego-driven haywire ride,
Stumbles Simoni down,
Soon to bring to his realization,
It is the will of Nature and not his own will,
That pervades!
She is quiet but is alive!

In the suchness of the creation,
Simoni now just surrenders and sits in observance,
He is just a clearing of Her will,
Through his work,
Trying hard to listen what She whispers,
Through the sound of his chisel on the marble of Life.

But Simoni does not know,
For whom is her penance, her longing, and her pride!
In the space of wonder and innocence,
Continues Simoni on his marble,
With his chisel and hammer.
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Carving God out.

In every moment of being alive.
Simoni stays busy to carve God out,
In anything he thinks,
By anything he creates.

To him that is what is
His meaning to exist -
Unending effort to carve out the God,
From the marble slab of life!

The shouts of accolades
To him are meaningless,
For he knows that God was always there,
Only that the non essential
Was to be chipped away!
He is not the creator,
Rather just a means of expression,
Of what already exists!

Like an obedient servant,
Like a warrior of light,
Continues he to carve out,
Working relentlessly in his studio,
Carving out from the cold white marble,
Those passionate throbbing bosom of Life!

Her eyes are the most beautiful,
But entwined in its shine,
Are the shades of dark and light.
It is not all that is joyous,
For most part is melancholy, indifferent or routine.
But in the the interplay of contradictions,
Thrives the over aching vision of the Truth!

Out of the dust of the marble,
Amidst the noise of the chisel and hammer,
From within the coldness of the dead marble,
Carves out his God,
The lady with the most beautiful eyes!
Shimmering in all her delight!

And when the king’s men come
And take her away,
Simoni starts afresh,
In carving out his God anew,
Out of a new marble,
Inspired by the eternal charm,
Of the immortal, never changing Truth!

Days come and go by,
But the music remains.
Seasons change,
But the wonder persists.
Night gives way to a new day,
But the Sun remains unaltered.
Flowers sprout and wither,
But the unbounded openness of the garden remains.
Birds change their route,
But the open magnanimous expanse of sky remains.
People come and go,
But that yearning of connectedness remains.
Yes, God is Omnipresent!
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Rekindling the extant

The Good and Beautiful thought Simoni,
Lies hidden beneath the layers of routine and habit.
What is needed,
Is just that patient eye and throbbing will,
To re-kindle the extant,
The ever present Goodness and Beauty.

For nature whispers,
Only to the ears keen,
And creation shows,
Only to the eyes open.

Through the eyes of the soul,
Discerning from what is visible and peripheral,
In the realm of the invisible and essential,
Simoni observes the Beauty -
The Limitless, Eternal and Perfect.

The noise and the jitter,
Of the material world transient,
Does its best to blur the vision,
And replace that ethereal voice
With the concrete drone.
Simoni is not closed to the errant reality,
But hit with the blows of what appears to be true,
Simoni opens up more fully, every moment,
To absorb the otherwise invisible and forgotten,
The Essential, The Truth.

They say its just a mirage,
And a cooked up feel good coping up scheme,
Of a sculptor just expressing his unreal art.
But then is that not what is real -
The sculpture for the sculptor?

Simoni knows not what is true for the world,
For he sees through, all the popular truths,
The Absolute Truth.
No, it is not his subjective story,
He knows it is the Only Truth,
The Objective Absolute!
The overarching theme of Love.

Who knows what is Absolute!
Simoni does not go to defend his stance.
He is silent. But his Alive.
Throbbing in Love, offering his art
To the suchness of the scheme of things.

His work is to offer. He lives to create and give
His song, his poems, his sculptures.
For only one thing he knows,
He communes with That Invisible,
Through his art.
And She runs to him,
Into his loving embrace!
Whispers She in his ears,
“It is just you, who knows me, my Love!”
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Silent but not Indifferent

Silent but certainly not indifferent
Stands she in sheer robe,
Arousing creation with her sensuality
With her desirable body,
And magnanimous soul.

Wakes up the whole cosmos
To a new morning
Inspired with her passion and beauty,
Like a hearth of fire,
She continues to blow life into
All that is proud to be alive!

The gushing Niagara,
The tumultuous Atlantic,
The persevering Nile,
The all alive Amazon,
The powerful glowing Sun,
The ever youthful Moon,
All throb with life anew.

Each new day, each new night,
Just being fed,
With the exciting energy
Of your throb,
The creation moves and grows,
My Love,
My God.

Yes, she is silent.
But not indifferent
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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Sunday, October 27, 2013

The Flute's Endeavour

Taking up a task so far beyond one's powers,
The flute pressed on to the
Lotus lips of The Lord,
Determined to play the music of love,
Meandering through the landscape of life.

Like the impossible task of Arjuna
Of trying to comprehend,
The essence of The Geeta!
Each time confused,
He pleads for the one simplified way to the truth,
Only to find himself,
Perplexed even more,
After an elaborate Song of The Lord, 
Propounding the mystery of life,
In reply.

The little flute of reed,
Being carried over hills and dales,
O Lord, held in thy palm,
Breath thou, through it,
Melodies eternal and new.
Like a fountain of love,
Mingling with the beloved,
In the embrace of lust and love divine.

At the immortal touch of thine,
The little flute of reed,
Loses all it's limits in joy,
Gives birth to the tune ineffable.

Through the hollowness of 
The ordinary flute of reed,
Pours the never ending nectar of love,
Heard by creation,
As that potent song of Union,
Of the flute, and The Lord.
Ages pass,
And still Thou pourest,
And still there is room to fill.

Like that eternal love making,
Of Simoni and his Love,
The never ending craving,
Enhanced and sanctified by the ever youthful,
Thrust of enlivening love.
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 Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Hidden Unity

The incredible multiplicity of the Beloved,
Manifested in the thousands of forms,
The bountiful autumn,
The colorful spring,
The silent and pristine winter,
The passionate summer,
The specialness of the presence
Of all men, and women,
Of all times and spaces,
All in their multiplicity,
Make up the Unity,
The Unity of 
O Lady with The Most Beautiful Eyes!
Yes, some call her God.

Like the white light,
Which in her mindful silence,
With all her diverse lights of the spectrum,
Integrates all in homogenous presence 
Of that all accepting Whiteness.

Fallen and then stood in Love,
Did Simoni for damsels and nature,
For music, art and stories.
All in the crescendo of novelty and diversity,
Did play for him,
The unified orchestra of
The One, The Lady, 
Angella for Simoni, 
An invisible mystery 
Of life and attraction for many.

The hidden love and direction of life,
Revisits in all her wild and divine 
Lust, love, enchantment, inspiration and ardor,
Like a hidden unity of meaning,
Encompassing in its essence in divinity,
All the tumultuous, transient, and disintegrated
Waves of life.
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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

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Saluting Motherhood

A portal for an angel to taste
What it means being a God.
Being in the pedestrian of the Highest Glory.
Of being the Creator,
Of a new Life, a new Hope, a new Dream!
It is being the Mother.

A re-creation of the self,
In the primal being of Creativity,
Giving birth to a New Dawn,
With Potential anew,
Nurturing the seed,
With all the Possibilities in potential,
Grooming it to the fully grown Tree,
Beautifying the landscape and Sustaining the same!
The stroke of being a Mother.

A stance of grace,
All alone through the solitary journey,
Nurturing a life within Her womb,
Containing all in her,
The fear, hope, pain, dreams and Love,
Of Hers, and the one to come!
Bringing forth her creation,
Through the lonely torture of that unbearable pain!
Is that Elegance of Being a Mom!

Being able to contain all in Love,
Nurturing with that all encompassing Hope,
All forms of Life, All forms of Possibilities,
A living Channel,
Bringing down the Highest Invisible Archetype,
From the horizons unknown,
To the tangible reality of day and night!

A Being exemplified by Mothers all over the world,
All colored in just one garb of Grace,
The Grace of Motherhood,
Bringing forth to the world,
What it means to be a Creator.
______________________________________________
 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.

______________________________________________

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.

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Saturday, April 13, 2013

The Rendezvous with the Eternal

In his studio ancient,
With hammer, chisel and his family of tools,
Was Simoni working on his art.

Around him were sculptures he made long back,
There were men, women, tigers, and tulips.
All in white deeply gazed Simoni busy at his work.

Suddenly Simoni was distracted with the angry gaze,
Of the tiger and the rhino.

And the eyes of disdain,
From countenance of stale old statues of men and women.

Surprised at the anger and hatred, he looked deep into their eyes,
Trying to make out the reason.


Looking into the eyes of the tiger and the rhino,
Simoni, observed in him the ebb and flow
The spasm of the pain of rejection.
Discerning deeper, found he a deep seated need,
Deep down his heart,
To be embraced in the all accepting warm embrace.
He found in him, the infantile craving of a motherly hug -
A symbol of acceptance and love.

Taken aback was he,
To confront face to face,
His weak, emotional need - his handicap.
And that superstition of meeting that need
From the tiger and the rhino in marble.
He was like a child looking out for a crutch.


Then suddenly hit him the wind of the fragrance of acceptance,
From the tulip, silently watching him in adoration, by the side.

He felt immensely comforted by the solace of kinship,
He was wallowing in the wave of love.
He felt strong and happy.
Discerning deeper again he was stunned at this new found strength,
The strength which was just an incarnation of a deep seated weakness.
A weakness of the ardor to be accepted,
From one and all, and the tulip included.
It was again that weakness of a longing of embrace of love.

And then, once established in that strength,
He could sense the tinkling of the hope,
A hope of a constant adoration from the tulip.
And then there was fear hidden under the hope,
"Hope she never leaves me alone"

In all his unrest with the gaze of the tiger and the rhino,
The amorous advances of the tulip,
And the disdaining looks from the stale old men and women,
He discovered the barriers in him,
That was crippling him and weakening him,
That was obstructing him to become fully who he is.

The barriers would get dissolved when he is deep in his work.
When deep into his art of chipping away those extras from the marble rock,
To shape it to the most beautiful angel,
He remembered there was that infinite wave of love,
That he created within himself,
Out of his skill, passion, creativity, and toil.
He remembered that the Eternal Loving Embrace
Was already within him,
And he was the source of that,
All along his journey of creation.
He was the source, and the world was just a reflection.

He realized that neither the beauty of the tulip
Was dependent on his adoration of her,
Nor, his sense of being loved and accepted,
Was dependent on the whim of the tulip.
For that the hatred in the eyes of the tiger and rhino,
Might be self created, or the objective truth out there,
But that does not matter to him,
As he is already fulfilled in love and acceptance,
Creating that wave of passion for himself, and his art,
Deep inside his heart.

No, Simoni is not indifferent to the tiger of the tulip.
Simoni, stands in acceptance and love,
For all around him.
He might not be fraternal,
He might not be part of the group.
But, he stands there entirely fulfilled,
With no needs, but a bag full of gifts,
Gifts of love, acceptances, compassion, respect, humility, and wonder.

He returns to his sculpture,
In white he was chipping the bosom of the angel,
Being able to see through the beautiful heart of hers,
Beneath the luscious curves.
An angel who was his heart, his creativity, his passions, personified.
Who was bright, youthful and brimming with joy.
The angel was in no need.
But was existing only to give.
For she was the Simoni's fulfilled and Joyous Heart.

Simoni went in trance,
Amidst the sound of his chisel,
And the softness of the presence of the angel,
Deeply engrossed in his work and toil,
He had a passing thought -
Was this the Rendezvous with the Eternal?

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

The Love of the Pond













Under the open blue sky,
Center of the dreamlike green meadow,
There lies the solitary Pond.
An old soul is he,
Older than
All the lands happy and sad,
All the fun and melancholy,
All the exhilarations and heart break,
All ups and downs,
Right there he sits,
Meditating - still and silent.
With his heart brimming with -

His love for the bright yellow Lotus,
His ardor for the luscious pink water lilly,
His limitless care for the swans swimming,
His affection for the wriggling schools of fish,
His longing for that special fairy from the heavens,
Beyond the stars and all starry noises of the tranquil dark sky.

He knows all his love,
Will never be his.
For his love is bigger than his embrace.
And his love is too alive to be an object of his possession.
For his love is infinite.
Taking forms innumerable,
Sometimes in form of a song, or a poem,
Or might be just a gush of calm breeze,
Caressing his body with all her affection and love.

