Serve Him Poison

It is not just that He can drink poison, He actually loves drinking poison.

Some people say He likes drinking bhaang (a drink made with cannabis, milk and other goodies). It is not easy carrying bhaang but so many of us live with it churning inside us – crazy unpredictable see-saws of exultation and despair.

My counselor found it tough to be the recipient of it once (the bhaang I was struggling to carry). She wrote, “It is a challenge for me to evaluate, living so far apart from you. I don’t have eyesight to look at you. But it seems to me that through your letters I feel intense mood swings. Have you ever considered that you may be bi-polar?”

I knew whatever I was writing to her were reflections of the churning happening inside. Samudra-manthan literally.

समुद्र मन्थन हो रहा है
कभी अमृत तो विष कभी
मन मेरा उगल रहा है
I wrote in my diary.

It was natural for my counselor to wonder what is happening with this wonky gal writing intense emails to her from the other side of the globe. Emails that were sometimes dark and dank, sometimes soulful and filled with light, all in the span of hours and days. A good counselor is a wonderful and crucial gift. It is a wise thing to do, to seek help of a professional counselor. I have to write about that one day… but coming back to The One who can carry bhaang and the poison that samudra-manthan generates –

Give your pitcher of crazy to Him. “Here, it’s all yours”. Even if you think you are a cool dude who can carry his drink, share a bit yaar!

Actually, sharing a bit does not work. He wants it all. You can’t do things half-way by giving only some of your crazy to Him. You’ve got to give it all to Him to carry. If you want Him in your party you can’t be the cool dude. He is the cool dude.

The flavor of bhaang He likes best is poison. The muckiest muck, the darkest pain killing you drop by drop. Give it to Him. He’ll slurp it up.

Here is a shot I served Him once –

Anger. That is the only word, only thought, only feeling in me right now – what do you want me to write?
You are lucky that you do not have a body – else I would have kicked you hard right now.
You do not keep your promises. You are a liar. A fibber. You stink.
And I could go on and on and on and it is not making any difference to you – not one iota bit.
I do not want to ask you for anything.

He smiled the faintest smile. I felt better.

So bring it on. Serve Him whatever poison you have. The stash you’ve been carefully hiding for oh so long. Using paper as the bowl to serve in, pen as the ladle to serve with, is one way that works well.


देखा सुन्दर पंखुड़ियाँ ही, देखो मेरा कीचड़ भी
कैसी खाई में ये छिपा है, मन का मैल है गहरा जी
खुद को देखूं, डर लगता है, दानव देता पहरा जी
किसका डर है, कैसा डर है, कुछ भी मैं ना जानूं जी
भटकी फिरती इधर उधर मैं, ठौर किधर ना जानूं जी
जग सुधरे, क्या मतलब इसका, मैं खुद ही न सुधरी जी
बेल-पत्र ही चाहो तुम या, लोगे तुम क्या कीचड़ भी?

On The Wine Trail

Everything need not be written
Need not be documented

Sure you’re on a super journey
You’d like to share your travelogue
Yet everything need not be clicked.
Capture in still reception

Then let the stillness season
Like wine that is fermented
The master of the house will open
The bottle as he pleases

What care have you of preparation,
Fermentation, serving the guests
What care have you of lifekeeping
In his embrace what care have you
Of duty and of purpose


Meera Bai, played by Meryl Streep, galavanting in wine country in a white frilly dress with big purple flowers, usurped by someone invisible. How would that make for a movie? 🙂


Image credit: Photograph by Alohamalakhov from Pixabay.com

one day (soon)

rk copy

one day i want to tell you
of the joy and the power
of being a woman

one day i want to ask you
a question that i have.
do not answer in haste
ponder well and feel well
then let me know
a question about being a man
no, do not just answer yet
i have not asked the question yet

let’s sit just slightly at a distance
for if we merge
there will be nothing to say, to ask
so we shall look gently into our eyes
but we will not smile
(we will not frown)
but we will not smile
if we feel naughty
we will not be naughty

we shall hold onto our joy
eager throbbing waiting
till we have told
what it means
to be a man
to be a woman

one day i have to tell you
one day i must ask you
soon one day
on date night

~ vani murarka


Image credit: This is a scan from a diary sitting on my computer for years. The image is of a beautiful painting, by an artist apparently called Phalgun. Sorry that I am unable to give better credit.

Desire Stabs Suddenly

Phoenix 2 - by vani murarka

Desire stabs suddenly –
everything halts.
I become a box
waiting for you
unmoving
unable to function anymore.

How was my day today?
Desire stabbed suddenly.

You’ve become the center
of my mind.
Of my heart, I do not know.
I am but a silent call
through the ages
In the stars I am the light –
the silent call
In the earth I am the womb
of the call

Where are you love?
The song of my being…

It is an honor to be the call
calling you
It is an honor when
desire stabs suddenly

~ vani murarka


Image: “Phoenix 2” by vani murarka

Lone Horse In The Field

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I am a lone horse in the field.
I gallop in the wild open meadow
of my mind,
where ever I please.
Lone horse in the field.

Wedded no one, and yet I did.
I birthed nobody, yet I did.
His power burns in my belly
I gallop in his arms, free.
Lone horse in the field.

His song sings in my mane
His wine burns up my lips –
Not just lips, I am aflame
Lone horse in the field.

Blazing comet, shooting star
Powered by his fantasy
Gushing down as a river
Dancing amok, this is me.

Wind, stars and the sky
and the grass, and the trees
Wherever my eyes rest
He is there – only he
I am there – his ecstasy

~ vani murarka

Image credit: Kimballstock.com

i wait for you

i wait for you

This is what I do – I wait for you.
It is the space of my life
Where the air comes and goes
In the middle of which some
stuff happens
Work to fill the day
time with family
some entertainment, surfing the net…

In spaces in between these
I wait for you
In the room I wait for you
In the car I wait for you
As I bathe I wait for you

Sometimes it turns to despair
Sometimes it is barely there
Just the faintest wash of blue
But then its my very breath
My wait for you
In and out of corridors
Of the body and the mind
And the soul

I wait for you

पंचभूत से नहीं बनी, इंतज़ार से बनी हूँ मैं
यह जिस्म और यह जनम

Born for One Reason

Often when I encounter you
It seems to me that I was born
For one reason – to love you …

Often when I encounter you
It seems to me that I was born
For one reason – to love you

So many twists and turns
Have occurred between us two
Even then love continues

You talk to me, for this reason.
This is why I talk to you.
Withdrawn though as we are
Into shells of hurt, we two.

I was born,
for one reason –
To love you

As I detect the universe
in my heart, in its dust
I find you

I was born,
for one reason –
To love you

I speak my mind and my heart
In a poem I don’t send to you
So you’re not inconvenienced
By a tug that pulls at you

I was born,
for one reason –
To love you.

you are here

things are scattered in this room
duppatta three, a graphics board
a box of papers, many books –

you are here

things are scattered in this room
duppatta three, a graphics board
a box of papers, many books –
there is no grass, there is no sky –
like a substance in my being
you are here

grains of desire – seeking, searching
calling you in such a way
the me in me exfoliating
floating in the gratitude
as this substance in my being
you are here

flat 6 B-C, in Tower C
no one knows that you live here
mother, father, sisters-in-law
brothers, niece, i meet i greet
with you hiding in my being
i am here

do you know how much i love
you – my energy my force
like a field inside my being
you are here

~ vani murarka