Golu 2026 - The Ten Avatars
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The Humble Pebble Series
The Humble Pebble, The Lofty Hermit
So there was this hermit on a hilltop. He had been sitting still for so long that anthills grew around him, on him and in
The Humble Hermit, The Lofty Masses (Part 2 of the Humble Pebble Series)
And then the masses flocked to the hermit, who stood at the brink of pebbledom. They begged and they pleaded, they wept and at his
The Pebble in Paradise (Part 3 of the Humble Pebble Series)
The brain is numb. The brain is alive. Numb to the ebb of emotions within.. pulsing with sizzling electricity to delve beneath. Lifeless to the
Thou Art.
Art is an expression of our collective consciousness that bursts forth giving form to abstract thoughts, feelings, moods that rise up from the depths of
The Identity Crisis
Who are we? No, really, who am I ?? The daughter of so and so, the father of this and that, living in such and
The Humble Pebble, The Lofty Hermit
So there was this hermit on a hilltop. He had been sitting still for so long that anthills grew around him, on him and in
The Monk in Seat 11A*
There was once a TV on the wall. Under it lived a Japanese monk with his disciples. Legend has it that he was a royal
Life as a Continuum
Many plants can be propagated by grafting. Carefully break off a branch, rebury part of it in soil and voila, it sprouts roots, then shoots
Blow Me Some Bubbles
We are all but bubbles strewn out of the same soapy solution. All the same, yet, all very different. Each one of us a different
My Father
Saraswathi Ganapathy. Is no more – in his mortal form. But will live on. At 92, a mind as vast as the cosmos, an intellect
The Catalog of the Damned
We are all cataloged. And cross cataloged. Like books in a library. We are men or women or in-betweens, we are Hindus or Christians or
Of Perceptions
We need to find the essence of life, mired as we are in the mundane, the daily commute, the rise and fall of the stock
When in Rome,
Be a Roman. While living this life, live. Live as your genes, your environs, your instincts mandate. Live as your dogmas, your notions, your religions
Mother
Thank you to every child that birthed a mother the moment it implanted, a placental tunnel into her soul. Long before the no’s of terrible
Death of an Artist
How does an artist die When the creator lives on In every creation Manifested A thousand fold In every stroke every note every syllable A