Ahluwalia Quotes

among the clouds we shared a cup of tea the mountain and me

I ascended the mountains to hear the voice of God, and was answered in echoes from afar.

She danced wild across the evening sky, dispersing clouds with the frill of her gown.

Gardens in Spring with flowers abound their scent interwoven in the wind

In the silence of the woods among the wildflowers butterflies danced.

In this lifetime we meet and part like passing clouds

Clouds come and go, the mountain remains.

covered in snow the trees rest in winter silence

Being a woman, I am misunderstood more when I talk than when I stay silent ! Meeta Ahluwalia

Mornings in May, echoed with the call of cuckoos, sunlight glowed through fresh green canopies of trees.

Be more weary of the fearful than of the brave.

To be successful, you need to do two things: 1. Condition your hair, 2. Do the same with your mind.

August breeze— perched on the flame tree, a red-vented Bulbul.

Under the stillness of an old tree - a monk sits in silence, the oak sheds it's leaves.

Grandparents enjoy most the company of their grandchildren. For with them, they experience the miracle of being 10 again.

The night air was soft, and laden with the redolence of impending blossoms. The sky unfolded and lit up the earth in jubilation. Welcome Spring !

Clouds must love the ocean, for they keep finding their way back to it.

Bright May afternoons— mango trees in the garden echoed with cuckoo calls.

Clasping hands— the trees whispered to each other, as the moon leaned in to listen.

Summer rolled into autumn views of this world fall away

The winter rain, joined my rambling with its soothing potter- patter.

Softening of winter— rustling of leaves, glittering afternoons, Sweet February !

Thunder is nature’s paradox that makes us feel both threatened and protected at the same time.

I sit by the window— the spring breeze fills my room with the smell of orange blossoms.

There is peace in wilderness— winter nights luminescent, with the silent falling of snow.

She was like the moon, half here and half somewhere else.

Autumn had arrived— the last blossom whispered, let me stay awhile.

Growth in the number of humans is associated with decline in humanity.

If people were seasons, she'd be monsoon. After every downpour, the garden laughed like her, wild and free.

A faint blush below the horizon, as the first kiss from the Sun wakes the Earth from its slumber.

In a moment of awakening, the passing clouds and the lake looked at each other in recognition.

The moon — a numinous guide for the poetic musings of my soul.

beyond the mountain the river soaked in moonlight carried songs from boatmen

Sunlight dipped in raindrops, the sky painted a palette across the horizon.

You are never lost, for every step is your path.

Thunder is nature’s paradox makes us feel both threatened and protected at the same time.

In a moment of awakening, the passing clouds and the lake smiled at each other in recognition, till there were no clouds, and there was no lake.

We expend more effort in trying to forget memories than in trying to create them.

The extent of my existence seen is not me.. I am boundless, immeasurable, I am infinite.

We worship the form, and seek the formless. The Nameless is sought by reciting names. With closed hands, closed minds, we seek Him.

Wandering clouds— Short spells of rain, Ah Poetry!

Autumn night— Silvery moonlight, wind in pine trees.

In the morning sun with eyes closed a praying mantis

spring dawn blossoms lined the mountain path

prayers at dawn the world comes alive to the scent of flowers roused from sleep

How I missed the sound of rain, like the voice of an old friend.

Be where you are, and you will find the way. You lose your way when you lose your head.

The Earth and sky fuse at the horizon, and each becomes the other, till there is no other.

In a world lost in delusion, a single daffodil quietly announces the arrival of spring.

It is because you think of God as 'other" who exists out there somewhere, separate from you, you wander everywhere looking for what is your own reality. Self-realisation is realizing there are no others.

No man can ever admire a woman the way she admires herself.

We live in an odd world, where books are filled with expressions of love, and lives devoid of it.

Be more wary of the fearful than of the brave.

On most days, nature gleefully played it’s own rhythm, and then there were days when the skies vociferously reached down to us, in tiny frozen pellets beating down on roof tops.

Grandpa was gone, his walking stick stood by an empty chair.

Do not go out to seek quiet— Become it !

The rain is a long standing friend. On several nights, it’s gentle patter drowned out all noise and soothed me to sleep.

Awaken, for life is only a fleeting moment, between coming and going.

