BLOGS BY VAISAKH MENON MARANCHERY

Don't say anything, don't say anything at all What is there to say, what is there to hear I know, you know This moment of time has stopped And in this moment there is no one There is just me, there is just you Don't say anything, don't say anything at all How many deep and gentle colors of the evening have spread From the mountains rise the clouds like a sari's hem And in this moment there is no one There is just me, there is just you Don't say anything, don't say anything at all Passionate breaths, staggering heartbeats Fragrant shadows of the evening, melting body and soul And in this moment there is no one There is just me, there is just you Don't say anything, don't say anything at all What is there to say, what is there to hear I know, you know This moment of time has stopped And in this moment there is no one There is just me, there is just you Don't say anything, don't say anything at all

The heart said silently, what is this, that happened silently? why do the earth and sky suddenly seem fresh and new? when i asked this, the mad wind said, love happened silently; what is this, that happened silently? why do the earth and sky suddenly seem fresh and new? i asked this, and the mad wind said, love happened silently; what is this, that happened silently? I heard from the butterflies... the tale of a garden; in the garden was a flower bud. one day the shy bud was visited by a flirtatious bee. the bud bloomed wide, it assumed a new form. the bud asked, what happened to me? the flower laughed quietly; love happened quietly. sometimes, from the clouds, i have heard this story: There was a mountain river, it flowed to meet the sea. it twisted and staggered, oh, it danced and swayed. having gotten there, the river lost itself in the ocean in order to see what sort of magician love is. the moon expanded quietly; love happened quietly. why do the earth and sky su...

EarthQuake Still a living breathing organism believe it or not some of us here are not             but I am and we are..... The odd rock rolling down the hills the odd piece of ground opening up to swallow things we never needed anyway the odd hot pool bubbling up around us maybe folk will come here for healing one day our home totally intact today our neighbours in front and to side have severe structural damage the city kutch is dancing without balance                                                                                                                                 ...

JAI RAJA  RAMCHANDRA Let good happen to Rama , Who is the king of Kosala, And the ocean of good qualities Let good happen to Rama, Who is son of emperor Dasaratha, And who is a very great king.  Let good happen to Rama, Who is venerated by Vedas and Vedanta, Who is of the black colour of the rich cloud, Who is one of the prettiest among men, And who has a fame which is pure. Let good happen to Rama, Who is a confidant of Viswamithra, Who is the matured luck of , The king of Mithila and , Is the form of pure humility. Let good happen to Ramabhadra, Who is a devotee of his father, Who shines with Sita and his brothers, And who makes the entire world happy. Let good happen to Lord Rama, Who is courageous and kind, Who left the city of Ayodhya, And lived in the forest of Chithrakoota, And who served all great sages. Let good happen to my Lord Rama, Who was with Lakshmana and Sita, Who was armed with sword and bow, And who is always served by devotees. Let g...

Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else. On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband. Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own. I've forsaken both God, and the family's honor: what should I do?  I've sat near the holy ones,  and I've lost shame before the people.  I've torn my scarf into shreds; I'm all wrapped up in a blanket.  I took off my finery of pearls and coral, and strung a garland of wildwood flowers.  With my tears, I watered the creeper of love that I planted; Now the creeper has grown spread all over, and borne the fruit of bliss. The churner of the milk churned with great love. When I took out the butter, no need to drink any buttermilk. I came for the sake of love-devotion; seeing the world, I wept. Mira is the maidservant of the Mountain-Holder: Now with love He takes me across to the further shore. JAI SREE KRISHNA;JAI DWARAKADISH

THE HIMALAYAS.... The roof of the earth, the emperor of all mountains, you stand there, a benevolent force, your arms spread wide encompassing one tall fortress after another,  standing protectively over the lands north and south, you are not as foreboding as I had thought.  It’s you, every year thousands of people go to meet,   million others live on the foothills at your feet. So many others want to conquer you,  they take you for granted, scramble all over,  sometimes even have the temerity to trash you.  What do they know? These pesky trespassers, for you are the original warrior,  who in the Mesozoic era, rose triumphantly from the ancient deep bed of the Tethys sea. Do the mountaineers know they are on a pilgrimage? After all, you are the abode of Gods, where the divinity resides, and watches us mere mortals   go on with our lives. But you don’t like to blow your own trumpet, ...