Gautam Sachdeva

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Guest Blog – The Light of the Guru by Priya Tandon

Priya’s reverence for this precious Teaching of Advaita took the form of these poems that arose spontaneously. They are an outpouring of love from the heart.

 

Our Beloved Guru

Beloved Guru speaks—
 Let the wind carry you like a leaf
 Its direction, only God knows
 Which way the divine breeze blows.

If you cross other leaves mid-air,
 They will bid you well, without a doubt or care
 For what went, and what will come.
 No one the doer, naught to be done.

There is no other—
 All Consciousness is One.
 He is the here and the now.
 He stands, bends, and takes a bow.

He loves, He fights,
 He pacifies, He spites.
 Then whose is this form
 If He has been playing,
 The moment we were born
 To the moment we die?

Till I met the Guru,
 All along, I was living a lie.

A Guru

A Guru loves not just a few—
 He loves one and all.
 To big and small,
 He is Love and Kindness.

His love is not held captive
 In ego’s blinkered blindness,
 Bartered one smiling moment,
 To escape the next sour hour,
 Controlling through games of mind and power.

Love is His very fabric,
 In the deep hallowed heart—
 Not a honed skill or a displayed art.
 It spreads like rose drops scattered through the ether,

Unseen yet felt, inhaled,
 Immersed in every soul,
 Drawing them into the vast whole.

A Guru teaches by example what Love truly means—
 A perpetual flow of inner serene.
 His nature, so pure,
 Its essence, a universal lure

To scores who’ve known much pain.
 Searching, they reach His feet,
 Where peace is what they gain.

The Light

Eyes with a gentle glint of the light of Kindness,
 Heart with the soft beat of the light of Compassion,
 Hands with the slow dance of the light of Poise,
 Lips with the whisper of Light’s wisdom,

Pouring forth into endless love,
 Paused with words and answers
 From realms beyond.

Ancient truths quench parched seekers
 With the pure simplicity of clear spring water.
 The gaze of understanding—sweeter than the rarest golden honey.

Oh Light, Your emissary sits before me,
 As I bow at those precious feet
 To teach us to surrender without judgement
 To every being that we meet.

Peace

Pure effervescent Ananda
 With Compassion and Enlightenment—
 Such is the meaning of peace at the Guru’s feet.

The joy and inner silence is boundless when we meet.
 The love, so palpable, yet beyond compare—
 Few souls have such hearts, limitless and rare.

Bursting forth, the wellspring of gratitude
 Subtly shifts the seekers’ attitude
 From sadness, anger, or grief
 To acceptance and restful relief.

An awareness of the Guru’s Gyan
 Seeps into one’s being,
 Opening the eye of wisdom
 That permits a witnessed seeing.

Sat-chit-ananda,
 Contained in that eternal moment—
 Once tasted, lies no longer dormant.

Awakened as His blessing,
 A prasad by Grace Divine.
 His heart belongs to all—
 It is merged with yours and mine.

Giver of Light and Peace

Each particle in the room is peace—
 Wave upon wave of prana
 Washes over intent listeners.

Peace… stillness…
 Their breathing has slowed,
 Punctuated by an odd yawn
 From sleepless nights,
 Dodging racing minds.

Wrapped in simple nuggets,
 Wisdom dawns on hidden eyes—
 Eyes that have been asleep,
 Now opening, watching, resting in the essence.

The resistance has dissolved.
 Each word leads to a beautiful awakening
 Into… peace.

The love in the room,
 The non-judgement,
 The kindness,
 The crystal clarity,
 The embrace of acceptance—

Is where the Light has
 Pervaded everything,
 Leaving dampness clinging
 To hearts of glistening dewdrops.

Guru, Grace, Gyan—
 The giver of Light and Peace
 Gazes at His own reflection.

Love and Pink Blossoms
Priya Tandon

Generations are not taught how to
love themselves—
instead, to love gurgling infants
and newborn puppies,
rare pink blossoms, snow-capped peaks
and white lilies
that melt our heart and fabric.

We stiffen like strangers at the
idea of loving our very own soul,
utterly, unabashedly, deservingly whole.

We were never taught to
recall we are beings of Ascension—
simply here to play a temporal role,
and not be defined by grasping
at time-bound, measurable goals.

Because life often happens to us
despite the boxes being
ticked and post-its pinned,
and life often blows us like leaves
in the gust of a sudden wild wind.

Who except the Guru and Lord of Light
can truly win this ardent fight—
in helping us to remember who
we always were—
that when we look
at ourselves in the broken mirror,
we dissolve into a vast field of Love
that science, ego, and listless logic
has been unable to disseminate, nor conquer.

For any feedback/comments please write to prisingh85@gmail.com

Illustration courtesy, Santosh Sachdeva, Kundalini – the Gentle Force, published by Yogi Impressions

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