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 

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 

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 

Beyond the myths

Karta kare na kar sake,
Shiv kare so hoye,
Teen lok nau khand main,
Shiv se Bada na koye!!!

Bijli Mahadev 🙏🙏🙏

A loud thunderous clap resonates

in the dark, dense wilderness

between the Mighty Dhauladhar 

and the imposing Pir Panjal.

Deafening. Piercing. 

And while the wild lands

are bathing in bountiful blessings,

lightning strikes. 

A bright flashing bolt. 

The Lingam breaks. 

Several parts of 

the aniconic form of Mahadev,

get scattered all over the range.

The priest and the faithful

find the fragments

and plaster them together

with clarified butter, salt, ground pulses

and roasted gram flour. 

The Lingam is restored. 

Only to be broken again.

Those who have measured time,

say this happens

once in every twelve years. 

Beyond the myths,

in the charred walls of temple, 

the truth resides. 

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha