Two radiant particles of light,
Vibrant, strong, bright collide
Spraying out a rainbow of life,
Dancing in cosmic delight.
A kaleidoscope in flight,
Prismatic, effervescent,
Bubbling , evanescent,
Unfolding mysteries beyond time
Dissolving with the energy of strife.
Building, unbuilding,
Creating, uncreating,
In a flow of unending stream
A poem beyond the realm
Of mankind’s last dream
All that will remain is a lone beam,
Which will again restart
Creation’s eternal dance.

A Happy New Year



A New Year’s Hope

Each morning, I am drawn
To the dawning of a new dawn.
Songs of hope and happiness ring
And each ray a line of joy sings.

Each new year, I watch for the morning star,
And wish on it for a wonderful, fresh start.
Lyrics of harmony on each lip,
Dreams of peace and plenty give.

This is my fervent hope.
Every heart find a home.
Every child find enough food
And a wonderful world that schools
To realise their dreams,
Creating vibrant streams
Of thought that freely flows
Towards enlightening souls…
Beyond borders and lines,
Bonds drawn by mankind.

To welcome the new, let us all rise
And with these dreams take flight…



A Brave’s Song

Each day I see the morning sun
Rise up and watch the joggers run.
Each day I see the birds fly
Soaring from the trees to the sky.
Each day I hear the koel call,
A hidden voice that does enthral,
Mysterious, melodious, intense…
Ringing out, “Courage, my friends.”

Life never ends.
It only mends
When you smile like sunshine and say,
“Life is a game. Let’s play.
The hurdles are merely in the way.
Let us make glorious each day.”

The sun, displaced and smothered by clouds
After a heavy downpour, laughs and peeks out,
Paints a lovely rainbow that gives us hope
And makes men weave tales of leprechaun’s gold.

And the koel sings, “Courage my friends.
Life is beautiful in it’s very essence.”

The Creators



The bubbleverse was of a strange material, supple yet very strong. It felt steady inside the bubble, just as if they were still in Jacinth’s world in some beautiful resort. The ground was covered with bright green grass. The foliage was lush and gave way to the sea, which was a deep purple in color. There were bubbly-looking, multi-coloured flowers on the plants. Some of them looked like they had trapped the colours of the rainbow. Jacinth, Jasmine and JaJa could hear distant voices conversing in English.

The voices drew closer. Jacinth, Jasmine and JaJa hid in nearby bushes. Soon, they saw two ‘persons’ pass by. They were laughing and had pinkish skins and bubbles instead of hair. But, the bubbles seem to be solid. One had yellow bubbles and the other, turquoise.

“Wow!” said Jacinth.

“Sh…” whispered Jasmine with fingers to her lips. “I do not know how they will react to our appearance as they have no concept of a multiverse. So, pipe down.”

“ Then how will we find the person you are looking for?” said Jacinth.

JaJa was sitting quietly and looking around. She seemed a little intimidated by the surroundings.

“Let the local inhabitants go off. Then we will talk,” said Jasmine. “For heaven’s sake let us stay quiet now.”

It was a lonely beach by all standards. Everything seemed the same, except for the foliage, which had far more vibrant colours.

As the voices faded away, there was silence. Only the lap of waves and strange birdcalls interrupted the quiet. Jasmine looked at Jacinth and JaJa.  Jasmine ran out warily and checked the surroundings. Then she said: “I think it is safe to talk now.” Promptly JaJa started muttering in her language. Jasmine turned to her and she seemed to soothe down.

Jacinth asked, “ So, how do you calm her?”

“I use thought waves to communicate with you and JaJa. So, I do not need words. I only use them with you while talking because you are not used to using telepathy. But coming to your older question, Jolyn, our bubbleverse self, has been getting dreams similar to yours. I have been projecting ideas into her head. I am expecting her to come to the beach tonight. I have projected the thought of gazing at their moon and writing poetry. Here the moon seems to have some amount of distortion as the light passes through the membrane of the bubble. You will also notice that the plants are more lush and the pigmentation of the local inhabitants is lesser as the harmful parts of solar radiation get filtered out by the surface of the bubble.”

“That’s interesting!” said Jacinth. JaJa seemed to be listening with understanding too.

She asked something strange to Jasmine pointing at her mouth. Jasmine replied, “We can find food in the woods and I have chocolate and candy in my backpack for you.” She delved into her bag and dug out some chocolates for JaJa. JaJa hummed with happiness and started drooling and singing in anticipation of the treat. While she unwrapped the candy, Jasmine continued, “I have pinged ourselves to a lonely beach because it is difficult to merge here with the local population. Hopefully, no one else will come here this evening.”

