Tag Archives: Arts

If I had this one thing

How beautiful the Feet of those who spread good news – on the mountains of division, discouragement, despair*;

see, though I speak with the voice of an angel and have not love, I am a clanging cymbal a noise in the wilderness, a desert in a stream ;

if I give my body to be burned and sell all my wares for charity but have no love in all my ‘speaking’, I am no reminder of One who  is patient, kind, endures, does not keep account of wrong, is forgiving, does not gossip, nor tears out anothers’  existence for personal agenda…

if I ran every mountain, won every war for the good of humanity but within I have words of hate, what am I what am I –

but if we had this one thing,  I think of all we could accomplish against all odds, among these places of derision, hate, division ; we might say to this and that mountain, Go fall in the sea and it would obey, if I had the Power of true love,

true love.


(* from Mathew Henry’s concordance, Song of Songs ); this Post inspired by verse in the Bible.



Filed under Faith, Hope, Human rights, Humanities, India, People, Personal, Personal Reflections

O Perfect Love

His letters wrapt in leaves and tree –

every vein a message for not just me



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The way he loves


He sent me flowers, songs, words and tune, silences and chord ; but not till he forgave me and loved me again as if I were the best one e’er born yet, not till then did I understand the height, the depth the width and endless expanse of Love that leaves no boundary

of a Love that covers every little wrong, as if nothing happened at all. I will not take that for granted ever again, nor forget, that’s the way He loves,

He loves…





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‘…where my trust is without borders..’

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Often a song, ( see below *) a line follows you room to street, hallways, people, words, events, even the fantastic pales next to these few words smashing out everything else, like a River, a Tide – not because of a setback or a difficulty. Not even because one is excessive joyful… not even that.

I’ve never found reasons why one is drawn to a particular strain, a thought, a hunger. Is it an inner quest, a call from outside of our psyche ? Do we stumble on Treasure ? Does It lie waiting for us…

are there seasons of the soul, a certain Quest, an unspoke-request, a certain arrival and leaving, like airplanes, like lounges.. like skies melting into a new horizon every new second, returning renewed, there, not there – changed, re-arranged and yet as old as young, infinity ageless weathered, new… is there a plan we know ? Are these Maps we draw ; do we surrender to a Captain, should we ..

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we are travellers, resting here a while, then a 10 feet plunge to new heights, who can tell with an adventure ? Who knows? When one leaves the security of a house with a fence, and asks for a walk with an Unseen God, you ask for new routes, for the unpredictable – for what eye can no longer see, what human ear has not heard nor been conceived in the heart of us ..

this this this, gives me Rest. That we can run a river, walk a tide, skim a cloud, melt a desert ; no other way would I have survived the boredom of a predictable life, predictable soul- wardrobe, uppity tables with no picnics, no five loaves and two fish miracles, what ‘ no miracles’? Oh Baby baby, how do we survive the monotony of global warming and Stock market crash, the rise and fall of petrol price, government – horror and crime, life and death – not things one can control, and this  :Loneliness___by_Heart_Bleeding

that one can lean on the One that loves relentlessly, keeping no tabs and tally, just needing me as I am, needing my trust. This December 2013 made it all real ; there was a time I would have cringed from saying this in a blog, not today. Not after you see somethings sitting alone in a room next to Intensive care :  I saw dead eyes and dying faces even outside in christmas stores, in lanes filling with shoppers, not anything totally owned/ made/ filled the day with light except a Light we never made.dentistry-scripture-bit

I saw my spirit rise ; saw a strange woman offer me a hot flask of coffee on a cold empty noon and the words ” I love you” in broken english and some telugu – a village woman asking me to pray for her kid with a kidney crisis ; who am I to even say yes to that request ; who am I except that yes we have the power to love back at least, kneel, the power to be humble in a public place, request life for each other, and watch as we do nothing else except lean. I watched too, my dad return to life. No explanations. I was preparing for death, was not ready for life. For the Joy that followed…

we know we will all die some day. As I write this there is a more than one death within a mile, but there is life. So much more life than we let ourself live, and that has startled me today, that we short change ourselves so lethally –


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I stand in amazement at the One who made it all ; stunned by His almost scandalous Grace, at how He cares through every misunderstanding of His fathomless Love, realising how little I know of a Universe so complex, even my being. Who can tell what they hold within – do we realise who and what we are inside, do we not limit ourself when we refuse to walk on waters, let go, trust without borders…wherever He would call me… wherever dear God… wherever…

this is the single most freeing way I have ever been : where trust is without borders.. the great Unknown, dear God why are we so afraid that we be- little You with theories when we have not even a count of stars out there…

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Dawn People

‘Be Little again,’ It said, ‘like when you were a child,  ready to walk out the door barefoot – be little enough to never wear pride. The ugly kind. It is the worst defeat.’

