moi favourite poem

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

abt lifetimes & relationships

I have a friend with whom I share very lovely discussions with. In fact that's something I have in common with 3-4 people including my husby dearest. We talk about a event or something and end up discussing pros, cons, sociological perspectives, evolution and just about everything.

Coming back to my friend we were recently talking about friendships. She is a Buddhist and I am well, supposedly a Hindu but a firm believer in all religions. God to me is a friend whom I fight with, talk to and sometimes well, postpone getting in touch with. We were talking about how some people are in your life, why they r there and possibility of continuing relationships in another lifetime. She feels that once you meet someone and interact with them for long and have a happy relationship then your relationship ends in that lifetime. What she feels is you continually have new souls coming into your life.

I take a somewhat different approach and feel that people you are very attached to are always a part of your life irrespective of the lifetime. But yes people with whom we have incomplete relationships with in some lifetime, do come again into your life in another lifetime to complete the cycle. Everything must have some completion, or must it?

All the talk about souls makes me wonder how exactly the system works. Despite the risk of sounding like an agnostic, I wonder with the world population continually increasing, are souls getting divided. If there is only one soul that is continually reborn, where are all these new souls manufactured?

My beginning -- again

Does there have to be a beginning? Every end is a start after all, and all that starts ends somewhere. I am talking in circles. Just like life is: mine, yours, & everyone’s. I was waiting for a day or two; opening the blog everyday and then staring at the page, waiting for magical lyrical words to miraculously appear. I wanted to fill the page with eloquent verses which would leave all swooning and marvelling at my innate genius. ‘Ah Anita , we never knew you had this in you’, ‘Your words made me cry’ and the like.

Then I took a wakeup call. Everyone who knows me knows about my love for words. All the bouquets and brickbats have arrived already, close ones have praised and all the critics have cursed. When has that hindered my flow of words or thoughts for that matter? The only voice I have paid attention to is the one inside. All this time I ignored it but now its sound is getting too loud. I have to write. I cannot ask it to shut up anymore. The only way I can silence it, is by throwing it out. My words may not be magical but then is life really all that magical? Mostly it is ordinary, to me at least. But that is till I take the time to pause and see the magical in the ordinary, the music in the silence, the special in the mundane. Then I sensed my words are like life, ordinary to the eye, till I or someone sees the magic in them myself. Even if they are boring, well so be it. I can’t please everyone, so I choose to please my heart. And so I write here now. We all have to begin somewhere so that something can end.