Margazhi

Margazhi

Mārga–Śiśira —
the path into winter

Cool, crisp mornings,
dew resting on grass and lotus leaves,
a calm clarity in the air,
the spacious sound of bhajans—
hymns and hums drifting softly.

An inward, contemplative mood…
with a twist of mist.

Misty mornings,
when even the old do not feel the cold.
Songs of the Lord fill the air
in this once-in-a-year affair.
Musicians on the move—
just being there makes you groove.

Festivals galore!
A mandala of time from ancient lore.

Waking before dawn,
pleading with the mist to clear
to witness the Sun being born.

Flowers stay fresh,
fragrance lingers longer.
Food is abundant,
yet hunger feels lesser.

Supreme Consciousness shines bright
as Dīpam and Jyoti,
atop hills and mountains this season.

No wonder Hanuman, Jesus,
Jiddu and Vivekananda—
the enlightened ones—were born
in this season, not without reason.

The dawn period of the Devas,
the dance of the Devadāsīs.
The songs of Āṇḍāl,
Margazhi kolams adorning the earth.

the austerity of the unwed women and Ayyappan’s

Vaikuṇṭha Ekādaśī—
the northern gate to liberation.

The fog of cleansing fire—Bhogi.
The sweetness of sugarcane—
Of Pongal, Bihu and Lohri
Celebrations ofthe ships of the desert decked bright,
and of kites in dancing flight.

Culminating in Makara Sankranti—
the advent of the Sun’s northern journey.

Krishna says:
“Among the months, I am Margazhi.”