Neha Bansal's Blog

 She swirls in green fields

Singing of birth pangs and blooms

Change is her language. 

He is the blue sky

Quiet witness to all her moods,

Still and beyond time. 

Shakti is the breath

Shiva the space it traverses

Without her,

He is inert 

Without him 

She is fire wild

She coils at the muladhar

He waits at the Sahasrara

Breath bridges their kiss. 

He is the mountain still

She a gurgling river that sings

Love erodes all forms.

He is sky, untouched.

She, the moon that waxes bright

Each night,

she dances wilder

but never leaves

his gaze.

Shiva stands alone

A Deodar tree on high peaks

Shakti is the light 

That filters through ancient leaves

Warming his Himalayan heart

 Navgraha 

Surya 

Seven horses drive

Golden chariot full of light 

Soul’s eternal guide

Chandra 

Sky’s silver cradle,

rocked gently by the mother 

feelings ebb and flow.

Mangal 

Peacock-mounted Skanda

hurls his spear through stubborn dark —

red fires up his veins.

Brihaspati

Yellow-robed Vishnu

the lotus of wisdom blooms

where his footsteps fall

Budh 

Emerald orb spins

as Ganesha shapes the mind —

celestial scribe.

Shukra 

Lakshmi’s jasmine feet

trail stardust across the sky —

peacocks whirl in bliss.

Shani (Saturn)

Midnight’s sentinel

weighs truth against each karma —

Saturn carves the soul.

Rahu

Skies rain down silver,

the head whispers golden lies —

stars blink in doubt.

Ketu

Though eyeless, he sees —

ego journeys toward moksha,

metamorphosis.

 Navarasa

Shringara (Love and Beauty)

The scent of parijat

lingers in the soft moonlight —

my breath entangled with his.

⸻

Hasya (Laughter).

Sethji’s fat hands reach,

prasad vanishes mid-air—

monkey grins, mouth full.

⸻

Karuna (Compassion and Sorrow)

My child sheds a tear,

a mother bird mourns her nest —

grief lingers, silent.

⸻

Raudra (Fury)

Another Nirbhaya.

The third eye of Shiva must

burn this world to ash.

⸻

Veera (Heroism)

In Subhadra’s womb

a young warrior keenly

awaits the battlefield.

⸻

Bhayanaka (Fear)

Swords and lit torches

in hands of people praying

to another God.

⸻

Vibhatsa (Disgust)

Vultures encircle

the red-bloodied, reeking earth —

death dances about.

⸻

Adbhuta (Wonder)

The joy of catching

fireflies in little hands —

the wonder of twilight.

⸻

Shanta (Peace)

Blessing of full moon

washes over the suckling

babe with milk divine.

 The Hindu Calendar

The earth smiles in flowers

as Chaitra heralds with joy

the birth of Lord Rama.

Vaishakha sun smiles bright,

promising cornucopia

on Akshay Tritiya.

Jyeshtha’s parched lips,

chanting Vishnu’s thousand names,

burn lifelong sins.

The dark Ashadha clouds

rain rivulets of delight.

Devotees throng Puri.

Green succulence paints

the chunris of womenfolk

swinging Sravana jhoola.

Bhadra skies are dark;

Yamuna swells to kiss the feet

of baby Krishna.

Ashvin’s moonbeams adorn

each form of Navdurga,

lighting lamps within.

Cool Karthik winds charm

the fragrant hearts of parijat;

Lord Ram comes back home.

Margashirsha’s mild sun —

seeking Krishna as a groom,

girls weave marigold haar.

Granaries brim full

in Pausha’s hush before spring;

hearths hum with promises.

Magha’s saffron tides

call pilgrims for sacred rites,

as Ganga flows on.

Palaash blooms ignite —

Radha blushes in delight,

Krishna’s Phalguna.

Navarasa

Shringara

The scent of Parijaat

lingers in the soft moonlight

my breath entangled with his

Hasya

Those unabashed squeals

Like a myriad soapy bubbles

Chased by little ones

Karuna

My child sheds a tear,

A mother bird mourns her nest-

Grief lingers, silent.

Raudra

Another Nirbhaya

The third eye of Shiva must

burn this world to ash

Veera

In Subhadra’s womb

A young warrior waits keenly

to kiss battle field

Bhayanak

swords and lit torches

In hands of people praying

To another God

Vibhatsa

Vultures encircle

The red bloodied reeking earth

Death dances about.

Adbhuta

The joy of catching

fireflies by those little hands

The wonder of twilight

Shanta

Blessing of full moon

washes over the suckling

babe with milk divine.

Fire

All turns into gold,

As your radiance burns bright,

Purging the impure.

Earth 

Tree roots go so deep,

Whispering patience to Earth,

The only home known.

Air 

A blade of grass sways,

Fluttering with prairie winds,

Dreaming of freedom.

Water 

Rains form little streams,

Paper boats with tiny dreams

Sail hearts’ vast oceans.

Sky/Ether

Stars in a dark cape,

Timeless enormity fills,

Every waiting void.

 Vasanta 

A thousand Palash 

Like a forest catches flames

The perfect Holi

Grishma 

Tangy youth of spring

dissolves in summer warmth

glass of Aam panna

Varsha 

Green foliage abounds

As rains cool the parching bricks

Thirsty for ages

Sharad 

A dried pipal leaf 

carrying scent of summer past

Falls without much ado. 

Hemanta 

Coffee’s warm aroma 

sitting by the winter hearth 

An old beatnik poet. 

Shishira

sesame crackles 

To fight the merciless cold

On low roasting flame

Whether it was a curse

of an ever irascible Rishi,

Or a convenient bout 

of amnesia that suddenly 

enthralled a philandering king,

after an initial heartbreak 

Shakuntala didn’t care. 

No stranger to desertion

by a bored mother 

and a detached father

she gathered all the fortitude 

and moved deep into the forest

A single parent to Bharat, 

who played with lion cubs

and was breastfed valour

That gushed through her veins. 

 Peacocks dance in gold

On the vast expanse of my

Ma’s ivory saree 

Picking the gold stud

That sat on her regal nose

My dadi’s ashes

Urdu edition

Of the paper Baba read

Lies untouched on floor