Gandhism (गांधीवाद): Marathi Poem


Gandhiji wore loincloth of Khadi
We patronise marketed Khadi
That’s our limit of Gandhism –
Don’t shed crocodile’s tears.

(Translated from the original by the author)


गांधीजी पंचा नेसत होते.
आम्ही बाजारू खादी नेसतो.
ही आमची गांधीवादाची मर्यादा --
नक्राश्रू ढाळू नकोस.

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Prayer Power and Global Climate Warming

Prayer Power and Global Climate Warming

by Remigius de Souza

Prayer Power: Poem by Remigius de Souza

In the realms of Terra Incognita Indica, sages and saints for centuries acclaimed Sahaja-Dharma – natural intrinsic Dharma – of an individual that is beyond and above any Authority, Institution or Agency. Dharma upholds spirituality / religiousness, even if one may be theist or atheist.

Prayer Power

Prayer when becomes Work
Nature becomes ugly liability.

Work when becomes Prayer
Nature becomes supreme serenity.

(Nature, here, that is inside and outside both.)

Global Climate Warming

WITH THE of civilised societies, there also grew elite classes of rulers and clerics i.e. institutionalised religions, which believed in gods or non-gods, where the rulers assumed the role of incarnation of gods, coroneted by the blessings of the class/ caste of clergy.

Ever since, the history has been witnessing chaos, conflicts, exploitation in the name of sovereignty and/or in the name institutionalised religions and their respective gods. However, ironically, the great civilisations and the empires (until the last century) vanish, and People prevail.

As the civilisations advanced, of course in technologies, with new, newer weapons of war of domination over and exploitation of the weaker, the underclass, also emerged.

The history also witnesses the rise of institutionalised ‘no-God-religions’ and the weapons of war, colonisation, globalisation, market, economy, and convenient laws of the state that may rule and deliver judgements but not Justice; all these add on the already existing chaos.

All the religions and hypothetical systems, which rule, promise protestation of life, happiness and salvation during life and/or after Death (now, in the clones, perhaps).

All humans are subject to emotions roused by their senses, virtues and vices, strength and weaknesses handed over by their grooming and orientations; the more powerful the greater their insecurities.

However, the so-called modern, powerful advance societies have succeeded in organising vice/s on mass scale at global level to the effect of mass murder of Land and Waters and all the Living Beings.

Despite all the hullabaloos raised by these societies on the issue of Global Climate Warming, indeed it is trivial before this crime. To cover up their own crimes on mass scale these societies hold the whole of humanity responsible for global climate warming.

Remigius de Souza
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.
Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape


मातीचा माणूस - मातीचा सुगंध

मातीचा माणूस - मातीचा सुगंध
आधुनिक युगाची कविता

मातीचा माणूस
विसाव्या शतकाच्या अखेरीला
माय चावूनझ राजकारणी लोकांची
पंथास लागलेला।

मातीचा गोळा
त्याचा केला प्याला
साठवली पहिल्या
धारेची नशा त्यात
मध्यरात्रीच्या नि:शब्द सान्निध्यात।

मातीचा गोळा
त्याची केली पणती
त्यात वात पेटवली
मधारात्रीच्या नि:शब्द सान्निध्यात.

मातीचा गोळा माणूस
त्याचा केला
जीव त्यात फुन्करला
नाव त्याचे ठेवले
मातीचा पूत

त्याला पावसात भिजत ठेवला
कुजत ठेवला
ठोकून थोपटून घडवला
उनात त्याला करपला.

माणसाची माती
एकविसाव्या शतकाच्या
कधी काळी येईला का त्याला
मातीचा सुगंध?
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


हीमनगाची टीप

हीमनगाची टीप

हीमनगाची टीप
अंगाराचे उद्रेक

© Remigius de Souza।, All rights reserves.





On my last lap my meek feeble body
Surrenders on the operation table
For a surgery on my right eye.

While getting ready my body is covered.
My left arm moves. Someone questions,
‘Any problem? Tell us’. ‘No problem.’

Yet again the same action and same question.
‘A fly on my nose; my mind’s trickery.’
A young voice sings a famous tune.

My nagging mind keeps poking at my body,
‘You have a constant cough these days.
What will happen if you cough now?’

