Hymns in the wind

As the grand celebrations of Mandi Shivratri conclude, a deep silence settles over the valley. Yet, in the hearts of devotees, the echoes of festivity and devotion linger. This poem captures the essence of that spiritual afterglow—the belief that Lord Shiva’s presence is eternal, felt even in the whispering breeze of spring. Though the trumpets may quiet, the soul continues to rejoice, knowing that the divine never truly departs.

The valley falls silent. 

But there are echoes in my heart. 

Oh! I can hear, 

the trumpets of Thy footsteps.

lingering in the spring breeze.

Thou art here, with me!!!

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Cloaked in blessings

As the grand festivities of Mandi Shivratri draw to a close, a sacred ritual marks the completion of the celebrations—barely powder, sanctified in the Lord’s name, is tossed into the air, sealing divine blessings upon the valley for the year ahead. This act symbolizes gratitude, devotion, and the continued grace of the Almighty. The sacred offering becomes a cloak of protection, ensuring prosperity, peace, and spiritual fulfillment until the festival returns once more.

Handful of barley, 

crushed, sanctified by Thy name. 

Cloak of protection, 

Thy blessings cast in the air. 

The valley smeared in Thy love. 

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Until we meet again

As the grand festival of Mandi Shivratri concludes, the heart holds a mix of gratitude and longing. This poem reflects the emotions of bidding farewell to the deities and celebrations, yet finding strength in the unwavering faith that Shiva remains with us beyond the festivities. Just as devotees depart, carrying His blessings, this poem serves as a prayer—trusting in His divine strength, knowing that today and tomorrow remain safe in His eternal embrace.

So long my dear friend. 

so long,

and until then, 

strong in Thy strength, 

safe in Thy hold.

in Thee do we trust, 

our todays and tomorrows.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Whispers of creation

Mandi Shivratri, a celebration of divine order, reminds us that everything unfolds by His will. The blooming of flowers, the tilt of the earth, the fading of life—all are but echoes of His decree. In surrender, we find harmony; in devotion, we glimpse eternity. This poem is a humble offering to the One whose word alone sustains the universe. 

By Thy decree, this creation. 

By Thy will, the earth tilts.

By Thy command, the flowers bloom. 

By Thy order, the life wilts.

Thy word alone, and nothing beyond, 

creating, sustaining, magic wand.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

The grand fair

Mandi Shivratri, a grand celebration of faith, unfolds like a cosmic fair where deities, devotees, and traditions blend into a divine spectacle. Inspired by this vibrant festivity, this naani poem reflects on the world itself as a grand fair, shifting through seasons under the watchful eyes of the Supreme. Much like the fleeting nature of a festival, life too is a transient magic show, held together by the unseen hands of the Divine, reminding us of His omnipresence.

This fair, called world, 

very many 'tis seasons.

Under Thy powerful watch, 

a charming magic show. 

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

A fair of faith

Every year, the grand Shivratri celebrations in Mandi bring together devotion, festivity, and the joy of spring. This poem captures the excitement of revisiting the fair, where prayers, music, and dance fill the air in honor of Lord Shiva. The vibrant festivities reflect both spiritual devotion and the warmth of shared celebrations. Just as spring renews the earth, so does faith renew our hearts, reminding us of the divine love and blessings that grace this sacred occasion.

Oh come dear, like every year,

we shall again visit the fair,

and pray and dance and sing,

we shall celebrate the spring,

for in Thy love, all fetes and feast, 

And Thee loves me too, a handsome treat.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Where shadows fade

After relentless rains and overwhelming floods, the sun finally shines, illuminating paths once lost to darkness. Just as nature finds renewal after a storm, so do our souls in the grace of the Divine. We, the wayward, burdened by countless missteps, seek His mercy to guide us toward roads where light prevails and shadows no longer haunt. This poem is a humble prayer for redemption, a longing to walk in the warmth of His boundless forgiveness.

We, the waywards,

very many our trespasses.

