Guiding Light of The Month

WHY all this noise, all this movement, this vain and futile agitation; why this whirlwind carrying men away like a swarm of flies caught in a storm? How sad is the sight of all that wasted energy, all those useless efforts! When will they stop dancing like puppets on a string, pulled they know not by whom or what? When will they find time to sit quietly and go within, to recollect themselves and open that inner door which screens from them Thy priceless treasures, Thy infinite boons? - The Mother

Krishna’s Flute




Krishna, the cowherd, the stealer of our hearts,
Krishna, the lover of peacocks, of Radha,
A silvery flute he holds, sweetly, on his soft palms.   
When he feels rapturous,
When he wants his Radha to dance,
He plays music, a music of love, of Ras leela.

He holds his flute close to him,
His lips embrace the wood….
Wonder how it tastes?
His breath flows into the flute…
Wonder how it feels?
His fingers move over the holes…
Wonder how they touch?
And out flows the music,
From his breath, out of his self.

And it reaches me, reaches my ears,
Carrying the sweetness of his lips,
Carrying the feeling of his breath,
Carrying the warmth of his hands,
It reaches me and flows as a river,
Deep into my soul, deep into my hearts.

-          Sandhya

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