Kiranmayi Blog

 # 30s ME … To Myself at 30 --------------------------------------------------------------------- Dear myself aged 30 Hai and Hi Five About you, a lot I do hear And that brings both joy and fear Maturity is your gift, it's told Along with being sensible and bold It's told you bring maturity It's told you make me sensible It's told you make my life stable And It's told, to fulfill all my dreams, you make me able While these reasons are enough to excite There are few things  Which bother and give me a fright First of all, Are we both similar ? Or even better,  How drastically do we differ ? While change is truly  The only constant  From my authentic core I don't wish to be too distant  Do you find the fulfillment  Of my long-cherished dreams ? Or did you find them to be Silly childish whims? Everything changes I understand, As time flows So what are now your Dreams and goals? Oh, so many questions !  Hope you don't mind  Me putting you through...

The Alchemist -by Paulo Coelho  The Physical  and  The Philosophical  Perspectives The Alchemist is a must-read, a book for a lifetime. A single read is enough to hit a raw nerve deep within the consciousness and shake up the core of one’s very being. It shreds all prejudiced perceptions about Life to bits. It leaves an everlasting impact on the reader with profound insights into human life and the Universe, encompassing everything between and beyond. The book is at once both worldly and outworldly. While the book narrates the outward journey of the protagonist, with its many ups and downs, there is an underlying current of wisdom which pulls the readers inward, towards their own true selves. The external journey brings excitement, curiosity, thrills, and a euphonium of joy at the end when the protagonist succeeds in his mission. But the internal journey is reversed, it steadily calms the mind as one progresses deep into the tale, making one more open to marvelling...

Not Mere Mounds of Mud - Wha t lessons lie buried in Ant Hills : While the world now, with high rise bridges and skyscrapers, struggles to uphold basic civic order; the humble anthill hides with it lessons for civilizational progress. Without any scope of an ariel view, how do ants manage to build such architectural designs? It's the work they do underground which matters. The inside of an anthill opens up like a fantasy world, with an astonishing network of interconnected tunnels and chambers. It's not one deep dark hole, but has separate chambers for the Queen Ant, worker ants, food storage, etc. , with channels for air and water circulation, all within a seemingly tiny space.  Lesson#1 - Space management is not a matter of concern, it's the cornerstone of creation in Nature. These intricacies underneath lead to the outward impressive appearance. Lesson #2 - The devil is the detail. Focus on the details and the overall outcome will be magical.  Also, compare the size o...

  🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟  1.  The one to be my Husband ...  This is the kind I crave  Like the Sarva Shreshtha Pati ...  ShivShankara Mahadev   2.  The Adi Purusha who is  The epitome of Divine Masculine Far from a coward and effeminate Not arrogant, narcissist or vain 3.  Usullied by negativity As toxic-resistant as Neelakanth Simple, humble and decent As benevolent as Bholenath  4.  That firmly controlled Adiyogi Who reduced Cupid to ashes A Celibate I claim sole rights on  Pure, Loyal and Monogamous  5. The Ardhnarishwar for whom  Wife is Ardhangini, Better Half  NOT item, chick or babes A mere trophy or show-off  6. That Lord Shiva Who without Shakti is Shava  Two beings of One Soul Intertwined like Bhavani - Bhava  7. The Kailashpati for whom  Marriage is NOT mere fun & infatuation with a spoilt Princess  But it's about Family and Future  together with Gau...

🌟 An Ode to My Dad 🌟 *Dear Dad, with intense love and faith  Back home, do you I summon  Come and catch a glimpse of  Your little girl grown into a woman *A MasterChef, I'm called  But all the culinary skill is waste  What's the use of it , Dear Dad When even a morsel from my hand, YOU can't taste  *For functions and grand occasions Now I wear a saree But what value holds any compliment When YOU don't see the look I carry  *PhD scholar, I am  Creating a thesis worth a doctoral  But on many lonly nights, I grapple alone without guidance  Without OUR deep talks, habitually nocturnal  *Books, poems, music, photo edits Art of all kinds I still explore But whom should I share my ideas with  Without YOU around, my Creative Side gets less adore *A smartphone now I have  With all social networking sites But I keeping thinking how it would be To exchange with YOU all the jokes, edits, comments or likes  *Slightly extroverted...

🪔🌺🙏  *Being a woman as I am  Is all wrong they say Listen to me, they teach What's the right way  *Tumeric powder for fair skin Suggests the all-knowing traditional trad Na, better to use creams and bleach Advices the snobbish ultra-modern mod  *Fully dress up and decked - trad says carry your belief on body like a doll inert Mod dressing is exotic and catching up the latest style expert Well, don't both deny comfort ? *Trad says English speaking is bad, especially for a girl Mod feels mastery over mother tongue to be backward, rural  *Trad opines that too much of education corrupts females  Mod expects one to be a know-it-all, memorizing world's all tales  *Trad favous the family above all Mod is in favour of friendships standing tall - Both ignore the individual inner CALL   *Trad life is all full of blind beliefs and superstitions  Mod life is totally rational, devoid of emotions  *Trad demands to change lifestyle and tastes a...

Prince Kezin let out a deep sigh as he sat on his bed with closed eyes, legs outstretched. There was a terrible pain ransacking his leg, due to a wound caused by an arrow. The pain was unbearable, but it was nothing in comparison to the turmoil ranging in his mind.  He had imagined this battle to be a wonderful opportunity to fulfil one of his long-cherished childhood dream. But a cruel twist of fate had now dashed all his hopes to the grounds.  As with any other day, the Prince had called in the medical staff to get treated for the day's injuries. The royal doctor, on close examination of a particular wound on the leg, had declared that the Prince had been hit by the vicious 'Nanjjiu' arrow.  This meant that a seemingly simple arrow, which had struck the Price, had been tipped with a kind of deadly poison. The poison had already entered the blood of the Prince and would take hardly a day to spread throughout his body and kill him. The only known antidote of this poiso...