The Land of the Fae
Poem - The Land of the Fae Picture - Night Sky in The Vindhyan Forests
Latest
In the Forest with Dante
In the psychological and moral quagmire that I am bulldozed in to, it is not possible to think of a school as a benign paradise. With blade-like tongue our "partners" make it impossible to have any sort of delusion about what this work entails. They want to
An Invitation to Voyage with Baudelaire
Discovering a 19th century French poet, more than 150 years after his passing, must be more than some happenstance. One must find a symbol to mark the significance of this singular event. Where can I find such a symbol? Perhaps in Charles Baudelaire's own forest of symbols. My
A Walk with Borges
Northstar is a collective dream. We all dream about it in our own different way. Some people, and some things too, have permeated our dreams even though they may long be dead. And why do we dream? Because we must, because we can, because we cannot help it. What happens,
Yellow Hues
Today, we mark Vasant Panchami. Vasant is spring. Although we are in the cold days of January, this day is celebrated in the hope of the arrival of spring 40 days later. We pay homage to Goddess Saraswati, that fount of knowledge and learning. She flows from the locks of
Ambushed
Poetry - Ambushed Picture 1 - Water Lilies in Dark Water Picture 2 - Exposed Roots
Collection of Essays
I recently put together two short collections of essays on Northstar and Raga. Over the years I have written my thoughts on the these organisations as they developed from an idea. These essays reflect (or betray) my own development (or regression) as a person thinking and building these institutions.
Sunrise Hymns
There is a room in my school - Sunrise Hymn. And over a few years, I have written poems on that title. Here are all of them. The image is of the sun as I saw it one early morning in Bori Wildlife Sanctuary at the foothills of Satpura Range.
Morning Skies or Blue Velvet
On a morning one day, not long ago, I went to my terrace to look at the stars before dawn. The sky was ablaze in blue.
The Day of the Teachers
We mark this day each year. The Day of the Teachers. Twice a year. Once on Guru Purnima and once again on S. Radhakrishnan's birth anniversary. We 'pay' respects to teachers on the day and then duly disregard them, put them in the their place of
The Lay of the Three
A word game and an image game. A word game of creating portmanteaus of Greek origin words suffixed with phobia. An image game of finding these phobias in imaginary tales. We live our lives in fear or in search of fear. We look for them in other people and in
I Am All
I am all. And all is me. This street in an ancient town has killed many and saved many. Don't look for order and justice and goodness. Look only for the dim yellow light.
poetry
Svabhava
I was travelling to Konya in late winter on a clear morning. The fields on the sides of the road were light brown. And far off on the horizon, a little house, barely visible. Perhaps, the house of the farmer tending to these fields.
poetry
We, The Condemned
I took the image of the semazen (in the cover) during a sublime performance in a caravanserai.
philosophy
At No Place
Photo essay of a journey through forgotten towns. Pictures and words by Mohit Patel, original published on Nov 24, 2019. It takes 2 hours and 5 stories to reach the "village-at-no-place". Some of these stories are told out loud, while some play out in your
poetry
Mythica Apocrypha
poetry
The Gentle Mother
I do not remember how this poem came to be. I had an image of a gothic veil in my mind. The image is of a dry lake somewhere in India. I took this many years ago.
education
Teaching / Spectacle
I will try to address what I have been observing and experiencing in the past few years. Since the complete domination over attention and will was established by the techno-hegemony of social media and its ilk, the act of conversation has either vanished or has taken on a sinister
A Forest Called Northstar
Banyans, and Neems, and Mangoes, and Jamuns. A forest called Northstar. I was once lost in a forest, in a manner of speaking. Dawn turned to dusk in a reversal that came without warning. Aranyaka. What is the point of a forest if it is not enchanted? Where dreams are
essays
A Veena Called Northstar
A melody, a harmony, a rhythm, and a poem. A Veena called Northstar. A sequence of chapters forms a book, a sequence of classes forms a school day, a sequence of units makes a curriculum, and a sequence of musical notes makes a melody. And when there are underlying notes
essays
Lynchian Phantasmagoria
A Phantasmagoria of colours, and sounds, and smells. A reverie called Northstar. "Where we come from, the birds sing a pretty song and there's always music in the air..." The dance of the little man from Twin Peaks is a mad, surreal phantasmagoric scene from David
poetry
Pilgrims without Shrine
The exiles and the renegades The merchants and the usurpers The givers and the takers The noblemen and the plebeians The brown and the black The stone and the gossamer The Jaisalmer yellow and the Iznik blue The Damascus dagger and the ultramarine dust These pilgrims without shrine. ~mk
education
A Lullaby To Put Us To Sleep
A lullaby to put us to sleep, so that we may dream. A song called a Northstar. The gesture of sleeping - where does it occur? Head bouncing on the window of a bus; hands folded on a bench and the head resting on it, a class perhaps; a baby engulfed
poetry
A Tale Was Once Told
A tale was once told Of journeys and pilgrimages Of penance and repentance Of redemption and absolution There were many in that wagon to purgatory. A scholar who lost his mind A priest who lost his faith A general who lost his command A consul who started a war A