Music

The Journey

A Poet’s Travelogue

Amongst the clouds… yes, this is how the journey began. Mushy clouds, mushy dreamy clouds all around her. Whether she walked or the white dreams floated around her isn’t something the music ever revealed.

The music was busy playing and she was busy colouring. The sky and earth colours participated and turned rich.

Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, someone took a flight, landed, took a cab, halted for a coffee break, laughed with her friend and continued the road trip.

Warm waves of velvety starry blanket covered the existence and hushed those who listened to the happy silence. She stayed awake for a while just to witness it all. A simple melodious note filled her ears and she swam to sleep.

That someone talked to her friend, they ate pastries and called it a day. That someone, with ‘oh’ look, got up to brush her teeth and then went to bed. Phew!

She opened her eyes, awakened the self and stepped out to see the end of a long search. Birds and buds, earth’s aroma and touch, giant trees’ humble smiles, the sun’s vocals and the wind’s compositions, other human beings, all dancing, and of course, the bicycles… everything she laid her eyes on glanced back at her, welcomed and sang to her.

In Auroville, in a blissful place. [Images by Jagriti Rumi]

Tring, tring… tring, tring, she replied to them. Crossed leg sitting inside an apple she relished it, sweet, sour, juicy and fresh. When she jumped outside, she gave the left-over bit to a dog. Questioning her about nothing, the dog finished the apple.

Tring, tring… she went ahead and met a mathematician’s spirit, who gave her the map that took her to the grand golden lotus with twelve petals. Its beauty struck her hard and she kept standing there for ages in admiration.

Primary and secondary colours, in circles, pyramids and cylindrical shapes all passed by her. She blinked and found herself inside the grand golden lotus.

**The grand golden lotus!**
**Matrimandir, Auroville. [Image by Peter Anta from Pixabay]**

Earth, Fire, Wind and Water were there, she saw it, just a glimpse, but they were there in absoluteness. She blinked and she was back outside. Oh! The joy!

She danced all her way, lal-lal-lal-laaa, rotated and laughed, climbed the musical rainbow and listened to what the colours were playing and then surprised herself with her quiet self, quiet but not low, because her eyes were beaming and her soul still dancing.

By the hourglass the journey continued for that someone and her friend, click-click-click, pictures taken, tring-tring-tring on the cycle path, resting, eating and laughing.

That someone’s friend like a darling blue bird sang and danced… unable to resist she also joined her friend. Together they collected memories and both filled their hourglass with it.

Smart! Now time reminds them of those memories all the time.

**Auroville… the journey, the destination. [Source – eco-villages.eu]**

O journey, when did you start and when will you end?

O journey, can I stop and meet my friend?

The beginning is hazy, but true and the end will be a new beginning for you.

Don’t stop if you want to meet your friend, for she is on a journey too.

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Walking A Gatha

Posted on May 26, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Changing Free Light Mind Mountain Music Ocean River Rocks Search Shadows Times Trees Walking A Gatha

Flash Fiction

**Dancing shadows and light…**
[Image by Kanenori from Pixabay]

Walking straight, walking on the mountain listening to ‘The Times They Are A Changin‘ I saw nothing, neither the trees nor the rocks, neither the shadow nor the light, and just kept walking ahead. Mountain spoke, I didn’t hear, until I bent a little.

It said, ‘You will reach your destination, you will, for sure’, and happily I smiled, crossed my hands behind my back and continued walking.

Swiftly I moved forward, there was no stopping me. Dashing ahead I crossed jungles after jungles, I played with the shadows and the light, I didn’t even wait for the wind.

Like a curse, definitely a curse, a disaster hit me – I started panting. It had never happened all this while, why now?

Then I remembered faintly of what the mountain told me… I pleaded it to guide me again, the mountain listened. It said, ‘Know patience and its power’, I bowed down and stopped walking. I stopped for the first time in my journey; I learned the art of deep breathing. Ages passed there; then I left in search.