The surgeon works like a sculptor
with her delicate fingers and fine tools
on my untimely ageing eye, on a living body.

My right eye reveals vibrant spectrum
in many a rainbows in many shapes
moving, changing in a lost space – time.

A tiny part of my body dies. sooner
than I realise, a grey flash for a while.
Than once again ‘similar’ rainbows appear.

My arrogant mind now is stunned
by the power of homeostatis:
as if by miracle no sign of cough.

Seeing this and the revelations
of rich abstractions of colours
my mind is humbled before my body.

My dominating mind had bullied my eyes
– my body – to toil for decades –
O, ages – for its own limitless ego.

One mind pushed an organic part to decay,
another replaced it by one made of Earth:
Both could have been saved by some sanity.


At an early age mind could only reach
out to know and understand the world
through body, her senses, sensitivity.

Unadulterated then by civilisations
it was united with body. O, it’s but
now forgotten, or is lost in the forest.

At an early age my mind adored body
at her zenith as Mother Goddess;
it now elevates her by beautifications:

with perfumes, pigments, ornaments, attires
to appeal the public eye, and confers upon her
selectively with world beauty pageant titles.

By acquisition of civilised cultures
mind has now becomes brainy, and wants
to rule me as my self-coroneted master.

It considers itself of a superior race,
exploits my body as an inferior ugly object
for any use at will, than its abode and a mate.

It invents exotic cuisines to feed its ego,
and stuffs my body like a garbage can,
or starves her. It doesn’t know hunger.

It invents drugs, transplants of organs
from other bodies to keep its own going,
or breast implants for public sex appeal.

Like cuisines sexuality occupies mind.
It invents assaults on sex in private
and public places and in cyber space.

Mind has forgotten that sex is the seventh
sense dormant in the genitals for the survival
of spaces in human, animal, and plant worlds

Unlike an aboriginal mind that adores
yoni and phallus – fertility and vitality,
my hedonist mind misses the essence of sex.


Mind mummifies dead body, builds tombs
over indifferent bones and ashes and the Earth
in its vanity, for non-existent future.

Mind condemns its own abode a hundred
ways and continues its tantrums further
upon the mass of body of the collective

to its fragments that drift away from each
other, sends vibes of alienation to gain
power and control over them; to exploit

the weak and the less privileged;
and finally turns to abuse and rape Mother Earth
progressively for the applause of crowd.

How the evil designs of demonic mind
Spread fast across the oceans and land,
become global epidemic unabated!

But the young minds, their body and soul
spontaneously celebrate the coming of spring,
rain and harvest, join in the dance and song.

Why can’t my mind come down to earth,
and join innocent joys and dance along
the pathway of the Sun around the globe?

There’s a soft whisper,
‘No soul, no body;
No body, no mid.’


Now I know at my final go
whatever may be the cause
it shall be a joyful bliss,

just as now, for liberated soul.
To narrate I’ll not be there.
That’s everyone’s sole privilege.

I bless her that shows the way
Silently within touch her feet
one personified Sat-Chit-Anandam.

* * *

Remigius de Souza
11 Nov. – 3 Dec. 2004

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Life of a Flower

Life of a Flower

Whosoever whatsoever
Bestowed life unto a flower
Knows its meaning better;
Plucked from its twig,
It yet lives on until its time.

I neither wish to be identified
My self with my name nor
Any trade nor vocation nor profession;
These are but many a location.

In every word I breathe out and in
In every word that I inscribe on sand
I write my epitaph in time to be wiped.
O friend, I share this thought in passing
But you can sure share my being.


© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


In Search of a Poem

In Search of a Poem

In search of a poem
I left the stream
Will it continue until my end!
O prudent, how you appeared
On the horizon
At noon time
By many names
In many moments!
This wilderness is too noisy, o dear;
The meanings slip through my fingers.
Beholding in your eyes,
My boat
In the middle of ocean
In search of destination
The distant land moves away every moment:
an effort infinite.
In search for water of life and culture
The mirage moves farther.
Noon time infinite.

(Trandlation from original Marathi by the Author, January 1984)
कवितेच्या शोधात

एक कवीता शोधीत गेलो
प्रवाहाच्या बाहेर
माहीत नाही हां शोध का चालणार
माझ्या अंतापर्यंत!

