All that is beautiful comes from here….

I am afraid that even my fingers may not be able to say what I want.

I love to be on these peaks. I love the heights. This beauty, this is sundaram. This is something that I can only explain to my lovers. It is beautiful. This is not a story, it is not a novel, it is reality. My tear is a proof. Truth has to be proved by one’s tears, by one’s existence, by one’s way of living.

A scientist cannot be generous. He has to take care, he has to be the calculator, the cautious…but again his left side is taking over. Ashu is winning. This is a polar alignment. Devageet, the man, to the right; the woman, Ashu, to the left. This is not accidental. No man can be on the left, only a woman, because only a woman can be on the left; only a woman because only a woman can connect with me from the left side.

Man is just this poor right hand – workable, usable, technical, but otherwise of no use. The right side has no poetry, so man should remain on the right; then he is right. When he tries to be on the left he is wrong.

Don’t be afraid that I am going mad or something – it is impossible. How can a madman go mad again? Impossible! So with me you can be absolutely fearless.

Just like a flower…

a flower,

the bees are buzzing around it.

That is what happens around me:

The flower opens

and the bees start coming

and singing.

When I see that you are going mad I will stop. Till then let the flower grow and the birds sing. I am a little crazy. Everyone knows it, so no need to worry.

Ahhhh the flowers…

the birds…the bees…

I love it all.

Nothing can harm me,

not even death.

Now, now…it is immense!

The very grandeur of it…

the grace of it…

I am afraid to say so….