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.



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.



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.
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.
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.
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