India’s Mystery of Mastery
INDIA’S MYSTERY OF MASTERY
The dust and dirt,
permeated by tooting and swerving,
as the auto rickshaw weaves its way to the guesthouse,
women carrying water pots on their heads,
water tipped out into the street,
rubbish like paper mashe stacked in water ways,
activity in every square inch,
humans working for and against each other,
as the poor beg on the street,
the colourful saris permeate the colour of life,
and we are racing through this landscape,
whisked away,
as we peak through our western window,
to find meaning in the east,
to discover there is little that we actually see,
for there is a philosophy,
a cosmology,
a mindset that is same same but different,
and when I think of those seeking to control the world,
have no idea of how many worlds they are unable to control,
for the diversity is breathtaking,
the ways are organised chaos,
yet with a smile people get on and do what they can,
work within constraints yet seeking mindlessness,
as the yogi seeks to free herself from bondage,
for he has been suffering,
wisdom is giving to live,
and living to give,
is the motto of sages,
and this is the home of the saints,
of a spiritual poetry that entices the heart,
for the spice of words waft on the wings of dreams,
as every life finds they are a thread in a great tapestry,
and Ganesh is the pink elephant in the room,
that many forget yet stands silently for hope,
for always life is a mystery,
and we always live for the mastery of mystery,
for this is the mastery of India’s mystery.