On a lost hill in the Western Ghats
There grows a silent shrub
that even the bees
have deemed as vile weeds

But there comes a day in 12 years
When the lost mountain finds itself
And the silent shrub finds utterance
In its breathtaking bloom of blue buds

And history remembers it as Neelgiri
The Blue Mountain

On a gurgling ocean floor at depths marine
There sleeps a hermit oyster
That even the sunken ship
Has deemed as lifeless.

But there comes a day in years
When it’s done nursing that grain of assault
And as a diver pries open its ageing curl
It smiles shining a star-studded pearl

And the world remembers the oyster
For its lustrous autobiography

Should you find yourself in the atelier
Chiselling away with blunt tools and calloused hands
Remember it’s going to take a while
Years
Decades perhaps…

But as you find the art in you
Also find the heart in you
To forgive those who press to rush your symphony

Remember the golden meteor shower
On that moonless night
That dazzlingly informed you
Of the value of all those nights spent working

The world may call you lost
Do not let that din drown your song
Do not borrow their myopia
As they question your departures

For when you’ve nourished your calling
To its deserved destiny
The world will exalt you
The universe will absolve you

And like the beautiful bloom of blue flowers
Like the lunar charm of that priceless pearl
You won’t have to drum-up your arrival.