amaryllis (/ˌæməˈrɪlɪs/[1]) – named after the shepherdess in virgil's pastoral eclogues. it stems from the greek ἀμαρύσσω (amarysso).
like a snake,
slicing my bones
and scratching my veins
with its scales.
my loss
burnt my fingertips
and dug a hole
in the centre of my chest.
i tried to feed the hole
kindness, drugs, and love
but my loss swallowed it all
and hungrily pushed against my ribs.
when i’m quiet
i can hear the hole
swelling under my heart,
greedily.
*poem featured in Wretched City. from my poetry collection “my loss is my root”, written in 2019.
thrilled to have finally gotten my undergraduate dissertation printed & bound – a tangible copy to celebrate its one year anniversary! 
taking a moment to gush: my final year as an undergrad was so very precious to me, as it represented the first big leap i took with my writing. dissertation-wise, i wanted to focus on what Richard Leonard calls “the mystical gaze” of cinema: cinema’s arguably innate fascination with the esoteric that enables the viewer to encounter the transcendent. although my supervisor advised me that it could be a tricky topic, i felt curiously pulled to it and decided to trust my gut – and so, my dissertation addressed the archaic imagery emerging in commercial cinema as seen through a Jungian gaze & argued that cinematic archetypes unveil layers of the psyche.
while i immersed myself in mystical Jungian realms, esotericism concomitantly trickled into my poetry modules. i stepped out of my comfort zone & compiled a collection of occult poetry for my final year portfolio: the poems centred on constructing a numinous female gaze that coloured the experience of transcendental states.
it was magical to delve into the otherworldly and to construct my very own lyrical cosmos, which resulted in deep awe of our internal psychological processes. i grew, and, most importantly, i had fun! it turned out to be my most mature & appreciated work at that time, while i myself realised that what had been missing in my approach was passion! i was playing safe with my writing, unwilling to pursue what truly interested me out of fear. the fear made my writing & myself stale, dry of wonder or juiciness – which are two things i’ve become committed to seeking in all that i do. thank you, sleepless dissertation nights, for this! here’s to piercing through the fear & to taking big scary beautiful leaps!
God(dess) knows we need them!
the whisper of your name, Beloved,
coats my heart in molten gold
and enfolds my core in aureate luster.
in the whisper of your name, Beloved,
my eyes shine like rhinestones
and my teeth gleam like pearls.
i adorn myself with your name, Beloved.
i wear you, the most precious gem,
as empresses wear their lavish jewels.
what is the need for riches,
when Keśava rests on my tongue?
🦚 “molten gold”, poem inspired by a delicious full moon meditation on Hanumān Jayanti at @sabda_institute & originally shared in our Śabda Sangha. below, the beautiful painting: “Madhava” by Dhrti Das & Ramdas Abhiram Das.
very happy (& a tad relieved) to have finished & submitted my lent term papers!! it’s been fun – i wrote about:
my favourite essay to work on has been: “The Question of Religious Violence in the Mahābhārata“, in which i explored Mahābhārata‘s cosmological rationalisation of violence through the concept of mahāpralaya (great dissolution) and through beloved Kṛṣṇa’s actions, addressed in the light of his self-identification with the destructive function of the divine: the all-consuming Time (Kāla). i juxtaposed this with the more secular stances the epic extolls, such as ahiṃsā (non-violence) & ānṛśaṁsya (non-cruelty) in the context of dharma-yuddha (just war). the overarching argument has been ~ it is simplistic to claim that the thematic preoccupation with conflict of an ample spiritual text such as the Mahābhārata instigates violence, as the epic’s fascination with conflict stems from its attempt to understand & unravel (& often regulate!) violence.
anyway, the personal conclusion i have reached is that, if i could spend my life writing about Kṛṣṇa, Draupadī and the Mahābhārata, i would – i certainly aim to!
