Wayfarer's window!

Music. It is more beautiful than a thousand facet diamond. Each shimmering beam emanating from it is indescribable. I am like a novice jeweler, holding it unsteadily, unable to express my awe, my joy and my pleasure. It is more than my most delightful dream. It stirs my passions and emotions like never before. I am lost in it. I am mesmerized. I am awe struck.                                                             I have been asked to describe music and the many facets in which it touches our lives. At best, I am unable to do it any justice. The scope of the assignment is beyond the reach of my words. Yet, I will give it a try. Every delightful memory of mine is associated with mus...

He, can fill your emptiness, wipe away your tears! Reach out, He'll hold you for'evr.

I have been feeling kind of lonely, may be its the nip in the winter air, it takes me to all the places, for which I really care! The memories of the morning frost, and whitened mountain scape, the gentle swish of the pine trees, are the sights I cannot escape. But, much more to me than all the sights and the feelings in the cold cold air, Are the thoughts of home and family, and the warmth of hearth that was there. The sound of all the children playing, the crackle of the fire as it leaps; the cold winter air never dampened our feelings, as joys was surrounding in heaps. Tonight, at home they must all be sleeping, our rooms and corridoors must be cold; For we have all moved away from our haven, And what remains, are our memories of gold!

"He satisfies my mouth with good things" Ps 103;5 Indian village:a rustic meal eaten by hands Shimla speciality: a variety of wines a hearty breakfast Food behind bars! Cooking it right! Iced tea and chicken salad A good meal Sushi spread variety: take your pick. Eating from the bamboo dish: exotic! Chinese meal Cuttle fish, anyone? A home made omelette North Indian Thali Traditional food on banana leaf Mizo-meal for six and more.... and... a song to go with.. (I learnt it as a small boy in school, following the school play; and was delighted by it! Enjoy!!!)

"Keeping up with the Joneses" is a difficult thing to do. Last weekend, it was the very seed of our agrument at home. Certainly the fued was bitter, and It took me a couple of days to recover. This morning, I went as usual, to the river of healing, my quiet time in morning prayer...which began, unusually, in my morning shower. With winter setting in and the hot water geysers on, it was only after a nasty scald, that I remembered that I had taken my thoughts well into my shower room. Thereafter, began my serious prayer and through it, to Psalm 103. "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me..and forget not His benefits:" Psalm 103,1-2. This was the first message I had shared when I came to the present city a couple of years back. This morning it came back to me with strong reminders about the two years that had gone fleeting by! "Who forgives all your iniquities" vs 3a..... How many times I had gone wrong and had been forgiven. I had hurt the ...

the river Narmada as seen from Hoshangabad

water keeps flowing till it has hewn solid  rock prayer changes lives!

The wind blows where it wishes, and you can hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from or where it goes. John 3:8a The Gentle Wind, seeps into quiet corners, where nothing else had dared to go or was able to reach! Nothing escapes, but gently is revealed, every crack, every crevice, every gaping fissure that captured the essense of darkness and despair that brooded for so long. Like the beams of the morning sun, its warm caress, its loving touch, soothes, heals and releases, every hurt, every bitterness. Like a deft craftsman it breaks, it moulds, it reshapens... Until.... It brings a new creation. All things old are passed away, behold all things are new.

Like a driftwood, I aimlessly float, yet yearning for direction, and an anchor for my soul. Till, I clasp,Your wooden cross, smudged with the blood of a slain lamb. There I find, the only link to my home in eternity. Then, I fly, in the power of Your wings, soaring higher, higher, higher, releasing every fetter that ties me still. Now, I understand what it means, to have love and peace and hope. After quite some time I get to post another song of Simon and Garfunkle, the music I grew up with!

The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. John 10:10 Blinded by years of comfort, Like a rock wrapped thick with moss; I am not at all affected, though every moment I suffer loss! The thief sweety sings a lullaby, and he keeps me smug and warm; while all good around me perish, and all things precious suffer harm! Oh Lord, my mind is darkened, and my eyes have loss their sight; Only You can revive my senses, and lead me in Your kindly light.