चतुरे, तू कशी उगवत आलीस
कैक नावानी
कैक क्षणातून!
या अरण्यात फ़ारच कोलाहल आहे गडे,
हरवतो अर्थ हाती येता येता
तुझ्या डोळ्यात
सागरमध्याशी असलेल्या
काठाच्या शोधांत
क्षितिजावरील जमीन
दर क्षणी पुढे सरकत असलेली
दिसते अनंत

जीवन आणी संस्कृति देणारया
पाण्याच्या शोधात
मृगजळ सरकते पुढे
मध्यान्ही अनंत।
जानेवारी १९८४
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


A lesson in a non-action action

A lesson in a non-action action

There’s none other lesson than in
Non-action action in communion
With nature like a savage aborigine
The son of soil in bliss eternal
Here and now for a civilised man.

Alas, Remi the son of man
Belonging to a civilisation
Dwells in Future or in the Past
Of super-ego astray gone;
May Remi now in action at his last
To love his self until his last!

I now notice ripples tiniest
In the space innermost
I now witness movements calm
In the depth innermost
The bliss I enjoy now highest.
Remigius de Souza
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


नास्तिकाचा प्रवास

नास्तिकाचा प्रवास

सम्भ्रमाच्या जाळ्यातून वृक्षवेलींच्या,
दर्याखोर्यातून, काटेरी रणाच्या उनातून,
कड्यावरून झंझावाती, कपारींतून
अजाणता झाले तीर्थांचे दर्शन॥

मानवतेचे सागर जुमानत नव्हते
जीवन मरणाच्या रेषेवर
उनपाऊस वारा हीव
तयांचा होता स्पर्ष अटळ
वाघा- भेकडांच्या आरोळ्या
आक्रन्दाना पलिकडे
होते अनंत अटल क्षितिजाचे दर्शन॥

ऑगस्ट १९९३
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


God's acre: देवाचा बिघा

God’s acre

When I was born someone smiled –
a dew drop on a tender blade of grass
draped in rainbow attire,
a sparrow picked a grain and flew.

From morning always moves to dusk
on the pathway walks the Sun, along
hear a call from Goddess Night –
Life hangs until the distance ends.

Remi, if one could cut / graft the roots
of beliefs would the twist between
the ends – Birth and Death –
ever remain the same?

(Translation in English by the author)

देवाचा बिघा

मी जन्माला आलो तेव्हा कुणीतरी हसलं –
गवताच्या कोवळ्या पातीवरचा दंवाबिंदू
इंद्रधनुचे अंगवस्त्र लेवून,
चिमणीने दाणा टिपला आणि भुर्र्र उडाली

पहाटेपासून सदैव अस्ताची
वाटचाल करणारया सूर्याबरोबर
निशादेवीची हाक ऐकू येते –
अन्तर संपे तोवर प्राण कंठाशी येतात

रेमी, संस्कारांची मूळे कलम करता आली असती
तर जन्म मरणाच्या टोकांमधला पीळ
तसाच राहिला असता का?

स्थळ : बडोदें
तारीख: १९.०६.१९६५
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Caterpillar by Rhea

Caterpillar by Rhea

Rhea quickly draws a caterpillar on a notepaper. Then goes on, takes another paper, drawing several of them: Mummy Caterpillar, Daddy caterpillar, baby caterpillar… she, perhaps leant to draw it from the blackboard in her KG class, drawn by her teacher.

Now she made it her own. She has added several dimensions to it. The sizes of her caterpillar are according to the designation. The sources, of course, are coming from her surrounds, which we call environment – personal and social. But what is her input from natural environment?

We shall come to that later.


© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


अशरीरिणी आदिशक्ति

अशरीरिणी आदिशक्ति
भीतिदायक भव्यहि
कोतिकोटीच्या विशाल दु:खात
तिचा थयथयाट कोंडून राहिलेला आहे।
त्यांचे सुसकार अग्नीची
कारंजी बनतील।
* * *
सन १९६५
© Remigius de Souza।, All rights reserves।


२८ ज्ञुलै१९८९: 28 July 1989

२८ जुलै १९८

२८ जुलै १९८९ रोजीं रायगड, रत्नागिरी, सिंधुदुर्ग जिल्ह्यात आणि मुंबई येथे महापूर आला। त्याचा सर्वात जास्त फटका रांयगडला बसला। त्या पुरांत
एक गाव तर पाण्याखाली गेले।

श्री अरुण शिवकर आणि त्याच्या तरुण साथीदारानी कितीतरी लोकाना सहाय्य केले। आणि बेघर झालेल्या लोकाना आसरा देण्याची सोय केली। मुम्बईहून असंख्य लोकानी हरप्रकारे मदत केली।

पण जेव्हा त्याना पाच वारी साड्यांची मदत आली तेव्हा अरुणने साभारपूर्वक सुचवले की "आमच्या बाया नव वारी साड्या नसतात। शाक्य असल्यास द्याव्या। " तसेच तयार कपड्या ऐवजी कापड आणि शिलाईची मशीने दिली तर बायाना कामही मिळेल हे पण सुचवले। त्यामुळे देगणगीदर प्रसन्न झालेच पण बरोबरच त्यांच्या हे पण लक्षात आले की स्थानिक लोकांच्या गरजांची त्याना कल्पना पण नसते।

अरुण आणि देवळी गावाच्या लोकानी "साकव" नावाची सेवाभावी संस्था सुरु तर केलेली होतीच। ही संस्था पूर्णपणे स्थानिक लोकानी चालवलेली होती। अशा संस्था फार कमीच।

© Remigius de Souza।, All rights reserves.


माणूस चंद्रावर जातो: Man lands on the Moon

माणूस चंद्रावर जातो

पौर्णिमेच्या चंद्राने समुद्राला उधाण येत राहील का?
जन्माला येण्यापुर्वीच आरपारच्या ग्रहानी
भवितव्य लिहून ठेवले तेव्हा
एक जीव जन्माला आला

एक वेडी पावसात भिजत
रस्त्याच्या कडेला फाटक्या लक्ताराच्या
चिंध्या करण्यात मग्न आहे
तरी चंद्र आपला फिरतच आहे
स्वत:भोवती आणि पृथिवी भोवती
पृथिवी ही तशीच...


© Remigius de Souza। All Rights Reserved.


पोरका : Orphan

पोरका : Orphan

तारकांच्या जगातून
आलेला निर्वासित
कब्रस्तान जागवतो
उल्कापात उजळतो
* * *

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


पळस ( flame of the forest)

वैशाखाच्या मध्यान्ही
केसुड्याच्या पाकळयांचा
ऊजळीत राने डोंगर
* * *

केसुड़ा: पळस ( flame of the forest)

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


धरतरी (The Land)

धरतरी झाली माझे माता पिता गुरु.
--- रेमी डिसोजा

गुरु पौर्णिमा १८.७.२००८


© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Poetry is not an end in itself

Poetry is not an end in itself

Poetry, or, for that matter, any art
or any manmade artifact,
is not an end in itself.
House is where the home is.

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Surrender: समर्पण एक चकवा (Marathi Poem)

Meera, in surrender

You found Life.

Surrender –
One track,
One goal,
One mean,
One bond,
One end,
One liberation;

Surrender –
One personality,
One prop,
One power,
One end,
One Martyr;

Surrender –

An initiation,
A sect,
A favour,
A sacrifice;

Surrender –
One man,
One bed,
One sacrificial alter,
One gratifying pain;

Surrender –
One-way sweep of a swing,
That never returns.

Surrender –
An ember dying, buried
Under a thick layer of ashes;

Surrender –

A never-ending illusion.

(Meera, also called Meerabai, is a saint-poet of India. Meera, like Kabir and Tukaram, is rebellion and contented, and bestows joy and courage on people. Her sainthood is not ordained by any institutionalised religion.)
* * *
Remigius de Souza
(Published on Poets India website

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Ancient script by Rhea (18 months young)

Ancient script by Rhea (18 months young)

We learn by imitation. We learn by exercise. We learn by discovery. We learn by trial and errors. We learn by example. We learn by failures...

