Pilgrim on the Way of Love is a journey in feelings and words undertaken by the author over a twenty-two-year period. In retrospect, the journey depicted an odyssey in love and revelation. The journey, through its wondrous course, has seen the author as a student of literature, a student of law, a professional lawyer, a family man, and a seeker of the magnetic and dynamic unknown.
Having found enrichment, the author is moved to share the challenge and beauty of the unique navigational path that has been his road to the very core of existence.
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PILGRIM on the Way of Love
Balboa PressCopyright © 2012 Ananjan
All right reserved.
5 February 1990
On being face to face with love in a human form. Completely unguarded. Yet the feeling of love inspired by human attraction is processed as a transmuted experience of truth.
8 February 1990
A continuation of the previous state but a spirit of hope also emerges
9 February 1990
The first and only sonnet. Three quatrains and a couplet.
10 February 1990
Human love, its melody unconditional and forever.
15 February 1990
Touch of the infernal despair
7 March 1990
Pages of original poems consigned to fire, but the journey remains unknowingly steadfast.
When I cross the stream
Upon a dream
And see my own reflection
I see my world, turn and twirl
In vainness and abstraction.
This is my world
And I am alone
With lots of people 'round me
I strive for meaning
And I reach out
Into a world unknown.
This is your world, your very own
Where rules are even stranger
Where people speak and ladies squeak
But never to a stranger.
If at all an instance comes
When you're to open your mouth
The rule is to hurry
And never show your worry
Lest your mouth should reveal your heart!
Whatever that is your heart hides
Scorn or hatred or fear
You won't be punished to let it out
By laughter or by tear.
When you ask for anything else
I am struck by the thought of bells
But I can't make myself quite clear
For when I look up for your face
You've already struck your lightning pace
And have disappeared round the corner.
I wait for a few minutes to let you go
You've had enough of me for a day
I look at you as you look ahead
And for home I make my way.
Moments pass in seriousness
Until I hit upon this verse
For I know which way your feet point
When you walk upon the grass.
They point towards one position
That has no magnitude
As I walk my butterflies
Towards infinite certitude.
9 March 1990
After a day at St. Xavier's College, Calcutta.
Birthday 5 July 1990
I was generally accused of being disrespectful to social elders as I would not bend and touch their feet in deference, a social practice customary in Bengal. How could I? When I would only bow down to life, that too a thousand times.
15 August 1990
A chance meeting with a 17 year old sprightly young lady
6 December 1990
The lover and literature graduate has now become a law student in a far off land but cannot help the reminiscence.
1991 – 1998
30 January 1991
Confronted with the demon of inaction.
A year of expression
A drop of tear
Infatuation, druggedness, despair
Such is the explanation not the truth
Such is the mist – vacant solitude.
What is retrospective, has been true
What is fatalistic, more so
What is human, could hardly be;
Pushed into the future
Depriving the present, to be preserved
In the solace of the past.
The extinguished flame
The candle famous and fair
The trail of its dying smoke
Rekindling a sleeping passion.
Mistake again, error ... communication fail
The desire of life and the legacy of death
A vision of immortality.
International Hall, room 470
University of London
February 20, 1991
Withdrawal symptom after a year
A burnt out case
In some hapless abstraction of eternity;
Call it tide, call it vision
Or call it mere love
It surely does overflow, overwhelm and overreach,
Flatten, earthen and turn vain
All glows and glories of all experience ...
... such ...
Some nameless future doth witness
Amidst the shadowy aroma of pipe smoke:
A burnt out end of a matchstick write
In ashen letters an image of light.
Someday, in finite existence.
Triggered by the death of Graham Greene.
26 March 1991
A soul chemistry, how can it not be physical as well?
Frigidity, a state of the art technology
Does bear a human analogy
It is a geographical zone
Can enter an ice cream cone
And often a woman's psychology.
But the sort that this woodhead possesses
Draws from scientific sources
It chills the dry bottle of wine
That turns us mortals divine
To live in the realm of Goddesses.
April 11, 1991
A joint limerick in aid of my new old Indesit fridge bought from Soho for 20 pounds.
Once beheld twice seen
Thrice the vision
Where I've already been
What a relief to feel human again
To be freed from the rusted chain
Of a long forgotten humanity.
The doe eyed wonder that touches and moves,
The freshness of mind that at once removes
The weary stains of stagnation.
Now, back to the ways of law and living
Assured in life and in spirit
Simply 'for yo' truth.
7 May 1991
A humble worship if the ONE In the One in Ingold House
12 May 1991
Power outage in Russell Square, unusual. While human love restrains, a twilight state inspires an affectionate self awakening.
Behind the veil of personality
Breathing out the air of indifference,
The same breath whose onward journey
Warmed the commitment of love, in life and death
Thus pursing the spirit in the message of
Today, having to bear the burden
Of the whisper that thundered at the
Of beginning and end
Of yes and no
Of being and non being
Of light and of darkness ...
From our twilight kingdom
Is a little distressful
Under this Calcutta sun.
The unthought shadow, in her unknown glance
Supplements the bliss of this trance
It shall end in liberation or freedom
When there would be no burden to bear
Moving forward in life from power to power.
And the vision; that came, and lost for ever.
14 August 1991
Still coming to terms
28 October 1991
Here we go again! Reaffirming and reliving the first feeling.
In apprehension of Lady X
First time I write your name.
Time is approaching for you to come
Into this welter of circulating motion.
Our meeting is still afar
Yet the word has been said
But where I pray, in time and space!
Do I know?
