India grow up!

Childhood independence lies in the dusty files of educational institutions, dating is limited to urban Indian cities and non-existent in desi-stan, alcohol and smoking are still considered as social stigma and luxury of the riches, vegetarianism is restricted to religious circles (ISKON etc), multi-family is the norm and love-marriages are considered as westernized fancy mixed with family passivity, inheritance is an extremely pathetic, boring, complicated sub-judicial matter which very few people understand and even lesser attempts to understand, hired helps (also called domestic helps) are the most commonest feature in urban India, they have a very pivotal role in matrimonial sanctity (if absent for a day, then poor husband has to do the dirty laundry causing an irreparable psychological scar on chauvinistic Indian male ego) and by far the best thing about Indian traffic sense is that there is none.
The in-laws are one of the potent symbol of India-ism, having a similarity with Facebook!, they provide status update to the people least bothered about them and provide unsolicited advice when you don’t need them (remember poke!)
Hope India grows up

Evening

Sikkim, shadowy evening, calm, quiet, sounds of unknown insects, colorful birds. Western sky is purple, couple of school kids returning home, little bright twinkle from the girls hostel, time for the evening prayer.
I stand near the entrance, enchanted.
I can see her, playing piano.
Sound of Chopin engulfing my senses, silent evening is playing orchestra to her solitude.

Song of the road - Nainital

On a road to Nainital…uphill…evening…
A strange evening…awkwardly silent…unknown birds chirping…last rays of sun on the hill side geranium has created a complex pattern…the sun is just a small dot on the infinite color palette of true iris blue…hill station is lit up with a soft techno-color opulence …faint glows of Nainital can be seen on the valley halfway towards my village...windy...Slightly chilly…mountain flowers in full bloom…their unusual fragrance fixed with the calm evening has created a symphony to my senses…stars…in thousands are giving me a delightful company in this utter solitude…
I lie down on the grass…tucked into a dense forest…
I close my eyes…

Blowing in the wind

Not a very easy thing…staying away from your home, parents, city, all the things that makes you comfortable…it has been tough…though I have made it through…when I look back…I see a lot of faces…waving hands…late night cabs…get-togethers….wild night parties under open sky….travels…funs…films..

Now the known faces in the bus stop have changed…the casual exchange of smiles has now stopped…I do not seem to recognize the most of my co-travelers any more…there is this new batch of undergrads and grads joining the company…waiting for the company bus…discussing their future plans…pretty girl that they have met recently in their Project course batch…next appraisal ratings or the salary hikes… next trip to home…all these seems so natural…So real…as if I am a part of their group….it’s just like living your own experience again…I have done the same things few years back…now they are doing the same…

just the faces have changed….rest is the same…same optimism…huge career goals…same enthusiasm…same zeal to start something new….same hurried ways….same twinkle in eyes as if exploring something new….

Just three years…I smile…you fellows would be like me…tired…exhausted at the never ending…ever running world…sometimes it get difficult to keep oneself motivated….as nothing seem to work…nothing seem to change….life just seems to get stuck in place….but then I think…life is not all about running to the last post….it’s about taking your time….looking back at the fond memories…keep walking….blowing in the wind.

The Day Is Done

I am not particularly fond of reading poems, as it had always reminded me about the old yellowed school days, where I was very often asked to write detailed explanation about some inexplicable poems by some fabled poets from past.

Which, by the way, meant absolutely nothing to me, and I always got a Big Zero flanked by a Red cross.
Though my poetic sense of humor has very takers, but still I would dearly like to share this poem with you, I hope when you read this you would have a smile on your face, twinkle in your eyes and a lost thought in your mind.

What I like about this poem, is its simple narrative that transforms from a personal journey by the author to a much bigger walk of life that we take each day.

I feel that this poem talks about my feelings, my hopes and despair in this troubled times. I do believe that you might also find your inner voice in this. In true sense it’s simply ‘Poetic’.

THE DAY is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

I have been lately thinking

Sometimes when I close my eyes…I see those brilliant suns soaked days in my mountains…Absolute blue sky….gently floating cumulonimbus clouds…ever smiling faces on the doorstep….ringing bells of the nearest temples….a gentle lazy walk with my brother in the afternoon….or simply sitting on the rooftop…watching the sun going down….feeling the cold dampness in the wind…Those were perfect days…I had the time...I had the way....



I used to visit a small village in Uttarakhand for Durga Pujo celebration…organized by a some expat Bengalis from Rudrapur…Pujo was a normal smallish affair between the families….hardly 50 people gathered around dense poplar, geranium trees, near the tall ever green deodars….we would then put up our small shamiana over there…and have a small…rather reclusive Pujo…
I was on my first year of college…terribly upset about spending my time away from the brightly illuminated Raj path of Kolkata…I had plans with my friends for a night-out during Ashtomi i.e. the 8th day of Navaratri….all gone down the drain….Now there I was…small pahari village surrounded by Himalayas and fabled Jim Corbett national park…few kilometers from the breathtaking Ramganga river…celebrating Ma Durga’s arrival…in her own land…that was a peculiar feeling….miles away from the hustle and bustle of crowd cramped streets of Kolkata…a vast space…open…lined with corn fields….flanked by the majestic Himalayas…with crown jewel Nainital lit up on the top of mountain….famous delhi-hardwar highway passing by…sometimes odd sounds of army convoy heavy vehicles carrying up ammo to forward post….crackles from radio…somebody listening to Vividh Bharati….common melody of cricket singing in unison…
Nobody spoke for the entire duration while the Pujo was performed…I was moved…stood motionless…watching engrossed old Brahmin performing Bodhan…
That dim lit night…chilly winds blowing in possible directions…slow but continuously flickering flames of the candle…only slow clear chants mantras…coupled with strange smell of ghee mixed with jungle flowers….It took my mind away…This is the real Pujo…I told to myself…no fancy pandals…no big crowds....no fight over the pandals themes…only divine interaction between the man and the maker…

Remembrance

Waves after waves crosses the shore…never ending…just like time…never ceases to exist...never stops…never forgets to surprise…never waits for anyone…beauty of this apparent commonest natural behavior is its astounding similarities with life…life is like that…walking along…good memories…bad memories…love…loss...pain…happiness…everything is like a rainbow in the sky called life…it looks good with it…

Best lesson I have ever learnt about life…is to love…to share…more I have shared my happiness…It got multiplied…sheer coincidence!!…no…not really…more you give…more you share…it comes back…in your life…manifold…unless…otherwise…

When does the people becomes the happiest…is it when he gets a good job…excellent six figure package…a brand new car…a furnished wardrobe…latest gadgets…nah…my best guess…when he gets loved by someone….that’s best feeling that happens once in a life time…that too for lucky one….

I have been face to face with love a few times…strange kind of feeling…being restless...Being judgmental…being foolhardy is the most usual thing to do…however bad decision love might be…its worth trying…even once…

For some people it’s like getting stuck in time warp…never really able to get out of it…stuck in past things…what they have done good…what could have better...but I guess it’s better to move on in life…rather than waiting for someone…something to happen….

To move on…is the best practical solution...but keep those memories close to your heart…like a prized possession…share it with your dreams…it best suits there…

‘They are not long the days of wine and roses,

Out of a misty dream,

Our path emerges for while, then closes,

Within a dream’