His love stands in that tranquil presence,
Close to his heart,
In manifestations countless outside,
But just only one - deep within his heart,
His love, and his being,
Two - always entwined with each other,
Deep bonded, without any crack of anything visible.

His love is an expression of life.
Which expresses herself all around,
In forms countless,
In myriads form and colors,
In countless voices and symphonies.

But, unknown is his love,
Of that eternal longing of the Pond,
For her and only her.
For she is herself,
Eternally busy with her dance,
With the countless of loves of her own!
Decorating the fabric of the world,
With hues of a thousand rainbows.

All deeply in love, 
The yellow Lotus, the pink Lilly, the swans, and the fish.
The Heavens, and the Earth.
Being in that space of peace,
Celebrate the beauty of life!
All are unaware of the silent, solitary and still Pond. 
Under the open blue sky,
Center of the dreamlike green meadow,
An old soul,
Older than
All the lands happy and sad,
All the fun and melancholy,
All the exhilarations and heart break,
All ups and downs.

______________________________________________ 

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Prayers from a rustic soul











In the trance, here I stand,
With my words, my letters, and the invisible Inspiration.
For I know these are not just words,
But are prayers, from rustic soul!

Held strong is the connection,
Since millennia days, and seasons,
With the thread of love. Just Love.

Love for that all inclusive humanity.
Where there is nothing which is alien.
Where there is no separation,
But just unity and fraternity.

In that deep bond, held I am ever strong.
Grounded in faith, and friendship to one and all.
A space shared by all,
Where all belong to me, and I belong to all.

For sure, we are not all same,
For better we differ!
Different shades of the rainbow,
We all are,
But sharing the same sky,
The same space,
We hold each other by hand,
Stand shoulder to shoulder,
Arching the sky from one horizon to the other.

In the trance, here I stand,
With my words, my letters, and the invisible Inspiration.
For I know these are not jus words,
But are prayers, from a rustic soul!
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Sunday, January 13, 2013

The perfect place in the world



The perfect place in the world,
For me is my study,
With open books all around,
With book marks reminding a train of revolution on hold,
Waiting to be synthesized
With thoughts ancient, new and unique,
Creating a world beautiful, in real!
For today, tomorrow, and through eternity.
With my pen, my computer,
This beautiful mind and heart,
Working through the ideas of masters many,
Spending hours trying to grasp their ideas,
Their passions, their inspirations.


The perfect place in the world,
For me is my study,
Sitting on the recliner,
With closed eyes,
Reflecting upon the power of human mind,
Creating the expressions as creatively breathtaking,
As the Vedas,
And as heinous and derogatory as the Holocaust!
And then following the chain of the civilization,
And gasping at the magical train
Of Human ingenuity, holding as silver lining,
The hope of an inspiring future!
Inspired with the undaunted spirit of human expression,
Defeating on its way all the anomalies and aberrations.

The perfect place in the world,
For me is my study,
Meditating with gratitude,
At precious heritage of human history,
At the unique point when I am alive,
Working tirelessly,
Towards communicating,
The creative legacy of the human race,
To myself, and the world.

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar
http://karconversations.com

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

All you need is Love. Love is all you need.



All you need is love
Love is all you need.

An open mind in compassion,
Grounded in humility and
But free with the passion to know and grow.

A stance centered on the spirit of freedom,
On mutual respect and love.
Poised to learn from the human heritage,
And build on top of it -
A new tomorrow,
Carrying forward the legacy of human race.

It is not about being a rebel.
Neither it is about being fraternal.
It is about being in the grace,
Of who you are,
Standing in respect but not
Necessarily in agreement to the other.

It is not about who is right,
It is not about who is wrong.
Rather it is about,
What is more beautiful for you,
What is more natural for you.
What is the Truth.

This video was made by Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady.

They are New York-based documentary filmmakers. Their forthcoming film “The Education of Mohammad Hussein,” which is on the short list for the Academy Award for short-subject documentary, is to be broadcast on HBO in 2013. Their previous Op-Doc was “Dismantling Detroit.”