Satisfaction
I prowl I walk
In the depths of the jungle. Through a sea of people.
Moving from spot to spot. Moving from spot to spot.
My paws My shoes
Trampling live grass into dead patches. Trampling live grass into dead patches.
My fur scratches against My skin scratches against
The barks of trees. The clothes of passers-by
Immersed in the mist of early morning Immersed in the smoke of dry ice
In a fountain of beats and rhythm. In a fountain of beats and rhythm,
The music of nature. The music of Carnatic percussion.
Birds. Ghatam.
Bees. Mridangam.
Rustling wind. Kanjira.
Monkeys. Thavil.
Fear. Anxiety.
From the distance, From the distance,
I see her. I see her.
Like a siren, Like a siren,
The deer calls me with its stare The lady calls me with her stare
With her strong, graceful stance With her strong, graceful stance
I move without thinking I walk without thinking
I move towards her, mesmerized I walk towards her, mesmerized
Ready to pounce upon her Ready to talk to her
To satisfy my hunger. To satisfy my desire.
As I approach her, her stare changes.
Her stance, timid.
I am caught.
Trapped in the spotlight
Of her fear,
Of her anxiety.
Or is it my fear?
My anxiety?
She takes flight.
She looks back for a moment,
She smiles
And poof,
She is gone.
I continue prowling. I continue walking.
Satisfaction, reserved
For another day.
Shh. Just Listen.
Welcome, reader.
Or should I say, welcome, listener?
You will find out, sooner or later,
That you are just not listening,
That we will engage in a little chat.
So, welcome, chatter.
Please have a seat.
It is nice to meet you,
But let us leave our introductions for later.
The music is about to begin,
But wait, what’s that?
“Shh.”
She tenderly whispers.
“Stop.
Stop writing with your pen.
Just listen.
Listen with your soul.”
The santoor surfed
Along the waves of sound
Holding hands with an elated tabla
As I listened with my ears.
“Shh.”
I looked towards her.
It wasn’t her.
“Shh, it’s me,
Your soul.”
What language was this I did not know.
But my soul began to speak to me.
To listen with my soul,
I ended listening to my soul.
“Stop .
Stop listening with your ears.
Just _____,
_____ with your soul.”
What’s ______?
“Stop.
Stop listening.
Stop watching.
Stop smellng.
Stop touching.
Stop tasting.
Suspend your senses.
Just _____ with your soul.”
I tried ______.
I tried closing my eyes.
Ignoring the smells.
Ignoring the touches.
Ignoring the taste.
Ignoring my ears.
But I couldn’t seem to _______.
“Shh,
Stop.
Stop thinking with your mind.
Stop seeing within your mind.
Stop hearing your mind talking.
Stop smelling, touching and tasting within your mind.
Suspend the senses within your mind. Just ______ with your soul.”
And _______ I did.
________________
________________
________________
Santoor and tabla let their pandits take a rest.
The music stopped.
Wow.
Did you ______ that?
Did you not ______ with your soul?
Aah, mere words cannot capture the language of the soul.
The limits of my poetry as I felt ________.
By the way,
Weren’t we going to introduce ourselves?
But wait, shh.
You can hear it, can’t you?
Shh, just listen.
Can’t your hear it?
Yup, that’s your soul.
And yup, that’s my soul as well,
Both chatting away.
Our souls have already made their introductions,
Let’s just stop.
Let’s stop chatting
Just _______
As our souls chat away
As we remain mere onlookers within the silence.