“The bubbleverse was an ecological experiment by the creators to see if we could survive inside an artificially created bubble. The surface has enough pores to let in natural air. In a way, the experiment succeeded but created a different biological species from us and our plant and animal kingdom because the light and air were both filtered through the membrane of the bubble. The bubbleverse was a reaction against pollution in some of the other dimensions. They have no large-scale industries here and no countries. The total population is about ten thousand. Most live up to the age of hundred and twenty!”

JaJa again seemed to be listening. Jasmine was surprised, “Does she understand you?”

“I am projecting my thoughts telepathically to her as I communicate with you,” said Jasmine.

“Can you communicate with me telepathically too?” Asked Jacinth.

“ I should be able to if you keep your mind open.”

“What exactly do you mean by keeping ones mind open?”

“Well, you need to believe in your heart you can communicate through telepathy. See, the belief comes easily to a primitive like JaJa as she has lesser of preconceived notions. But to you, conditioned by education, a sense of limitations sets in … though I must say you have a smaller sense of limitations or preconceived notions than most other humans.”

“Then, will I be able to ever communicate telepathically?”

“Why not? It is after all only a conditioning of the mind. Just try to catch others’ thoughts… Perhaps you can start with JaJa. Try to understand her thoughts whenever she mutters something.”

“That’s a great idea. I love the idea of stretching my mind to different dimensions!” exclaimed Jacinth.

“That is what the creators do. I believe most creatures can do that if rocks and plants can harmonise their thoughts in the creative dimensions. We can empathise and communicate with each other but still maintain our privacy. I want to prove to the creators that such an existence is more desirable than having ones thoughts read by everyone all the time. Blocking should come naturally too. So, instead of talking you can project your thoughts to the person you want to communicate with however far the person is.”

“Unfortunately, the creators do not like my idea of sharing telepathic communication with other dimensions and of privacy of an individual. I want to be able to live in harmony beyond the borders of dimensions. I believe in it. That is why I am gathering all of ourselves together because each one of us will hopefully have a stronger ability to stretch the mind than others of the species each one belongs to. JaJa and you do.”

“Wow! Fascinating! By the way, how much longer do we need to wait for our bubbleverse self?” asked Jacinth.

“We have to wait for the moon to be up. We can eat now,” answered Jasmine.

“What do we eat?” Asked Jacinth.

“We can eat some of the fruits from these trees. They are quite filling,” said Jasmine.

Jasmine and Jacinth plucked some huge pink and yellow fruit that tasted like banana, pineapple and strawberry rolled into one.

The sky was turning orange. Soon it would be dark. The girls waited in the bushes to be safe. No one came. Soon the moon rose. It looked pale blue with mysterious shadows around it. The stars were even more blurred. You could barely see them. The waves sloshed on the beach. The strange bird calls had stopped. It was eerily silent except for the sounds from the sea. The three girls sat huddled behind some bushes. Suddenly, they sat up. They could hear a strange sound. They peeped out of their hiding and saw distant figures of a girl and a boy. There was a jingling sound as they walked.

Could it be Jolyn? Who was the other person with her? Jasmine had asked her to come alone….





Do you see that distant wave?

I see it rise incarnadine with blood.
A great tsunami that threatens to flood
The world with gore born of hate.
Fear and violence open the gate
Of living, vivid hell
In which garb dwell
Differences drawn by men
They say for kin and ken…

Do you see that distant wave?

I see it lave and soothe
With it’s lulling tune.
I see it calm and blue
Reflecting the golden hue
Of the bright sun ray.
People are happy at work and play.
They say the world is but one land
And, united, we all akin stand.

Do you see that distant wave?

The incarnadine sea with it’s violent grave?


The calm blue ocean with it’s sunshiny face?

Book of the Week

I am starting a section on books that I love.


Book Title: Lost Horizon

Author: James Hilton

Written in 1933 and made into a movie in 1937, this book is an adventure in an utopia, called Shangrila. A quartet of American and British expats found themselves on Tibetan landscape when their four seater plane crash-landed near an unmapped area of Tibet.

The four are rescued by members of a lamasery lodged in a remote plateau. Here they come in contact with lamas who have crossed the boundaries of time and death. You have a curate from the nineteenth century who visited the Bronte family that created masterpieces in literature. One of Chopin’s pupil plays unpublished works by Chopin! A Manchu princess from 1855 frozen in youthfulness in the 1930s adds to the mystery and romance of this novel. All these characters are depicted to have ascended the borders of nationality, time and death…and the most interesting thing was that the lamasery was founded by a Christian missionary who defied the throes of death at 108 years of age and continued to build on this utopia. The lamasery was geographically secreted away among the hills in a way that it was impossible to locate even by air. This secrecy was it’s best security from the real world of war, greed, passion and hatred.

I just loved the book with it’s borderless approach to the world and life. The lamas are depicted as visionaries who can see the future and ascend time. The founder tells the protagonist, Conway, that they are trying to preserve the best of civilisation from all over the world to survive the self-destruct mode humankind is headed for. They perceive themselves as a magical world that will survive the throes of bombs and destruction and restart civilisation on a new footing.

