Spring II

a tree bending upright again,
dancer with your hands in the air,where there is space,
winter lingers.

Fifteen years ago a white frock in the wind whipped
girlhood in its flowers;
Kaalbaishakhi, these eyes yearn
for a glimpse of rain

Lilies will not do.
I want krishnachuraa in the summer heat
and riverine rains hereafter.






Abhaya mudra

Earlier, I noted that most of the ‘-ism’s promise exactly what the religions promise–freedom from fear and ignorance.

True action is the perfection of absence in the present. Always past, the ingit, theĀ  mudra, the act completes meaning of form as it comes to completion. The running impoverishment of possibility, but not only as repetition, as some greater writer noted. In the past, it is absent, irretrievable, displaced by tenses. In the future it is a wave that breaks a levee, all calmness behind it. In the present it is the perfection of majhdhaar, perfectly equidistant from either possibility.

It is unbearable if we are not fit for it. So we call for the boatman and rock safely to either shore. Boat tied to a rock of religion, we engage in our commerce with the world.