Thunder - nature’s paradox that makes us feel both threatened and protected at the same time.

Noise has boundaries. Silence has none.

The sky mingled with the Earth infinitely in the tenderness of rain drops.

I laughed, and cried, and then woke up.

With each embrace, I poured my soul into his, till his and mine were the same.

I hear the most music in the depths of silence.

Somewhere along the length of time, while we are busy numbering our days, we forget to make them count.

It is in the bitter cold of life, that you recognize people who are the equivalent of a warm blanket.

That which is empty, is full of everything in the cosmos.

It is the irony of this world that people express anger and hatred without restraint, and love with hesitation.

We feel closest to God in humility. No outward rites and ceremonies are necessary, for they don’t make us humble.

The essence of things is lost in translation, as love and understanding are lost in expectation.

the delicate fragrance of rose hips lingered on my fingers from tending the garden .

And how deeply, the passing moods of weather affected our own.

Time is relative. It is both arriving and passing away.

We seek peace in wars, build barriers to feel free. Our doing is our undoing.

Silence hung in the mountains— A waft carried chants from a monastery, a flock of birds joined.

She was like the moon, half here and half elsewhere

We often shared words, but more precious were the moments we shared in silence.

Life changes as you do,

Wandering clouds— Short spells of rain, poetry!

The spring moon at the window a companion for the night

The chaos that conceals your path today, will document your journey tomorrow.

The universe speaks, but not everyone is listening.

The most important passion that needs practising is ‘compassion’. Start with yourself.

While trying to change how others see us, we often forget to change how ​we see ourselves.

Some silences are pauses, and others conclusions.

Some feelings are too heavy for words, they can only be carried in silence.

A million poems, all written in the loss and seeking of love that deludes us.

In strokes of fresh blue, pink and orange dispersed with soft white kisses, the sky writes letters to me.

Do not burn with passion, for everything that burns, turns to ashes.

The earth was thirsty, with the memories of trees long cut, and it’s surface hardened, that long since rain soaked.

Sieve through the noise, break your habits, abandon your identity and find yourself.

Illumined by the sun and the moon its forests and valleys filled with the euphony of birds and insects singing, the rivers flowing through it’s veins, the ebb and flow of seasons, like the rise and fall of waves in the oceans, bear the procession of life. There is harmony in the Earth’s unfolding patterns, a repeated assurance of the interconnectedness of all.

Deep in a forest, you can exchange the noise & chatter of a busy life, with the serenity of fresh blue skies, and the constant babble of a rivulet. The night is alive with the stridulating of crickets and the rustling of trees.

A gardener relishes the bloom, and with the same spirit accepts the bareness that comes with winter. There is a time to let go, like the trees, to rejuvenate and prepare for a fresh spring ahead. The withered leaf had fallen away, and life was turning a new one.

Nature follows it’s own laws. No matter how much we try to learn about it’s ways, we can only perceive what we see. We can only interpret them the way we understand them and mostly what can be established in physical sciences. There will always be an overwhelming element of mystery in it’s simplicity, there will always be more to discover. God whispers to a tranquil and open mind. We can hear Him in the silence and mysteries of nature. Are you listening?

Why complain? Does it solve your problems? No. In fact, it attracts problems; compounds them. Complaining attitude carries an unconscious negative charge attached to it. A constantly whining person invariably gets drowned in an ocean of negativity. Complaining can not work as a strategy as we all have finite time and energy and when we complain we lose our valuable time and also our mental peace and happiness. Your attitude defines you; if you are a complainer then you are problem-oriented; you would attract problems, and if you focus on grappling with the problems instead of passive complaining then you are solution-oriented, you would find answers to your problems. Complaints are akin to the dark clouds that shroud the beaming sun in your life, and the worst part is that these clouds are not capable of even producing a drizzle to wash away your agonies. If you feel like complaining about anything, from your present life situation to any affliction bothering you and making you unhappy, think of your many blessings and rejoice on them. There are countless millions in this world who would sacrifice anything to be in your shoes.

Those who tried to fill the void with passion, were engulfed by it’s flames.

Most of what you suffer has already passed. Let it go.

In the mist of life, old friends disappear.

The world is filled with people whose lives are dedicated to fixing the world, one person at a time.