Your silent tip-toe, leaves a distinct trail behind; messaging my mind!

the little baby trembles, the fever risen high. only your lap gives comfort, as you sing a sweet lullaby.

You, who are ever online, and have ever reached out, help me to draw near and ever connect to the ever living stream that You are. I have groped for sunshine amidst every season of change; but have found growth only when I have stood facing You. I can raise a storm in the tea cup of my life, but You hold me still in the hollow of Your Hand. I have easily been distracted by the colors of the fair, but it is You who've held my hand, and kept leading me on. For I am persuaded, that neither death nor life... nor things present or things to come... nor height nor depth... not even my stubborness and my waywardness, or the changes in my moods and attitudes, or the changes in my life and fortune, not anything, ever, ever, shall be able to separate me from Your love. For You have engraved my name, on Your eternal palms. And  You have picked me up, when I lost my mother's breast. Only, You built me back when all I was, was...

How can I forsake such love? A short video clip that I have borrowed as the original words have no copy right and are meant for everybody to hear, accept and pass on!

A sudden earthquake of magnitude measuring 6.8 on th Ritcher during a spate of incessant rains lead to many landslides, destruction of roads and buildings and loss of lives. This was a twin disaster of a scale not witnessed before in the eastern himalayan hills. Those who experienced this remain with fear still looming large before their eyes. Yet.... God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. therefore we will not fear, even though the earth be removed, and the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea. Psalms 46:1,2. Creeping, crawling, moving, mawing. Ghost-like, the clouds, kept on gnawing. The thunders roaring, the rain kept falling, till chunks of earth, began their trawling. Weeping, wailing, shaking, stalking. Just that moment, the earth was quaking. Despite their efforts,there was no standing, or sitting or sleeping, when the land itself, began its moving! Falling, breaking, cracking, creaking, and pillar and post, began weaken...

Majestic meditating Buddha Hall of Buddhas Standing Buddha Serpent seated Buddha Sitting Buddha Reclining Buddha Mother of pearl Buddha

Hong Kong dawn  Hong Kong skyline   Boat ride on Hong Kong bay  Hong Kong and Kowloon from Victoria peak   Hong Kong night show 

Matthew 5:14   A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. The first time I had tried, I was not successful. I was half way there and then had to return. It was the middle of monsoon and the thick fog as well as the incessant rains had made it impossible for me to reach there. When I finally reached, I was awe stuck by its beauty. The hills, they never fail to mesmerise me. The winding road from the valley airport took us up the hill. There is was, clad with long furling gowns of greenery, studded with its little houses and crowned with the clouds...the city of Aizwal. I was there with a distinct purpose. I was there looking for a living light, a light of joy, a light of victory. I had been told that Aizwal had such a light. But, to my surprise, it had many. Lights, that glowed and showed the way. Living lights shining to dispel the darkness away. Lives that had been lit, and now were the lights of the city. A hill city of lights, that could not be hid. Four lights of ...

John 11:35. Jesus wept. Did You not weep, when strappled by a listless shroud, were the lying remnants, of what was once me! Yet, in Your compassion, and on the stage of Your awesome purposes, You deemed it fit, that I should live! There like an earthen seed, I gave up my old vessel, and life emerged, that was renewed...in hope, in strength. Then, why today, do I look, for the shredded shroud; to cover all, that I want You, not to see? Somewhere within, amidst this, I feel again, Your broken heart and the falling of tears....in heaven.

Paraphrased from the Hindi poem "Dil akhir kyu rota hai" written by Javed Akhtar. Moistened eyes, hiding the tinge of sorrow and element of lonliness... Unformed words, unspoken feelings and fears. Like the silence of your perfume, the wind wafts along your heaving breath and your heavy heartbeats. Your restlessness is measured by the rustling of the leaves. Yet, I hear you chiding yourself again, reminding that pain and joy are but two facets of our lives; and regardless of the moistness of your eyes, you shed no tear!

