The Sacred Bride: Poems of Janabai, Rumi, St. Theresa of Avila and Surdas
In the forests of Tulasi,
Jani unravels her plaits
Butter in hand,
Chakrapani massages her head
‘My Jani has no one'
Having said that,
God pours the water
Jani tells everybody
‘My dear friend is bathing me’
_-Janabai_
We do not need a philosopher to tell us that our life is a compound of joy and sorrow, pleasure