This post has been inspired by my good friend, and wonderful writer, a young lass, who goes by the name of Morgan.
I am also going to use a modification of an image I posted long ago.
Dusk, at Khusrau Bagh, in Allahabad. The word, ‘Bagh’, in this context, means ‘garden’. With a slightly different pronunciation, it means ‘tiger’.
Khusrau is the unfortunate son of Jehangir, the fourth Mughal Emperor, and brother of Khurram, who became Shah Jahan, of the Taj Mahal fame.
As was the practice in those days, the sons would jostle for power. Khusrau aligned with Nur Jahan against Shah Jahan, and rebelled against his father.
He was blinded by his father for his efforts, and later killed by Shah Jahan (Prince Khurram, as he was called before he became Emperor).
When you enter Khusrau Bagh, you pass through the railway area, with the chaos of the Indian traffic, and the cacophony of the blaring horns, and yelling men; as well as the dirt and muck that is accompanied by public Indian life.
On entering, you pass into a realm of tranquility, and you can watch the sun go down, as Khusrau sleeps in peace.
At that point, if you allow yourself to breathe deep and silence your mind, you can feel the hush of stillness.
You can feel the hush of stillness, as the centuries roll by and the earth continues its cycle around the sun, unconcerned by the comings and goings of men. This too, shall pass.
We rise, we fall. Yet, the hush of stillness is there, waiting for us, if well allow it to enter us.
It is in this stillness that we are at one with ourselves, and with the universe.
If, in these rare moments, we allow ourselves to click the shutter, or put pen to paper, we do our best work. It becomes effortless.
There is no force. No striving,
When we feel the hush of stillness, we come alive to the universe, and our work can reflect just a tiny bit of this connection.