Peace

Farewell, Dear Star

Webb Telescope NIRCam image of supernova remnant Cassopeia A.
Credit: NASA, ESA, CSA, STScI, Danny Milisavljevic (Purdue University), Ilse De Looze (UGent), Tea Temim (Princeton University)

A star that shattered like a glass

Cassiopeia-A, its name

A supernova remnant, when captured

In a telescopic lens, it showed

The colours of peace that overtook the space

When the star exploded

Breaking the shell into pieces

To embrace the space

To become one

Dying not, but evolving

Into what is the infinite

Not far or near, but everywhere

Direction-and-distance-free

Beaming brightly, lives

The star that shattered like a glass.


The structure contains cosmic dust, which has the potential to coalesce under gravity over time, to grow and grow and eventually form brand new stars.


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The Sun, The Moon, The Earth

Poems

Phases: A Collection of Poetry

A phase is defined as any stage in a series of events or a process of development; while we all go through different phases in life, at times we either forget to notice or simply become fearful of transitions, inadvertently being ignorant about the fact that this phenomenon is universal. In this short poetry collection, the blogger has attempted to capture this subtle yet powerful phenomenon – phases that are observable in every journey undertaken.

Here are the next three poems –

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All hail the majestic fiery sun! Hail, hail!
[Source – Pixabay]

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The Sun

Glorious in this self-sacrificial act,

The sun spins silently on its spot

With an eye open and an eye closed,

Partly seeing the planetary drama and

Partly observing its blind burning core,

Loving-living the old eclipsing folklore.

Never out of tune or shying away

From that routine rotating pathway

As if in meditation and at peace,

Granting us our lives at lease.

*

We assume Time is standing still

Because of our sun’s steady will.

It is but a phase like the earlier ones

Where life played a different game and had won.


Moon-lover one, waiting for moon lover two.
[Source – Pixabay]

*

The Moon

Like a wave gushing its way through

The barriers and entering our hearts,

The Moon loves playing the darts,

Winking, listening and inspiring like a true

Poet in practice, moonlight as ink

Together the moon-lovers drink.

Such is the friendship between the seekers

And the moon; safekeeping promises and secrets,

Along with a lonely soul’s rising hope

Of fulfilling a decorated dream and Co.

*

And this personification of moon into a friend

And a secret keeper, holding hands till the end

Is another phase, another image of the moon;

Quiet, calm, disciplined, it’s coming out soon.


The awesome dancers, all hail the trio! Hail, hail!
[Source – Pixabay]

*

The Earth

On a great grand gargantuan pilgrimage,

Orbiting its way, the same old and unique,

Transforming, adjusting with every coming phase,

Our Earth, our only home, this blue-green maze,

Gravitationally inclined, time-space bound,

Nurtures with freedom the beings found

Inhabiting its being, its vision, its dream;

Rhythmically revolving, rising, but never asleep,

Timed its timing with Time, the Earth

Listens earnestly, abiding by the unknown.

*

How forgetful are we, who are just a phase,

A passing reality on the way to its pilgrimage…

We appear to be short sighted and too eager

To conquer the unconquerable, our planet, our nurturer.

*


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The Truth is Pale Blue and its Apparent Size is Equal to a Dot

Pale Blue Dot by Voyager 1 Space Probe.
[Source – Wikimedia Commons]

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet

Whose hands can strike with such abandon

That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living

Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness

That the haughty neck is happy to bow

And the proud back is glad to bend

Out of such chaos, of such contradiction

We learn that we are neither devils nor divines  

*

This excerpt is from a refined piece of poem by Maya Angelou which shared then and is sharing still the truth.

We all call a pale blue dot in this magnanimous universe our home, and then we forget. For what else can it be if not weak memory that we repeat the same blunders and invite catastrophes?

We are full of contradictions, we are the chaos, we are neither devils nor divinesand yet we are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world. Why?

Because we can think, we can create, we can sing and dance, we can understand the science behind everything, and we can write a poem to share with everyone A Brave and Startling Truth.

Because deep down all each one of us want is peace. Yes, but only if we remember… if we remember to think.

*

When we come to it

We, this people, on this wayward, floating body

Created on this earth, of this earth

Have the power to fashion for this earth

A climate where every man and every woman

Can live freely without sanctimonious piety

Without crippling fear

When we come to it

We must confess that we are the possible

We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world

That is when, and only when

We come to it.


*

Read Maya Angelou’s beautiful poem, A Brave and Startling Truth here.

Know more about our planet, the Pale Blue Dot.

My inspiration for this post – A Brave and Startling Truth: Maya Angelou’s Stunning Humanist Poem That Flew to Space, Inspired by Carl Sagan and Read by Astrophysicist Janna Levin (a fabulous article written by the fabulous Maria Popova).


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Lord Jagannath’s Eyes

Lord Jagannath by Vrindavan Das.
[Source – fineartamerica.com]

One eye says that the play is on.

The wheel of Time moves ceasing for none, winning over oceans, mountains, the sky, the wind and the fire.

People crowd to clench forms and beliefs, together they build and destroy. They wait to gauge for more and what is better.

Look now, how they shine, bright like fireflies, honest to the core; look now, how they lure, how they trick the tricksters, how they slay a man’s soul.

Speak not, for they are at work, cross-legged monks, meditating on what is less; speak not, for you will fail to express how chaotic is the chaos.

