Jai K Garg's blog

Our servitude and the penance coexist.
Will the learned know who they serve,
Or the learner whom to serve.
Does not life exists for our penance.

A child born remembers not his past.

O! Performing artist of the weak and fickle mind.
Multi-headed serpent, frothing the air, in poisoned breath.
Degenerating, the Supreme, through creative lores,

Have we time enough,
To gloat about,
The dewy haze
Of blossoming spring’s.

Human fears,
That seem to grope along.
Breath,
As it hustles through humid lips.
Reckless mind,

The Param Atma manifests
In beings,
As creators in the lords footsteps.
He,
Expounding
The shackles of the soul,
For those undefined
Unconqured paths in nature;
Recreates new horizons

The Ganga flows
In gurgling ripples of laughter.
Overflowing edges
With its snow melted contents.
Quenching the foliage
With it’s sacred holiness,
And the stillness in the air