Flying high in the sky reaching for the beautiful white flower named moon, the Bumblebee forgot about home, colours and fragrance of the land.
The wind resisted it, throwing it back and forth. Like a puppet the Bumblebee danced.
It rose up and crossed the cloudy river, river that was flowing to nowhere special, river that was attuned with the Universe.
A tiny spot, a funny Bumblebee approaching its white flower… the moon saw it and decided to wait.
- Shubhasya Shighram – A Pocket Sized Mantra
- The Red River Named Kanthapura
- The Matrix, Our Home and The Second Option
- Those Seekers
- Ancient Dusky Rivers