Rising high is the music of unity and harmony; falling face down is the corrupt, fake cry of every rigid mind.

Knowing the beginning, waiting for the end, it walks, it lingers, we walk, and we linger.  

Tala Pattachitra, Palm Leaf Painting – Odisha’s ancient art form.
[Source –
ethnicpaintings.com]

Second eye says that it is all absolute bliss.

There is no Space or Time and it binds none; the ultimate end and the ultimate start merges with the absolute existence.

Flowing in a silent music, dancing always, the ripple reaches the centre.

The Brahman breathes; formless, it is of the colour peace.    

Lord Jagannath’s eyes are the universe we see and the universe we can’t see. The happy devotee who bows, who worships, who sings, who gazes gets mesmerized by one of the universes, and by Lord Jagannath’s smile.

Our million eyes find a million revelations in Lord Jagannath’s eyes.

*

Lord Jagannath, Lord of the Universe.
[Source – harekrsna.de]

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Both!

Feature Article
In Bloom.
[Source – Pixabay]

‘Kaun Buddha Si?’ (Who was Buddha?) by the wonderful Punjabi Poet Amar Jyoti.

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Who was Buddha?

Whose tale is it?

It’s left for you to decide;

Whether of Yashodhara or Siddhartha

Who repaired to the peace of jungle

Leaving Yashodhara behind

To bring up Rahul

Congruent with the royal

Customs and traditions,

Who made the glittering glass-house of her life a ruin

Behind the portals of a palace,

Where the seasons didn’t change,

Where life resided in silence,

Where her sight turned into an unending path

Waiting for Siddhartha.

*

And when he returned from the quiet of the peaceful abode

As Buddha the wise,

Who was the wise one,

Siddhartha or Yashodhara?  

*

English translation of the Punjabi poem by Jagriti Rumi.


Yashodhara, a princess, was Prince Siddhartha’s wife, who was born on the same date and year as that of her husband. According to a Chinese legend, Yashodhara had met Siddhartha in their past life where she took a promise from him that they will be husband and wife in all their next births.  

This beautiful poem asks a simple question and gives a concealed answer. Quietly it is telling a forgotten story, forgotten but real, real and empowering.    


The journey inwards was taken by both, Siddhartha as well as Yashodhara. While one left the world of attachment behind, the other stayed in the midst of it all and grew like a lotus. In waiting for her dearest, in bringing up her only son, Yashodhara knew trance, living every moment and trusting herself, comprehending spontaneously.  

After she met the enlightened Buddha, after her Rahul became a monk, Yashodhara did what she had prepared for, she become a Bhikkhuni (Buddhist nun); then the lotus shone brightly.  

Yashodhara didn’t search for peace, she gently nurtured it within, she didn’t live in seclusion, she found herself in the celebrations. Not in a ruin, she lived in every effort of hers to learn.  

Yashodhara, which means ‘bearer of glory’, got enlightened not once, but many times.    

*

Buddha with Yashodhara and Rahul 
[Source – speakingtree.in]

To read the original poem (in Gurumukhi), please click here.


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Buddhahood

The place where the embodiment of peace, Gautama Buddha, found enlightenment was recently shaken by bomb blasts. The holy Bodh Gaya shrine became the target of those who believe in destruction. The government has started the probe and they are confident of finding the culprits. Meanwhile, the Buddhists are back to chanting and praying, back with the Lord himself.  

Such blasts cannot stop what Gautama Buddha started. He commenced an inward journey; a journey to find oneself, to realise the inner self and hence attain inner peace. What the confused and angry minds cannot understand (and may never understand until they end their confusion and calm down) is that what Buddha taught and left behind is not stored in a shrine or in a scripture or in any physical form.

What he left is eternal and universal. It is in nature and it is nature. It can only be felt and realised and not be touched with bare hands. It is everywhere and in everyone waiting to get recognised.  

The ones who stubbornly want to fight don’t know that Buddha is in them too. Buddha is in all of us; when we act purely, correctly and truly the Buddhahood shines in us too. How can something so powerful be destroyed? How can something so true be crossed? We mere mortals can never do so; our futile attempts will only look ridiculous.  

You need not worry about any evil in this world; all you need is to reach the state of Buddhahood, to let it shine in you. Radiating light everywhere you’ll then fulfil the purpose of being you.


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With A Painting

Flash Fiction
[Source – a Hindi novel’s book cover; image by Jagriti Rumi]

Deep eyes for whom are you waiting? You look like a forgotten painting hanging high on a wall of an old chalet. I wish to talk to you…come alive; the mortal world needs a touch of your beauty. Just for a few minutes or even a second will do…come alive.

A blink of your eyes might melt million hearts; your smile could dance in the darkness and glow. Lost in the hazy splendour, talk to us once or make a gesture.

Hypnotising colours that you are adorned with has the power of bringing serenity. Share some with me; one shade of it in my life and I’ll be seen flying without wings.

Surely you are waiting for someone but what is the pleasure in it? A beloved resides in your mind or… a question?

The elegance in you speaks for you. It says you know the answer and that you are just playing Life.

Are you happy to be a pretty curse? I dreamt you are. Clever!

I am capturing your colours as much as my eyes can discern, your elegance as much as my mind knows and your love as much as my heart can hold.

You have made house in many souls and though you go on living many lives, you know that your wait is not over. You know peace, but you are waiting for it to complete.

*


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