Raga-Malika

This is a collection of poems about Indian Classical Music--from Ragas to Instruments, Talas and Kritis. It connects the music to our every day lives.

Here is a sample:

RagasEvery raga has its place

On a very large family tree,

With 72 parents, full and complete,

A DNA of 7, 

paired on the way up and down.

A non-spiraled staircase, 

straight and to the point,

No wishy-washy parts.

Every raga has its family,

Children and cousins, 

And other random relatives

Who 

Jump and turn, 

Twirl and run,

Skip and hop,

Each to their own tune.

Every raga has its time,

On the continuum of the day,

The week, the month, and the year,

And even in the course of years.

Some are for the dawn, 

Falling in the creator’s auspicious moment;

Others, for the dusk, 

whence the blushing bride's beauty becomes alluring.

Some are for the moonlight, 

when babes rock in cradles, fading away for the night,

The night, when lovers come together, 

has its own tunes,

Romantic charm under the spell of the moon. 

Some ragas evoke the rain,

While others welcome the sun,

Some ragas feel like fire blazed bushes,

And others remind us of spring flowers blossoms.

Every raga has its own space,

Used in different ways.

Some are openers,

Others are crowd-pleasers.

Some make for great

Long, drawn-out pieces,

Others are short and sweet, 

Little teasers.

Every raga has its own purpose:

Living beyond itself and its family, 

Its time and its place.

Its purpose to evoke in each of us

A different feeling. 

To call out to one’s inner most thoughts and feelings,

Allow our emotions, the nine rasas, to be tickled,

Tingling with a buzz.

Some are great for making us laugh,

While others are companions for our sorrow;

Some might mirror the anger of Shiva, 

Helping us burn our deepest darkest secrets, 

Mak

Advertisement

ing us fearful or disgusted;

Still more, show us the way of peace,

Awe us with surprise,

At their courage.

Each raga has its specialty,

Making it unique.

Let each resound in our heart,

Awaken our energy,

And restore our soul. 

BhairaviA homage to the consort of Bhairava,

Who gave rise to the Kundalini,

The shakti we all wish to witness,

To experience that strength,

The power, the potency. 

Her fierce form of black stone,

represented by a raga that 

Hits every note 

In its own special combination.

Slow and steady, 

Grounding through the muladhaar,

Where we envision bright red garments 

On the deity.

She is a mainstay, a centerpiece,

An awe in our hearts,

Early in the morning,

Each--of twelve-- notes is sustained, 

illuminating

A different aspect of her nature, 

Just as the kiran lights the world.

She enthralls with her embodiment: 

Rising to the seat of Ga, 

the threshold which all must cross, 

To get to Dha and Ni, 

the pinnacles of this great masterpiece,

Its length only outshining its breadth: 

The book of all worldly knowledge she holds, 

Which again enlightens all, 

and destroys the darkness;

and its depth,

Like the lotus which climbs out 

from the murky muddy pond,

To once more spread joy, 

After being touched by an angel of warmth.

Seated on a soft pink lotus 

bursting open with the rays of the sun,

She holds a book, a mala, 

And shows her fearlessness 

And the giving nature of her being.

Her compositions are largely,

About her: a showcase of 

the Goddess’ inclination 

to kill the negativity within,

And allow the seeker to enter 

A spiritual state.

Om Hasaim, Hasakarim Hasaim,

Bhairavyay Namo Namah.