Calculate your equation of farting and planting trees

Every time you offend the modesty of the air around your ass, stealthily (as majority of us do) or unabashedly (like some of us do), both deriving sadistic pleasure in their silent and violent ways respectively, run to the nearest tree and hug it for it is a mute, uncomplaining spectator, a sort of sufferer but still diligently doing its duty of a purifier of our misdeeds. Right from our apparently innocuous farts to the Himalayan gas emissions by the airplane darts, we leave a trail of exhausts that leaves Mother Nature stunned. So don’t expect that It won’t grimace with irritation. Farting should remind you of your well esteemed primary status of being a pollutant. So hug the tree and say sorry. It may still be scared of you as you hug it, fearing a still more grotesque version of your blast, the blast of your ego and greed that manifests so often in mass slaying of trees. CHOP CHOP CHOP! So my dear little pollutant, plant more trees. One tree per fart will be asking for too much because you have to accomplish planet-taming endeavors also and still have to tame other planets in the solar system. But I think, one tree for 100 farts will absolve you of your crimes. You will carry better conscience also, I tell you. So fart more, dart more, but take the message of planting tree to every door!

A note of thanks to PM Modi

When you put money, and the rest of its resultant materialistic derivatives, above everything and anything else, and make it the axis of human existence, like Western countries have done since centuries, you get big economic statistics to give you a false sense of security. But does it bring joy, peace and harmony in its wake? It hardly does as you can surmise from the exponential growth of human sufferings alongside the economic growth. The irony is, monetary figures are mind creations, and are hardly effective in fighting against the consequences of the overblown money-making process. They create a smoke-screen of development and progress, turning us blind to the real plights. The causes stand hidden in the natural, biological cauldron. To succeed against the same, you have to prioritize human life over economy because humans make money not vice versa. So while Trump finds economic depression worse than the prospects of mass deaths due to Corona and hence is still spending much of his energies in creating economic solutions, PM Modi has humanistically abandoned all talks of moneymaking at this juncture. The unprecedented lockdown of the country is a proof of the eastern humanist values of putting human lives above money. This pause will make India a world leader, a shining example of being a progressive, kind and considerate society. We are a massive society. The challenge is unprecedented. But when your leader abandons all secondary priorities and spends sleepless nights to save lives, in plain and simple terms without any political and economic compulsions, the success is inevitable. Salutes PM Modi! This economically unthinkable—at least in Western terms—step of putting up a pause will reinvigorate India and make it healthy to an extent that the rest of the world will look towards it for inspiration in future. Thank you PM so much! It's an honor to have voted for you! It feels like my vote carries a value worth millions of dollars!

Holy Fire

I am the moth

and I love my flame!

My fire!

But I feel the burning core of

the glow around which

I helplessly circle around!

I know that I cannot stop

the fire from burning,

So I throw myself in a fiery pit

to forget my dear flame's burning plight!

I throw myself in a bigger fire

so that I forget myself

and my flame's cries!

Listen O Thou Majestic Homosapiens

    

So the nanometer master Corona brings the Hercules to knees. Don't panic. We have performed miserably. So Mother Nature is just holding us by the ears. Oh, we the errant kids! All we need is a civilizational pause, a collective hiatus. And think and reshape our priorities. Align them along the fundamental laws of nature. Apart from a few thousand unfortunate deaths of humans, Mother Nature is a bit mollified as carbon emissions have come down a bit due to the forced suspension of our mad rush. Now let's go a bit slowly and make pause a choice.

Corona virus isn't just a disease; it's a message from Mother Nature, a bit stern though because we have turned deaf to her warnings. Holy Mother has been giving messages: Amazon forest fires, Australian bushfires, floods, polar ice melts, etc, etc. But modern society hardly cares about such message, which don't seem to affect it directly. So here SHE goes now and shoots down a poignant, straightforward message that hits us directly. No if and but about it. 'Listen little fools listen!' she whispers like an offended mother. HER invisible soldiers can puncture our egos. 'Now mend your ways little kids!' SHE says. 'Or be prepared for the WORST in future. All your so called inventions, discoveries, researches will turn out to be futile efforts at finding solutions to your self-created problems. And solutions to self-created problems will create further problems only! And this little drama on the stage called human civilization may come to an end FAR-FAR SOONER than anyone of you may ever think or imagine!'

Ye karo, vo karo, karo, karo, karo na, karo, karo na, karonaaa, Corona....itna kiya ki ab maro na, maro na! Chacha Corona should be rechristened Na Coro, mat karo, ye na koro, vo na koro, Naaaa Coro....NaCoro...bongs seem to have something to do with it. I think some Bengali researcher will crack the solution. 'O babu moshai, koro na, ya na koro, maachh khabo, dwai Lebo!'

Let us spare a few moments for the Chinese. I like their entrepreneurial practicality. However, it turns counter-productive after a point. Good that you take it as a weakness to have faith and be a believer. But doesn’t it dehumanize society collectively? The check-dams to our human rascality break and we get a flesh and blood robot who never listens to the soft voice of conscience, where everything is acceptable in the name of material progression, power, profits and global superpower status.

Animals are hellishly tortured, burnt and boiled alive in Chinese live animal food markets. If someone wants to have a glimpse of what hell may look like, I would recommend Chinese animal food markets. There are thousands there. It’s a mammoth pooling of negative karma operated like enormous factory where the raw material is slaughter, boiling alive, suffering and pain of a vast number of animal species. Of course, there will be negative off shoots as we witness it presently.    

There are costs to be paid as an omnivorous carnivore society like the Chinese. Not judgmental about them. They have every right to eat anything, including themselves. But then one can't rule out scenarios like Corona virus. There are a huge number of human-hazardous viruses hosted by animal and bird species. In this case, bats are the hosts for this virus. The poor bat was gobbled by the snake who in turn found himself on the enthusiastic dining table of a Chinese and lo, the world gets an epidemic. At Wuhan market, you have truckloads of dogs, live foxes, crocodiles, wolf puppies, giant salamanders, snakes, rats, peacocks, porcupines, camel meat and you name anything possible under the sun to douse human gluttony. Eat man eat, I know you love boiling live beings and take burps of world supremacy! But why spread the evil effects of your gluttony world over! As an epidemic-scared globalist, I am as scared of the hunger rumblings in a Chinese stomach as a dog is while being ferried to the dog market. Because God, or maybe even dog, knows, what new species may end up on the table of the Chinese culinary experiment, unleashing some new virus in the food chain. Given their overblown aspirations to rule the world by cramming Chinese nationals all over the globe, the strain travels faster than their supernukes. As a poor vegetarian Indian, I am more scared of the viral-nukes launched from their dinner tables than the globe-destroying weaponry. God, errr dogs, save us! I am getting more and more scared. I think, the human race will be destroyed, not by nukes and supernukes as you may suppose, but by some hitherto unheard of culinary experiment in some Chinese kitchen where some animal, reptile or bird might be boiled and cooked for the first time in their entire millions of years of history, introducing a viral strain that will eat the entire globe-load of Homo-sapiens. Oh God, see, o dogs rather! To make it still worse, if I fall in the Chinese hands, the kindest of them would still be happy to roast me alive and bring about another culinary experiment!

Like they do to conscious beings, rest of us in the non-Chinese part of the world, aren’t less culpable. We do the same to natural resources. We slaughter acres after acres of pristine forests. We destroy river ecosystems through dams. We rape mother earth through unsustainable mining and quarrying. We spoil coastlines, pillage hill slopes, pollute air and water bodies. Trees at their prime lay butchered. Their corpses tell their murder stories: “I stood for decades by the path giving shade, shelter and pure air. Then the path changed colors. Its sands turned into tar. And I became a roadblock and done away with smoothly. Best of luck Homo sapiens!’

So who will have the last laugh? The climate shocks have been unprecedented. Horrific! Cold has slaughtered soot and saplings with its unsparing frosty sword. Heat almost boils. An angry Mother is forced to cry with pain. It turns out to be wrath poured out with tears in eyes and a bloodied heart. Mother ignored and abused like garden cactus still has a few flowers to help us smile again. Irrespective of the severe damage, it decides to retain its smile. Its smile overcomes the frosty burns. With tears in eyes, aching heart and a forgiving smile on lips it says: ‘Happiness is a choice. A conscious effort, independent of so many external factors that you presume to be finally decisive for our happiness! Stop the mad rush. The joy comes from within.’

Beyond the storm in the cup of we Homosapiens, from astronomical distances, Father Sun dies to reborn again. ‘Death is the beginning of birth. Birth is the beginning of death. In fact, there is no death or birth. All we have is simply an ever-evolving transformation, simply a process! Live and let live sons and daughters, learn to live in harmony. To me a grain of sand, a tree, an insect, an animal, bird or you, all are the same. Never forget this brotherliness. Otherwise you perish and turn to sands. Everything!’ Got some sense out of His message? If not, kindly read it a few time more!

As you suffer and suffocate in the jail like homes due to the lock downs, please don’t curse Mother Nature for the fall outs! Mother Nature’s razor sharp talons, piercing beak, and predatory eyes are just an illusion. At the core lies the baby soft, melodious hymn of love. Salutes O Mother! Once the storms are over, the motherly ray will come down to kiss and heal! But for that you have to show repentance, accept your faults and promise to mend your ways. Don’t forget, one tear in your eyes gives her thousands in her heart. To make you laugh again, she has her own mollycoddling ways. A superb full-moon night waits around the corner for a milky delight! So just see through the self-created smoggy night, where the sun has been hidden and airs have been suffocated to death in gas chambers. The rainstorm may appear unsparing and unrelenting. Still lots of smiles left! We have to believe.

Go and touch a nearby tree with the faith of a true friend and close your eyes, standing under His majestic, protective canopy. He responds! Feels your pain! He transfers His energy to heal your wounded soul. He will be helping you in getting back your faith in life and living. He is your sincerest friend. The tree somewhere! Go and embrace Him! Reconcile. He will definitely reciprocate. Probably He looks forward to your visit to His house. Say thanks to buddy! You never know at what level of reality He is existing. A saintly King I tell you. Listen as you put your ears to His so called wooden heart: “I am basking in my sovereignty! I am the King of the world not visible to the human eyes! I am crowned with celestial lights!” You will hear it clearly. Just open up your soul. The miseries will melt away.

A mother is a mother is a mother. It's her selfless love that is driving the force through the rescuer's hands! You are bound to survive because a mother has to be forgiving. She is simply reprimanding you for the evils you have spread around. With lovely, kissable traces of sadness, the day which appears to close its eyes here will surely open them with a child's verve and happiness somewhere else! It’s not all over yet. All that we need is that we have to realign our priorotoes.

There is always hope,

As long as nature holds the rope

through its smile pure,

Survive we will for sure!

Pause is the remedy. Otherwise, be ready for a bit more stern messages. She has to shriek a bit louder to make our deaf ears hear Her plight. God forbid it may turn out to be a catastrophe as bad as WW 3! The choice is entirely ours. We get what we sow.

On a tiny molehill of hope, I see the faintest tinkling of hope. Now when most of the human population over the planet is exactly following the kind of lifestyle which has been my routine life for years, I feel that I belong to this planet only, not some disgraced extraterrestrial species!

Home stay is a torture and imprisonment for those who have existed on the surface, identifying with the externalities; whose life has been just a mad rush after the mirages that pop up in the sandy desert of illusions. Cool down fellas, Mother Nature has given you guys an assignment to look within. It's a chance to rebrand yourself and become a better version. That's how this civilization will change. At least you get time to think. So don't yawn with killing boredom and look within O thou development champions!

Of course there will be a remedy for Errant Chacha Corona! No doubt. But it will be a bandage for symptoms only. The roots of the tree of our sustenance and survival have been shaken. So all isolated efforts to find an antidote for Corona Chacha will be simply like disinfecting the pale leaves of a tree whose roots are being eaten by termites. So as your own house turns into a jail, kindly study the roots! It's an open book. Read it!

As mankind suffers in these Corona crazy times, Mother Nature appears to regain Her footing. Simple math: our interests and Her interests---because of our collective misdemeanor---stand antagonist, in terrible disproportion, to each other. A scary mathematics! Simply because we are a tiny subset of Her overall set. Possibly Mother Nature finds us like pathogens, just as we find Corona for our system. Solution: Ours and nature's existence should be proportional and in harmony!

Gone into self isolation! Well, take it as an apprenticeship into the art of prisoners. There is a huge backlog of our collective sins. So we have to serve prison terms in various ways. So hone the art of a diligent, obedient prisoner. All situations have positive outcomes also. Take away yours during these moments of being alone and isolated. Read your life and reflect over the path. You will realize your little part in the evil drama Homosapiens have been playing for a few thousand years. Rectify your part and you stand absolved from your side.

Corona ka Karnama is written in scary script. The most dreaded criminals, tucked in the highest security and the most isolated cells, are the safest among the Homosapiens as of now. Meanwhile, birds are singing more chirpily. Animals roam more freely. Trees smell fresher air as pollution plummets down. When the rest of all are feeling better, how come we are suffering most miserably!? Mathematically, it means we are the source of miseries to each and everything falling in the category of non-Homosapiens.

If mother nature had a language like ours, or we had the ears and mind to hear and understand what she has to convey, we would come to know that we have turned out to be nothing sort of Corona virus to Her. And what do we do to fight Corona? We launch a full scale war to counter the bug's onslaught through isolation, sanitization, debugging, antibiotics, etc, etc. Isn't She also doing the same against someone who is Corona-type lethal to Her? Mind you, Her tools to save Herself are floods, earthquakes, Tsunamis, epidemics, drought, forest fires, etc. It's high time we raise a white flag of peace and call ceasefire and get onto the negotiating table, for endless are Her resources in this fight. We hardly stand any chance.

When humans kill their fellow human beings---we need not repeat the multi million murders in the name of religion, caste, creed, nationality, ethnicity and rest of all our mind-contrived ways and means to slaughter each other---there is hardly anything scary about it. It passes off as passable act of routine violence. But when humans die at the hands of other agents, they panic too much. When millions get slaughtered in the name of religion, there is hardly any world scale scare. But when a little one wants to propagate its species, we get scared to the guts.

Get some sense O thou majestic owner of this tiny planet, Homosapiens. Mother Nature has given you this heavenly blissful planet. Accept your role in the things going awry! Rectify your errors. Still there is a chance! Grab it before it’s too late!

From Cobra to Corona: The scale of Homosapien fears

As scared to the guts Homosapiens scamper and slither into holes for safety, the still remaining species come out of their hiding places and take a view of the empty stage. The skies are relieved in the absence of the massive metallic birds, who no longer shout in to its face and puff out million tons of horrible farts in its nostrils. No wonder, the skies are bluer. Mother Nature appears to have regained its smile.

The Bigger pathogens are busy in fighting a smaller pathogen as of now. On the empty stage, on the premises of a gated colony in a city, a Cobra comes out to take a stock of the abnormality, the eerie silence. ‘What fresh mischief the two-legged ones are cooking up from their houses now?’ it must be mulling in its little brain inside the attractive hood.

