Who wins the obedience medal between the mind and body? I am thinking only of normal people. People whose lives are controlled by the two mischievous brats they have raised. It’s an odd combination if the two don’t age correspondingly. That we can control neither is the biggest truth and life’s most important feature. Wisdom lies in gracefully accepting this enlightenment, and also our limitations. All we can do is channelize the energies of the mind and body and churn a healthy brew.

A good fitness regime, as much as our health and age permit, is a basic necessity of our body. Likewise we must have a custom made regime to flush out the toxins of the mind. There’s a way to keep a watch on the body. There are sure tell-tale signs. But it’s the mind that takes a beating. The whole process is abstract. We will never know how, where, when these toxins royally march into our mind. Isn’t it strange that our mind knows how to keep our body fit? It tells us how much we must eat and when we must stop eating and when it’s time to exercise etc. But when it comes to keeping itself fit, it’s rather casual. I am tempted to compare the mind to a slightly older sibling who gets away with a little sermonizing over the younger one, a little monitoring and perhaps some bossing.

The mind too needs to be cornered. The mind needs to know that we cannot play favoritism. The mind needs to find the regime that works best to flush out the toxins. Meditation is one way to drive away the crazy calories of the mind and restore some sanity and peace. It’s quite challenging to bring our mind to behave itself. A proven vagabond that it is, holding its reins takes some real effort. I wonder how such vulnerable mind is tough and ruthless when it comes to overseeing the physical fitness activity. But we are at least half done if our mind doesn’t tempt our body into an unhealthy lifestyle.

The other half is a difficult mile to run. Some days the mind begins to run amok even before the net is cast. It’s such an instinct of the mind to escape knowing well that we are out to fix it. There’s lot of action, hide and seek, and luring, happening behind the closed eyes. That’s the time I realize I haven’t been able to tame my mind one bit. What an embarrassment contradicting the calm and serene outward appearance! I let it wander aimlessly and wait for it to be tired and get home. When it finally happens I feel like a winner.

In the poem, which was published in Strange Horizons, I am being courteous and large-hearted by calling the mind a pilgrim.

Maya
 I.
 My comfort niche recedes 
 into the mogra mist
 homeless, unhinged 
 within myself
 I grow a pilgrim’s feet.
 Flitting 
 chakra to chakra
 greys to gleams 
 apogees to perigees.
 An aberrant sixth demon 
 has carved her nest
 peeled three layers of bark
 blued the veins of rootless trees.
 In her maya
 mazes in mazes
 I’m lost
 I’m lost.

 II.
 A restless frog
 breaks the pond moon 
 a thousand times!
 I can’t escape 
 the allure 
 of the water mirror  
 It’s not a myth 
 of the sepia pond
 that faces are epicenters 
 of brewing storms
 ripples moving outward 
 from the ajna chakra
 reaching for the ashwatha,
 almost.
 Mired in delphic ponds 
 I wander
 I wander
 cities of glyphs

 III.
 Cosmic drifts 
 of a pin head universe 
 frank the homecoming 
 of the conqueror.
 A lotus 
 of folded palms 
 for my acharyaa.