An eternal mystery

An eternal mystery is my love for you
It defies all logic and prudence

Deeper than the depths of the Abyss
More expansive than the sky above

People ask me how I get drunk without wine
They understand not how intoxicating your beauty is

Memories of you are like a priceless treasure trove
Chained am I to your thoughts unable to move


The few times that I was fortunate to see you
I remember them everyday anew

And yet whenever I seek you I see
That you seem to be unattainable to me

As I grope around in the darkness thus
Like Rumi searched for Shams of Tabrez

As Rumi realized when he reached Damascus
My love reached the Damascus of your thoughts

And like the Mevlana I realized therein
That you are in my heart within

The Lion at the gate!

I tread a thorny path barefoot

Seeking a garden of eternal happiness

The garden itself is of no intrinsic value

The gardener is the one who is invaluable

This gate is guarded by a benevolent lion

Love springs forth in his every roar

He is the faithful and loyal servant of the gardener

His every breath and thought is enveloped by the gardener

People think this lion is a cruel creature

But my mind refuses to believe that

Only love springs in my heart for you

In every breath I remember your blissful form

I know not anyone else's authority

But I know only your mercy and generosity

Allow this lion inside the forest of your heart

And you realize that he is the gardener

The garden is verily within

And the gardener also is I

I seek the gardener!

I seek the gardener of a blissful paradise

Not knowing which path to traverse

I seek not the clear streams in the paradise

Or the bountiful fruits, excessive in sweetness

I seek only the gardener of the paradise

Who is immeasurable happiness personified

Seeking , I run headlong into the moon faced one

Her beauty envelopes my mind and soul

Thinking of her I am led astray

From where I am supposed to go

Her intoxicating glances afflict me severely

I cower in a corner like one running away from a storm

When I cower like this cometh the Fakir who says

Hold onto your bolster and you will reach the gardener

Understanding his words I cling to his feet

For it dawns upon me that he is the Murshid

Only then do I realize that I am in that very paradise

And the Murshid is none other than the gardener!

Play with the colors!

Celebrate the festival of colors oh sister!
Play with the various colors of God!

Put the Vibuthi(ash) from the Sadguru's temple
Wear the bangles at the Murshid's dargah

Play with the colors of his various names
Play with the colors of his various attributes

Play with the colors of his various stories
Play with the colors of his various forms

Play with the colors in the verses of the Vedas
Play with the colors in the Quran with the Kalmas

Play with the colors of the prophets in the Torah and Bible
Play with the colors of the divine sayings of the Gurbani

Play with the colors of the Buddha's sutras
Play with the colors of Yin and Yang of the Tao

Play with the colors of the Devas and Daityas
Play with the colors of the Angels and Jinns

Play with the colors of his entire creation
Play with the colors of his presence within

Play with all the colors available and dance with abandon
Mix the colors and realize that he is colorless

The cottage

I lived in a placid cottage
Next to a still river

When I stood facing the sun
I could see myself in the river

Until you appeared on the horizon
Like dark clouds, precursor to a storm

Thoughts about you blew like a mighty gale
And destroyed the beautiful trees in my garden

You damaged my cottage and made it uninhabitable
The river became so turbulent next to it

That I could not see myself any more in it
The storm of your thoughts stayed right there

It would wax and wane in intensity
But never leave the precincts of my cottage

I then noticed a Neem tree nearby
Seated beneath was a fakir resplendent

I went to him and sat by his side
And told him my tale of woe

He told me let go of the storm
Think only of his Sarkar (Master)

My Sarkar has everything to offer
If you want to cling, cling onto him

I agreed to do what the fakir told me
And asked him to show me his Sarkar

The fakir became my Murshid immediately
And he turned out to be his own Sarkar

Now he became my Sarkar too
Then the Murshid turned towards the gale

With his Satka (Stick) he chased away your thoughts
He then made me sing his name incessantly

Away went the storm without leaving a trace
The cottage became habitable again

Now when I looked in the river
I saw only the fakir in the water

I took him into the cottage
And served his feet with eagerness

At his feet I found all the happiness
There was everything I wanted in there

Gates of paradise

One night in my dream
I reached the gates of paradise

On entering the garden
I found all pleasures one could think of

And on walking further
I ran into the gardener

The gardener made me forget
About the paradise around me

The gardener's presence alone
Could make any place a paradise

I woke up from the dream
And went in search of the paradise

I went to the very ends of the earth
Nowhere could this paradise be found

Then I went in search of the gardener
I went to all the pilgrim centres

Finally I went to a fakir
Who was seated under a neem tree

The fakir asked me to give him
My bundle of worries and in return

He said he would show me
The gardener whom I seek

I gladly gave him the heavy bundle
I had carried all along with me

He then asked me to close my eyes
And look deep within my heart

And there was the paradise in there
And the gardener I sought

On opening the eyes, I saw
The fakir was also the gardener

I planted the same neem tree in the paradise
And I went home with the murshid in my heart

Thirsty

One night, fast asleep I saw you in my mind's eye
And made me feel the world around is a dream

Thirsty was I for your presence
I went in search everywhere

I went through tomes of knowledge
From many libraries in the world

I tried to learn how to sate this thirst
Went on learning  how to gain the water of knowledge

Proud of this knowledge I sat on a high wall
And tried to gauge where the water was

But water has this tendency
To flow to a lower level

Hence I found that from the high wall
The water of knowledge was inaccessible

Hence I got down from the wall
And quenched my thirst

He who comes down to the least level
He has his thirst quenched

And he who remains on the high wall
He will remain thirsty forever

It is enough if one knows this
In the quest for one's beloved

Mere bookish knowledge will do no good
Humility of going to the lowest level is everything