pictured: my favourite sequence of the Kurukṣetra War & one of my favourite paintings – beloved Kṛṣṇa attacking Bhīṣma, while Arjuna pleads. the epic’s verses are hauntingly beautiful:
Filled with wrath, the great lord of Yoga jumped from the chariot. The mighty Kṛṣṇa of immeasurable splendour, the Lord of the Universe, roared like a lion. With eyes red as copper from rage and with his bare arms alone as weapons, he rushed towards Bhīṣma, desirous of slaying him. Now, with a whip in hand, Kṛṣṇa splits the universe itself with his tread. Robed in yellow silk, and himself dark as the lapis lazuli, Janārdana looked as beautiful as a mass of clouds charged with lightning. With a loud roar, the bull of Madhu’s race impetuously darted towards Bhīṣma. Beholding him of eyes like lotus petals, Bhīṣma addressed Govinda: “Come, come, O thou of eyes of lotus. I am yours.”
recording a poem for Śabda Institute about growing up, shyly & clumsily, & about learning to hold my inner child with sweetness – while being held myself within our luminous saṅgha
ending verses:
i caress the shame the little girl felt
let it blossom in the palms of my hands
pour loving awareness into the wounds stored within my body
until my heart releases and pulses
with pride in the light of sovereignty
and my little girl is lovingly held by my woman.
and, she is – and she will always be 
the poem’s called “spring song”
*current situation: basking in the afterglow of our Sphota retreat. softened heart & never-ending gratitude – to the unfolding of life, to the grace of the guru, to the support of the saṅgha, to the wonders of the path
and, journal-musing: this term has been so fruitful, despite working completely from home! i haven’t spent so much time at home since high school and, to an extent, i’ve felt like i was transported back to that time – minus the insecurities 
!
anyway, Mahābhārata’s been living in my head rent-free, and i’ve dedicated my time & research to writing about violence & religious conflict as they transpire in my beloved Kṛṣṇa’s actions and speech in the Kurukṣetra war & in the Bhagavad-gītā. 
additionally, i’m excited to be completing my first independent study, an exploration of issues of purity & impurity in non-dual philosophy, and to be undertaking a small research project into consumer spirituality and the relentless commodification that comes with it.
all in all, i am deeply grateful to be offered the opportunity to explore the marvellous Mahābhārata once more. its poetic teachings and ample cosmological symbolism have permeated through me and i often wish its universe would swallow me whole nonetheless, i’m certain that one needs to dedicate ten lifetimes to one parva, and i am not exaggerating ! as Vyāsa himself states in Ādi Parva: ~ what is found here, may be found elsewhere. what is not found here, will not be found elsewhere ~
i’ve never had so much workload crammed into such a short timespan, but i’ve been trying to savour the flavour of busyness. it’s alien to be doing all of this in my childhood home. it’s a fun parallel, though – whilst musing on the Bhagavad-gītā (by the way, we are exploring the B-g in our monthly satsaṅgs at #sabdainstitute with our beloved teacher Dr. Kavitha Chinnaiyan!), it dawned on me that i was so hungry for this knowledge in my teens, but i didn’t know where or how to look. it came to me in the end, and what a great joy it is ~ to sip the honey of “the stainless lotus of the Mahābhārata, born on the waters of the words of Vyāsa, fully blossomed through the grace of Hari…” ~ {my vague attempt at translating a śloka} 
mid-term study-break selfie
happy international women’s day! 🌹 may we fearlessly open to our inherent power (śakti) within. ♥️
taking this opportunity to express my deepest gratitude to the women who transformed my life.
dearest saṅgha, i am so grateful for your exquisite & luminous presence. thank you for loving me for who i am and for supporting me without coddling me. thank you for listening to me without judgment and for holding space for me to unravel. thank you for trusting me. thank you for teaching me what true feminism and true empowerment mean. even though you are miles away from me, i feel you so unimaginably close. i am immensely honoured to be walking this wondrous path with you holding my hand. i love you from the bottom of my heart
pranām to our beloved teacher, who gave us this marvellous, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to come together
śrī mātre namah
artwork credit: the very talented Anna Baartz!
