Nights of Whirlwinds

Dejected over the long text chats,
Demoralized in the online meetings,
That are driven late into the nights
Along the steep curves of insanity -
With the people on the other side
Of the sunrise, exchanging cold words
Fueled by foggy perceptions.

Discouraged to hold my head high
By the whirlwinds of anger and despair
Born of overwhelming frustration
Day in and day out for months on end -
Testing the limits of fragile perseverance.

Yet the battle with righteousness endures,
Striving to make the wrong things right.
When the nagging troubles are vanquished,
The taste of victory is profoundly savored,
Releasing tranquility from banishment.

Then one day, destiny calls -
One meeting with the same people,
On the same side of the sunset.
And that made all the difference!

May 10, 2025

Bliss

I stand before you, bare and naked
As an offering you might like;
As nothing else could stand a chance
For worshipping your enchanting beauty.
I do not have the slightest courage
For seeking your blessings to embrace you,
For I cannot stand in the presence
Of the divine energy dazzling in your eyes.
Thus, I have shed my skin of torture
Renouncing the world of pleasures
To experience your spirit that pervades
The whole Universe of all creation.

Engulf me in your arms swaying the cosmos,
To help me vanquish my malicious thoughts
And be guided by the beacon of wisdom
Obscured within the depths of intuition.
Let there be a reminder in my conscience,
Every second of every day by introspection
That there is no other form of happiness
Than being in your abode of eternal bliss
Spanning throughout the universe.

While I am aware that my mind is blind
In ignoring your everlasting presence,
It doesn't leave me alone until I become a slave to it.
So, help me draw my focus back to yourself,
And lure me towards the touch of your ecstasy
When I lose my reins to the spurious exhibits of joy
Painted by the army of habitual offences led by desire.

It is ironic to give you up for the sake of dark forces
But your arms are always open for me upon my surrender.
I am left in an abyss of confusion that sucks me down
During the tug of war that ensues for choosing a side:
Either the body ruled by lust, limited by unrelenting ego,
Or the soul that reflects your Omnipresent Spirit.

Light the path again that leads to your shelter,
And I will tread it entrusting myself in your able hands.
My breath whispers your name as a prayer with every step
While I begin experiencing the Oneness with you.

Advaita

Advaita

To the seeker of truth,

Wake up from your dream;

The dream of false reality

Staged by your senses.

Wake up from your slumber;

The slumber of dreaming

With your eyes closed.

Free your mind,

Let go of the veil of illusion;

The illusion painted by

Your worthless ego.

The ego has blinded you and

Obscured the vision of reality.

Lose yourself; shed everything

That you think you have

To know that you have nothing.

Look inside yourself to learn

And realize that what you

See, hear, touch, taste,

Think and feel is one big lie.

Unlearn that this life is permanent

And learn about its fickle nature.

Let your thoughts transcend

Beyond the realm of your body

And discover that your soul

Is no different than

The Spirit of The Universe;

Where life comes and goes

Round and round in an endless cycle.

Believe that only this knowledge 

Of Self-realization is permanent.

Become aware that you are

An indivisible speck of dust

Within the infinite universe.

Still the mind; stop its clamor

From grief and desires.

Accept that you are nothing

And yet you are everything

Both within and without.

Even with your eyes wide open,

Pure consciousness pervading the cosmos

Since the beginning of time

Will be enlightened within you

To experience eternal bliss.

And this is The Ultimate Truth.

July 14, 2022

But One Day

But One Day

"Raise your arms, now your chin,

Then close your eyes and your mouth,"

I said giving a bath to my naughty little boy.

The joy of experiencing such a thing:

The way he responded to my requests

Overpowered me until I took a deep breath,

I realized with a drop of sadness and fading smile

That it wouldn't last forever, but one day.

When he returned home after earning his graduation, 

I couldn't be more proud of what he had achieved

Until with a bag of mixed feelings, I heard him say,

"I'll take it from here," only to figure out that

My boy is a grown-up now, but one day.

