To You Alone.

To you alone this my grief,

Unspoken words in pain.

Irresolute and utterly palpable,

This heart beats your rhythm.


Whereas you have stopped,

Being with me with that beating heart,

Ever mine but unknown to me it stopped.

Whose fault?Mine?Or was that you hurrying up?


Follow me you have said,

But in moaning I am unable to say,

I cannot ,as I will stumble and fall,

For I know not this way as you had gone ahead.


The wayfarer seeks what is not his,

For he does not know that time does matter.

Time ! That ever chiming great monarch,

who does not know timing and erratically snatches,


What is not his.Oh! I am angry.


Jayamala.

The Ultimate Philosophy.

I am writing about sorrow as a door to the discovery of our ultimate philosophy.Philosophic leanings are not something to be wondered at or thought of as fit for old age people with nothing to hold on to.I see unexpectedly many youngsters who have come face to face with the question' what is the meaning of life'?Most of them come to it after experiencing what youthful exuberance gave them and enjoyed it,be it a love affair or climbing the career ladder outwitting many peers.

But after reaching where they want to be,looking back they found that they were not as happy as they expected before the affair was enjoyed or the career prospects reached.So the question loomed in front of them,why?

To someone who had easy access to money as a means of happiness,when the person for whom that money was being made,for example a son,when that son was no more,the idea of that money was lost as means of happiness.This was a householder who had climbed the social ladder the hard way,saving and making a huge balance in a bank account.This father never enjoyed his life.He was always conserving it for his son.

Then the question comes up,whether it was wrong not to enjoy life?Or should one have enjoyed life?

I think none can give an answer.What should have been our ultimate philosophy in life?Perhaps this randomness about life and its end is what makes the philosopher so silent when explicit questions are asked.For one answer can be done with another question.That is why it is ideal in philosophy for one to be silent.Silence as the language of the Gods.

Here the concept about what is God comes up.To many God is that power which they face when answers are unknown.Accepting that such a power exists is a relief to many.For doubting the existence of this power leads to more search.Accepting God's existence at least makes one end of the problem of the question of meaning of life a little easier to deal with.God and the merging with God as the painless solution to the problems of existence ,is ideal.Here search has one end.

So thinking along these lines we come to the fact that pain is what life has offered to mankind so far.And it takes so much experience sometimes sudden and at times after slow and steady moving ahead in life and looking back makes one aware of.So pain is so much and of such grievous nature that man just wants to lie down and call God to help him out of that.One goes to the fetal position,curling inside the dark,warmth of the womb of this life.

So life is nothing but pain and so one wants to come out of this.The ultimate philosophy says that accept this pain and observe this pain and be with it and one day you will come out and see that you are out of it.

Some Thing Died In Me With You.

Some thing died in me with you,

My youth and exuberance,

Unbalanced , but gloriously in tandem,

With a carefree day.


If only you were there,

I could have spoken,

Of this ache in me,

That calls for solitude,

That makes me grope,

In the darkness of my youth.


But seldom have I found,

Solitude when needed.

For youth cannot,

Hold on to darkness forever.


Hence I say something died in me,

With you now gone forever.


Jayamala.

A Day In The Past.

Walking through the house,

She came across the cupboard.

The walls are peeled,

The floor is all broken.

It has grown old,this house,

Where she had been young.



Memories were there ,

Of this room in the west,

Where the setting sun played,

Its golden harp.

She saw the tree across the window,

Casting its shadow of weaving lights.


She was on a swing this girl of her youth,

Swinging with passion and with friends.

Oh! What days were those,

The days in the past.

Can one bring them back?

The days that were true,

With only small hurts,

That were forgotten when the day was done.

Those days in the past,she wants them back.

Can one?If only, I can?

She sat there with her old age and the burden

Of a long lost dream,of being in a house with dreams.


Jayamala.

It Is Going To Be Some Time Before....

It is going to be some time before,

I talk to you.

Life just limps by with crutches,

That are just hollow.


How can one expect peace?

When just then you have gone,

Without a word for me,

And I just wait.


It is going to be some time before,

I can smile again.

Or just be,that bad am I.

Do you know this?


Nature smiles,the flowers have come out,

Heralding spring.

It is hot outside,but hidden in that heat,

Lies these golden flowers.


Golden as your memory is,

Brighter than the illuminated sky,

That showers the stars at night.

You!!!!!!!! who can outshine all else.



Jayamala.