All posts tagged: Environment

Food and the world on a new yogi’s mind

It was time the sun arrived when he decided going to bed again. After last night chocolate truffle the cough had soared. In his sleep he chanced upon the pizzas of fat lulu because only they had items where he could find some vegetarian ones. The voice inside him for many months had been asking him to leave dairy. Even when it is the best time to be a cow in India, he thought, milk like few other well marketed products have been projected as a necessity to humanity. So he started writing alternatives whenever any possible eatable came to his mind. He wrote it on a small diary he was keeping in the right cheek of his behind. But while on the road that led to an elite market, he saw a fruit man selling in February a watermelon. Is there something called a season ? Because time seems to have taken a back seat. But he stopped, thinking all fruits are good. When Manu Called he was counting his chewing the papaya in …

LAST FLIGHT OF AN OWL

He kept looking towards the sky while floating in the water kept for cows. Big round button yellow eyes like ever watching you do the doing. His death seemed such that at one time I felt he chose it. But would a predator or anyone can choose his own death? May be. But When Maharaj arrived, he first closed his eyes. May be he needed someone to close his eyes before it could be plucked out. May be he earned this burial. To only put a stop to this cycle. May his body rests and the spirit awakens. Aum Shanti

A view from the Car

Today started with Tiya mam forming a laugh on the white board. I had been photographing it. I woke up today waiting, like I had been doing since November. Chatterjee arrives late but it never wobbles me as it is not him. It is divine intervention. Lately enjoying photographing my food, purely for statistical reasons. It just happens to give a real view of your daily choices for the body that is the ultimate temple. We were going to the pat. The first one of the five. Also after the mountain fill of methane and worldly dump that made me choke through out the morning walk over the black mountain. We ticked another mountain off. And it bloomed evergreen Bougainvilleas like. Pink and other colours. Balloons over Krishna. Matsyadesh/The fish country and Pandava warriors. Days are pleasant. Sun is shining from far like a star. Moon chilling in the night. Gana arriv├Ęd with lots of sweets but I don’t like them anymore. once after they enter the magic system, they shut the whole nerve colony. …

Amarnath in the times of article 370

Even after thinking about doing something daily, one ends up doing it, achieving it, finishing it only in the head. In the head is good, as it creates enough compound interest in head but it is not good enough. I have had ups and downs, and have been away from home for some time. I was in Kashmir when article 370 was taken off. I was one of the last person to have trekked the majestic Amarnath ji this year. Without any plan or any inclination to have wanted to do it but surrendering to flow of life is such it takes you along on the paths, and you would enjoy. I fell in love with the harmony of the few people who walked along, some saints barefoot, and two without a leg who finished approximately sixty kilometres in as many days as I did. Food, sweets, tea, love and the name of shiva. But the feeling was erratic even then. Tents, people were leaving a month before. And many had already left. The way …

Voice of the self

The skin is darker inside. I have been stretching every morning now. It stays at that. When five blue pills arrived the water came out of the old cooler. Cows were inappropriately fed. But I was thinking of my new shoe who had holed my ankle. The long walk is coming. For it I had to buy phone. The sun of delhi pierced the enthusiasm of a young man. But by the evening like you, the one reading this I started to find again the voice of the self.

Svah

Slowly I have started smelling like fire. There is nothing more to feel one with the divine than this. Ash is all over my head, my clothes, my legs are bereft of a sole. Pouring Ice water every morning on head now seems a ritual. And fire a family. Is it because of these squirrels that i have started listening to. Or that bird in the morning quietness who comes sits by my bed in the darkness of the dawn. Something will change. It is asking something and saying something i cannot hear. Hear hear. Close your eyes.