Mahārājñī

She who shines like golden dew
She who is robed in silks of ruby
and adorned with gems of splendour
She who abides in the oblatory fire
and wears rising suns as earrings
She whose tender face is of flowers
and whose eyes are the triad of time,
i take refuge at her feet.

aureate enchantress of desire,
melt the greed nestled in the pools of my heart
make it so i do not again defile the fruit of your womb that is existence itself
and bless me to tread gently in this life
to walk in harmony with your children,
enamoured with the highest truth that is You. ✨

♥️ from an in-the-works poem of mine entitled “Mahārājñī”, written on the last day of retreat with my beloved saṅgha & teacher, which culminated with an all-day intensive open to the public consisting of the exquisite Siri Jyoti Pūjā, designed by our Kavithaji’s paramā-guru – Śrī Amritananda Natha Saraswati of Devipuram. the pūjā has been the most beauty my eyes have ever beheld at once.

📸: my first time wearing a saree with the occasion of the pūjā, which i believe to be the most beautiful garment ever created. ♥️ /  adulating the Śrī-cakra, photo credit – @sabda_institute.

deeply touched, in awe & grateful. śrī mātre namah 🙏 

I, Lalla

🕊 kneeling at the cradle of the skies and the seas,
she prays with her hips
and she asks the Earth for forgiveness. 🕊

~ these are my favourite lines from an ending poem belonging to my final year project: a devotional collection about the feminine mystique. while writing it, my greatest influence was Lalleshwari, who also is my favourite poetess. i’ve been fondly thinking of her today as i revisited my poems. from her collection “I, Lalla”:

🌙 Wrapped up in Yourself, You hid from me.
All day I looked for You
and when I found You hiding inside me,
I ran wild, playing now me, now You. 🌙

🌙 As the moonlight faded, I called out to the madwoman,
eased her pain with the love of the One.
‘It’s Lalla, it’s Lalla,’ I cried, waking up the Loved One.
I mixed with Him and drowned in a crystal lake. 🌙

🌙 I wore myself out, looking for myself.
No one could have worked harder to break the code.
I lost myself in myself and found a wine cellar. Nectar, I tell you.
There were jars and jars, and no one to drink it. 🌙

i aimed to emulate her character into the female voice i created: an embodied woman devoted to the supranatural, whose esoteric experiences were deeply personal, imperfect and feminine. 💜 Lalla (or Lal Ded) was an enchanting Kashmiri mystic and saint, who created the prominent style of spiritual poetry known as “vakhs”. she wrote heart-wrenching, devotional poetry to Lord Śiva, who she was enamoured with. she wore nothing but the tresses of her long hair and lived the life of an ascetic: she renounced all worldly possessions and would wander, bare, sharing her wisdom and teachings. some lauded and worshipped her, some threw rocks at her, but she paid no mind. she wrote:

🌙 They may abuse me or jeer at me,
They may with flowers worship me.
What profits them whatever they do?
I am indifferent to praise and blame.
Can a few ashes a mirror befoul? 🌙

^ i wish to tread through life so wildly. 🩰😊 excited to share this collection of mine with you in the (far) future, when the time is right. 💜

me treading through life coyly in portugal, where i hope to relocate one day. i have kept adding photos to this website, although i never thought i would do that at first. but, i don’t know, i feel vaguely nostalgic, times are changing quickly, i’m growing out of my mermaid hair… and there is longing inside of me to share, to connect, as i am, clumsy and … lost… and me….

The heartfelt tale of Mīrābāī: poetry, subversion and unbridled devotion

🕊 Ankle Bells 🕊

🕊 Mīrā dances, how can her ankle bells not dance?
“Mīr is insane,” strangers say that. “The family’s ruined.”
Poison came to the door one day; she drank it and laughed.
I am at Harī’s feet; I give my Beloved body and soul.
A glimpse of the One is water: How thirsty I am for that! 🕊

🌺 Mīrā the Lotus 🌺

My One, the love that binds us cannot be broken.
It is hard as the diamond that shatters
the hammer that strikes it.
As polish goes into the gold, my heart
has gone into you.
As a lotus lives in its water, I am rooted in you.
Like the bird that gazes all night at the passing moon,
I have blinded myself in giving my eyes to your beauty.
She who offers herself completely asks only this:
That the One loves Mīrā as fully as the One is loved.

🌷 A Great Yogi 🌷

🌷 In my travels I spent time with a great yogi.

Once he said to me.

“Become so still you hear the blood flowing

through your veins.”

One night as I sat in quiet,

I seemed on the verge of entering a world inside so vast

I know it is the source of

all of

us. 🌷

~ poems written by Mīrābāī, mystic poet, bhakti saint and devotee of Krishna. 🦋 she is a great inspiration of mine! although she was married off to a prince at a very young age, she refused to become a homemaker and did not renounce her smouldering devotion to Krishna. she thus continued dancing ecstatically, singing in temples and openly conversing with sāddhus. her in-laws could not accept a woman so free, and tried to kill her repeatedly. they failed each time, and, in turn, Mīrā left and set out on a series of pilgrimages. she devoted her life to illumination and bhakti poetry, and it is said that she merged with the image of Ranchorji at the time of her death. 💙 may we all dance through life so freely 💙

photo of me from a soft day, in which i swayed in my white dress and read Mīrā until my eyes were wet with longing 🙂