The long walk along the country side

With the help of my cane,

Soaking in the sight of birds returning

To their abodes against the backdrop of

Lush green hills along the water stream: 

I indulge myself in such delightful spectacles

Reminiscing about my boy once I carried in my arms -

Until I felt a sudden grab on my shoulder

For my leg slipped and I was about to fall forward.

Then I glanced at the man with gray hair giving me

An assuring nod and my fading smile returned to life.

It is all but a dream that will come true; but one day.

July 25, 2021

Our Mother

Our Great Mother

Her patience is immeasurable,

Her tolerance - unimaginable.

And yet, she feels burdened

While her patience runs out.

To ease herself, to save her spine,

And to save most of her children,

She forsakes a few of them

With thunder bolts of death,

Warning the rest with fury

Without showing the grief

Withheld in her eyes.

She is, my people,

Our Great Mother,

Nature.

Childhood's End

A heartfelt laughter for the silliest

Of things from a child's lips

Is like adoring a blooming flower.

It is undoubtedly a celestial form

Of God from the Heavens above.

The same laughter for the tiniest

Of things from a grown-up is indisputably

Smeared with contrived mockery -

With a laughter suppressed by the lips.

The joy of childhood is not just

A seed of innocence planted at birth,

But it is in the virtue of living by it

Instead of shying away.

The easiness of simplicity is made

Uneasy by the complexity of smugness.

It is the malice that spreads depravity

Until decadence is established as an ideal.

Innocence is the freedom to be naïve,

But willing to taste the nectar of pristine

Life all around us; but not scathing it

By wearing the crown of ignorance.

The idiocy of petty fights to win over

The balance instituted by natural order

Is argued instead of dismissing it

For glorious abuses and selfish exploits.

Instead of chewing the gift of the present,

The known past and the unknown future

Stir up distress in the unconscious smile,

Even though it is the symbol of serenity.

The pretense of adulthood is a vermin

Of misery and despair to innocence;

Sadly it is nourished to a thriving child

Until the virtue is lost into oblivion.

There is a child in each one of us;

Why is it lost in the journey through time?

Aren't we all the children of God?

Aren't we all?

Art by Lina Abojaradeh

May 27, 2021

Delight

Delight

The doors of my mind opened

For the thoughts to wander about

The fields aided by my eyes

To admire the lush green tapestry

In a hope to make something up

For indulging in a poetic endeavor.

But I got lost in contemplation

About trivial matters triggered by

A spell in the subconsciousness

And I brooded over it now and again

Eating away all my valuable time.

Just then I felt a gentle squeeze

On my forefinger jolting me out

Of my useless and unworthy musing.

I looked down towards my kid

Whose eager little eyes pleaded

Me to carry him in my arms.

Feeling ashamed at myself,

My impulse prompted me to

Honor it with pity in my heart

Wearing a rueful smile, for there

Is no delight greater than this.

December 25, 2020

Rendezvous With Nature

Rendezvous With Nature

The stream of words

Trickles from my mind

With no intention of

Making me conscious

Of the fact that I am

All alone in this world.

This feeling of great relief

Prospers when the draughts of

Fresh air is felt in my lungs

While my eyes relish

The spectacular view of

A calm lake on one side and

Vast paddy fields on the other.

Against the backdrop of

The setting sun, it looks like

A lush green carpet laid down

For the Gods to rest.

The long stroll on the lakeside path

Did not weaken my strength,

Nor did it cease to amaze me

As I gradually steered across

The farm of betel nut trees

Swaying with joy against

The cool evening breeze.

It is then I saw a pair of

Hornbills stealing the nuts.

When they caught me staring at them,

It was a magnificent sight

To watch them flap their wings

And fly away to the next farm.

The treasure cove of pleasure

Lies in such beauties of nature

Planted within man's reach.

