The goddess looks breathtaking
In her red saree, an emblem of marriage.
Her skin is soft to touch,
Yet she carries a heavy sword in her hands.
The goddess looks serene and calm,
Only that she is about to **** the darkness of demons who are awaiting their freedom.
The goddess wears Kohl in her eyes,
Only to smudge it with her tears.
As she wins the battles plunging the heart out of evil.
The goddess is a mother, she wears red bangles, a colour for both womanhood and rage,
Intertwined and interconnected since the beginning of time.
The Goddess has given birth to her children
with great pains and no agony can beat her strength.
As Devi would not hesitate to become a bloodthirsty Kali
To protect her children.
Divine femininity I bow to you.
Men can only know the power of violence,
But Devi knows the power of love,
How in times of war, it can be our biggest weapon.
Fueled by the energy to **** not out of hatred or Revenge,
But love that led a Mother to pick up arms
So she could protect us all
from the evil that harbours within.
Devi is divine feminine and I bow to her.
She has been created from the strength of all mothers and sisters and daughters.
She tells us the ancient tale of
how women always have had the hidden strength
To leave trails of destruction, only when forced.
Devi does not bleed every month only to be scared of the blood of
evil rakshasas on her hand.
The goddess will happily drink it
And decorate her hands with the demon's blood,
Spreading it on her fingers like red henna.
Devi looks focused, almost peaceful as she kills Mahishasur.
She doesn't want the glory of power.
Her only truth is love.
Even in the heat of battle, Devi's beauty shines through.
Divine Feminine, I bow to you.

I met a girl last night

Her hair a fluid lucid illusion
Her motion a brisk frisk crisp

I met a girl last night
A girl called Sri Devi
With her brush she danced
My skin, her stage

With her brush she swooned
As my heart, to her, crooned

She drew a sun, and a musical note
In black and red, with heart she wrote

I met a girl last night
A girl called Sri Devi

Shyly, she held my hand
As the music grew louder, O the band

She wet her brush, dipped in paint
Let go of boundaries, all restraints

I met a girl last night
A girl called Sri Devi

Her hair a fluid lucid illusion
Her motion a brisk frisk crisp

She drew a sun, and a musical note
In red and black, with heart she wrote

Where are you Devi ?

Up in the Kailasha
in the arms of Mahadeva
snowclad silent in meditation
while down below in their settlement
humans in the belief you've come down
adorn you with flowers with their hands
and with those same hands **** own blood
rob own kin debauch mothers and sisters
crowd your place of worship with no piety
but for selfies with your image on the background
for Devi unbeknownst to even you
you're no more the Shakti
the prowess against the Evil
but a commerce, a commodity
in the hands of men of 21st century
who know to worship only money.

Peace and tranquility would be, not to disturb the natural order, flow of things, energy.
To contemplate on what is the natural order of things and understanding it would be Shiva or Devi.

Mumbai is rich, Mumbai is poor.
Mumbai is fast, Mumbai is slower.
Little bit sweet, and little bit sour,
Sometimes it’s hot but not too more….

Mornings are energetic and evenings are electric.
Noons are lazy but Nights are crazy
And any one you ask he always say “M busy”
Dude, life in Mumbai is not so easy

There is lot of Masti with little bit of Maska
Welcome to the city that can’t live, without Bollywood Chaska

From cooker whistles to the traffic jam horns,
From steaming tea kettles to breaking nut-betels
From telephone rings and doorbell brings.
There are people connecting through Blackberry pings

Where there’s little time to spare for kids
People here spend their lives on bids
Here you actually pay your travel fare by meter
But milkman mixing water is not a cheater!

Sev puri and bhel puri are all Mumbai chaat
Relishing it with spicy chutney is no easy art
From pop-corn to ice-cream, all sold on cart
Mumbai o Mumbai, you’re always close to my heart

Where local trains usually run on time
And violently rushing for a seat is not a crime
Here 3 PM for lunch and 12 AM to dine
People face hardships, but still say “it’s fine”

From Mt Mary in Bandra to Mumba Devi in Town
And ISKCON in Juhu to Haji Ali in Mumbai’s Crown
Faith runs deep as the Arabian Sea
But people don’t hesitate to pay early darshan fee.

Marathi, Punjabi, Gujarati and Bengali
Everyone forgather celebrate Id and Diwali
Holi is colourful and Christmas is cheerful
Spend some time here and your life will be un-forgetful

Billionaire to baggers, all found in this city
Be careful dude, this place is a bit witty.
Overall this dream-world is huge but pretty
Mumbai o Mumbai you’re wonderful city.

O Devi, awaken the good in all,
there's no demon, nor devil
but in our mind, our will.