In search of what I was looking for. I was looking for what I was in search of.

**Sing and walk along the river.**
[Image by Sergio Cerrato – Italia from Pixabay]

Familiar with the pace of the trees canopying me, stopping and listening to the rocks and their untold gathas, attuned with the shadow and the light, I kept walking when I reached near a ferociously musical river. It carried along the ocean’s depth and waves’ nimble notes… ‘Will merge with the ocean, I do not wait for anyone’, replied the river to my question – ‘can you please let me pass?’

So I changed my path and followed the river. Who said you can’t? Change… change and move ahead.

Right where the river met the ocean, where it all seemed to end, where the trees, rocks, shadow and light all disappeared, music stayed by my side and showed me a narrow, slippery way to cross the river. I stepped in, the water was cold, but shallow and so I could cross easily.

With joy and cheer I continued along, I danced on the way, I slept peacefully and then walked leisurely. I sang, the tune echoed. My mind envisioned a valley of flowers and pink clouds when suddenly I tumbled down.

I was hurt. My dream shattered and cold winds bruised me badly. It started hailing. Troubled, I shouted angrily… who knows at whom?

The weather opposed me and pinned me down, I accepted defeat.

Lying half dead, I waited for the weather to change…

When it did, I woke up and saw as the fog disappeared that there was a huge mountain standing in front of me. I couldn’t stop smiling, a new journey was going to begin.

**Majestic, towering and free!**
[Image by Joe from Pixabay]

Climbing the mountain I listened again to Dylan’s ‘The Times They Are A Changin‘. I didn’t know it, but I was free.

I have always been free.

Listen to ‘The Times They Are A Changin’ by Bob Dylan now –

And read the lyrics here.

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Ik Onkar

Posted on May 1, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Ik Onkar Listening Look Within Music True And Timed

**Look within and fly high!**
**Image from Pixabay.**

Parvez it is familiar because it is music… and music cannot be forgotten once the wavelength matches.

Parvez it is shining because it is guiding… we all can follow, dawn to dusk, it is listening, it is reminding.

Parvez it is present because it is true and ‘timed’ for you… beyond measurements, answers and queues.

Parvez it is travelling, because it understands the journey is never-ending… shimmering throughout, glorifying silence.

Parvez it is dancing because it believes in union… one circle, two circles, circles resolve it all.

Parvez it is there, because you garnered patience.

Parvez it is talking, because you are listening.

Parvez it is knowable, though you still don’t know it.

Parvez, look within.

Ik Onkar Sat Naam

Listen to this Mul Mantar –

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Dama Dam Mast Qalandar

Posted on January 2, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Dama Dam Mast Qalandar Music Rumi Sama Sufism Whirling

Coverage

Ho Lal Meri Pat

Rakhiyo Bhala Jhoole Laalan

Sindhri Da..

Sehwan Da Sakhi Shahbaz Qalandar

Dama Dam Mast Qalandar

Ali Dam Dam De Andar

Ho Dama Dam Mast Qalandar

Ali Da Pahla Namber

Ho Laal Meri

Ho Laal Meri…

**Dancing, my whirling floating steps don’t stop. [Source]**

Soft soothing absorbing light goes circling me, showering love.

Perhaps it is me who is circling the glowing warm glorious light.

Music is flowing, revolving, working as Time it has harmonized every moment.

Truly, that is why my whirling floating steps don’t stop.

Bright suns, moons, planets dance round and round, in absolute bliss.

I quietly follow the bliss as I listen. It is the Sama.

Long, long time back ago, Rumi, the Sufi saint, was passing a market place when he heard the gold beaters at work, their hammering noise was melody to him as he could hear ‘la ilaha ilallah’ (no god but Allah) in that beating of the gold. Rumi, exhilarated, started dancing and whirling there and then.

It was the first Sama.

Sama means listening, listening to the One, meditating and accepting the One wholly.