It can be experienced only by

Training the senses to admire

The divinity of spiritual essence;

For life is truly untangled

When it is filled with tiny joys

That define simplicity.

September 30, 2020

Don't Give Up On Your Child

Don't Give Up On Your Child

Don't give up on your child.

Mind you! He is your child.

Fill him with hope.

Fill him with light.

He gets angry on you,

He may even shout at you.

He blames you, scolds you

Because he is your child.

He lies to you; steals from you.

Remember! He is your child.

Fill him with knowledge,

Guide him towards wisdom.

But don't give up on your child;

For he is gifted, he's blessed.

He looks up to you as God.

So don't let him leave you.

No matter what the world says

For it is always bound to say

But you know him better

Because he is your child.

Don't give up on your child.

Do not make him leave

Without saying goodbye.

He's your child, he's your child.

July 28, 2020

Tree of Spirits

Tree of Spirits

There is a world far beyond our own,

Where there is a tree and not a soul.

Planted on the dark side of the horizon

It harbors the spirits lost in tragedies

Struggling to find a place in Heaven.

When the moon sneaks above the sky

Looking like a black orb without radiance,

Looms out of the dark clouds with a sneer,

Then the tree glows in vibrant colors

With smoky hues of red, green and blue

Forming a grim nimbus around it.

This grotesque spectacle is conjured

By the occult of witches and warlocks

For the souls try to take forms of the past

In a hellish way to liberate themselves

From the leash of branches entwined

Within the hideous trunk from which

Beautiful faces and rotten skulls and

Mortified eyes peer into the darkness

In a despairing search for a glimpse

Of something that breathes.

August 29, 2020

Notes

This work was originally published as part of a photo prompt hosted on Instagram.

Better Than Hell

Better Than Hell

The stream of bad blood flows

From one age to the next

And forms a rope of lineage.

Which is frayed in between

As a mark of unjust actions.

It is pulled harder and harder

To keep the tradition moving;

But it breaks painfully

Finally meeting a tragic end.

The two parts are tied again

But they refuse to succumb

To the unrelenting pressure.

For it is cut by the divine law

To strike a balance; and so

Giving birth to a rebel who

Persistently fights for truth.

To make ends meet

By any means necessary,

The rebel is lured by riches

As a diversion from wisdom.

The enticement didn't work

Because the magic couldn't

Play its cheap tricks for long.

The rebel was hell-bent upon

Weaving the frays with threads of justice.

"When truth itself cannot be polluted, 

How can I be?"

Is what he said!

But where will that blood flow,

Other than in sewage drains?

It smeared the rebel with reeking

Muck of offence, vice and villainy.

The rebel conceded defeat

When the war broke out

With false allegations that

Are not worth fighting for.

In the face of humiliating abuse

The rebel left with a resolution:

It is always better to be in hell

Than spending even a minute

More here.

July 27, 2020

None The Wiser

None The Wiser

Better late than never, 

A wise man once said.

'Tis better soon than late.

But he is none the wiser.

When the man is wrong,

But anger is his crown

And ego is his throne,

He is none the wiser.

The stench is the guilt

When regret is in the pit.

Time chops off his head.

He was none the wiser.

He dies not in regret,

But wins forgiveness

Before his last breath.

But no; he's not the wiser!

The joy of winning fades,

But his tenacity never lasts

So his wrongs are erased.

'Tis he! Yes, 'tis he!

July 28, 2020

Litter

In a room as big as the sky,

Crumpled papers are thrown.

The papers were born to fly,

But they were caught and torn.

The papers inscribed with hurt

Were sprayed with scent of shame.

Then they were scrambled in dirt

With a sole intention to defame.

The room was desperate to be free

From the litter that was cancerous.

But even a simple wish to unsee

The words of pain was hopeless.

It was neither morality nor hope

For the fire to ignite against vice.

But courage stood firm with a rope

To lash out at anything but nice.

