Spirit, art and life unfolded

    In a distant land where the sky was a perpetual canvas of swirling patterns, there was a sun unlike any other. This sun was not a blazing orb, but a mesmerizing black spiral that danced in the heavens, casting gentle spirals of light upon the world below. Beneath this spiral sun lived a small green bird named Emerald. Emerald was curious and adventurous, always flitting about, exploring every nook and cranny of her vibrant, green world. She loved the way the sun's spirals created intricate shadows on the forest floor, making her daily flights feel like magical journeys through an ever-changing landscape. One day, while soaring high above the treetops, Emerald spotted something unusual far below. Nestled in a clearing was a green box, unlike anything she had ever seen. Intrigued, she swooped down to investigate. As she approached, she noticed that the box seemed to tremble slightly, as if something inside was alive and bustling with energy. Emerald landed gently on the edge of t

 Brahma Kamalam is indeed a fascinating and significant flower. The name itself, combining "Brahma" (the supreme consciousness in Hindu philosophy) and "Kamalam" (lotus, a symbol of beauty and divinity), speaks volumes about its unique characteristics and symbolism. The Brahma Kamalam, known scientifically as Saussurea obvallata, is a rare and revered flower that blooms at night and withers by morning. It is associated with purity and spiritual enlightenment, thriving in the pristine yet often harsh environments of the Himalayas. This flower's ability to bloom from seemingly inhospitable conditions—whether pristine waters or muddy soils—serves as a metaphor for equanimity and resilience. It represents the ability to maintain inner peace and beauty despite external circumstances. Its rare blooming, often only once a year, adds to its mystique and symbolizes the rare moments of profound beauty and spiritual awakening that can illuminate our lives. The Brahma Kamal

 In the realm of my imagination, where the boundaries of reality blur and dreams take flight, I found myself adrift amidst a landscape woven from the fabric of my own musings. Lost within the labyrinth of my mind, beset by the turbulence of life's ceaseless currents, I pondered the fleeting nature of existence.  Drifting from one reverie to the next, uncertain of which path to tread, I grappled with the elusive notions of right and wrong. In my futile attempts to mend the fractured souls of others, I found myself ensnared in a web of my own making, where the threads of redemption slipped through my grasp like grains of sand.  It was amidst this surreal landscape, amidst the whispered secrets of the forest's depths, that I encountered a shimmering apparition—a manifestation of my own yearning for solace and guidance in a world fraught with uncertainty. And so, with a heart heavy with longing and a spirit untethered by the constraints of reality, I approached the radiant figure,

On a rainy evening, the streets glistened under the soft glow of streetlights, their reflections shimmering in the puddles scattered along the sidewalk. The rhythmic patter of raindrops on his umbrella created a soothing symphony as the man walked through the downpour, his coat pulled tightly around him. As he turned a corner, he spotted a girl standing alone, drenched and trembling. Her eyes, wide with fear, darted around, seeking refuge from the relentless rain. The street was eerily empty, with no one else around to notice her plight. Compassion stirred within him. Without hesitation, he approached her and gently spoke, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance. "Are you alright? Let me help you." Her eyes met his, and she hesitated for a moment before nodding, a glimmer of hope replacing the terror in her gaze. He extended his hand, and she took it, clinging to the lifeline he offered. Together, they stepped beneath the shelter of his umbrella, its protective canopy shield

  These jasmines are beautiful and fragrant, a rare quality, and they seem to be blooming in ecstasy. Traditionally, when women decorate their hair with them, they look complete at functions. Purnam. Though I advocate leaving the flowers alone on the plants as true purnam, these flowers have always held a unique charm for me. They can evoke extreme feelings of divinity, life, romance, and a message of peace. "Pushpa Vilapam Kavyam" delicately enshrines these feelings, touching and provocative.

Kannamma spent a lot of time watering the plants, which quickly turned into playing with mud. Before she could fully immerse herself in a mud bath, I managed to whisk her away. However, today she didn't engage in her usual mischievous activities of squeezing paints and throwing things around. Instead, she settled in the puja room, performing rituals she might have seen her Nanamma doing. She was completely absorbed and didn't allow any interference, talking about Govind, Shiva, and Lakshmi Devi. Later, she asked about my mother. I tried to explain the best I could, mentioning that my mother was very good at making sweet rice. Before bed, Kannamma expressed a desire to call my mother from God. When I asked why, she simply replied that my mother could make sweet rice for us. I wondered why she asked for that when she is not particularly interested in sweet food, but her innocent request warmed my heart nonetheless.

