There is something about this line that refuses to leave me.

Agre Pashyami.

Before me, I see.

Not I imagine.
Not I remember.
Not I describe.

I see.

When I reached the first verse of the 100th Dasakam of Narayaneeyam, I expected grandeur, a conclusion, something triumphant. Instead, what I found was stillness.

After so much narrated stories of incarnations, miracles, cosmic movements, the poet does not raise his voice. He simply says that the Lord stands before him dark like a monsoon cloud, draped in yellow silk, ornaments glimmering softly, eyes that do not pierce, but hold.

It felt less like poetry and more like a moment that happens after a long journey.

I do not know if such a vision comes suddenly. I sometimes feel it does not. It feels as though the mind, after wandering everywhere, becomes tired of wandering. It settles. And in that quiet, something that was always there becomes visible.

Perhaps that is why this line speaks to me.

In daily life, we are always speaking... explaining, defending, analyzing. Even in matters of faith, we like to discuss, compare, interpret. But there must come a point when words fall away and there is only recognition.

You stand before something real, and you know.

For me, “Agre Pashyami” is not about spectacle. It is about presence, about allowing the noise within to thin out just enough so that what is sacred in front of me is not missed.

This space, this blog, begins there.

Not with certainty.
Not with answers.

Just with the willingness to look and to see.

Agre Pashyami. 🌿