Searching- A saga ✔

95- Where aren't You present?

Where aren't You present?

In the dark golden sunlight,
I see Your eyes bright.
In the pale liquid light of moon,
I see a face that makes me swoon.
In the wisps of chill wind that scatters my curls,
I find an embrace that tickles.
Within the drops of water trickling,
I hear that naughty laughter,
And then there are those dark clouds,
As joyous and thirst quenching as someone I know,
The trees blooming wild flowers,
Just like His heart rending smile,

Oh You tell me Yourself,
Where aren't You present?

In the faint clinking of my anklets,
I hear the music of flute,
In every bird that spreads its plumage,
I see the transcendental colours of a peacock feather,
Within every curl of my disobedient hair,
I see the curly haired son of Yashomati,
In the overhead fans that spin day and night,
I see the speeding Sudarshan chakra,
And in the shells scattered at the sea,
I see the dakshinavarta panchajanya,

Oh! You tell me Yourself,
Where aren't You present?

In the vast blue sky that stretches infinitely beyond,
There is that Infinite blue hued God,
In the pearls that I bedeck myself with,
I find that very same person grinning,
The tar black collyrium that I line my eyes with,
Dark as the darkest midnight: beautiful,
Ah ofcourse you know who I mean!

Oh I'll sell my soul to that one human,
And give up all my love and pride,
If they could show me a single particle,
In which that Chakradhary isn't present.

This very thought makes me swirl in bliss,
Because in every boring lecture hall,
Now I can look at the chalk smeared black board,
And see that butter smeared monsoon skin,
And talk about Raas, reminisce on Vanvaas,
Crack insolent jokes, giggle crazy.

Let me tell You a secret, Raghava,
I love You. Have forever loved You.
There is no other who makes me smile this way,
Like a mad woman I giggle all day,
Thinking about You. Talking with You.
And seeing you all around.

In dew drenched blades of grass,
Within wind chimes made of glass,
Over the colours of transient rainbows,
Groves of green where Sacred Basil grows,
In the curl of my lashes and bow of my lips,
At the wee hours of a lonesome eclipse,

Just as Prahlad's biological dad voiced,

Though I'll change the words to make it inclusive

"Within and without,
Man and beast,
Day and night,
God and demon,
Weapon and disease,
Sky and ground,
Living and non living."

Oh what a waste of time that was!
Because You are all that and much more.
Both, yet neither.

Now tell me: where are You not present?

Or should I rather ask,
Where are You present?

Perhaps, I should draw a long moustache,
Raise a huge mace and bellow at a pillar,
With that awkward wavering modulation,

Atleast then I can hope for You,
To magically pop up from behind that column,
And cry, "Surprise"

Oh, how lovely that would be!

You and I have a future at the theatre....

Perhaps in another birth.
Or in an another yuga altogether!