The fire leaving no ashes in rage

Lighted the room with wisdom.

The hostility going on a rampage

Was vanquished with activism.

Notes

I don't want to spoil the subjective meaning of the readers, and I very much appreciate the variety of perspectives that this poem brings in. But to me, this work tries to reflect my deepest thoughts and emotions. The room here is my mind, heart and body. The papers are my feelings or emotions.

July 15, 2020

Clouds of Smoke

Clouds of Smoke

Getting lost in the clouds of smoke,

Forgetful of the imminent choke;

Mesmerized by its misty spirit,

She drowns in the fantasy of it.

Walking through the fog of ash,

Even through the litter of trash,

She enjoyed every step by foot

And smiled at the drizzling soot.

I am on the hilltop, she believed,

And felt more alive than relieved.

The smog had become her reality,

Fillng her lungs with congeniality.

It was the only one to be near her,

That promised to be with her forever.

This can be considered as a sequel to Puffs of Smoke.

July 10, 2020

Puffs of Smoke

Puffs of Smoke

Lost and confused, I light a joint;

Minding over matter with no point.

With the first suck of distress,

The poignant past is triggered.

Unsheathing the dagger of bitterness,

It is jabbed until the pain is heard.

The fume is held long enough

Ignoring the shortness of breath.

Then it is whispered out in despair

With well-timed rings of death.

The second smoke is breathed in

For the sake of temporary relief.

With the cuts driving deep within,

The hapless mind is in disbelief.

The final gush of smoke is inhaled

Wishing for a tiny bit of solace.

But the heartbeats are overburdened

By the poisonous vapors of disgrace.

For the end of ageless torment to begin

The soul concedes to depart from the skin.

July 9, 2020

Transcendence

Transcendence

Suffering from a heavy heart,

With a lump in the throat,

Drenched in sorrowful tears -

Are the lines of bygone years.

But the past  cannot be condemned

However bitter it might have been.

For it has taught many lessons

In the school of hard knocks.

Now the soul is flourished

Beyond the limits of misery.

It has outgrown mortal wounds

And transcended the common

Understanding of knowledge

With a courageous breakout

From the flesh of transient body

Confined in the sphere of illusion.

It has embarked upon a journey

Towards the Supreme One -

The infinite, the boundless,

The pervasive omniscience,

The ultimate truth of divinity

Which I am already a part of

Since the beginning of time

Until its endless weaving of life,

Where it resides forever and ever.

Inspired by the story of Jada Bharata and the philosophy of Hinduism.

April 21, 2020

Don't Look Back

Don't Look Back

I said, "Don't look back,"
But my son kept walking
With his head turned back
And a finger in his mouth.

Then he stumbled over a rock
And nearly fell to the ground.
"Look ahead, my son!"
I cautioned him again.
Then he turned his head
To look forward
And suddenly I realized
The truth in those words.

© Amit Herlekar

#originalpoetry

In Love With Death

In Love With Death

I am crying to release myself
From the shackles of death;
My tears are turning into vapors
Against my warm cheeks
That are burning because of
The salt in my oozing sweat.
I am barely able to take a step;
And yet I am pushed to walk
To feel the bruising pain of
The fetters around my ankles.

Holding an old and rusty cup
Of a few gulps of dirty water,
And walking with clumsy steps,
With my hands inside the cuffs:
Which are designed such that
The fingers turn hard and stiff;
They cannot clasp anything
Except for heavy rocks of burden.
After a lifetime of carrying them
I am thrown in a deserted land
Like an unfed defenseless animal.
My mouth is parched of thirst,
And I cannot even bring the cup
To my lips as it cuts my wrists
That will make me bleed to death.

I want to take a few breaths
To live a few moments more,
Even in this dying hope
To get a glimpse of you.
Because you know my darling,
You are worth dying for.
Even a hazy memory of you
Adds a drop of life in me.