Raise our spirit, O Devi,
to the mountain's height
so we can use our might
to leave narrowness and rise above,

learn to live in amity and love!

a princess sits in her royal lounge
troubled at mind, restless of heart
trembling limbs and parched tongue
the rivers in her eyes betray
the sorrow that drowns her soul
with shaking fingers she struggles
for a firm grip on her quill
her heart pours out in fluid words
to express a love nursed for years

“My Lord, from childhood I have heard
of your courageous acts and kind character
of your handsomeness and perfectness
and I am unable to draw my mind away
from thoughts of you and yours
I am shamelessly besotted by you
Like a sunflower that is drawn to the sun
I am drawn to you
It is against the common notion
for a woman to ask a man
to take her hand in marriage
I break every tradition,
but Mukunda, answer my question-
which woman, high-born
and well-versed in all the arts,
will not wish to be your consort-
and besides I have already considered myself
wedded to you, in thought and spirit
is it not immoral then
when I consider myself a married woman
and when I am already yours
body, mind and soul,
to allow me another marriage?
My brother Rukmi has arranged
a marriage for me, and it is in the morrow
my heart sinks in sorrow
you are my saviour-
it behooves you to come
and claim what is yours
and how to accomplish it without needless bloodshed
need not cause you worry, for I have a plan
tomorrow morning I shall go for my pre-nuptial prayer
at the temple in the outskirts
away from curious eyes
and it is from there
that you can take me
please do come Krishna and save me
from this mockery of a marriage
I have already said that I am yours
and if you do not come, I shall
with no second thought ensure
that I am no longer alive
to be the object of another man’s desire
and if not in this birth, we shall
in another birth be man and wife”

she seals the letter with  burning tears
and entrusts in a priest’s willing hands to deliver
this receptacle of her hopes and fears
a sliver of hope begins to glimmer
as exhaustion finally takes over
and sleep beckons with gentle hands
to distant happier lands

In the morning she awakes
mind no more clouded or deluded
a faith unshaken that strengthens
as her messenger arrives
bearing happy news
her heart gladdens

Krishna will come – of that she is sure
a love denied will now be hers
the blush of excitement gives way
to shyness - kept so far at bay
the letter was written boldly enough
but now her maiden coyness asserts its sway
with eager pulsing heart she awaits
the moment of freedom and fastening
with her love – it seems too long a day!

In her best finery she is bedecked
a bride blossoming like a flower
eyes shining like diamonds
in their excitement
nocturnal hair that falls to her waist
in a tidy plait
lips tinged with a secret smile
an accompaniment to her glowing face
her blush spreads
like a rose amongst jasmines

with slow sure steps
and comely gait
eyes glistening with hope
and conviction strengthened with faith
she proceeds towards the temple
with sincere emotion she prays

“Devi Parvati, with your motherly grace
look upon me with your kind gaze
as once through penance you gained
your true love as a husband
I too embark today
on a quest to find my way
to him who is my very soul- I pray
let Krishna me my husband”

As every minute passes hope grows
and then she hears his majestic roar
like  a dark thunder-cloud he appears
his turmeric vestment blowing in the wind
and like lighting in the night sky
suddenly and nimbly he hoists her
onto his chariot and they are away

and then the powerful anticipation of this moment gave way
to its pure enjoyment, the company of the loved one

and thus it was that the unflinching Rukmini
wedded Krishna one day.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
        10.9.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha sabhi ka samman kiya jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha sabhi logo me ekta hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha atithi ko bhagwan ka darja diya jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha aurato ko devi kaha jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha hindu muslim sikh esai sabhi bhai bhai hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha mata pita ko dharti ke bhagwan mana jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha sabhi log desh ke liye marte hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha mahatma gandhi, Bhagat singh, Subash chandra bose jaise beero ne janam liya tha,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha par sanchai aur ekta mishal hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha ki nadiya sudha jal deti hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jise log bharat ya india kahte hain...
      JAY HIND
               JAY BHARAT

Cloud and snow spume
drift about your summit
veiling your face
Ma Nanda Devi
fixing my gaze to eternity

Rising like a giant shard of
rock carved over a million years,
snowfields scoured by avalanches, your steepled
peak a vast cathedral

Impossibly tall and steep
you rise abruptly over a
guardian ring of summits
witness to your inner realms of being,
the outer gorge of Rishi Ganga's roar

Climbers say in higher climes
light contrasts with darkness, flower leas with worn ridges, fear with elation
O paradox of the sublime
your name means Joy, enduring Joy

The veil lifts, was it the smoke of fires lit
by sages on your summit?
Your natural symmetry of two identical peaks suddenly at ease
is visible from my cottage window.