The stage is less crowded. So its revulsion of Homosapiens is diluted a bit. In front of an unoccupied ground floor flat, it flashes its majestic black body as a veteran soldier from Mother Nature’s army who has occupied an abandoned post and claimed independence from subjugation and slavery. Its hood is raised with peaceful alertness. In routine times, a Cobra in the open in a human colony gets swiftly condemned as the worst possible enemy and you straightaway hear shouts of ‘Maro Maro Saanp aaya, kill, kill, kill the snake’. But now Corona is the biggest enemy. So there are no such impromptu shouts. Cobra is a lesser evil in comparison to Corona, the Mahishashur out there to wipe out the entire humanity. I think many eyes must have even fetched tears of devotion for Lord Shiva’s fabulous necklace. Some extra devotional type may even offer a logic: ‘Corona dies the death of a stray dog where a Cobra breathes!”

Not too many have the courage and even the will power to come out and attack with their routine childish vengeance to kill a snake. Possibly we try to kill our own fears by attacking a snake. But now the fear is far bigger than symbolized by an almost innocuous Cobra. The shapeless reptile Corona, stretching its obnoxious slithery invisible body across the planet stands for our fear for life as of now. So no Maro Maro war chorus. A bit more than average responsible fellow calls the snake catchers. ‘Sorry boss, we can’t come! Lockdown! Policewalla’s stick is more dangerous than the Cobra’s hood’. So they back out.

Someone believing the police to be the ultimate remedy calls the them. Two Corona-scared policemen, their faces hidden under the mask, arrive with their sticks. Guns have become irrelevant by the way against Corona, the rascally criminal. Even a stick stands better chance in the fight. Its tip may squash a few Corona idiots waiting to feast upon someone’s lung cells. The policemen strike their sticks on the ground from a distance. With an irritated hiss, the Cobra gets back into the unoccupied flat. People prompt the policemen to be the saviors as they are expected. ‘We aren’t snake catchers!’ they reprimand. ‘But you are supposed to protest us!’ the believer in policing powers offers his point very politely. ‘Presently we have to protect you from Corona by forcing you guys to stay holed up inside your houses,’ they recall the pressing issue. Everyone looks expectantly at the heroes to salvage the day from the side of Homosapiens. ‘Take out chilies from your houses and throw inside this flat from the windows!’ they tell the solution and scamper off to fight the bigger Corona battle.

Left to devise their own solutions, the people shout their snake manuals from their windows and balconies. A spiritual type says, ‘Mix some milk in water and throw inside!’ The idea is immediately taken up. Nobody seems to argue and opine unnecessary. All appear to conserve their energy to fight the bigger enemy. So the solution is carried out. By chance, mischance or for any other reason, the Cobra comes out again to take a stock of the empty stage. And they applaud at the victory from their locked down houses. It scares the Cobra and angrily it slithers into drain pipes linking the sewer to cozy pots where Homosapiens vent out their exhausts after their planet-conquering efforts.

‘It’s even worse!’ a panic-monger immediately hoots out his apocalypse scenario. ‘It has the power to slither across the pipes and bite you on the chuttar, bum, as you are busy disburdening yourself on the pot!’ The horror of Corona appears to take a backseat. All appear to envision the injection pinch on their bums offered as a sort of punishment for all the negative karmas of life. Well, we need to be pinched definitely on our ass for our errant ways. But then in that case even the Cobra can’t escape the effects of someone’s dirty morning deed of the day. To kiss the ass, it has to first cross the final hurdle set up by the Homosapiens in the form of pot’s contents floating like a safety layer to save its ex-master!

From physical ejaculation to cosmic orgasm

Physical intercourse, which we so often present as decent sounding 'Lovemaking' is the least possible utilisation of the cosmic energy contained in the physical self. Just the first milestone in the journey of evolution of the soul. It's simply the gateway to the world of actualization of the full potential of the kundalini Shakti. You can say it's simply like a little flower drawing a tiny sip of sunrays to blossom up, while far away the infinite energy of the Sun dazzles brilliantly. When the cravings for mere physical ejaculations stop creating the illusion of the ultimate pleasure, when cosmic orgasm stands seperated and at a distance from the maya of physical ejaculation, the entire body vibrates with divine orgasm, the soul dances to the tunes of the ultimate liberation, physical pleasure raised to the highest power possible, to infinite proportion. All the tiny pleasures that maya has set up on the small scale lose their duping power, which restrict the physical self from merging in the pools of the divine self, and one tastes oneness. Or the divine nothingness. Or the cosmic everythingness. All same same!

One need not be the one who has glimpsed into the sun source directly to truly know the truth in these simple words. All of us are equally eager seek to drop the burden of "me". However, the only tool that most of us appear to know is the short, temporary bliss of physical intercourse wherein for a brief moment "me" or ego ceases to exist.

Accepted that all of us have the inkling about, a little glimpse, the ultimate bliss through physical intimacy. It only means all of us are equally qualified to dive into the permanent bliss of the cosmic orgasm, where each cell, not just the genitals, of the body vibrates with infinite pleasure, bliss and egolessness. As all journeys start with the first step, Mother Nature has given us this easiest means, which apart from helping us propagate our species, introduces us to the path of real egolessness.

