A king of a small kingdom that faced the great Kailash, appointed a yogi as a mentor to his son. His son was a  prince of a fine nature with the composure of his father. Once the prince asked  his  mentor  to  tell  him  some  stories that the prince could relate with the real world.  The  mentor  told  him  these  three.


A  bauna  (dwarf)  was  three  inches  of  height  and  he  had  an  abode  beneath  a  banyan  tree.  It  was  great  toil  for him  to  go  to  the  end  of  the  field  where  the  banyan  was  situated  just  to  get  enough  to  eat.  As  each  day  went by  he  cursed  the  heavens  for  living  such  a  toilsome  life. One  day  a  six  feet  tall  man  came  to  take  shelter  in  the  trees  and  accidentally  sat  at  the  door  of  the  bauna  as  a  result  of  which  the  bauna  couldn’t  go  out  in  a  search  for   food  that  day.  For  him  finding  food  was  crucial  to  keep  warm.  That  day  the  bauna  realised  that  he was   a  slave  of  his  stomach.  Three  days  later  there  was  a  heavy  rainfall  and  a  snake came  by  to  take  shelter  under  the  banyan  tree.  The  bauna  feared  that  he  would  be  consumed  by  the  snake  if  he  went  out. The  bauna  realised  that  he  was  a  slave  of  other’s  stomach.

He  believed  if  he  were  taller  like  the  man  who  blocked  his  door  then  he  never  would  have  had  to  face  hunger twice.  His  toil  would  have  been  a  joy  and  he  could  explore  more  of  the  world  and  live  and  rise  among  the honourable  breed  of  humans.

Thenceforth  he  prayed  to  the  heavens  to  make  him  taller  and  rise  above  all.  Somehow  the  bauna  became  the tallest  human  in  the  world.  Now  he  had  different  kinds  of  problems,  he  obviously couldn’t  hide  beneath  the  door  of  his  house,  and  had  no  place  to  sleep  anymore.  He  realised  that  he  have   to  build  a  house  again  and  do  the  same  things  he  used  to  as  a  dwarf  which  is  double  the  toil  he  has  to  do  as  compared  to  earlier.  Also,  he  realized  that  he  more  food   would  need  to  be   consumed  by  him;  that  much food  hardly  comes  around  as  he  knew  not  of  hunting  deer, and so he prayed again to become a dwarf.

You must not believe, for beliefs are debatable. Just know that there Is.


A  woman  was  plagued  by  the  reality  when  she  got  older  and  realise  that  she  has  to  live  the  same  lives  as  those  of  the  women  around  her.  She  is  to  marry,  have  children,  and  to  retire  to  death.  She  felt  her  heart  to  be the  slave  of  the  society.

A  man  was  plagued  by  the  reality  when  he  got  older  to  realise  that  he  has  to  live  the  same  life  as  that  of  men around  him.  He  is  to  marry,  father  children,  and  retire  to  death.  He  felt  his  heart  to  be  the  slave  of  the society.

The  day  when  they  were  enlightened  of  the reality,  was  the  day  when  they  became  the  parents   and  their children  carried  their  tedious  fate  in  the  terms  of  vague  reality.
We are the prisoners of ourselves.


A   troubled  man  saw  trouble  in  all  things  in  life. He  realised  that  there  was  a  huge  flower  of  dandelion  in  front of  his  eyes  that  blocked  him  from  all  reality  and  that  he  needed  to  get  rid  of  the  flower  which  was  seven  times  taller  than  him.  He  realised  that  wherever  he  turned  the  flower  followed  and  blocked  his  field  of  view. He  realised  that  all  he  needed  to  do  was  make  a  wish  and  dissipate  the  giant  prongs  of  dandelion  and  the world  will  become  clear  in  front  of  him.

He  wished,  “give  me  clarity,  that  I  may  see  all  that  is  in  front  of  me”  and  with  a  strong  gust  of  air  from  his lungs  he  blew  the  prongs  of  dandelion.  Exhausted  he  slept.  When  he  woke  up  he  found  himself  at  zenith.  The whole  of  world  could  now  be  seen  as  a  flake  of  ice  and  he  had  air  beneath  his  feet.  Whole  of  the  universe  was unimaginably  large  to  fathom   in  sing  view.  He  realised  how  minute  he  was  and  the  huge  flower  of  dandelion in  his  world  was  but  his  real  magnitude.  That  instant  he  could  see  an  even  larger  flower  blocking  his  view  to the  flake  he  called  ‘his world’  and  he  found  himself  to  be  looking  forward  to  blow  the  prongs  of  this  even larger  flower.

God percolates in everything. God distils everything. God is light and eternal darkness and everything in between.

The  prince  became  one  of  the  greatest  kings  to  rule  his  world,  even  surpassing  his  ancestors.  Yet  he  could never  make  sense  of  the  three  stories that  he  heard  from  his  mentor.

As  the  mentor  was  dying,  the  price,  who  became  the  king  and  now  the  emperor  came  to  him  to  ask  what  the three  strange  stories  he  once  heard  as  a  prince  conclude  to.  The  mentor  placed  his  hand  on  the  head  of  the emperor  and  with  ever  so  kind  eyes replied,  “How  tall  you  are  now,  yet  you  chose  to  remain  a  dwarf  in  front of  me.  Your  empire; your  child,  and  your  children; your  empire,  would  fight  over  your  kingdom  like  dogs and  petty thieves yet  your  world  is  the  flake  that  you  cannot  see.”

The  emperor  understood  and  now  he  felt  that  he  could  not  conclude  from  the  stories  that  he  heard  as  a  prince because  he  thought  of  the  stories odd  even  for  a  child  and  deemed  them  unreal.  The  emperor  died  a  glorious death  after  which  the  world  was  divided  into  realms  with  unquenchable  hunger  and  thirst  of  greed  and  of  power. Before kingdom came upon the emperor, he had the stories engraved on the castle walls. The stories survived as long as their language survived but one of his sayings prevailed through time:

“As my end approaches I now have the knowledge. I never stopped believing till my last days. I should have known from the start. I know Him and I don’t know anything else.”


Mud, Wood

Also two of the original trio: Porcelain, Mud, Wood


I brought a mud-tanned
Must hang piece of craft
Must mend, more at hand
A little bit broken at shaft
Mud flakes chipping apart
I have a mud stand to mend
All maps made out of mud
Mud brought and mud spent
Mud money for madmen
Mud furour by mud brigade
To dissolve again in mud
Is the dream of the wood


Two logs standing apart
A log in front, a log in back
Made out of a bigger log
The trees are taken aback
To cut with all strength
An axe severs own hand
Yet the men must stand
Bring forth two more logs
Two logs standing close


9:30 PM

Seventh of seven (kind of romantic) dedicated poems.

Someone looking from behind those eyes
Finding it hard to believe whatever is real
As if whole of the experience is for naught
An ever consuming sleep possessing him
Unknowingly moves he, no clue to future
Unable perceiving lightly, he behaves odd
The clowns that make happy are only sod

Wishing the nights to consume all of days
That nobody wakes up; silence prevailed
Were there infinite time to fathom infinity
He would have gladly discoursed eternity
He would have sought eternal dimensions
This complexity is the definition of vanity
But time is limited to squander foolishly

Reality and fantasy, roamed he helplessly
Wishing the dominoes may come together
Although all players running hither thither
The feathers of the bird, plucked to nether
The contagious vainglory makes men flicker
Just like spectral cloak of ignorance; a river
The rebellion is only an aimless endeavour


Sixth of the seven dedicated (somewhat romantic) poems.

7:48 AM 10/07/2017

Divine Consumption

Let me sink if needs be
To let my soul discover
That our gods may kiss
And heart cries a river

If Moon is the mischief
The Sun who but yields
So is Man who is willing
In doing hideous deeds

You are all those stars
They never could see
You are all those scars
They never could heal

If rose is to be blamed
For her thorns hidden
Judge the blind ‘swell
And so sage’s wisdom

You are the very wine
That Gibran speaks of
They search for a grail
You are that very cup

Let me drink from you
The essence of the life
Knowledge of the self
For that’s what I strife

Now let me sink deep
So that I may dissolve
Consume me in toto
And so we can evolve


4:21 AM 25/06/2017

Fifth one of the seven (kind of romantic) dedicated poems.

A sheaf of corn has more to offer
Than those thousand selfish beings
And that sheaf is sufficient unto me
I worship you like that  very sheaf
While they pray for rain to happen
They call unto the crops to grow
They had sown the seeds of pepper
Yet want  the crop they hadn’t sown
When it grows to the convivial reap
I’ll be the most merry of all beings
I’ll be harvesting not crop but love
The very love my worship admixed
The retinue will arrive at my gates
Shamelessly beg for an ear or two
But the very love admixed in sheaf
In the hands of such improper beings
Converts to sloth, injustice and greed
When my love is the sheaf I worship
The difference she had me perceive
Twix envy and jealousy is vexing
Those all others but reap and sow
A flock of sheep; a bunch of scare-crows


Fourth of the seven dedicated (kind of romantic) poems.
20/05/2017 | 1:53 AM

Aureate Lexis Imbibed Anecdote of Amour

(Bombastic Vocabulary Incorporated Short Amusing Narrative of Love)

He has a jejune chortle
She has cherubic simper
Babbitry in his raiment
Blithe is her garment

Cheerful seems the lad
But furtive his sojourns
Doleful seems the lass
Yet a terpsichorean walk (1)

The modern blasé (2)  hidalgo (3)
The debonair maiden blasé (4)
Doddering are his fingers
While ignorant is the lass

In limericks he discloses
The riddles of his heart
In orisons she chants
Happenings of the past

Blunders he have made
While chasing off the harsh (5)
The muse is done with ruse
The past for lass has passed

Inebriating souse the love (6)
A larceny of the hearts
He obviated the words
While she obviated the lad (7)


(1) As if a step of dance (2) sophisticated (3) of lower Spanish nobility (4) unconcerned (5) intoxicated by love (6) those strange thing people do to cover up their insecurities (7) made his existence unnecessary


Let me know if there is a need of simplification of the vocabulary pomp.



Third one of the seven dedicated (kind of romantic) poems.

One day ago I stood ‘neath the shed
After two long days of sojourns; I feel fresh
Three long years it have been; seems yesterday
Four days to leave; four years I’ve swayed
Five more things to do; five more leaps to make
Six more things be shaken adrift in my wake
Seven laws will bind my Monalisa to me
Eight times I’ve proposed to her
Nine times she have declined
Monalisa does not smile
Monalisa does not cry
I long to see her smile; her cheeks turn rose
I long to be next to her; spend some more time
Long live Monalisa; long live you love of mine
Eight more times I’ll try
For seven lives our fates we’ll bind
Six part worth of courage; six part worth of care
Fifth thing is to make her smile
Fourth is to stare at her for a while
Third is to go get down on my knees
Second is to go get a deep breath
First is to make sure I know
For the best way to love
Don’t believe; just know
What if she say sorry you do love me; but I don’t
Is that the end no more shall I try?
She said no, it has been a day since
I still stand ‘neath the tree; not much do I wish
The eagles above me soar high
The land beneath me seems nigh
This day I wish this night should consume
Embrace me Sun; burn me down
I’ll move on; I’ll be alright
I am fain upon her gaze; I faint at mere surmise
Of Monalisa as she does smile