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Women are not inferior or superior to men,
They are only different from them.
They speak out and put up a fight,
For what they know to be just and right.
Women can cook, clean, earn and invent,
Run a marathon, a country, a home and parliament.
For centuries oppressed, suppressed, depressed and confined,
Today acknowledge their freedom and strength of mind.
Women need to be heard in global society,
Releasing them from being just a sexual minority.
Women walk the tight rope with efficient ease,
Balancing career, family, finance or disease.
For pleasure let their bodies not be abused,
Instead allow their intelligence and compassion to be used.
Daughter, sister, wife, lawyer, writer, activist, artist,
Homemaker, lover, sportsperson, politician or friend –
Applaud them all, bringing social injustice to an end.
Include them in decision-making, in negotiations, and empower
For an equitable society and world to flower.
September 2010, Singapore
The Chinese fan palm stands in one corner of the garden rubbing shoulders with the champa (frangipani) tree. Its large fan leaves arch strongly along the extended stalk and appear folded in the middle. Each leaf has long narrow segments curling at the edges like a drooping fringe. To its left is the mighty vilaiti keekar, which has stood here for perhaps fifty years or so. I didn’t remove it when the house was built. Who would want to remove this grand old tree that over the years has nurtured life as the seasons changed? The month of August brings late rain to Delhi, and the little garden comes alive, making it fresh, wet and fragrant. Sitting out in the veranda is one of my favourite activities. The wet rain, little tailor birds dipping about, a pair of mama and papa chirping bulbuls and sunbirds drinking from the open hibiscus are a balm that soothes my senses and gladdens my heart. Read more
She lies on her bed in deep repose
Flat on her back, straight till her toes
Opening her eyes to acknowledge and see
A smile and squeeze of hand is rendered to me
The world, like a carousel, spins so bright
And I, the foolish idiot, grins in its light
Round and round it happens to twirl
Faster and faster it seems to whirl
“There is almost an enchantment of unbelievable magic in the method of communication adopted by nature in guiding seekers.” Swami Chinmayananda
The Heavens burst open at the fading light
With an invitation to a dance tonight.
Venue being the Pastoral Green –
Dress-code is – ‘Come as you preen!’
The sky changes its clothes from blue to grey –
Mrs Squirrel dashes off to close down for the day.
The Tree lived in a corner of the garden,
Roots firm and steady, into the ground,
Trunk solid and upright, into the sky,
Branches fanning out, replete with leaves,
Boughs laden with fruit, heavy and green,
I wish I was that mountain, still, majestic by itself.
I wish I was that cloud, adrift, in an azure sky.
I wish I was this rosebud, pink, waiting to be opened.
I wish I was that pine tree, tall, whistling in the wind.
I wish I was the colour, green, in a tuft of grass.
I wish I was that fragrance, sweet, in a frangipani flower.
I wish I was that voice, divine, in a koel’s song.
I wish I was that beaming smile, upon a friendly face.
Who knows I may have been them all, once upon a time?
Who knows I may be them again, in another time…
February 2009
You are me and I am you
As Life, in this Universe
Through and through…
We both arise from the same source
To plot and chart our journey’s course
May I be free to soar high like a kite on an endless ride,
May I be free to swim like a whale one with the tide.
May I be free to swing like a trapeze artist without any fear,
May I be free to swivel like a cat on a roundabout chair!
May I be free to sway like a shadow attached to no form,
The Quiet Sky 