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One day a clown sat in the woods far from the circus and leaned upon a tree, mahagony brown and shimmeringly young and stout.

It so happened that a little boy who was returning from the circus happened to meet the sleeping clown on his way home.

The boy was small and given by the layer of mist all around, the boy was not sure if the clown slept or had been knocked off.

So he pecked him here and there, prodding often until the man sat up.

“Who are you?” The clown was obviously startled since that was his usual resting place and no one had ever disturbed him.

“I am Rushka and you must be the clown from the circus?” Rushka was a plain looking boy with a big question. His quest was to find the answer to the question and as a little boy he tried hard.

“Well Rushka I am Hemicsh. Yes I am the clown from the circus. Now buzz off home, your mom must be waiting for you.”

The boy still stood staring down at the clown who looked very different now, without his makeup.

“I had a question.”

“Shoot.”

“I have a question not a gun for God’s sake.” Rushka pleaded.

“Okay tell.” Hemicsh did not want to disappoint the little boy.

“Do you know where to find peace?”

“What Peace?”

“Peace the reason you were resting.”

“Lad, I was not resting to find peace but I was resting to lessen my tiredness.”

“But do you know where to find peace?”

“Yes I know.” Hemicsh looked into the eyes of this innocent lad.

“Where, can you tell me?” Rushka’s voice quivered in anticipation.

“Here, right where you stand.”

“Why can’t I see it, where?” Rushka looked around.

“Look around.” The clown had a peculiar way of moving his eyeballs all around his eyes, without disturbing his head.

“You mean the mist?” The boy asked.

“Yes, where you find the mist my boy, there you must know peace resides and you must feel happy about it.”

“Why should I feel happy about it?”

“Coz, a blissful mind, only a blissful mind can attract peace which rests in the mist.”

“Ahhh! Now I know Hemicsh. Thank you.” Rushka nodded, clapped his hands and off he went with a spring on his feet, dancing and searching for more mist.

Ghhungar waale Jhenu Wale Jhunjhunwala ka baba…

Kisso ki kahaniyo ka, geeton ka thaba…

Potli mein Hari Bhari padiyo ke parr…

Aaya Baba aayaaaa…..

Translation

The man who carries stories and songs

In bags filled with wings and feathers of angels and faes…

Here comes the Baba look here comes the baba….

My first inspiration to begin…

pin.it/myg6rbtwyo3y2e

What does it say about humans?

What does it say about animals?

For insomniacs

For woogly anxious souls,

For psychopaths

For genuine bigots

For masochistic souls…

For utter nonsensical minds

For tensed, nail biting, crypto maniacs

It’s our union territory, now all ours.

Keep it clean.

Do not use plastic.

Respect the monks.

Enjoy…..

I am so happy for them, I couldn’t keep myself from not blogging about them.

It’s the place where compassion is brewed.

It’s the place where nothingness matters.

It’s the place where you understand you are nothing but a speck of dust in this world.

It’s the place where you will learn that nothing matters if you are quiet.

It’s the place where you learn peace, you can dance without music.

It’s the place where it all begins….prayer and healing….

Protect it, conserve it….the practices which come from the world’s most beautiful religion….the religion of sacrifices, humility and compassion.

Protect it with your prayers….

There were loads of anticipation as to who I would be when I grow up.

A woman,

A weak woman,

A miserable woman,

A bullied woman,

A rich woman,

A dignified woman,

A suave woman,

A lady,

A truce in the path of solitude

A warrior woman,

A mother,

A quoted wife of an ordinary man, scared, bullying, forging, a fraud.

An epitome of perfection for a well reserved dignified man, respectful, less wormlike, more like a reverie.

A saint with no desires.

A monk with subdued desires, a monk who understands desires too well to practise it.

People who do wrong, who choose wrongly, who does anything is greatly impacted by the point wherein they do not understand the wrong they are doing, the havoc they are wreaking.

