Non-duality

Before thinking, judging, rationalizing, using brain as a tool; what is it that enables brain to do so? Does the ability to perceive exist because of brain or is it the presence of That that lets your brain function? Certainly, That came first, then the brain could think. What is that That? Is that That the same That which permeates all the beings, matter, and every manifestation that there is? 'I' - a pointer to That 'my' brain can perceive - am That, and That is 'I'. There is no separate me, I, we, they, or you. There is That. Just That. This is non dualism; oneness. Advaita !

अर्थ

सुनका कोपरा हुनेहरू 
भोक ओढेर 
निराहार लमतन्न पल्टेका केटाकेटीका
आँखामा आँखा मिलाई  
सम्पन्नताको अर्थ बुझाउन सक्छौ?

ईश्वरमा विश्वास गर्छु  भन्नेहरू 
आँखाको बदला आँखा फुटाउदा 
गोलीको बदला बम पड्काउदा 
ज्यान गुमाएका निर्दोष निहत्थाको लासमाथि उभिएर
धर्मको अर्थ बुझाउन सक्छौ ?

भौतिक भोगको लागि घम्साघम्सी गर्नेहरू  
एक्लोपनमा आत्मदाह गर्ने धनकुबेरहरूलाई 
हस्याङफस्याङमा सधै बेचैन हुनेलाई 
अनि 
अरुको राम्रो देखेर डाह भई
लुटपाट हानमार गर्नेलाई 
तिम्रा शैक्षिक प्रमाणपत्र च्यापेर 
सन्तुष्टिको अर्थ बुझाउन सक्छौ ?

अन्तरिक्षमा रकेट पठाउनेहरू 
मंगल यात्राको टिकट काट्नेहरू 
यहि धर्तीमा मामुली झाडा पखालाले 
लाखौँ मानिसको मृत्यु हुँदा 
ति बीभत्स दृश्यको वारिपरि 
बिकासको अर्थ बुझाउन सक्छौ ?

मुखमा राम राम 
बगलीमा छुरा हुनेहरू
व्यवहारमा बेकाम
ठुला ठुला कुरा हुनेहरू
अन्तर्मनको ऐना हेरेर
सत्य अनि झुटको अर्थ बुझाउन सक्छौ ?

बिचरी चरी / Poor Little Bird

I wrote this poem when I was about eleven years old. I read it today, and found it quite good (at least for my sensibilities). Here it is for you:

बिचरी चरी

आहा कति राम्री स्यानी चरी
हाँस्छे खेल्छे सधैंभरि
चारा ख्वाउँछे बचेराहरूलाई
बरु आफू नखाई नखाई
जहिले पनि गाउँछे खेल्छे
दुःख सुख एक्लै झेल्छे
भुर्र उड्छे यता उति
चिं ! चिं ! स्वर मीठो कति ?

चरी एकदिन उड्दै जाँदा
एक शिकारीले गुलेली हान्दा
चरीलाई लाग्छ उनी खस्छिन्
रक्ताम्य हुँदै पक्लक्कै मर्छिन्
विचरा बचेराहरू विचरी चरी
कस्तो निष्ठुरी निर्मम शिकारी
कति राम्री थिइन स्यानी चरी
च्वँ ! च्वँ  ! च्वँ  ! कठैबरी !

English Translation Attempt:

Poor Little Bird

Wow, such a nice little bird.
Plays and laughs all the time.
Feeds her little baby birds,
without saying its all mine.
She sings and plays every time.
Be it rain or delightful shine.
There she goes, here and there.
Spreads around melodious rhyme.

One day when she was flying.
A killer shoots at her badly.
Full of blood she lies crying.
Sadly, she dies instantly.
Pity to her babies, pity to the poor bird.
What a ruthless  heartless killer!
So wonderful was the little bird,
terrible, I feel for the little bird.