“the world’s a boundless ocean
there’s no crossing it,
but i bank at your feet.
i see the waves,
the bottomless waters
and shiver in terror of dissolution.
be merciful,
save your beloved.
harbour me in your boat
to your feet.
the tempest storms without lull,
so too my shaking body.
i’m immersed in your name…Tārā!
the essence of the world.
fulfill this desire of You.”
my rendition of a few verses written by Bhakti poet Ramprasad Sen & picked from a poem dedicated to Tārā. the original translation belongs to Rachel Fell McDermott!
happy Navāratra! today is the last day of Śabda Institute’s immersion into the exquisite vidyā of Tārā, the luminous Mahāvidyā who embodies the very essence of pure expression – the north star that guides us to the self. we learned to chant the Tārā Dhyānam and explored highly esoteric concepts such as Vāk and Śabda Brahman from the standpoint of practical applications in our day-to-day lives. truly, what i love most about this approach is how highly practical and immediate the application is.
this Navāratra was wondrous, and i am grateful it is the second one i have spent in the company of our saṅgha. my heart swells for the glistening of the stars that shall guide me home…
śrī mātre namah!
*scattered poems published in scan lancaster, february 2020. they belong to a collection of poetry i compiled which chronicles the various stages of coping with grief. written a few years ago…
01. 01. 2018
dear A,
it’s been three years since i’ve lost you
and i swear i am trying.
i bought a shiny yoga mat
and i do yin yoga for grief release.
i ground my feet,
do warrior poses
and chant.
i try,
but no matter how much i contort my body at dawn
my sorrow rips through my brain
and sticks to my eyelids.
10. 02. 2018
most beloved A,
i wear my loss
like i wear my rings.
11. 02. 2018
darling A,
i swear i’m trying.
i’ve stopped reading sylvia plath
and i bookmark poems
about the universe that is supposedly unfolding in my core.
i read self-help articles about how pain is grace,
grinding my teeth.
i write inspirational quotes on purple notebooks
and i make bullet-points about buddhism
with pink pens.
i press the tips onto the paper
hard
as if to push what i write through me.
i beg my mind to meditate
i put on compilations of “deep relaxing & healing music with instant relief from stress”
and i force myself to still.
i download apps that ease anxiety
and i go to meditation groups on wednesdays.
but, no matter how long i stay cross-legged on the floor,
straightening my back and linking my thumbs,
it hurts.
25. 02. 2018
my dearest A,
i quit drinking
and i made new friends.
friends that drink hot chocolate
friends that watch soft films
friends that pray in the evenings
instead of drowning in face paint
and sprawling on dance floors.
they meet for coffee
they talk about how simple life is
and i nod when my heart clenches.
30. 02. 2018
beloved A,
my brain is softly melting to the floor
04. 03. 2018
ever dearest A,
i’ve been reading about the cycle of rebirth
i wish to believe in it,
but scepticism clouds my heart.
i’m not pure enough for transcendence
so if i am reborn
i wish i could be as small
as a sparrow.
11. 04. 2019
dear A,
i’m unsure where loss ends
and i begin.
with longing,
T. ☼
i long for closure and i crave familiarity,
melded thoughts and warm hands.
i am desperate to connect.
i want to feel someone’s soul
glued to mine.
i dream of intimacy,
but i’m clumsy:
when people embrace me too tightly,
i hiss like a cornered snake.
i’m wary of being alone, but
i drift away during conversations,
i ignore messages,
i break friendships,
i feign smiles.
i find refuge
in my bell jar.
every night
i close the jar’s lid with shaky hands,
hug my knees
and blow air on the glass.
*poem published in scan lancaster, february 2020, in the column ‘four incantations for loss, joy and love’. i wrote it two years ago, as part of my second-year poetry collection ‘teenage angst’. i aimed to emulate the restlessness i felt as a young, teenage girl. i feel so touched reading it! wish i could hug that olden version of myself.
amaryllis 