Green Magic (By Radhika Mukherjee)
Nature still works!
It’s March and right on cue, there’s brilliant green everywhere,
The trees have woven beautiful new foliage for themselves.
They know it’s time,
They read the wind and earth and water,
And this is what they say, ‘We will uphold nature, will you?”
A Dream of Pink
Who will notice the light on the flowers,
But for the quiet ones?
Who will think of the green we need,
But for the dreamy ones?
Why then is the world tilted loud?
Why doesn’t love trump fear?
When will the healing come?
There is an edge to hope,
That even when it floats away,
Clings as a shadow of wonder,
To the corners of the spirit.
Let it flower within you today,
Let it rise.
Smile at hope,
And hope will smile upon you…
Who knows what the two of you can do?
Did you know that blood smells of rust?
That our starburst mangled bodies die to awaken?
That in all the liminal space of time—
Truths unfold in ontological puzzlement,
Amazed at their own impertinence?
For what is anything amid infinity?
And where’s the space for infinity in our small is?
The renderings of visions wild,
All these data streams of forever dreams—
Will we ever truly reconfigure?
There is a silent, screaming, streaming smile—
There is a thunderous rapture building—
Just out of reach.
Walk into the whirlwind—
Is that the shape of heartbreak?
Is that an angel that ascended?
Or the whisper of our hidden wings?
If there’s a dream review, this is IT! @saket71 has shone a piercingly poetic light into the heart of Our Particular Shadows and really, truly SEEN. I’m in utter bliss. Such a generous blessing this review is!
Read the full review: Book Review: Our Particular Shadows
Some of my favorite parts of the review are:
Radhika writes prose but it is so near to poetry. … It has the magic, the vigor and the flow much nearer to spoken-word poetry. The magic of experimental prose is in the honesty it carries. It is as if the writer decided not to let his own consciousness stand between the page and his soul, as if the medium merged into the creator and they are no longer two distinct entities.
And who can ever forget praise such as this?
I am totally in awe of Radhika Mukherjee’s talent. She is a mystic poet who camouflages herself as a story-teller. Her writings are not for you if you are looking for trendy stories. If you want to read something timeless, something which will survive both the reader and the writer, do read this. I am greedy. I do not know if Radhika plans to someday write a full-length novel. If she does and if these stories are any indications, we might have a writer penning something like The Waves of Virginia Woolf someday. Her writing is experimental prose which is so rare to find these days. Dive in to discover the divinity in the magical world of words. This is the book you will keep coming back to, whenever your soul is bruised by the brutal world we live in, and I am sure, it will always soothe your senses.
Here’s the full review again: Book Review: Our Particular Shadows
To take the journey, at $0.99 for the eBook of Our Particular Shadows, go to:
Amazon (all territories): getBook.at/OPS
B&N, Apple, Kobo, Scribd: https://books2read.com/u/38DxMw
Happy soulful reading!
When you see me, think of words.
A swaying mass of swirling rainbow words in tangible girl shape. I’ve become indistinguishable from the resonances in my mind.
I am my words. Words are me. They make me, just as I make them. That’s my space in this world!
Words to wonder.
Words to heal.
Words to lay down and cry.
Words to comfort.
Words to whisper.
Words: the most precious of them all.
Words = Rads! 🙂
Bright Joy (By Radhika Mukherjee)
We do a great disservice to the world, when we describe it, perceive it, classify it only through an evolutionary paradigm. All around, there are birds flying for the sheet joy of it, looping across the sky; monkeys whooping and playing and taunting dogs; there is a cow and a cat making friends… And the sun, great fiery ball of hydrogen though it may be, is smiling across to us from that unimaginable distance this fine end-of-summer day.
Even in our ‘modern’ ‘scientific’ minds, surely there is some space to expand our perception of this Earth, this Universe, to include love, the play of the spirit and sparkling, connecting joy?
Irrespective of species?
The mind extends beyond the body, it has to. If we can accept wi-fi, why can’t we think of our brains as being able to transmit waves of thought and intention? It’s all the co-mingling of matter and energy and vibrations, isn’t it?
What if the purpose was not to merely ‘evolve’? But to experience? To add? To feel?
What if each life, each rock, each drop of water, was an end in itself?
If I can’t dance,
My world stops a bit.
If I don’t dance,
My universe shrinks a little.
Any stillness achieved is stale.
Dance is primordial joy given form.
Without that joy, what’s meaning?
The IS will flow back.
Flow with vibrant joy.
Reach for bliss…
In the last few years that I have been writing, I have tried to listen to that small inner voice of inspiration as well as mold myself into a disciplined artist. To varying degrees of success!
Through all that, I have learned that the essential self is paramount, no matter what you try, and that:
There are productivity days, there are insight days, then there are rest days. We need to welcome each kind of day.
I know a lot of us struggle with the prescription to write every day and to produce X number of words, etc. per day. To that I say:
Welcome every sort of day! See what you can learn from it, what riches it brings you.
The journey is the reward after all!
Suppose the way lay through the air?
Would you with your pink lightning wings,
Go charging across the ocean,
Straight to what you thought was the heart of the world?
The tears of cut grass smell so mellifluous!
Everything spills tears today – from me.
I imagine you at least, free—
Soaring, with those crackling wings,
Reaching at last that space of my torment;
Of my deepest longing.
Your face is daylight,
Learn why don’t you, to flow free?
Emotions too big for the body,
Carried across the infinite sea—
Your hands caress the breeze.
When will healing come,
Is that what you wonder?
With your faraway look,
Your voice trailing off into a book…
Your spirit is fire,
Feel it. Be it.
Be your own healer,
You – who are every infinity!
Hold up the sky.
Channel the sun.
Encircle the earth.
Lead us from sorrow to light!
Sometimes the simplest roadside plant can contain such a richness of color and beauty! Many mornings ago, these multi-hued confections of petals caught my eye…
They sprung up from a shrubbery in pops of brightness:
And on closer inspection, I saw:
Happy weekend! 🙂
Even the urban space yields encounters with the wild and wonderful. In the last few days I’ve been cawed at by a raven, blinked at by a cat, been slobbered over by the cutest lab puppy (no photos unfortunately) and watched the camel man giving rides to children, wishing I was 4 again.
Here are a few photos:
What have been some of your wild-ish encounters lately?
It’s been quite a ride, hasn’t it? Started as a way to feel creative, like me again, Light Under Shadow was originally called ‘From Deep Under The Shadows’; exactly what I felt like, that I was hidden somewhere in shadow.
From tentative beginnings to finding validation for being all that I can be, to this amazing milestone, of a 100 blog posts! It’s been a blessing to be a part of the WordPress blogging community for all these years!
I want to thank you for daily doses of inspiration and soulfulness and for the amazing support you have shown this whimsical little blog of mine.
Let’s take a walk down memory lane with a recap of a few noteworthy posts:
3 Most Visited:
Waterfall of Overflowing Flowers
3 Most ‘Liked’
The Flickering Light Of Hope
The Circular Thoughts of My Writing Mind
The Surprise Sunshine Song
3 Most Commented:
A Beautiful Send-off From the Bengal Sky
Question For You
A Few Personal Favorites:
A Photographic Memory (A Flash Fiction Piece)
Why I Don’t Write Good
Since… [A Short, Fictional Poem]
I hope to see you here for the next hundred posts! 🙂
The Eternal Love Story of Land And Sea
(c) Radhika Mukherjee
When the earth exhaled and called out to the sea in heated summer sadness, parched of love.
When, in sudden lust the ocean swooped in to shower itself
With force of thunder, rain and hail.
That one time you and I, cocooned in a nest of blankets, laughed.
A flash, of rapier force, cut across the sky.
And then rolled the deafening drum.
The world blurred in a haze of dusty wind.
Only the trees in their creaking boughs,
Sang of the tangled love story of land and sea.
The Texture of Dreams and Fantasies
(c) Radhika Mukherjee
For all those times when the world is waiting to burst into color…
Read all about a radical and effective approach I’m espousing towards tackling the dreaded Blank Page and the natural outcome of doing so – first drafts!
Catch the article on my main website:
The Challenge of The Blank Page and First Drafts
Apparently (according to a recent blog post and book I read) one should just gush, almost vomit a torrent of meaningless words onto the blank page. No matter one’s state of mind. And then wade through the dross to mine a few nuggets of gold one may have left there.
But what if that work is being done elsewhere? One does not always need to spray the page with nonsense to arrive at sense, does one?
Read in full: The Challenge of The Blank Page and First Drafts
Let me know what you think, ok?
Stories Are Like Cloud Ships
I live in a space of endless outlining.
So many story ideas – they are anywhere you focus on for even two minutes!
And so proto-stories pile up.
Piles upon piles…
And I want to write all of them!
Will a lifetime be enough?
When will even the first one come to fruition?