A few of my friends and I have been working on a music project for sometime. While some of these friends are talented musicians, I have been drawn to music not by any measure of my talent but by seeing the impact that good music and wonderful songs can have on peoples' lives. While visiting a bookstore recently,  it was natural for me to pick up this appropriately titled book called "All the world is singing". The book contains 45 exciting stories about indigenous music from different parts of the world and how they have impacted lives. The story about Estonia was pretty heartening as it told about how music had been instrumental in leading the nation to its freedom. Another story from Pakistan about two blind men and their life-songs was touching and it was as interesting to listen to some qawali songs from that region. Did I mention that the book comes with a CD and you can listen to some of the songs, look at pictures of persons mentioned in the stories (all tru...

Pictures taken from the aeroplane. Monsoon city the river divides

Some pictures from my recent visit. A town of some very nice and extremely helpful people.   Early morning  The city awakens  yet the days are quiet  Night scene  

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, A broken and a contrite heart-These, O God, You will not despise. Psalm 51:17 I have only been doing, what I've believed a friend should do, I have been praying hard, things will work out best for you. These are seasons for our trails, There are reasons for our tears, But no matter how things are turning out, And no matter how deep your scars, I hope that a day will come, when your sorest wounds are cured. And by the sacrifice, your dreams and hopes assured. Refrain: For I am a friend with only one wish that I can make for you, And I am a friend with only one tear, that I can shed for you. So my simple wish and my solitary tear, I hope they can do they best to bring a balm and cure. And I hope some day, I see you flying high. And I hope some day, I see you in the sky. I am walking now, in a preordained way. Our roads, who knows may or may not meet some day. Don't look when I'm not around. Don't search where I can...

With a strange role to play amidst changing circumstances, mine may be the reverse of what I have always been.....quiet! Yet, "to everything there is a purpose, a time for every purpose under heaven"...and , there is "a time to keep silence and a time to speak". Time and again I look at words and the power they contain. Used in the right spirit and context it has the power to heal and again it is words that destroy homes and nations. It is said that "we all stumble in many things. If anyone does not stumble in word, he is a perfect man." Often we try to disguise our words, to hide our inner most thoughts and feelings. However words have this strange habit of slipping out and revealing our true intents and nature. No matter what external circumstances dictate and no matter how we internally try to reorganise, it does not take much for words to reveal whom we really are. I have been dumb, I cannot speak, my words flow through my fingers. The times of de...

The pieces of my life lie scattered, Some here, some there, Like the incomplete Jigsaw puzzle. Only You, who sees from the higher window, Know how each piece fits in, and when! Till then, help me walk with the assurance That You, the Author and Perfector, of my faith…. are keeping that which I have committed, Unto You, against that day.

Knotter's inspiration comes from the viewers of the blog. Sometimes its a pleasure to have peristant viewers who raise up the statistics charts. Blog posts however, suffer from being terribly one sided. Nonetheless, in the mist of the cyberworld, this poem hopes to reach back to my faithful readers and viewers and convey to them my gratefulness and thank them for being my inspiration. There's a shadow in the mist. Its following me around... it walks on gentle muted toes, it's footprints can't be found. Oh! for the curtains of the mist to be drawn to clearly show; the silent whispers of the wind, and the thoughts only they would know! But, no matter what the words they say as for me the feeling's warm, The shadow stealthily comes and goes, and it means me no hurt or harm. Only one wish, now I have, to tell this fleeting ghost, and give him all my heart felt thanks, for trailing me the most! Wow, now there is a nice song just for you, my ardent r...

Despite the sad circumstances, I did get an oppurtunity to visit home once again. The entralling beauty of the hills mesmerised me like  every other time. Its a joy to watch the clouds rise up from the valleys and the rains drench the land. The incessecant waters seem to have a strange enchantment. Its almost as if they can wash every sorrow and pain. This makes me wonder if a bit of heaven was sent to earth when these hills were made. Here goes my simple poem, my ode to the hills, that I call my earthly home. While wisps of clouds rise with their wings and drench me with their souls, The winding road trudges up the hill here and there, I find it rolls. The sunrays here, are quick to go; the fog it lingers on. My home is there among the hills, and I its wandering son. The green it gets more greener still, and skies with clouds surround. If silently heaven had shed a tear, here it would be found! 