( Early morning conversation with Dawn people)







Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways.


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Heavens !


How little the dark is, next to Light.





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Look up

Skies like pages, turn

return me

to the Light

( Sky at Kuppam House)



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Choose Life

( excerpt from Conversations in the TrickRoom as Vi calls our bedroom-  ‘ cuz it makes you not leave :)) she says!)

Last night we watched Life of Pi  : such mixed feelings start to finish. Some one said this was the movie Nirbhaya and her friend watched before the tragedy at the delhi bus dec2013.

The movie has its great moments, stunning play with surreal – realities, words, images… there were some amazing lines too, among places that were fantastic imagery. The island and human tooth of dead man; beautiful dancer Anandi at the place over the sea, Pi’s journey thru’ the storm and other self.  It disappoints though, that it ends with Illusion. How I wish Life were actually like that, and we could all choose prettier endings,among our gods and chosen goddesses.

My daughter Vi ( 19 years old) and I talked into the night, of how we would choose even wings. I mean ones that worked. She asked if I would worry that she went flying everywhere. I said I’d only worry about safety and bigger birds flying around.

The electricity went and returned only at dawn. It rained, rained. We talked about the Dark, and how it could conjure images, depending on what we were thinking. So, you know, we saw all kinds of things, from gleamy eyed monsters to angelic teenagers and moms flying around…


JOIE. Oil and Acrylic RN

our bedroom door was ajar, and she looked thru at this one I’ve uploaded here(Painting JOIE) and told me what she saw. It looked different in the dark. There were so many things to see, ‘ what is reflected in your own mind’…

But dawn arrived and with it Light. Hues returned to normal, original, and there’s no playing around with that, wish what one may.

Like Life ; in the Light. Deep within the heart, the truth is in the things we hide. A less- than-one year old knows what guilt is, Granma used to say. Funnily, I heard a new friend say that. She is a die- hard atheist and condemns my sense of God much more violently :))) than I ever discuss her ideas. ” Janie, ” I say, ” for me it’s like having just this one Love in my life. Its not illusional, delusional, my marriage. It is real and faces Life, in the Jaw or wherever, but it is real as the ring on my finger and my postal address.”

” Pah ” Janie replies, sickened at my poetry about God , which she says would actually be marketable if they were basic love poems. ” Why can’t you just write love poems ?” She asks.

” These are love poems,” I reply each time.

” Religious poetry,” She says.

” I don’t have religion.” I say.

This can go on, but for me, I had no choice. The Love of God hounded and found me. Looking at the Life of Pi, at our Nirbhayas and political seasons, our price of living, and fading values, yeahhhh wish we had wings, and all those delusional things, but nah.

The wings we wear are deep inside. JOIE, ” Joy” is not just hormonal – and it impacts Life spans. Impacts decisions. Faith affects Violence. It makes us better or worse leaders/ neighbours/ citizens. Love causes beauty in ashes, can lift, erase, empower more than we give credibility to.

Choices ? Sure. Between Death and Life, choose Life.

( In the book ‘Conversations with God‘ ( I forget the authors name), he states that Right and wrong is Illusional, to the point that Hitler was experiencing a certain set of options,the doing, the actualization of it, was an orbit of Self – Realization, redeemed in layers of ways, following which ofcourse, could annul current Judiciary, why bother. Every rapist, terrorist, erring politician is factually a darling – in – the – making, why react ? Why write/post anything;  everybody just drift in a dead sea of Numb-gaze at these mortal  delusions ;

hey I still choose LIFE, all caps : Will ;  Self Control in driving lanes & Rapists’ lounges ;crime parlours and courts of law. Please Note Movie Makers : EVERYTHING YOU SAY, IS WHAT IS BEING INTERPRETED UNIQUELY BY THE IMPRESSIONABLE MIND, JUSTIFYING HIS/HER ACTIONS OF ‘FREEDOM’ ).


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The heart of you


It is so beautiful, your heart

I cannot stop but stare at the beauty of

us. RN oil

Man and woman RN

your heart, the one you hide, didn’t you know

you have such a beautiful life


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Two Universes


and diamonds turned,

from dust


Filed under Challenges, Faith, Healing, Hope, Human rights, India, Inspirational, Literature, Personal, Universe