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Size matters

I looked down the microscope at an ant

And found his eye looking up at me.

Two pieces of curved, ground glass

And the very large and very small

Lose their quality of hocus-pocus

As my understanding sharpens it’s focus.

And where do I fit into the cosmic scale

Of size and might?

I do have an inflated ego,  but–

Surely I cannot be at the centre of the infinite!




A wave rose up out of the sea

A briefly glimpsed individuality.

His head was a foaming froth –

Of thoughts and dreams,

A bubbling broth.

He swept up nacreous shell from the brine,

Multihued mother-of-pearl ,a-shine.

Busily he rushed up on the wet sand

To leave his mark for posterity on the land.

Quietly he ebbed back,  once more to merge

With the ocean’s amorphous surge.

Pieces of broken shell remain on this shore,

While a wave takes shape afar once more.





The loom

The right half of my brain and the left

Weave together the warp and weft —

The pattern that makes me –me.

From all that I experience and see,

They choose the sight, the taste, the sound,

The bare fact and the intricate surround:

The alarm clock that marks the dawn’s advance,

The stray sunbeam where the dust-motes dance,

Both segue together, intertwine,

A design I appropriate as mine.

But I am too close,too involved to see

The pattern in its entirety.

And when I do see it, when my life is done,

I’ll probably find my tapestry is just one

Tiny thread of millions that interlace

To depict the panorama of the human race!







Vivek, do you remember our trip to the zoo?

You were four and your sister, just two.

You shook off my hand and ran away

It was hot and crowded, that summer day.

I was frantic, searching, looking everywhere,

Till I spotted you outside the cage of the bear.

Breathless,  I picked you up, scolded and hugged,

But you were unconcerned and only shrugged.

“I was not losted, I knew where I was, you see, ”

“I came to see the big black bear! ” And you grinned triumphantly.

Now at college I see you’re surrounded

By unchained emotions, thoughts unbounded —

I hope your feet are so thoroughly grounded

That your dreams come true and the nightmares are unfounded.


In the Neolithic age I knapped my stone

And crafted dolls of wood and bone.

I annealed iron in the metal age,

Carved wooden puppets to dance on the stage.

My toys with electronics are now tight-packed

They are programmed to respond, interact.

In the near future I think I shall train

A humanoid robot with an AI brain

So that in tandem we shall unchain

Our potential.

Or would our frail race become obsolete

And Nature then press Control+delete

On the cosmic keyboard where she loves to play

(As I with wood and iron),  with protoplasm and DNA.?



Dvaita – A- theism

I have given a lot of thought

To what my creator is not.

My god is not  a thing,  a concept, a person,

Though I’ve come across many a version

Of these.

Can the puppet dancing on his string understand

The drama, the skill, of the puppet-Master’s hand?

Can the sculptor be understood

By the finely carved wood,

Or the painter by his art?

Isn’t the creator outside of his creation,

Unknowable, apart?


A walk

A walk in the park is scary in the dark

When the crooked shadow-claws surround you,

A walk in the park at dawn, is a lark

The warm glow of  sunlight around you,

The shadowy branches- the terrors of the night ,

Dress in spangles of dew  and dance in delight.

Dawn changes my viewpoint,  my understanding, -my sight!

Is life’s shadow-play the tremulous night

Before the glowing afterlife dawns bright?

And does this sequence repeat itself,

With never an end in sight?