Rhea has taught me lot of things; she has still lot many things to teach me.
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Rejoice! Its monsoon

Rejoice! Its monsoon

Rejoice! It’s monsoon now.
The dormant seeds germinate now
Through scorched earth
After a long wait.
It’s perhaps auspicious now
To sow and care some seeds
That comes from our kitchen waste
To allow them to regenerate
In a pinch of soil
In tumbler on a window sill
To be instrumental awhile
To clean some air polluted
Than by much talk-talk-talk,
To come out awhile
Of the world of virtual reality,
To join the invisible community
In the pinch of living soil awhile
To have some first hand contact
Consciously awhile
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.




A baby girl is born in the family, since
then I talk less and less to any adult.
It’s soothing indeed to talk to the infant.
No. No. It’s not a talk. It’s a dialogue
Sing song with sounds of water and wind,
birds and animals, and her brother’s acts.
It’s a dialogue with her constant responses
of Ahs! And Woos! And grunts and shakes
of hands and legs, with commas and stops
of toothless smiles: whole persona responds.
Here a language is taking shape in its most
ancient and elementary form. Ah Language,
the most powerful weapon Homo Sapiens ever
possess! Prays Remi, ‘Save the Delight’
Remigius de Souza
Date: 5–3–2004
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


होळी पुनव

होळी पुनव

कलणारे ताल वृक्ष
चंद्राचे पूर्णबिंब
प्रकाशाच्या रजईत
बासरीचे संगीत

होळी पौर्णिमा १९७६
© Remigius de Souza।, All rights reserves।


माझी कविता

गर्भार्लेली माती
आसुसलेले उच्छ्वास
माझी कविता
* * *
चैतन्याचे कोम्भ
उतालेले नाद
माझी कविता
दाही दिशा
* * *
संकेताचे गळ्फ़ास
न सुटणारे
अंधाराची कविता माझी
गोठलेली उल्केच्या
* * *


© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


रेमीची मराठी बोली : Remi’s Vernacular Tongue

रेमीची मराठी बोली
Remi’s Vernacular Tongue
(Translation of the original - above - by the author)

Remi’s one more blog: language is Marathi, or English, but different in Remi’s vernacular tongue.
In a family there may be 10, 5, 3 or 2 persons. Their accents and manners of talk may be, or seem to be, similar, but each one’s vernacular is independent. It’s like finger prints. It’s like out of countless leaves on a tree, each leaf has unique impression of veins on it.

That doesn’t happen with countless cars on a large parking lot though effort is made to bring variety by different colours and designs. It’s the same story with apartment blocks in cities.

But all the mud houses built in a village/s in vernacular style do not fail to enchant us by each one’s uniqueness and their variety.

That’s the fun in the natural variety.

How could the sixty years of wanderings fail to make impression on Remi’s vernacular tongue – words, meanings and sound?

A person who wanders whole his life moves on margin. But his wandering is not like a blinkered buggy horse. Or it’s not like a railway that runs on tracks. Or it’s not like aeroplanes that fly on a drawn line from one point to another. Or he has no obligation to any caste-religion-class-race.

His wandering is like honeybee’s dancing journey; her hive too moves with her. His wanderings are like an aborigine moving happily at will in the wilderness.

His wandering that started at the foothill of Western Ghats is yet to fulfil, if alive, in reaching homeland – Gondwana.

Remigius de Souza

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Traffic jam

Traffic jam
Gasoline tanks down
Batteries down
Now What? ---
Down to Earth.

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.

No one saw where the rain comes from

No one saw where the rain comes from
Hidden are the springs of the earth
No one said of the longings
No one remembered the dreams
The orphans of the earth
Deprived of the warmth of her womb
Are seeking refuge in the darkness
- - - -

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


iTECHNOMAN (Self-portrait)

Self-portrait by Remigius de Souza, Mumbai, India (1972)
Colour on handmade paper 9"x 12"
© Remigius de Souza

You may read or interpret “iTECHNOMAN” in various ways that you may prefer.

Remi (Remigius de Souza) is marginally literate not only in computers, but also in any of the Arts and Literary disciplines.

He began to learn writing Letters and Numbers of his vernacular language MARATHI on a slate at his native village in Konkan.

Simultaneously he also took lessons in his basic needs, which are farming in agriculture, horticulture and aquaculture; mud house building and its maintenance; and spinning and handloom weaving of cotton fabric: FOOD, SHELTER and CLOTHING.