Thus, Jesus said “forgive them for they know not what they are doing.”

A balanced woman, the pointer of society.

But then all I have become is just me. Me..Me…Me…

When men try to collide they find vapour,

When woman try to collide they find ice.

So none understands me and

I wish to keep it that way.

To all fighting women, cheers!!!!!

A slight modification lest people offer free love, implicating me later for not accepting it.lols🦋

To all fighting women, cheers!!!!!

People often talk of it,

as though hallowed and precious it is,

but then it’s not as it should have been,

rather it is what we do not see- a weapon of the Strong.

We are weak in many ways,

abused by all mostly all on many days.

Human predators troll and maul,

They are the ones who use loving calls.

I do not wish to be roaming with you,

I do not wish to entertain you, your way.

I do not wish to stand and do nothing for this dying planet.

I do not wish to live sans my rules.

I love to not be what men want me to be,

entertaining dolls, sleeping around, gratifying points.

I love to not be what women want me to be,

biting, slapping, conniving souls and croissants.

I wish to not do anything others want me to be.

I wish to also not be what you wanted me to be.

I wish to be my way, my will….my will matters to me,

for me, I wish I could have love, true, palpable from a man

whom I like or love without being forced or coerced, and not end in a desire to be a mere bed mate.

That’s how you preferred to see me, that’s how the

world around there tried portraying me.

But then I am not one of many and not many of any.

I choose compassion still, I choose to move forward.

I choose to move ahead, all my wounds can dry,

they can heal or bleed, for me to see them always.

I become what I want to, or I become nothing.

It is upon you all, coz Karma is watching your generation,

you, your house too, choice has no karma, it has no grammar,

your desires are not karma for me,

if you are hurt that’s not even karma for me.

You are hurt since you invoked wrong desires.

Follow the Buddha and you will know I am the one

wounded by the attacks of you, your worlds.

But, I let go all those who saw me this way,

who did wrong to me in many ways.

I let go, I let go you.

I let go all, I let go.

It is time to know if you can let go.

It’s better you do it, before karma bites on you,

Before it wounds you for your deeds, for my wounds are

still fresh and my wounds are all your deeds….

How can I say, I do not understand it,

when all I simply do, is understand every bit.

I am a loving person yet I do not wish to

continue loving some of those in my life.

I am a deeply understanding person, all I do is understand

everybody, but then I still do not choose to stand

for veils, trickery, delusions, the will to destroy.

I am a cohesive person, yet when it came to some

people, it was deeply unsettling to know their motif

was hatred, their intent was contemptuous and their

views were derogatory to my survival. I could

never fathom being any of those, that the world

took to believing, I could have never been those

that they so easily tried stamping me as, but I did not

preach hatred, for nature of humans cannot be changed.

Even the worst of all places, if you could survive,

you live to a tomorrow, unknown, fearful yet within

your ways, for ways cannot be how men wanted to see it.

Ways cannot be how women wanted to make it.

For ways are just mine, they belong to me- my ways.

I have learned to shred tears and fears apart-

Even amongst men you can feel lonely.

Even when you have enough to eat, you can die starving,

you no longer desire to eat any of those.

Even when you have more, you may still be a no one.

A nooner lonely, reclusive, crouching away from our own presence.

Thus, begins life again and again on Earth,

thus we move slowly away from prickly thorns.

Thus, we make our ways out of nets, elusive and designed like a friend, a lover

yet not any of them. But, I must thank my past, no doubt, since I learned

those ways, I learned to travel, I learned to unravel mysteries of life.

I learned facades, traps, nets of this world,

I am stronger in my views all because you tried-

tried destruction, tried pity, tried falsity, tried traps.

As I gawk at the wondrous mountains,

I do stare at the roaring chopper,

I do not know what looks lovelier?

The chopper saving lives or the cruel mountains making, destroying and creating life….

Mountain love I call it,

As though they beckon me…over the fiercest, drowsy strife