BEING AND BECOMING

Listen with care Your real nature is compassion Your ignorance beclouds you Your ego entraps you In little business and messy affairs Listen with love The melody of hearts The agony of forefathers The hope of future Listen with compassion The story unlived  The forgotten dreams The suffering of samsara Listen, listen, listen! Like never before Have you heard this tune And will never again  It will comeback Listen, once again This very moment  Carrying forward The symphony of past And the possibilities of future Listen, you please listen! 

O mind, running after what? Longing for whom? Look inside your mystical darkness That light is effulgent In every form and function O mind, anxious for what? Trembling in the ocean of desires Let those waves witness  The inglorious height and its downfall Stop! Realise the eternity Within vibrations of time Know that constant The first principle  Blooming and bursting In various rhythms and patterns Of being and becoming of existence O mind, longing for whom? A past that never was  And a future that never will be Witness time in eternity And eternity in time O mind, angry for what? Wishful for which progress A linear lifeline Unreal to our mental eyes Look at the circularity of existence That cosmic dance and vibrations Imagine sacred in profane  And profane in sacred Matter knows everything The dark secret of nous And its all pervasive love Flowering! Flowering! Flowering!

Student: I want to excel in my life. Over the years, my graph of success is achieving a new height. I am doing hard work to become one of the smartest and richest persons on the Earth. Teacher: Wonderful! Who is  achiever and what is achieved? Student: I am the achiever. My name and fame are shining day by day.  Teacher: Who is this ‘I’? What is the material by which it is produced? Student: I is the ego which is the agent achieving successes and facing failures. Teacher: Whether ego is real or imaginary? Student: It is made of name, form, and function. Teacher: Whether name, form, and function are eternal?  Student: No, they are changing. Teacher: Anything changes does it exist? Whether these are real or merely fictitious images appearing and disappearing before the sightscreen of mind? Student: They are the images constructing my identity as a person. Teacher: Well said! What is the stuff by which these images are made of? Who is maker and what is made? Student: They ar...

Careerism is a ghost haunting the prospective world of spontaneous living. Whole life people invest to make a straight, soothing, and decent image with no avail. The life of a career is nothing more than a speck of dust blown away by storms. Yet, human beings are trained to create a career, to live and die for it. The whole life is wasted for running after an image which is simply a creation of mind, an assemblage of external stimulus, and fixation of identity around symbolic representations and their meanings. This symbolic rationality is deeply embedded in the collective psyche of society like a smokescreen hiding the eternal truth. Every action is evaluated on the scale of career and the price of a person is evaluated on the parameter of its utility in terms of functioning as a career, within the career, and for the career. In the end, retirement gives a sense of loss of the economic and professional values accumulated by economic man, a sense of imaginary losses, which imprisons th...

आदत नहीं हमें कि चंद सिक्कों पे लूट जाना है ज़मीर के सौदागर हमने पग-पग पे देखे हैं उल्फ़त की आँधी हो या बेचैनी का शैलाब जो राह पकड़ के चल पड़ा उसे कश्ती मिल ही जाना है देखे है हमनें बड़े पत्थर दिल वाले जो दिल को छू जाए वही जीवन को जाना है जो बात तोड़-जोड़ कर निकले उन्हीं बांतों में जमाना है अदा जब अश्क़ बन जाए सदायें ख़ुद से ख़ुदा हो जाना है ये कैसी नादानी है कि खिलौनों को खिलौने का शौक है तेरा गुरुर एक बुलबुले सा है कुछ पल में ही मिट जाना है तूने मन के लिबास पे  जो कलिखें पोत रखी है उस मलिन मन के भीतर वो बच्चा जो शांत सा बैठा है क्या तुमने कभी उसे पहचाना है?

Name, you are chasing and chased by You, do you really matter? What if you don’t exist? What if you’re a funny fiction; Invented by a few, fallen from spontaneity? Your fictitious glory is taken for granted As if, you are the beginning and the end You, the first and the final dogma The weaver of the life-stories The gene of romance and tragedy You, the fulcrum of human power The traces of memories  Whose erasure is truly a liberation From the burdening flashes of thy presence! Yet, you are blooming In an Age of Reason and Anxiety!