Industrial Society has failed after centuries to reach this ability or level to impart education, which is mention above, to any citizen anywhere in the world, certainly not in India.

Decades later he learnt computer programming in an antique language “1401” in an intensive course of one month, which was given by Tata Consultancy Services (TCS): that was the only formal training he received in computers.

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


मिरग येतो (मराठी कविता)

टीप : "मिराग" (कोंकणी शब्द ) = मृग नक्षत्र
© Remigius de Souza, All rights रेसेर्वेस.


Warli Painting with the Artist and her Family

Warli Painting with the Artist and her Family
Warli painting is the DOMAIN OF WARLI WOMEN, unlike male chauvinist civilised societies. Warli Painting, like their dances and music, is part of their life and culture and not a separate department for the so-called gifted artists in the civilised societies. Warli Tribe have neither gender issues of discrimination or prostitution like in civilised societies.

However, we notice that the do-gooder urban elites are promoting their own values and encouraging males to paint for publishing and marketing Warli Art. They don’t learn because they can’t appreciate Tribal values. This missionary work is most detrimental to tribal culture.

Read MORE ON Warli Housing and Art

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


At the age of sixty (Marathi Poem)

At the age of sixty – seventy
Ate my daily Roti – bread –
But a thought never touched conscience
‘For the grain of this Roti
Some man – woman in exile
Toiled in the heat – cold – rain’
Roti, a good deed of Brahma
Its worth priced in two-ana coin
And Food-Brahma got caught
In the noose of Civilization
. . .

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


UTSAV: Solemn Celebration (Marathi Poem)

Solemn Celebration

Now, from here on
Live moment to moment
Add on every moment
On time eternal.

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.



Human skeleton of male and female


To relieve an entangled life in modern web
There aren’t varsities to teach this art-science.

For it needs unhampered quietude of leisure
And boundless celebrations of life often;

To get out of the bazaar-city’s beatings
A body needs a break to breath free often;

Needs constant bating inside as outside
For a life lost in workaholic rituals often;

Just as the body goes on skin shedding,
For the arrival of Spring, a leaf shedding.

Never knew it; if ever heard, ignored.
When realised would it be too late?

Only one varsity that belongs, our very Self,
In a whirlwind forever – the forgotten Body-Dharma.

Note: The illustration above shows the interior of a human body.
'Body', a word, when even mentioned, we recall mirror images or pretty photos on glossy mags. The images remain skin deep wrapped in visual aesthetics of hedonism.

I had a stint with formal education of architecture as a teacher. I would say, 'Think imagine of actually living inside your designed building. Suppose we take a cross of a Miss World, what would we notice inside?' Someone in the group would screech- 'Eeeee'!

Isn't it time we look at Nature – Srishti – that begins from us, not only our mind that chatters all the time, but also our body that operates round the clock silently. We treat body like an ugly slave, treating with cosmetics. But Srishti doesn't spare anyone, heroes or hoaxes, prince or popper.
Srishti is not kind like branded gods.

Remigius de Souza
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
© Remigius de Souza, All rights reserves


Collective Existance (Marathi Poem)


Collective Existence

To ensure existence of one
Place other colours too.
Then it receives
the support to-be
In the illusion of not-to-be.


© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Holi Night
The swinging palms
Full Moon
In the blanket of light
Song on a flute.

(Falgun Full Moon night, 1976)

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Bees of bees of Paradise

Bees of bees of Paradise
I remember a folk song I read some years ago.

Bees of bees of Paradise
Do the work of Jesus Christ,
Do the work which no man can.

God made man,
And man made money,
God made bees,
And bees made honey.

A song sung by peasants in the south of England for gathering of honey (quoted by Hilair Bellock, ‘The best of all trades’, Fourth World Review, Issue 36, 1889 UK, p. 6).