Thou art the merciful,

steering us to roads

where the sun shines 

and shadows fall behind.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Footfalls of grace

This poem reflects the perennial hopes of mortal traders, who navigate both the worldly marketplace and the spiritual realm. In its vivid imagery, the "rains of Thy mercy" symbolize divine grace that satiates our hearts, while traders fervently pray for the rains to end so that the vibrant Shivratri fair may proceed bountifully. It speaks eloquently to our human desires, a deep longing for both earthly prosperity and the transcendent fulfillment found in divine embrace.

The rains of Thy mercy,

our hearts satiated.

Sunshines too in Thy embrace. 

We, the traders, wait for footfalls.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Cosmic Carnival

Set in the picturesque valley of Mandi, Himachal Pradesh, this tanka captures the vibrant spirit of Mahashivratri. It celebrates Shiva’s wedding feast, where gods rejoice and devotees dance in divine harmony. The poem attempts to blend celestial festivity with inner renewal, evoking a joyous spring within every heart. In this sacred celebration, nature and spirit unite, reflecting the eternal, transformative grace of Shiva.

Blessed is the valley! 

Gods rejoice and devotees dance. 

Shiva's wedding feast. 

Within the hearts, joyous spring. 

Outside, the festivities.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

In the arms of Shiva

This devotional piece is a loose adaptation of the revered "Deh Shiva Bar Mohe Ih" composition, reimagined for the sacred celebrations of Mahashivratri. In this heartfelt invocation, the devotee passionately pleads for divine strength, courage, and unwavering commitment to righteousness, even in life's fiercest battles. Embracing the timeless spirit of Lord Shiva, the poem encourages a relentless pursuit of good deeds and an enduring bond with the divine, even as mortal life fades into dust.

Bless me, oh Supreme Master! 

Grant me this boon

that I may never sidestep

from doing good deeds.

That beyond all fears,

I may have the courage

to face every battle of my life

and I may have the faith too, 

that by Thy grace, I shall win them all.

That I may teach myself

to be hungry always, to be greedy, 

for singing Thy glories.

And that I may not forsake Thee

even in the eventide of my life. 

That when my mortal self turns to dust, 

I should still be fighting hard to hold on to Thee.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Echoes of Shivratri

This free verse poem vibrantly captures the spirited celebration of Maha Shivratri in Mandi, Himachal Pradesh. It brings to life the dynamic energy of the divine procession, where beating drums, lush greens, and clear blues echo the mystical pulse of spring. It appears that nature joins in a jubilant cavalcade of devotion and renewal during the arrival of deities. 

I can hear the drums beating. 

That mystic rhythm,

spellbinding, irresistible refrain.

Far away in my valley, 

the Lords are arriving.

on the palanquins of spring.

Oh! I can feel it in my heart, 

the pulse, the cadence, the melody

of their arrival. 

I can see

the lush greens, the clear blues, 

the royal cavalcade.

Oh! And I am there.

By all my heart.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

The rhythm of devotion

In Mandi, Himachal Pradesh, during Maha Shivratri, an awe-inspiring gathering of deities infuses the air with profound spiritual and celebratory energy. This annual international fair transforms the town into a vibrant stage of divine revelry. The poem captures this celestial spectacle, portraying gods descending, nature adorned in spring, and hills echoing with drumbeats, culminating in Shiva’s grand wedding. It invites us to experience the transcendent union of cosmic devotion and festive celebration with joyous fervor.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

The Forsaken

That landmark corner of alley, 

those monolithic tablets

inscribed with royal memoirs,

became our very first playground. 

Oblivious to their noteworthiness, 

we disturbed 

those sacred stones

with our hoo-ha. 

And I guess,

whatever phantasm it is, 

that resides in those annals, 

enjoyed, when our tiny feet 

mauled that space, 

(a little ungraciously though) 

playing hide and seek, 

oonch neech ka papda, 

and countless rounds of box cricket. 

It kind of felt alive.

Awake. Cognizant. 

But now,

cloaked heavily in its silence, 

memorial stands forsaken.

The hubbub has faded.

And the specters shiver. 

Creepy, cold, lonely specters

in abandoned, forlorn cenotaphs.

Sounds so much like us.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha