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Whatever is seen
Partakes of Krishna’s play.
What used to be a bunch of thorns
Is now revealed
As garland,
Whatever is seen
Is a glimpse into
Mahabharat’s land.
Just as dewdrops resting on a bloom
Suddenly flash into prisms of light,
So the touch of that reality
Suddenly bursts within one’s breast
In joyful and sweet anand.
To be complete, or incomplete,
Is a matter
Of individuals.
O jasmine, how are you drawn to the touch of the Araïvani?
Just as the Lord, self-created,
Was too drawn to their touch.
As the Kuringi every twelve years blossoms,
So Kovakam every year opens and beams
Into songs.
Gajendran”
*“All creation’s beauty”, poem by Kumar:
“We journeyed far
But held in my memory is
A new rising, the sense
Of another, new world,
Absorbing me.
How many colours, I can not count,
How many flowers, I can not say,
A peace was within
And I was drawn, intensely,
Like a subtle wave shifting,
Hardly visible,
Till it became so clear,
Like a translucent jar
Of the brightest milk,
A new creation from the hands of gods.
The meaning of beauty
Opened to me,
Through them, they gave it to me,
The “aligal”,
They, walking as
A river flows
Fearless and soft and blooming
Their hands outstretched with their
Offering