This morning, a quote I read provoked me to think: "She saw how the tall grasses danced so beautifully in the wind and she chose that for her own life, to stand tall and still be moved in the presence of invisible things." In our fast-paced, technology-driven world, we often overlook the profound wisdom embedded in nature. The image of tall grasses dancing in the wind offers a striking metaphor, highlighting how we can find strength and grace by remaining flexible and open to life's invisible forces. This scene encourages us to embrace the subtle messages of nature, much like the principles of Shiva Tattva, which embody balance, transformation, and unity. Shiva Tattva represents the ultimate reality, the supreme consciousness that pervades the universe. This principle teaches us that true strength lies not in rigidity but in the ability to yield without breaking. Observing the grasses sway gracefully in the wind, we see this wisdom in action. Nature's resilience and a

White periwinkle with its little companion, pink periwinkle, lots of petunias, yellow allamanda, jasmine buds, and flowers—happiness unlimited, largesse shared by a day with cool winds vying with scorching heat. I want to break into song and meld them into tunes of my flute. How do I experience the blessings and vagaries of life in one go? Today, as my grandkid waters the plants, it becomes a game and preoccupation for her, bringing me relief and delight. After moments of delight, her mischief and destructive activities resurface, yet they are tempered by her innocent belief that the plants are complaining.

Womb to aplomb, From green to white, a jasmine bud. Born on the way to bloom, Marvel comes alive when fragrances plume. Your accomplishments flourish, touching lives, More buds, more blooms, life expanding, spreading soothing scents. This green foliage hides many a dream, whitish splendor. A time for everything under the sky, graced by the sun. The poem "From Bud to Bloom" captures the journey of a jasmine bud from its green beginnings to its full white bloom, symbolizing growth, transformation, and the impact of accomplishments. The imagery of the bud's transformation and the spreading fragrance highlights how individual achievements can touch lives and expand, much like the spreading of a soothing scent. The green foliage hiding dreams and the mention of everything having its time under the sun suggests a natural progression and the grace of life’s cycles. Poem by Dr. SV Prabhath Picture credits by Sita Bontha

In this vast limitless universe and life, we are nothing. Stay with that thought to remain peaceful, contented, happy, and limited. Don’t assume too much. There are forces seemingly throttling you. Nothing too big, nothing too small. What is in your means, you resolve; the rest, leave aside. This is the essence of all wisdom and religious thoughts. People twist and turn things, but if you stay cool and calm, it passes, like the storm. There is beauty and no purpose in life. Just celebrate all good, all blessings. Isn’t the wind cool and soothing today? Why worry about how hot and humid it was yesterday or the news of the highest 50-degree temperature recorded? Tomorrow, let it come—you may not even wake up. I am filled with mirth and dearth. I couldn't cross the small canal they dug up. It may not be repaired for months. Another guy, younger maybe, confidently made it. For two days, I went up to that point and returned, fearing consequences. I know a simple slip can land me in that

  A Dish TV antenna with two pigeons perched on top, each looking in different directions.  As human habitation expands, birds, animals, and other creatures find ways to occupy spaces intended for human use. Elephants stopping passing vehicles and taking food, being labeled as bandits—who taught them this? People often ignore the sufferings of stray dogs but show affection by feeding them biscuits. Are they addressing hunger or fostering dependency on discards?  Are these two pigeons a family? The antenna isn't a living space, just a resting ground. These birds on the Dish TV antenna may not be like those in the Mandukya Upanishad. In the Upanishads, there is a parable about two birds sitting on the same bough: one feeds while the other looks on. This symbolizes the mutual relationship between the infinite being and the finite self. The delight of the bird that looks on is great, for it is pure and free delight. However, these two pigeons don't fit that image; they seem more li

My friend went golfing and during the game found a huge snake skin. From the photo he shared, I guess it might be a cobra. These army golf courses still shelter reptiles, unlike most others where they don't leave any space for them. It could also be a python since it’s a long skin. Why do they shed their skin? Molting of the skin occurs regularly in snakes. It's common and results in the entire outer layer of the epidermis being lost. In the case of snakes, it is called shedding or ecdysis. A new layer of epidermis grows beneath the old one. On average, snakes tend to live until they're around 10 years old, meaning they shed about 20 times during their lifetime. There were 6 or 7 players, and one guy noticed the skin. He called out to the others, and they all gathered around. Conversations followed: - One was curious to know why the skin was shed. - Another was busy estimating the size and type of snake. - Someone else was worried about the risk of having many snakes in tha

 Red mandaras appeared on this plant on a hot, humid day, reassuring a return to normal times. They seemed like a blessing to my doubting self. These are the ones I have known all these years, though many have appeared in different forms and colours. These originals, with their red petals and yellow tongues dotted with red on top, stood out. The well-grown plant looked healthy and confident—a good treat.  