It is time; I surrender to death
By getting fed into the inferno.
I shout and scream for mercy;
My screeching throat tears open
Until it exudes tiny drops of blood;
But they are vaporized instantly
Due to the blaze of the raging fire.
But something flashed before my eyes
A moment before my last breath;
Then I smiled and embraced my end.

With you always by my side,
I was never left alone!
You were my guardian angel.
So I was not unfortunate after all:
To have no bonds, no memories,
No sorrows, no joys, no love -
A life without struggles or feelings!
If I had absolutely nothing to lose,
I would have left empty-handed
Except for loneliness and regret.
Instead, I realized how lucky I was:
With my share of love and joy,
I had something precious to lose,
Something which I left behind;
That made my life worth living.

Notes

This poem is inspired by the lines in the movie: Kingsman: The Golden Circle. When I was watching the film and saw these lines delivered, I was awestruck. Then I wrote this poem later that night at 2 AM.

Harry Hart: When I was shot, can you guess what the last thing was that flashed through my mind? It was absolutely nothing. I had no ties. No bittersweet memories. I was leaving nothing behind. Never experienced companionship, never been in love. And in that moment, all I felt was loneliness and regret. 

[Harry pours the martini in two glasses]

Eggsy: I'm sorry.

Harry Hart: Don't be. Just know that having something to lose... 

[hands martini to Eggsy]

Harry Hart: is what makes life worth living. Now, lets go and save your girl.

Eggsy: I missed you, Harry.

Secondly, the reference to the 'companion' is not to be taken literally. It is not just a lover or a life partner that we lose when we die. But we also lose what we passionately love doing. Like the poet leaves behind his lifetime of poems, the artist leaves behind his paintings, and so on.

September 7, 2019

On The Contrary

On The Contrary

It appears that the clouds have wrapped the hilltop,
But a massage of cool mist is being done over its head.
And the groves are swaying in pain wanting it to stop,
Instead, they are dancing in the rainy winds on the moist bed.

The roar of the thunderstorms is as horrifying as a monster,
Without which there won't be a grand welcome of the rains.
A deadly threat to the farm fields is the leaf-eating caterpillar,
Without which the sky and the rainbows are just the remains.

If you are chasing a thief for some cents and a few dollars,
Should the ailing mother of that criminal die of starvation?
If a corrupt leader is running a nation wearing a white collar,
What should the people vouch for: governance or destitution?

If sitting in utter silence is taken as an act of ignorance,
Then who will care about his struggle of looking up to you?
If a man with persuasive skill utters words with elegance,
Will you trust his words or his devious actions against you?

Plenty of trees are cut down for the sake of ambition,
But the revenge of Nature is looked upon as bad luck.
When a loud voice of anger leads to violent commotion,
Just listening to its pleading undertone can prevent havoc.

If fame pours in a lot of fans and fills up the cup of glory,
Then why is it sitting in the darkest corners of loneliness?
If gold coins and silver platters are treasured to curb misery,
Then why are they just covered in cobwebs of uselessness?

Now that I am clueless about what my next lines should be,
I decide to end it as there is no more juice left in the can.
On the contrary, is this poem as mindless as it seems to be,
Or is it the embers flickering from the whims of a mad man?

August 28, 2019

In Love With The Dark

This is a verse I came up with last night when I was in bed.

In Love With The Dark

Being in the light -

I don't get sleep

Even if I want to!

Or I see many faces

Which I don't want to!

It allows unnecessary focus

That is uncalled for;

Making my soul go sore!

But then, there is darkness -

Waiting for a warm hug in its bosom.

It engulfs me like a blanket,

Without needing a real one.

It keeps me nice and warm,

Mesmerizing me to sleep,

Making me oblivious to

The unending stream of
Irksome thoughts and memories.

It never lets me down;

Never letting the world know

That I am around, in some corner,

Shielding my soul from the misery

All around.

May 5, 2019