I imagined a struggling modern-day aspirant conversing with Brahmanand Swami through verse. Here’s how it turned out:
You’ve tied the rope to God’s high keep,
I’ve tied it too, to my shaking feet.
You’ve marked the path with bright red flags,
I’ve started to climb these uphill paths.
With every inch, I pain and strain,
But you’re always there promising me gain.
You cheer and cheer for miles and miles more,
But I’ve moved inches; I’m already sore.
You urge to climb, to climb is all,
Swami, I say, it’s easier to fall.
No matter the promise, no matter the call,
Swami, I say, it’s easier to fall.
The time is now, I’ve made my choice.
I choose to fall, to fall is my choice.
Jo Hoi Himat Re Narne Urmahi Bhari,
Dradta joine re, teni madad kare morari…
Bik tajine re, nit himat soto bole,
Mastak maya re sarve trun jevu tole…
And there’s the rope, to pull me back.
Here I hang, like a lifeless sack.
Your voice in my head calling me to climb,
Reminding me how you churned lime.
I place my feet, l set my path,
I rid my fear, and I walk with wrath.
What’s this mountain, Maya her name.
A blade of grass, I’ll put it to shame.
A few more steps, a few more steps,
A few more steps, and things do fade.
It’s the heat this time, I prefer the shade.
The peak is far, the path is hot.
It burns me now, with every ‘not’.
No pleasure, no fame,
No comfort nor dame.
Valley or peak, it’s all the same.
Why should I live so lame.
You still urge “to climb is all”,
Swami, I say, it’s easier to fall.
No matter the promise, no matter the call,
Swami, I say, it’s easier to fall.
The time is now, I’ve made my choice.
I choose to fall, to fall is my choice.
Kesarisinh ne re jem shanka male nahi manma, What?
Kesarisinh ne re jem shanka male nahi manma,
Eka eki re, nirbhe they vichare vanama…
Pande choto re, mota mengalne mare,
Himat vinano re, hathi te joi ne hare…
That’s the roar to give me might.
A breath of life for one more fight.
I’m a lion, with a lion inside.
It’s time for all those lies to hide.
No purs, no whimpers, no crying this time,
Just the roar of a lion, and the lion inside.
Boulders fall, mountains lose face.
Of fear in me, there is no trace.
Bring the heat, bring the cold,
I’ll die on this path, young or old.
Brahmanand kahe re em samje te jan shura,
Tan kari nakhe, guru vachane chure chura
You’ve tied the rope to God’s high keep,
I’ve tied it too, to my firm feet.
This time I’m going to reach the peak,
Not cuz I can, but cuz you speak.
Your thought is my word,
Your word is my life.
This rope that connects us,
Is tied for life.
Satsang Pensieve 