Grace me with your presence in the stillness of meditation, Where dwell the great souls, their wisdom our guiding light, Through the labyrinthine paths of this worldly existence. Many unfoldings, devoid of meaning, shifting tracks, Where have you gone, Mahatmas and Paramapurushas? Your wisdom, interpreted, reinterpreted, distorted, and dismantled, Gives birth to new theories, while truth seekers falter. The mystery looms large, amidst the shadow of misdeeds, How then to discern truth and attain liberation? For we know these souls transcend mere mortal bounds, As death claims only the body and mind's confines, They exist in the cosmic expanse, awaiting our communion in meditation's embrace.

The story I heard yesterday, narrated by Sri Vidya Prakasanandagiri, about Trivedi and Max Müller carries a profound philosophical lesson. In the story, Trivedi, a well-educated young man, successfully completes the Indian Civil Service (ICS) examination and is returning to India. He is advised to meet Max Müller, a renowned German scholar who translated the Vedas into English and was known for his deep understanding of Sanskrit. During their encounter, Müller is struggling to translate a particular Sanskrit word into English. Upon receiving Trivedi, Müller asks him what he plans to do next. Trivedi, somewhat puzzled, answers that he will join his job and carry out his duties. Müller again asks, "And then?" Trivedi responds that he will get married and have children. Müller repeats the question. The boy, now growing impatient, says he will grow in his career and become comfortable in life. Müller asks again, "And then?" Exhausted, Trivedi says he will retire and lea

 The wise man once said nothing, An unwise man says anything, And believes everything. The wise fall silent, When they know There is nothing to say. Ayatanavan bhavati: He who knows The flower of the waters. In silence and depth, Wisdom blooms, Beyond the noise, Beyond the surface.

Many questions, one answer Many words, one syllable Many invective, one blessing Many loathings, one love Many waves, one ocean Many rivulets, one mighty Ganga Many thunders, one shower Many mutinies, one palliative Many disasters, one order Four seasons, one reason Many chimes, one om

No problem, No solution, All delusion. There are layers: Some you see, Many you don't. What you see disturbs you— But what about the unseen? What you know, What you can, you solve. But what about the unknown? Often, my ego assumes monstrous proportions; I get swallowed. Anger, remorse, repulsion— They control me. I don't know why I can't subdue them with all my might. Why do I become so imbecile? Frustrations build, I break into pieces, Anger surges. Nothing new in this wisdom. This poem captures a profound struggle with the layers of self and emotions. It's a reminder of the human condition, where our conscious efforts often clash with subconscious forces. The visible disturbances are just a fraction of the unseen turmoil beneath. Ego, anger, and remorse can overpower us despite our best efforts, making us feel helpless and foolish. This cycle of frustration and fragmentation is a common human experience, and recognizing it is a step towards understanding and eventuall

A photograph of Greenovia dodrantalis taken on the 9th of March, 2021, would capture the plant in its delicate beauty, a testament to its potential when well cared for. However, the plant's current state reflects the challenges of maintaining such a species. Despite having received good gardening support, it has not been able to thrive as it once did. This highlights the essential need for consistent care and attention, akin to the care required for children's upbringing. Neglect can cause these beautiful plants to become wild or perish, reminding us of the delicate balance needed in nurturing both plants and people. Greenovia dodrantalis, also known as Aeonium dodrantale or the Mountain Rose, is a captivating succulent plant native to the Canary Islands. With its fleshy, lime green, paddle-shaped leaves and rose-tinged edges, it resembles a rose in full bloom.

  A woman with a plait in the front and the rest of her hair behind her. She wears a white blouse that covers her shoulders and chest completely, paired with a red saree. Her hand rests on one folded leg, while the other leg is on the ground. She has a brown complexion and is in a pensive mood. The picture, drawn in 2021, features a circle of different colors around her.

Today, some sketches and artwork I did a year ago appeared on Google Photos. Thanks to technology, we don't have to make a conscious effort to dig through our storehouses of memories. Often, we struggle to remember exactly where old photos and albums are stored, and sadly, I discovered some of my albums were damaged. I’ve started digitizing them, but some have become unrecognizable. My wife even failed to recognize her own photo taken in Australia. Nowadays, people spend much of their time scrolling through photos, YouTube, and social media. They all seem lost in their phones, which makes me nostalgic for the good old days—the green fields, trees, lovely winds, and conversations that were more about each other. Yesterday, during a walk, I saw a man and a small boy sitting under a tree, both busy with their phones. No walking, no connection with their surroundings. As a young boy, I visited a temple in Tadiparthi, and the stone engravings, detailing, precision, and statu

  All these have expired, Breaking down, out of time, Outlived their purpose, A last lullaby sung, Splinters breaking, falling apart, Merging with the Panch Bhutas, Tears shed only with emotions attached, A free, detached self knows naught of these. No tears, no fears, Only wings that carry, Yet doubts persist, Break free, the kingdom of God within you, You are the Invictus, master of self. Dr SV Prabhath

  I am not a part of this gives rise to feelings Just be content that I am microcosm No I am all, everything A comforting and humbling feeling and also devastating and belittling feeling, a forsaken unease So much going around The unbelievable, best, the worst and ignoble I am swayed by these myths I know little and deeper I go I find truths unsettling What's this journey and where is it leading Death is not destination Must be there something beyond How many times have you not experienced the eternal Let people have their own notions and experiences Your experiences are not abnormal or inimical You are in own sphere finding your mula Dr SV Prabhath

  Thoughts without boundaries A restless mind Set your mind on God, Remembering that everything is temporary, Seek the eternal. Searching for the infinite, Is like learning a skill, When practice and dedication unite, A miracle happens. Continue your search What seemed distant becomes clear. This search may seem directionless, Yet, do not give up in any situation The mind is always a hub of turmoil, Battling numerous disagreements and obstacles, But do not give up. Your quest should become more intense. Reality becomes clear, In constant search, Peace and understanding grow, In this tumultuous sea of confusion, find the root of the truth. a poem by SV Prabhath 

  Little hands at work, blending colours with abandon, weaving mischief with fledgling artistry. Sometimes their creations defy adult definitions. Best to observe without interference amidst the splattered paint, raided brushes, and smudged papers. It's all part of the revelry.

  Shiva shiva, encapsulates the idea of surrendering the ego and entering a state of inner peace and detachment, akin to the stillness and transcendence. It's a profound concept that encourages letting go of attachments and embracing the essence of existence.

The Scadoxus multiflorus, with its red spikes and yellow-tipped, globular appearance, resembles a colorful explosion like a vibrant firework. The green shoot, emerging from a bulb that remained stagnant for months, adds to the spectacle. Reflecting on this scene, I ponder the lessons it imparts. Just as the stagnant bulb yields a beautiful shoot, so too can a stagnant mind produce beautiful thoughts that can transform the landscape of our lives, bringing colour and vibrancy to even the most stagnant of times.

In my garden, I found several broken stone pieces scattered, each bearing its unique shape and form. Among these stones, one caught my attention. I had recently come across a quotation online that resonated deeply with me: "In the end, we all become stories." This thought lingered, compelling me to consider how each life, if understood and articulated well, could indeed be a compelling story. I often found that my shared experiences didn’t always elicit the response I hoped for, while gossip about me seemed far more intriguing. Inspired, I decided to transform the stone into a keepsake bearing the profound quote. After cleaning it meticulously, I used liquid paint to inscribe the words. My vision was to frame this stone in a unique yet economical way. Fortunately, I found a carpenter willing to take on this unusual task. I even bundled in a few other odd jobs for him. However, when the job was completed, my excitement turned to disappointment. While fixing the stone into the

Years ago, a clever gardener visited our home, claiming to have been sent by our respected bava. We had no idea what was happening until he handed us a huge bill. He had dug up the hedges, displacing existing plants with the promise of future improvements. We were left bewildered, cursing our lack of gardening knowledge. Years later, the Bhringraj plant, which that crafty gardener had removed, reappeared. Each season, its blooms now offer soothing visuals against the thick green foliage. Thanks to Google, I’ve learned about this plant’s many names and its uses. I never knew this is the famous Bhringraj from which hair oil is made. Nature is both mysterious and simple. Everything we need to know is there if we only take the time to understand and appreciate it.