Sufis have the tradition to celebrate the Sama, a spiritual concert; with praying, singing, dancing and reciting poems begins this mystical journey to surpass visual reality and enter the divine world – no self, but the Self.

The whirling dance, the soulful music slowly takes you away to be in the light of the Ultimate, a close encounter so as you listen and listen truly what is beyond the five senses, and then you return amongst many imperfections, but this time with a compassionate heart and a free soul.

Rhythmic patterns of the bright light haven’t disappeared.

My spinning steps haven’t stopped either. Feather hands guide me.

The macrocosm meets the microcosm, politely becoming a wave.

At some time I settle down, quietly look up and stay there.

**Follow the rhythmic patterns.**
**[Image – Pixabay]**

Dama Dam Mast Qalandar is a qawwali (form of Sufi devotional music) sung in honour of Lal Shahbaz Qalandar, a revered Sufi saint.

Listen to the mesmerising Dama Dam Mast Qalandar performed by the Pakistani band, Junoon –

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The Answer Is Blowin’ In The Wind – Bob Dylan

Posted on October 17, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Blowin in the Wind Bob Dylan Brusque Thoughts Meanderings Mind Music Stopped and Listened Truth

A Fictive Take

**The Living Legend. [Source – Wikimedia Commons]**

It was her version of the truth and she tried to separate it from mere meanderings of the mind.

She walked ahead unsure if she had succeeded or not. Autumn winds brought along something that made her cry.

Alone, sitting on that bench, she asked herself about right and wrong. Pendulum like, silly, brusque thoughts!

Why did she participate in the parade? For letting the confusion rise and fall? For the questions to disturb and the answers to convey…

She stopped and listened…

Bob Dylan – Blowin’ In The Wind

How many roads must a man walk down

Before you call him a man ?

How many seas must a white dove sail

Before she sleeps in the sand ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many times must the cannon balls fly

Before they’re forever banned ?

The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

Yes, ‘n’ how many years can a mountain exist

Before it’s washed to the sea ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many years can some people exist

Before they’re allowed to be free ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many times can a man turn his head

Pretending that he just doesn’t see ?

The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

Yes, ‘n’ how many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many ears must one man have

Before he can hear people cry ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many deaths will it take till he knows

That too many people have died ?

The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

Blowin’ In The Wind, the song.

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Are You Going To Scarborough Fair?

Posted on February 14, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Cosmos Earth Humming Music Ribbon Scarborough Fair Smiling Brightly Sweetness Walking

Observation

**Vincent Van Gogh, *Field with Poppies*, 1889**
**On the way to Scarborough Fair…**
[Source – Wikipedia]

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

The melody flows like a stream of water breaking the dryness of the earth, silently and smoothly.

Suddenly you are in a colourful and sweet world. And you listen for the first time to the rhythmic world and you realise that life is not heavy but it is light as a feather. The feather dances.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

By now you are humming and hoeing and weeding. This is what you want to do in life, with lots of time to sit under a tree, half sleepy, looking at the clouds you smile.

This is what you wish for, once you reach the Scarborough Fair.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

**Vincent Van Gogh, *Poppies and Butterflies*, 1889**
**At the Scarborough Fair!**
[Source – Wikipedia]

And now you paint… after seeing so many colours you begin playing. Red hands, orange hands, yellow hands, green hands, blue hands, indigo hands, violet hands – you have given birth to a rainbow.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Remembering that good old vision of the future and a memory of the past, all you actually need is a smile in the present.

While walking I realised that the Earth is walking and so is the cosmos, this jamming made me happy. The sweetness and the warmth and the lightness of this real and tangible feeling took me to the Scarborough Fair.

All I can say now is that I am swaying with the wind and smiling brightly. There is a ribbon, long and beautiful and silky, it is also swaying with the wind and smiling brightly.

You’ll find it too when you go to the Scarborough Fair.