Animals hardly have the potential to consciously raise the bar to move into the higher dimensions of egolessness starting from the physical ejaculation. But humans have the potential to consciously move from sex to super-consciousness; from the point of cosmic release of egolessness at the reproductive system to the overall physiognomy and further into the domains of soul, where the real self looks at its reality, beyond the screen of physicality..

There are spiritual techniques to facilitate one on the path of egolessness leading to the cosmic orgasm. The central channel along the spine, sushumna, has seven chakras for the movement of vital life energy. But the upper 5 chakras are blocked, leaving the lower 2 chakras for the outflow of vital energies. But the lower chakras are just defined by anger, hate, greed, lust and jealousy, so the majority of the energy is lost at the lower chakras. It's like a pipe having 7 chakras has upper 5 blocked, leaving only the lower 2 open, wherefrom the vital energy outflows in the form of basic animalistic instincts. However, if the upper 5 chakras are cleansed, energy gets a channel to move up, taking one into higher domains of egolessness. Pleasure of lower chàkras loses its value, just like toys lose their importance as we grow old from kids. Similarly, pleasure of lower chakras appears valueless in comparison to the joy felt at the moment energy reaches the higher chakras.

A major portion of the urge to get a temporary release of ego is related to the search for meeting desires, fulfilling expectations, assurance, love, connection and insecurity. The messages from the higher dimensions, in the form of free floating thoughts, emotions and desires, need carrier medium. Irony is that at this plane of existence, at the human level, the carrier medium are humans of flesh and blood. So just like a vehicle has to have fuel to drive, this carrier medium as a physical body has to have its driving fuel also, which are quite interestingly born of exciting, sweet sour version of maya, illusions, and manifest as seeking of assurance, love, connection, insecurity, desires, expectations, physical intimacy and many more. Just like in the journey of the vehicle, the destination is more important than the fuel, similarly, in glimpses of truth, the fuels of maya are less important than the destination of the soul. However, it does not lessen the value of the driving fuels in any way. Their need itself sums up their value in the journey. Journey well. Stay joyful, stay safe. Namaste.

A day in the life of a Corona scared poet

Well, I have believed in the principle of putting down my tail under my legs and back away, almost running off the scene of issues and confrontations. Condemned as an escapist, I still find it feasible and practical beyond words. It stops the cascade effect of further build up of untoward scenes. Most importantly, it pacifies many egos. Little do I care, if their pacification of ego has to stand on condemning me as a coward. However, this strategy works when you have the tangibles visibly confronting you. What to do when the opponent is invisible like Little Master Corona?!

It may come from any direction, through any possible mean and in any form. As an escapist it literally means running away from each and everything. I feel like burrowing the deepest hole and hide there like a scared centipede fearful of getting crushed by rampaging boots. How many precautions to take? There are so many Donts that life even for someone ascetic-type like me appears cramped. Precautions raised to the power of infinity equals paranoid fear. Still I try to keep the raised power within manageable figures to maintain it within the limits of sanity.

As many Donts as possible imposed like a dictator on my own self. A bit of sense of safety creeps in as I ponder over my own disaster management. Not going outside too much. It is within my grasp. Usually I keep within my house. Walks through nature. Yea, I love that more than anything else in cosmos. That’s my strength. Trees are guardian angels. But how will you dodge rough peasants accosting you with bear hugs as you walk to your guardian angels, especially if you have been smiling and cordial with people. Running away from them won’t help. They will take it as an invitation to athletics and catch you as a trophy. That will be even more serious. Putting up a grimace on your face as you come across them to avoid them will create concern and hence they would poke you until you giggle. So no outings any longer. Painful yea, but what to do. You get a call over the phone and you have to sound like that the person on the line just stole your buffalo, otherwise you will get some invitation and the resultant dozens of excuses you have to offer. So straightaway sound like you just found that fellow sleeping with your wife or girlfriend. So launch a sort of ambush. A merciless beheading of cordiality. Self preservation is the topmost priority man, what else to do?!

Someone left his body in the village, and I offered my condolences in silence. So mean of me, I know. But it’s better not to add to the heap of ash waiting gleefully, especially with its buddy Corona ready to help it to become a little hill, in the village cremation yard by falling easy victim to the deadly invisible army by marching out like an unarmed soldier in a somber, peaceful, grieving party. If you wear the mask on the way to the cremation site, people will accuse you of blasphemy for being so clinging to life, the traitor that has to be taken dirt cheap. While on the way to the crematorium, you have to walk like a lifeless body who isn’t interested in life anymore. Show any type of zeal or precaution for preserving your life, it sounds like an insult to the dead. So if you commit this sin of showing your craziness for living among the ash heap of the dead, you are sure to be condemned as the cheapest rascal who holds life so dear even with this fact of death written so prominently in the form of the body being carried for the final ritual. So very prudently I dodge this eventuality and chuckle at the mask that I had to literally bribe my friend to grasp tightly in my hand like the best lifejacket has fallen on you by itself and the aircraft has fallen in the seas. He had two by the way. But I am so lazy. Now my laziness is legalized by the governments world over, by the way. Laziness is the key to survival! So like an old sullen monkey when I forced him to donate one to me, he gave me a look as if I would be the cause of his death, not this idiot Corona, if God forbid that happens. Anyway, self-preservation again. What to do?