An echo of it crosses my mind
Such is the knowledge of things to come
Unknown to me your hands and nose
Unknown your bosom, your private close
And a stranger stands your heart
Beyond vision, beyond comprehension.
Yet I stand with folded arms
With all my past present and future
When the time comes
And the silence hears the command
These folded hands shall part for once
To receive you in festivity
In pomp and youthfulness
And above all, in humility.
Our journey shall begin
At our journey's end.
To confront all the countless ends
That lie on the way to eternity.
With this I close
The words that broke
The cardinal law of time.
And you and me
Though strangers be
May in friendship always chime.
December 5, 1991
Astrologer told me I am yet to meet my life partner. Does not mean I
cannot write about her!
Resting in peace
Upon the bed of death
There is still some time
Before they take him upon their shoulders
To go to the crematorium.
But what do I see!
He gets up on his feet
Urgency in every bit of his movement
Time is short –
Rajen, Ghuna, Mangla –
Take of those weeds!
Water that bed!
Time is short
For they'll soon take him
To the crematorium.
10 December 1991
A recent dream expressed on the news of Bholanathbabu's death in Mihijam
The Art of Perception
"into that calm of mind all our passions spent"
The good, the bad
The pretty, the ugly
Pass through one tunnel
The craving, the pleasure
The let down, the disacknowledgment
Enter the same tunnel
The non commitment and the disacknowledgment
In that very tunnel
The negation and the celebration of
The pain of truth
The shivering restraint of the elevated joy
Is felt in the same tunnel
Would you still call it indifference?
February 28, 1992
Someone perceived me to be indifferent and non-committal. You
women – so concerned with immediate gratifications!
What is it that rules your heart
that makes you cry that makes you laugh
Often dissolving them
between the feeling and the expression
precipitating into another step
Ascend, ascend dear traveller
Wait for her call and then for your answer
trying to fathom her beyond that juncture
play the game of exercise
see another sun rise
stretch yourself .. yourself ..
then fall asleep.
A new day with a new meaning
welcomes the old self, its stale yearning
with the promise of an easter egg.
Lick the walls and imagine
the sweetness that is within
Carry it safe and put it away
It'll surely emerge another day.
Look back with the lonely heart
the faces that transcend the dark
the secret stress, the warm kiss,
the one that turned you all amiss
lend you their hand,
And mind you,
that is all that they can do.
The perpetual word of assurance
the mutual glance of elegance
lights up the way;
If not the way to take
at least the way you came.
The rest is yours to fathom still
It's Twelfth Night or what you will
The Tempest is somewhere growing.
Stop not at the rounded sleep
Forge ahead 'Santam' peace
'Sivam' the recompense,
'Advaitam' the one in all.
Though today, its still the Easter Egg.
London 4 March 1992
A classic question and answer. Santam is the peace in the heart of all conflict. Sivam is the good that emerges out of all suffering and loss. Advaitam is the 'One' in all diversity of creation.
Set of six
And when it kicks
In unchallenged tatters
There they go
The days once more
Light a candle
Perhaps make a scandal!
Yet a special day
though just by the way
An unofficial kiss
a fragile birthday wish.
March 17, 1992
With a birthday gift of 6 wine glasses to another's lady in Cambridge
Contemplation is good
But action is better
The desire for fulfilment
though sought in asking
is only realised in giving.
The desire, the action and the contemplation
is caught in an illogical progression
Is it better to give in
Or is it discipline?
Shall we force
Or shall we salvage?
Make it happen
Or heed its beckon?
You FOOL – observe the one and do the other
And don't believe any altogether!
May 30, 1992
Ask and thou shall be granted
A Reluctant Invocation of The Muse
Last time I recall holding your hand
As you walked me through my very own land
I used your back as I had done before
and passed across that holy shore.
Today, months have passed
I call you again
to ride me on your chair
I sit and write
There's no delight
No light to pierce the air.
What had happened?
What has become?
What is it that's yet to be?
Where am I?
Why am I?
What is it that I do not see!
Well, here you are
to put me across
that unknown and unfathomed sea.
But what's the use if I don't take the plunge!
When shall I!
When shall I!!
When shall I!!!
See the depth
or drown and die
Is there anyone with me?
58 Dorchester House
24th October, 1992
In a vortex of struggle, confronted with inner resistance.
Carpe Diem dear lady
Let us go then
you and me
the chimney pot, the Christmas tree;
a smoky passage, celebration,
to some unknown destination.
I wear the cap
to make you santa claus
you treat the children I brave the laws
the turkey crackles, upon Heaven's way
it is not yet boxing day.
November 7, 1992
58 Dorchester House
Inner resistance of another.
The calm assurance of death is no more
in its place the unsettling reigns.
At this 25th anniversary of my birth
I am left with no meaningful words to speak
Yet the silence is killing!
I cannot cry, nor can I laugh
I do not understand what love means
But once I did, I did, only too well.
Then do we really move from darkness to knowledge on the wings of
experience or is it only me who has boarded on the wrong side?
Creativity – the charcoal burns but is covered by an impenetrable dark
Personality – don't even know what to say, how to react!
Love – what have I done with it??
Are we not worthy of it?
I do and I don't – the significance ought to be something greater.
In spite of everything – I sink deeper and deeper, the windows close
one by one.
The power, the power to open them, to break them all. I struggle
to be born – O' Birthday!
July 5th 1993, Birthday
Initial signs of the re birthing process, in retrospect.
Excerpted from PILGRIM on the Way of Love by ananjan Copyright © 2012 by Ananjan. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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