“Letting Go”



From affection arises grief
From affection arises fear
To him who is free of affection
There is no grief, much less fear

Letting GO……

I have turned to ‘philosophy’ once again,
Have written few verses on ‘letting go’
Which is easier to say, difficult to adhere
Yet with determination and wisdom
What is left of our lives, we should steer

If we cannot let go ‘things we love’
At least must try to let go our anger
Anger and hatred are useless imposters
Sticking to us as friends, throughout our live



A  dung beetle, within its dung ball
With efforts rolls down and uphill
A mixture of dung, sand and pebbles at least weighing
A thousand times its bodyweight, with a great struggle

If it can leave out pebbles and sand in that ball
Which it cannot consume, will halve its struggle
Yet desirous of making and rolling a big ball
Its ‘ego’ does not allow it to make it small
Alas! its whole life is wasted and perish sadly
And become a greedy Raven’s tasty meal
From craving arises grief



From craving arises grief

From craving arises fear

To him who is free from craving

There is no grief, much less fear

How different and calm our lives be

If we really learn to let things go

If things which are current and active

Are difficult to part, first

Let go things which have left us, as a start

Mimicking the dumb, dung beetle

We too carry in our silly heads,

Past grudges, regrets and even jealousies

Relationships old broken and long gone

The fact that everything has its own shelf – life,

cannot be overlooked by septuagenarians like us

Why not let go our lingering hatreds

To aid our minds be calm and heal

The greatest sage, clearly elucidated

All our suffering is ‘ownership’ based

Everything the sensory organs come into contact

Get connected to ‘us’ and lasts as a bit of ‘our own’

Hence lessening the load is the way forward

The fallacy is unless one is mindful

we do not even know it

However the moment you see, hear or feel

We tend to hoard experiences, every sordid bit

And they remain and colour our thoughts




Update from Praxy

Praxie Dear All, Well it is almost nine months since we had our RU and things and people have all seem to have gone very quiet. How is everybody keeping? As for Ranjit and myself we have been extremely busy visiting Sri Lanka about four times in the last 3 months to attend to some property matters and a wedding and now we are helping our daughter re locate back to UK. She has got a job in Leeds so we are house hunting for her as she is at the moment on a Leadership course at Summer Institute. Saturday whole day will be spent viewing some properties. Ariya since you lived in Leeds could you enlighten on some good areas please. It has to be near Carr Manor. In addition Ranjit’s first cousin from Las Vegas will be coming here with her son, on Sunday for about a 10 day holiday so be will be busy again taking them and showing the around. I was hoping to invite Chandra and Satpa and a few others for a little lunch but have not had the time for anything and by the time life gets back to normal Summer will be over. Let us know how our friend are doing and what they are up to. Cheers. Praxy

A Fading Rose





I once saw a flower and was delighted

Beautiful pink , I soon got attached

‘It was smiling at me’, I quickly deduced

It was yearning to be picked up; I did hallucinate,

I was simply deluded and wanted it to be mine


Could not resist, I was a slave of my senses and obliged,

Ignored the thorns, though they were very sharp

Did not matter it was in someone else’s garden

Going through a gamut of desirous feelings

Scraping my hand, grabbed the flower and avulsed


With greed to the point of intense desire,

I clung on to it, I had to keep it, ‘my pink rose’

Despite giving me bleeding and pain in the finger!

I got so attached’  I was nearly possessed by it


Wanted to keep it and guarded it jealously

Its appearance and fragrance, were heavenly

Every other second, I showed it to someone

When they said, what a pretty thing! I was beaming


It is all mine, I found it, and others too like it

But they haven’t got it, I was thrilled

It was blissful to hear the praise

Felt it was not the flower, they praised,

They were all praising me!  


Soon it became a part of me

Few fleeting moments, I was happy

Alas! The petals became floppy

Pliability and softness gone


The sweet smell, waned next

Became a foul smelling clot

Soon it had shrunken

Then it became a burden

I hated and threw it in a bin

My happiness flown away


The flower transiently, I owned

I thought would last and adored

I wanted it to be always with me,

Soon, I was glad to throw it away

The happiness gone, Now I am sad


When I analysed it through,

I wasn’t sad, before I saw the flower

So, does it infer, it was the fault of the flower

For smiling at me and perishing later

The flower should not have deceived me!  


Is it my eye that is at fault for showing it to me?

I was fine before I saw, that wretched flower

Why did the bewitched flower, invite me?

May be I did not pick the flower

But the flower did pick me, to deceive  


What made me to be so attached? 

Why did I allow myself to be deceived?

Did I carry an innate craving?

Didn’t I know, the flower would perish


 I should have known the nature’s rule

Every living thing will decay and die

If I knew that the flower would perish

Why did it hurt me when it obeyed the rule?


Was it the colour, the shape or the smell?

Why I pandered to transience, is unconceivable

If the flower or my eye did not want to deceive

Who really cheated me, in this ignoble game?


I have seen moths jumping to catch flame and die

The flame or moths’ eyes or wings do not want  to kill

So why moths cannot resist the bright lights

Am I the same, to be titillated by pleasure of my senses?


My thoughts became darker but deeper

I am now looking for the culprit, who deceived me

My anger for my eye and for the flower are gone

The flower is inanimate and the eye is just a lens


Sun rays showed the flower to me

Traversing via eye lens into my brain

But why did my brain, want the flower to be mine

Why was I attracted to a perishable thing, mean? 


I was confused, the blame game, crisscrossed

Among the flower, my eye and the brain

Who or what did really make me sad

Will I fall again to the same trap, I asked  


Then I saw a pussy cat crossing a busy road

Beautiful creature, blue eyes and a fine fur coat

It was coming towards me, I was very pleased

And I waited on the side, till it crossed the road


  Alas, a car hit ‘my cat’ and killed it on the spot

I felt unbearable grief, splitting my heart

I cursed the driver and cursed myself too

Not being able to save ‘my cat’ my sadness grew


Neither the cat nor the pink rose really were  mine

Moment I saw them I made them mine,  forgot the nature’s rule

Losing them brought sadness, yet faults were not of the cat or rose

Many flowers wither in the wilderness and other’s cats do die,

I am not sad  for any of those probably because they are not mine


  I am beginning to see some light in this conundrum

Realised the creator of sadness, not external  sensual objects

Nor the sense organs but my desire to acquire and clinging

So the wanting to make them ‘mine’ the root cause of  sorrow

and  crying


Of everything I see, hear, smell,

taste or feel as my own! 

 Next challenge, I have to conquer,

The reason to place ‘ME’ in the centre

Of everything my senses could muster


My parents, my children, my wife

My country, my house, my diploma

My job, my staff, my office, my dogma

Funny thing is that even the foes and adversaries

Are  all ‘mine, so will be my death and my illnesses!