This poem is dedicated to my uncle who chose seldom to leave and often remain in our home...and helped keep and build it. In that, no matter how far our marriages, work and trades took us, we always knew we had a home to return to. Tonight, he is no more with us, and the emptiness creeps in every corner of our home. We are afraid that without him, our home may never be the same again. Tonight we mourn much at your loss. For who can now replace you? The vacuum you have left behind, We know not what we are to do! You have held this lonely bastion, which we have called our home. We like birds have flown our nest, But you have fend for it alone. We often changed the places of our trade, And far and wide we flew; But when it meant our coming home… Your surely being there we knew. Now we look around this place, Where every brick resonates of you; And find the spirit of this home, Somehow bereft without you. Can we pray for a guardian spirit, To come and hold back what...

What does one do when a loved one is diagnosed with a terminal illness? One can perhaps only pray for God's mercies and healing. There are many spiritual promises but there are also plain physiological laws and rules that govern disturbances in the body's organs and systems and their consequences. As someone caught between the physical and the spiritual worlds, I can only have one murmur of hope. That, the one who has created every law to govern every system can choose at times to tilt the scales. At this point I feel, that if the scales are to be tilted, then somehow I have a greater role to play... a role not only of an interceder or an arbitrator..but also of an extension of the hands of the Healer Himself. Open wide the gates, that, Have held the waters so. The rivers of Your awesome grace, Now needs to freely flow. I am waiting keen, expectant; To be drenched and fully drown.. Oh! for your tides of love To fill me toe to crown! Lord, I am so eager, To be washed and then to...

This is a hindsight poem. Only the future reveals the mistakes we have made. Sometimes we look behind and see unintended damage has been done. A poet's moods may carry him to uncertain heights but does poetic liciense allow for unintentional hurt? While every poem is subject to the interpreter's view of it, the poet must also carry the burden of unintentional hurts caused by his words. Here is my poem of reflection and a wish that my words may be able to edify rather than hurt...to build rather than break!  The rear view mirror reflects... the shreds and pieces left by words rampant, thoughtless, hurtful! Choking, I pray for words of love instead of hate.... those that nurture and let bloom trust and hope, bring joy and healing, and change tears to smiles! In between... those words and these, are our choices once again. For it is we who are free to choose... the weight and then consequences of every word that we get to use! 

No other day but Sunday different...plain different for this day is mine to plan, mine to use, mine to live... unlike the other days.. Those days, maybe..mine too. but tied up with so many longer threads..which began somewhere ,sometime and have knotted me before..behind... even sometimes bound be unreleasingly! But ...on a Sunday I have the right just to go on with the things that I might fancy, or like, or desire or just plain catch up with things I had just left behind.. and needed just this day to put together...my way! Sunday, a day when in my leisure.. or just to put together. I make the knots... Just of my pleasure!

Ridden by guilt and restlessness, I was asked to read the thirty second Psalm, which was written following David's own anguish after a personal tragedy. C. Swindoll's "Living beyond the daily grind" explains beautifully this psalm and shows how David traces the change from his initial anguish to his complete release and restoration...all because he can find complete forgiveness in God. Within the Psalm we also see his desire to share about his experience with others, so that they likewise find the joy that follows forgiveness like David did. Yesterday, I groaned, my heart was heavy, my restlessness drained my vitality, Until I confessed to You, my iniquity. Shackles released, embittered guilt free; No fingers now, dare point at me, My accounts are cleared, restored dignity! Shall I not then encourage? shall I not say?... "when it's still time, let the needy pray... for deliverance is available, freely today". Your instruction is here now, s...

I walk along a beaten path, somehow, the forest smells of wrath; there, I come across a broken tree... which points its branches towards me. And all along I get to sadly see.. the destruction left by a deep fury. There is anger even in the soil, the river running, its waters boil.. and scorched and parched the winds become while the living creatures are scared and numb. Where will they run when fire surrounds? and chased are they by anger's hounds! Then I get pointed to a mystery, There's only one magical key... when love holds strong in its beauty, the depth of forgiveness, is victory.. for fire can't quench old fire's thirst some one has to begin.... forgiveness first. The bruises may take time to heal, But no more let the robber steal.... Each live's precious hopes and dignity each deep trust and every liberty... For when you turn forgiveness' key It will unclasp and set you free! Ephesians 1:7  In who...