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


यात्रा: Pilgrimage (Marathi Poem)

पृथ्वी माझी सुरू होते
पायाखालच्या जमिनीपासून
जेव्हा जेथे असेन मी तेथे।
वर वर चढणारया नजरेत
गोल गोल क्षितिजे सामावत
उंच उंच हिमाद्रीच्या कड्यावर।
इथे अहंकराचे अस्थिर कड़े - सागर
वितळतात वाफारातात हरघडी
विरतात मातीत - अवकाशात
काळजातली उब पुरेशी
कवेत घ्यायला नविन क्षितिजे
हरघडी विस्तारते स्वत्व माझे
बंध मातीचा अटूट सामावत
सारी पृथ्वी भाकरीच्या चतकोरात
ओळख उरते धरतीच्या चतकोरात

(I take fantasy flights to the higher world of planets and stars and the lower world of bacteria in the virtual reality of print and electronic media, and return now and then to Mother Earth and ask, “Give me fistful grains of sanity for my survival”. — Remi)

by Remigius de Souza

My Earth begins here
From the soil below my feet
Wherever when I’m there.

Up ‘n up the vision ascending
Round ‘n round horizons holding
High ‘n high on Himalayas’ cliff.

Here, the ego of rumbling cliff – ocean
Dissolve – evaporate now and then
Vanish in the soil – in the air.

Enough is the warmth in heart
To embrace new horizons;
Expands my selfhood now and then.

Sound bond with the soil assimilates
Whole Earth in a quarter of a ‘roti’;
Recognition retained in a square foot

Soil below my feet.

* * *
(Translation from the original in Marathi by the author)
1. “Fistful of grain”: In my native village until fifty years ago there were no beggars. Only the mendicants, ascetics, sadhus came to the households asking for alms. They were offered at least a fistful of grains, no coins. There was not much of currency. Now, with the currency, there are rich as well as poor beggars everywhere.
2. ‘Roti’ is Indian flat bread baked on burnt clay or iron plate, usually concave in shape.
Remigius de Souza
May 1, 2007
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.

Jungle (Marathi Poem)

Words lost
Tones lost
Expressions lost
Meanings lost
Only here
In this jungle.

(Translation from original Marathi by the author)

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Political Geography

Political Geography

One word: many meanings;
One meaning: many words.

How do I hold on

this paradox,

the criss-cross
of an altitude and longitude

where I stand on
here and Now?

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.



Stuffed bird in a museums
Illustration 1: Stuffed Crested Lark in a natural histiry museum: species of plants and animials are becoming extinct with progress and development of Indutrial Civilisation.

Perhaps I could sing words of birds
Along smiling shoots of spring
In the company of mango bloom
And soothing green of cuckoo's Pancham,
And dance under the canopy of clouds
To the peacock's call in the backyards
On the pathway of Meghdootam
There in the abode of Saras;
Or inscribe them on deadly diskettes
For the posterity.

In my mega-city, mummies
Of birds celebrate, sing silently,
In the tombs of Natural History.
Who shall cherish the memory
Of my jungle of skyscrapers
And of glass buildings which scares
The heavenly eagles away;
Of serpentine Metro that snatches
The abode of Shesha's descendants away?


(Pancham: the Fifth note of the seven tones. Eagle is considered Lord Visnhu's vehicle by the Hindus.
Meghdootam: The classic literary work in Sanskrit by poet Kalidasa.
Shesha: Primeval serpent that lives in lower world, the bed of Lord Vishnu, the ancester of snakes on the earth.)
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


A Natural Order

A Natural Order

Springtime had gone long ago, since then
I walked, and walked the traders’ mall
Of the recognized teaching marts
And the recognized preaching marts
That promise happiness or welfare.

Now I try to recycle the historic manmade
Garbage collected over many monsoons since
The bygone spring; could I but ever recycle
The extravagant wealth and waste it created,
I wonder, knowing a natural order of recycle!

Remigius de Souza
16-18 October 2004
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.

Samashti – The Collective

The Collective

In the war for freedom of individual
On the public place of settlement
The collective came to help / died;
In the war of Dependence – Independence
The interdependent came to help / died.

(Translation from the original Marathi by Remigius de Souza)

© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.


Welcome to Beehive in Gondwana

Welcome to Beehive in Gondwana

It is Remi’s homeward journey to homeland GONDWANA that was so named after Gondvan – Gond tribe’s Forest in India – to the Supercontinent which existed in the EARTH HISTORY.

Thos who named it so must have been indeed the 'world citizens' beyond the boundaries and the names of the sovereign states.

Bees, a true icon of Environment + Ecology + Energy, like the aborigines, even while living within their niche, live boundless Life.

It is, more than a wishful thought, Remigius de Souza’s dream where he rests.