Monsoon, Kabir and Yoga
On gagan ghaṭā ghahrānī , of Kabir It is a Sunday morning in Sydney, overcast, and a drizzle of rain has just begun. The grey light takes me back to my childhood in Bangalore, to the overcast days of the monsoon. And then a strain of Kabir’s song floats into my awareness: gagan ghaṭā ghahrānī , “Gagan ghata”, clouds gathering in the sky. I had not gone looking for it. Like the clouds in the song, it simply arrived, and I wanted to follow it to see what it was saying. Clouds gather and darken in the sky, O sādhu, the clouds gather and darken. From the east a cloud has risen, and the rain falls soft, rim-jhim. Mend each your own dam: this water is running away. (For the full version in both the original and translation, go to the end of the blog.) Turning the mundane metaphysical Imagine the hour before a monsoon breaks. The air thickens, the light turns the colour of slate, and a cloud climbs out of the east. The first drops are soft, then the whole sky is falling, rim-jhim, rim-j...