An elderly sturdy peasant woman delivers purest of cow milk to my home. A real gem of a woman, a real motherly Bhabhi who is very caring and considerate. And see what my overblown precautions are forcing me to do. Her son has recently commuted to Delhi in congested local trains. And this has again spoilt the game altogether. The motherly, nourishing aura around her has dissipated suddenly. I am scared of the word Delhi. There are more than 20 million people cramped shoulder to shoulder there. ‘Some gallant sneezer must have sung his nasal apocalypse song right into the boy’s face!’ the calculus of my precautions swiftly let loose the rampaging horses of panic.  He is a good boy and carries more than average respect in my eyes as he wishes me Namaste almost reverently when he sees me. But I change colors like a chameleon and take him as the sturdy carrier horse of the enemy Corona. The elderly sturdy Bhabhi also appears a gallant swift mare carrying the enemy forces now. I have abandoned politeness lest she spends even a single extra second at my place after handing over the milk utensil. I hold the milk container like a bomb diffuser handles the deadly wires, slightest mistake, an explosion and the end of the world. I boil the milk extra hard to decimate the enemy. Poor milk. I must be burning all its nutrients in my fight against the virus. I rinse the milk utensil so hard that it might get scared to get holes in it.

Oh, the newspaper! How do I tell you how scary it has turned? It arrives from Delhi, hundreds of hands touching it all the way down the supply chain. Their collective animosity gets coagulated into the honest and diligent delivery boy. I ask him to stop delivery till my further orders and assure him of payment for the intervening period as well. He but seems to carry the honor of the newspaper industry on his shoulders. He agrees with an unwilling yes. But wait. He isn’t ready to budge from his stand. I find the deadly weapon, almost a mortar of Corona, dangling in the grills of the gate. My request has just made only this much difference that he fixes it in darkness to avoid the chances of the repetition of my precautionary request. I see it as someone is planting bombs on my gate stealthily. What to do? I take the scary thing with the minimum pinch in a corner, holding just the least portion that would enable it to be lifted and straightaway throw it in a corner in the yard where the sun will beat the Mickey out of the virus. Instantly I run to sanitize my hands. Scared all this while that my fort walls have been breached by the enemy soldiers and they are scaling the walls and I have to launch the fusillade of my protection cannons. So here I rub my hands as vigorously as possible. Throughout the hot sunny day I enjoy the sight of the paper literally baked to a funny dish. It’s only the next day I touch the newspaper, half assured that the idiot Corona has been decimated by Father Sun. So I keep myself updated a day behind. Patience helps man. Update and updation is hardly effective anymore.

Today when PM Modi requested to bang utensils and make scary war music at 5 in the evening, to scare away the monsters, I jumped into the fray from the safe premises of my house and beat my heart and soul out on a worn out, dented dung container vessel of my grandfather times and made such noise that for an instant I myself got scared! Offs, this Corona idiot will drive me crazy. More specifically, I am turning irritated also. Today I chased away a cat like it came to my house as a spy from Corona side. Almost hit it, and shouted at it, even though it must have been trying to breakfast on a little mice that has cut down the soles of my leather shoes recently. A monkey that was stoically sitting on the compound wall met the same treatment. I behaved so weirdly that even the monkey looked at me seriously like a sane human being. OOfs! What to do? Horrible times!

Little Master Corona

O thou little master,
The world was a bit faster,
You now force brakes,
Lions turn into drakes,
Even newspaper is scary,
No longer a news carrying fairy,
It comes from Delhi,
Fear pinches my guts and belly,
With inhibitions I touch,
A fearful world is such!

The Story of a frost-beaten tree

The winter has'n brutal and harsh,
And my struggle turned almost a farce,
Lost all my leaves,
With loss my soul grieves,
Still not all is lost,
For greenish life finds a host
in the wheat at my feet,
They pay a respectable greet,
My loss and my pain
doesn't go in vain,
Tumbled down as my leaf
with pain and grief,
Blossom thousands around,
Wheatlings like daughters doth surround,
Fell where my tear,
Many a smile this earth doth bear,
Doesn't go waste my pain,
Sows it the prospects of gain,
If not for me,
Definitely for thee!

The Light

The light does hark,
beyond the deepest dark,
There is a day bright,
after the ghostly haunts of a nightmarish night,
After a barren famished fight,
there blossoms a springed delight,
After pining pangs of seperation,
there is a worthy end to the desperation,
After crashing in the gutters,
there is a surge and rise to bathe in holy waters,
After crying convulsions on the lips,
a smile takes honeyed sips,
After the last deafeat,
still there is an undying urge to accomplish the feat,
Even when blind with despair,
there is hope hiding and cajoling somewhere,
Even in hate, love still lurks somewhere!

Lost

It has been months since
I last lit my faith's lamp,
So many days have passed since
prayers chimed in my dark den's air damp,
My meditating self,
Now gives atheistic yelp.
Lost my faith!
Lost my prayer!
Lost my rituals!
Lost my meditative trance!

The story told by the soul to its own corpse

Once I flew and frolicked high,
Now the flesh and blood gone dry,
The real me withdrew with a painful sigh,
They say, 'I was destined to die,'
It's but the biggest lie!

The Night

Too far and deep, I have gone into the pit of gloom,
And lost in the cavernous folds of the impending doom,
Even the brightest big suns now appear too far,
Faint stars these now and just flash their inspiring rays,
Feeble raylets reaching me cannot take out the ship caught in treacherous bays,
I know the futility of the beckoning light,
Even in its brightest folds outside, hope was always out of sight,
Now i go deep into my night,
With nobody as a witness to my plight,
All cherished dreams out of sight,
A wingless bird that tried to fly but then crashed from its struggled height,
Now I just silently walk into the dark hold of my night,
Alone
and forlorn,
Musicity of my soft moan,
Carrying me into hitherto unreachable zone!

A Cosy Home

Olive-backed sunbird nest....parents will be parents! The exteriors of dry grass and paddy straw, inside there is a cushion soft padding of cotton and feathers. The interior done with as much care and caution as humans decorate theirs. There is hardly any qualitative difference between what humans do for their family and what anyone else from among millions of species on earth does for theirs. There is just quantitative difference, which we wrongly analyse as a hallmark of our superiority. A snail crawls a few feet to do exactly the same for its family as a human being does in trotting over the globe. An ant crawls a few meters to do exactly the same what a panther does in its miles long sprints. From smallest to the biggest, all of us do the same thing qualitatively. The only difference is in quantity, the numbers, which are our mind's innovation, nothing else. Numbers don't matter to mother existence. So guys, next time when you see a busy ant on its way to fulfill its duties born of its unconditional love and care for its family, stop yourself from crushing it. All of us are 🐜 to mother nature. So don't brag too much. Accept the fact with humility. It will melt the ego also, which in turn will help avoid the brain from becoming an overweight, potbellied bully! And one sheds the ego, one feels light, sees the light and floats to the ultimate fringe of truth and with a swipe of cosmic orgasm melts with the light. The journey gets completed!

Highway robbery in broad daylight

Well, yesterday at Vrindavan a semian, a not so distant cousin of ours, pushed me into a zone of learning lessons. We humans, homo sapiens I mean, successfully wiped out rest of our direct cousins, all homo-x,y,z who inhabitanted earth till as recently as 50000 years ago, and grabbed the solo copy right of being humans. Had natural evolution proceeded at its own pace, the current monkeys, who give humans a tough fight across human settlements, would have evolved as a junior controller of events on this tiny planet. Alas, that won't happen. But it doesn't mean the red bummed mischief mongers don't have the potential. The do!

We three friends walked casually on the road in Vrindavan yesterday. The late morning sun still soothing. Cool breeze blew. Spirituality soaked each amd every ounce of the existence around. We walked almost meditatively. A mid-sized challenger to our peace crept silently from behind. It beat the fastest wind in agility in its last lag of the current endeavour to save its species from extinction. It sprang like lord Hanuman and in the fraction of a second whisked away specks from friend's face. Neither he nor the rest two of us could even get a pan shot of the event that took place just within a couple of feet from us. Spent with all force due to the effort, the monkey with specks now meditatively sat on the roof of a car just a few feet away. Held the specs like a bully teasing lesser kids. Put the handles in his mouth like he was brushing his teeth and then looked with utter innocence. What an actor! What an impostor! We tried to cautiously intimidate him. Scared all this while that he may run away or still worse throw the specs on the welcoming tar of the road, which is ever ready to welcome the sweet melody of chiming, crackling sound of the glass breaking. "That is no way to get it. Throw some fruit or fruity towards him if u want the specks back!" a Brijwasi casually told and went on his way, as if it was as routine thing like chanting hare krishna there in Mathura. Well, there was no fruit vendor. But then fruity appeared to hold beacon of light as my panicked friend---we should know here that the specks concerned were eyesight glasses not just showcasing sunshades---ran to a nearby grocer to get fruity juice packet. Lo, the ritual was performed like we offered prasad to some god, with full grace and humility. Like the placing of flowers at some god's feet. Give from this hand, take back from the other one. The idiot had perfect eyesight, so the thing was of no use to him. He was kind enough to put it on the car roof, took away our humble offering and vanished to have its juice breakfast. Very smart! But a bigger show of smartness awaited us! Before anyone of us could fetch the reward of our offering to the semian god, a big red bummed rascal suddenly arrived on the scene and took the empty godly seat awaiting further offerings. He appeared criminal type. Grimaced threateningly. Didn't even follow the godly protocol of maintaining a calm demeanor. He held it like a rakshasa holds a prey. Nearly broke it down. Thankfully stopped himself from doing that. He knew it would turn it useless and he won't get any offering. Finally he settled for a calm  posture. The specks dangled from his mouth with one end held under teeth. There hung the fate of my panicked friend! Poor guy, frentically ran again to fetch another fruity packer. He should have fetched many to avoid the loss if the chain of gods continued to hold the seat. But then in panic we lose reasoning. So there he runs back with one more offering.  He glided it over the car like the fate of this entire world depended upon this roll of dice and the reaction of this god on the car. With the ease of the best wicketkeeper, he grabbed the offering and left the terribly shaken pair of specks on the car roof. I myself took a bit of inspiration from monkeyish agility and saved the day for homo sapiens. Grabbed our looted and vandalised property and we almost ran from the scene of the highway robbery in broad daylight. And there walked my friend with his purse lighter by 40 rupees and the beautiful tip of the specks handle chewed away as a reminder of the momentous event. Aren't these distant cousins of ours very smart?! And we are fooler than we think!

Mother

The hammer strike was terrible in the wee hours of that cold night. It shattered my little world. Pieces scattered around, I went numb. Lifelong we try to make. It just needs one unexpected strike to break. In a Cosmos where cosmic explosions create holes that can accomodate 13 Milky way sized galaxies, do I even stand justified in putting questions like "Why" and "How"? I couldn't move. Almost dead to the flux of events around. The biggest goal thinkable was to Crawl. So started crawling with my soul suffering the aftermaths of the strike and body almost giving up in its wake. After crawling, standing up was the goal. So I stood up slowly as acceptance creeped in. My unsteady steps changed to a steadier walk as I felt gratitude and love towards what I had lost in that terrible strike, my most valuable one, my mother. My tears of pain and suffering turned into holy waters of acknowledgement, love and gratitude for bein born from her womb. My sewn lips parted with a faintest smile for her well-meant pure life. My cries changed into a prayer for her journey ahead in the next dimension. I walk now, aiming to jog sometimes, and may be run further on, with her love in my heart and her blood in my veins. Travel safe Ma!

Hope, Love and Light

The light does hark,
beyond the deepest dark,
There is a day bright,
 after the ghostly haunts of a nightmarish night,
 After a barren famished fight,
 there blossoms a springed delight,
After pining pangs of seperation,
 there is a worthy end to the desperation,
After crashing in the gutters,
 there is a surge and rise to bathe in holy waters,
After crying convulsions on the lips,
a smile takes honeyed sips,
After the last deafeat,
still there is an undying urge to accomplish the feat,
Even when blind with despair,
there is hope hiding and cajoling somewhere,
Even in hate, love still lurks somewhere!

Mother

Mother, in complete humility and gratitude I bow,
However far you may go,
The rays of your love will light
even the darkest of my night!

O Mother,
My first footstep lies in thy womb,
From such a begining,
how can I reach a destination wrong?!

Darkness

Too far and deep, I have gone into the pit of gloom,
And lost in the cavernous folds of the impending doom,
Even the brightest big suns now appear too far,
Faint stars these now and just flash their inspiring rays,
Feeble raylets reaching me cannot take out the ship caught in treacherous bays,
I know the futility of the beckoning light,
Even in its brightest folds outside, hope was always out of sight,
Now i go deep into my night,
With nobody as a witness to my plight,
All cherished dreams out of sight,
A wingless bird that tried to fly but then crashed from its struggled height,
Now I just silently walk into the dark hold of my night,
Alone
and forlorn,
 Musicity of my soft moan,
Carrying me into hitherto unreachable zone!

Crime and Punishment

There is crime and there is punishment. The crime, full stop. It's a criminal act. It cannot be reversed. Punishment cannot right the wrong. There is hardly any redemption. Punishment is a poor instrument of deterrence, and most often it fails even in that. Going above the man-made instruments of punishments, we have the divine system of justice, For crimes, where man-made system of justice fails to deliver redemption, we expect the divinity to set it right. But what of mass crimes? What of Nazi Holocausts, communist purgings, religious ans racial genocides? The equation of right and wrong loses its meaning. It's just crimes, A massive wrong. Forget about mankind's justice, even wildest stretch of faith in divine redemption fails to get even an iota of justice.Does it  mean that the mass crime stands unredeemed? Forever. Does it just keep casting its shadows over the present, creeping into the future, almost forever. Just waiting to be redeemed. And forgotten finally. Or forgiven more suitably.

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah. A song of humanity amidst mass crime. A depiction of human hate and lust for power in Nazi occupied France in second world war. France is virtually menless. Men are in prison. Women hold the baton of life. It's a dark cloud over, taking their smiles away. They are wives, mothers, daughters, sisters and lovers. But only in memory. The males who identify them as such are missing. They have to survive. When they can no longer fight to save their body, they fight to save their soul. For future. For the victory of humanity over monstrosity. For their men. To give them fresh lease of life, if at all they return after war. Forget about redemption. The survival of love in a woman's heart for her man, despite all the wrongs to her body in his absence, is still a better right then millions of wrongs by criminal souls. It is here that the question of redemption becomes irrelevant. Like a small lamp drives away millions of particles of darkness with its tiny flicker, The women of France keep the torch alive. Beacon of hope, of love, of a possibility in times to come, an urge to relive the moments that sound farther than wildest dreams, In the backdrop of Nazi holocausts, they move silently, unheroically, carrying love in their eyes, hopes in their laps and seeds of humanity in their womb. Read it. It might help you in being a still better human being.    .