The Brave Pedestrian

My hair I shred, my blouse I tear, My breasts I beat, I wail in grief. Gopala graced my humble hut And I… I lay asleep! My lover hugged me in my bed Cupping these breasts of mine. With whispered words and gentle love He sought to break my sleep. But I… I heard him not! Oh woe! I lay there like a corpse! Dreaming all night of Gopala I dreamt all night of love! I wake to find my Lord had Lain with me all night in bed. Oh! Blessed am I! Ah! Cursed am I! I weep, I beat my head. His footprints at the door are there, Bedsheets are all askew. My Lord, witness my breasts and hair, My shame! O Lord, I grieve! [ Footnote: To understand the essence of this poem, p lease think in the context of the gopis of Brindavan waiting, hoping, praying for a nightly visit from their divine Gopala . Assume the mindframe of a lone gopi who unsuccessfully tried to stay awake for her chance to be with her lover god.] P Nayak is reminded of Meerabai’s bhajan: palka par ...

Mother if it please you if it be your will On this mountain of unreason this illusory hill That I embrace and call sacred ground Let the pebble of Truth be found. Not knowing its shape size or colour I search From round stone to rough rock to red thing I lurch Scraping like a creature possessed Grasping each new thing to my breast. Truth is indifferent to light and to shade By people’s opinion not unmade nor made Neither blooms in profit nor withers in loss Then teach me to equally love gold and dross. Mother take my hand guide my feet be my eye. Confused by intentions no compass have I I do not  know how to look where to turn Sift harsh truthfulness from deceitful concern. Like a candle in the winds my faith flutters Oftentimes I doubt my purpose my sanity. Help me guard the flame Mother don’t let it die Else what shall I live for and why? -- Krish   --------------------------------------...

Morning walk. A big white stray I’ve never met before Abruptly puts his paws on my chest. No wagging tail, No lolling tongue, No panting, No doggy grin, No wet-nosed kisses. Strange grey eyes Gaze into mine. “We know each other,” they say. Standing there, I stroke that big head for a minute, Acknowledging a deep bond. I never see him again And I don’t need to. But I understand that No matter where I go, No matter who I am, My friends and I Shall Always Find each other. Thank you, Old friend, For reminding me So beautifully. ________________________________ I first wrote this in January 2007. Is it a poem? You decide. This is an accurate account of an incident that actually happened to me on a morning walk, and the thoughts that flashed through my head then.