I would recommend the book as an excellent read.

On Nearing Fifty…


I have started pondering over my life as I head for the completion of half-a-century of my earthly existence. Do I reminiscence … look back in time?

I do miss my childhood a little bit…. But, at some point, I got stuck on the age of sixteen. My eleven-and-a-half-year-old son told me I was more like an eleven-year-old. My irritated neighbour in China once told me I behaved like a twelve-year-old. I myself prefer sixteen as the sweetest of all ages because that is when between the threshold of childhood and adulthood, life holds out maximum possibilities. One has not pinned down on what exactly one wants to do in life but one is getting there. One looks and feels energetic and beautiful. One feels like an empress who can conquer the whole world. There is nothing to lose by expressing oneself as one is. At the threshold of fifty, I feel pretty much the same.

Life with it’s endless possibilities is starting out for me again. My children are growing up into independent young men. I look forward to their future and revel in it. My eighteen-year-old is now like a friend. I can talk politics, literature, history, discovery and exploration with him. My husband started out as a good friend and continues through life as my closest one. I am like an empress in a household of geeky men who cannot manage without me. I pretty much feel as I did at sixteen, tyrannical and beautiful…give or take forty odd kilos of weight added on to me through my years of wisdom and truth.

The whole world is open to me. I can go where I please once my younger son is a little older. Right now, I travel vicariously with Marco Polo and with Captain Nemo. I read and dream without having the necessity to worry about my future. The three men in my life worry about theirs and mine too ! So, I live in the moment and carpe diem.

I am not in fact sure if I do want to travel physically to all the most scenic spots in the world as the plumbing and the hotels may not meet up to my stringent standards. For instance, Easter Island looks most inviting with it’s bare elemental beauty and the fantastic rock formations, yet the hotels seem more like seaside resorts by the beach. I know some do not have air conditioning. While some travellers wrote that they found a volcanic rock jutting out in the middle of their room exciting, I prefer to relish such things outdoor. I have dust allergy, need clean air and air-conditioning to be comfortable every night. So, such an excursion may not be my cup of tea.

I would love to go to the Antarctica base and shake the staid penguins’ hands/ wings. However, I would not want face the bone-chilling cold. I would love to travel in space but I do not want to travel for more than a few hours. So, travelling vicariously does very well for me.

I have developed a bad left knee that would not be an asset if I wanted to go to Machu Picchu or travel on camel back across the Egyptian sands to visit Tutankhamen’s fabulous tomb. There are so many places I would love to visit and see. I wish teleporting like in Star Trek were a reality. Then, I could visit all the fabulous places of the world from the comfort of my home.

I can eat what I like… Of course doctors tell you otherwise, but the ultimate choice is mine. When I was a child, my mother used to force me to down an egg, toast, fruits and milk at the start of each sunshiny school day. Now, I am free to eat what I like…black coffee at breakfast each day…and a sweet biscuit or a chocolate with it. I can try different kinds of cheeses on my toast and eat no fruit and eggs at breakfast!

Doctors would call me obese but I would call myself mature and plump. My doctor told me I had misused my knee…it is getting better with a herbal supplement that my elder son picked up at the supermarket, Shallaki or Boswellia. Maybe, I will do the steep ascent of Machu Picchu after all… Of course a good hotel near at hand is a must.

My threesome are very keen to visit and spend a few days in the Kruger National Park in South Africa. I am not. Some of our friends went there and hobnobbed with monkeys and foxes and whatnots at breakfast, lunch and dinner. My brother-in-law who lives nearby in Johannesburg found a lion lounging in a bathroom in Kruger Park. As animals are not my favorite creatures and I do not fancy dancing with elephants, I would prefer not to live inside the park…

The best part of closing in on fifty will be that I will get closer to sixty than I have ever been. I really want to hit sixty because a fortune teller in China told me I will be very happy and attain great things in the sixtieth year of my existence. Could it be success as an author or grandchildren or would I be thrilled to turn a silver blonde and leave my hair undyed? Which would it be? After all, hairdressers are the only people who ask me if I am thirty something! I can never explain to them I am sixteen at heart and forty-nine in real years…

I am sure an elephant in Kruger National Park would understand!

Flight of Fancy



Like a feather, I drift.
I float, I flit
Across the skies,
Uninhibited by ties.
Along my flight,
I watch the sunrise
Through the web of leaves
On sleepy trees.
The wind blows the tangled mess
Till the trees look better dressed.
Below, the coastline froths with white
And reflects the rising sunlight.
Painted gold, I hear the swish
Of trees or waves, I know not which…
Hills and mounds that lie below
They change and come and go.
Lifted by a strong breeze, I fly
Till I merge into the infinite sky.