Poetry Collection
Verses on spirit, silence & the infinite
This is She
The waves have receded and a hush growsLike Night creeps a calm, ebbing all throes.The raging below
To Mother, My Appeal
Thou art God that I do surely knowBut why be reckless and mar the show?!A pinch of tact, a fistful o
Wrinkle
O such a poor bargain Thou hast madeWhen Thou chose this good of lesser grade.All sham and hollow th
O Fire
Hush now feeble flame I shall feed thee yetHere are my desires and all I did beget.Thou must devour
Hidden Hands
What stupendous craft of hidden handsHas woven this splendour across lands!The minute ant and the sk
Mother of Light
Mother of Light, O Imperial MightAll does exist by Thy saving sight.All life’s grooves are made by T
Million-armed She
The titan brood marauds below for TheeChurns Thy world in hungry glee.Hammer and chain, and clouding
Beloved Tyrant
O Muse, O Supreme, my sole OrchestratorO Love, O Beloved, my sole CreatorLo, now am fulfilled only b
Tyrant
I remember the old wounds galoreOnly a world of pain my sole store.Relentless was the battle and fur
Golden Sun
There is a patch pervasive given to usA field of toil and uncommon labours.We earn our wage by a wil
Dissolve Me Now
By what chance of miracled destinyHad Thou entered this life of me.Like a soft unfolding of a flower
Ripe
What paltry frame is this body mine?And a mind addicted to the inane!Speech leashed to a profane spe
Bride
The armour drops and so all techniquesI grow pristine by every shedding norm;My script is bereft of
She, the Ancient & Ever-Young
A symbol name and a pictured formAll I knew of Her beyond all norm.My toddler will and fickle mindSh
Age of Kshatriyahood — A Call to Action
Today the Kurukshetra is everywhere. And so is Krishna. Whether we recognise it or not., Even closer
Age of Kshatriyahood
We trace the arc of the Kshatriya principle in Life from an evolutionary perspective. And consider i
O Pilgrim
This my long reconnaissance of the obscureA survey wide of many a grim despair.Dim my memory of tho
Krishna
Through folds of wakened slumberSlipped past a symbol of transcendent wonder.A token divine from my
Pilgrimage
The long trail could not truly presageThe wondrous close of my pilgrimage.For I, a mere orphaned fir
Mother’s Day
A common dawn, a sole paltry sunHeralds the day of our daily run,A half-lit mind by will does compel
Stone
There is a mood of Thee housed in amberWithin me that fugitive gleam to remember.By a moment of heig