A Quest on Overdrive … :)

An eccentric rambler on life's lessons and mercies, found and lost… :)



Aeons past-
A speck

Like bubbles
Blown in gay abandon-
Life thrived-
A natural progression
From murky depths
To clear skies;
Till it got grounded!

Multi limbed,
To two tenacious
Feet, planted firmly:

Looking, perceiving,
Yet more upward
And outward…
The One would have
Sorely disappointed,
That what exploded
Into myriad dimensions
Now implodes,
Into a speck again.

From entity, single,
To Singular:

Narrowing down


Usha, 22 May, 2008


Homing In

In the receptacle of
The Collective Unconscious,
That Jung Spoke of,
Is the remnant of
That glory of the Homing instinct.

Colour, creed, sex, nationality
Can never cover that up-
Alter, mutate or negate, the intent,
The instinct!

The glimmer of recognition;
The rush of blood, to the head-
And then the feet!
The déjà vu , of the moment-
Uttering what seems gibberish,
But makes perfect sense
To that one!
Plea, prayer, confession:
Each word a blessing!

Was I ever born?
And did I ever die?
Do we ever listen
To the soul that drenches
Repeatedly, in that
Stream of Consciousness?

Usha, 20 May, 2008



In the fecundity
Of existence,
Life finds a way

The primal urge
That fuels progression;
Manifest, in the
Creation of that

One, then two cells-
In the march to

Myriad possibilities
With new tissues
Growing moistly-
A receptacle,
Filling slowly:
Thoughts transferred,
Emotions and feelings
Fed through the
Sinuous chord-


Size does matter, doesn’t it?

But, in growing bigger,
Carefully controlled,
Balanced intake
For body and mind,

How much do you grow?

If you cannot grow
Out of yourself-
Beyond; Permeate
And touch
The Universal Spirit…?

Your Humane Spirit:
Let it Walk Tall!

15 May, 2008


For Her…

She wondered:

The kindness of his gaze;
Or was there something more?

Her quiescent memory
Could give no more.
A familiar scent emanated, gently-
And nothing more…

There is something here…

She thought;
Something that called out…
Faint, but strong…

And he called,
In an unspoken plea:

My love, I wish
I just wish,
You could feel my heart!
How you fill me so!

The faint recognition
Stilled within her eyes;
Withdrawing suddenly.

He yearned again, in silence:

A flare of warmth, did I see,
That lit those beautiful
And utterly lost eyes?
I’m here now, darling;
And will never let go…

Please, just please,
Don’t let me go too
Into the abyss of darkness
Waiting to envelop
Your fondest memories…
Waiting to swallow you
Your mind-
But never, I know, your soul:
For that resides in me!

You’re not lost, my dearest,
You never can be!
Even in this fugue
That has fogged your mind
Our oneness, innate, shall
Blaze its light, and pierce the wall…

And you will recognize me;
So sure am I-
For nothing ever
Can deny
Love’s Call!

4 May, 2008

Fugue is a pathological amnesiac condition, where there is little or no recollection of one’s self, for brief periods of time… Just a layman’s interpretation of a psychiatric condition.