Tuesday, September 20, 2016

HAPPY teachers Day



HAPPY teachers Day

Not every time do I say this,
Not every time I remind you this
Yet today as your day comes,
I am overwhelmed with feelings,
And perhaps words are limited, yet
Myriads thoughts in my mind come flooding—
Some come with songs—
Songs of appreciation,
Songs of felicitation
And songs of reminiscence.
Some comes with gratitude—
Gratitude for blessing
Gratitude for bestowing love
Gratitude for painting my dreams.
On every trail I leave behind,
There is your impression left,
And every step I take,
I imagine your presence.
My going doesn’t seem tough
Because your presence in life
Smooth all roughness I tread.
On this August Day,
I owe you all my love,
And I wish you Happy Teachers’ Day.


Sunday, August 7, 2016

Celebrating Diwali after 8 years



Celebrating Diwali after 8 years



After having remained away from parents in the most important occasions for several years, I was home. It was one epic, memorable and important moment for me, my family and many others who keep family as their assets. My life had seen the beauty of the most important moment. I felt lucky to have been able to make it for the occasion. The light that I lit that night—the candles fixed on the barks of banana trunks—not only brightened the night, but also the soul and heart of ours. We were celebrating together after a long time. I could see smile on the lips of my parents. The smile that returned after a long time with the presence of their son was visible from far. The zeal and effort with which they welcomed the night of the occasion was in itself revealing the excitement that was accumulated within them. The night was cheerful. Each moment that consumed the occasion felt great. One thing I realized forever was the fact that family union is the greatest moment of life. I was overcome with sentiments.
Since the morning, wreaths of marigold and other species of flowers waited to be hung on the doors. Piece by piece, the flowers were joined by long threads and when the crepuscular evening presented, doors beamed with orange hue of marigold’s wreath. Neighborhood gleamed in the same way. Firecrackers were the sparkling and blasting in the infant darkness over the sky. I got overcome by all those gaps and the moments I missed and could feel the eyes get drenched. Perhaps that was the only moment I got to have that great feeling after growing up.
When I was kid, I never felt like I enjoyed. Perhaps I took things for granted as we usually do. I would feel like everything that came by was something that should do and therefore, never had as much excitement as I had after this long years. Absent had made the heart grow fonder. And the long gap created so many spaces to take everything that came by in a grand way.
That night I wanted to sing loud, speak to the world that I was happy, that I was there again. I wanted to let the neighborhood feel that we were enjoying as much as they. Like my parents were living in the village—only bride and the groom—the neighbors were no exception. In some homes, old couples, lit candles, welcomed Mata Laxmi—the goddess of wealth—to their house and, perhaps missed their children. I could read through the expression they exhibited that they were not as excited as they showed themselves to be. I could do nothing but empathize with them and their plight. I wondered then, did their sons and daughters missed the parents as much as they did! Did their sons and daughters wipe subtle tears as they did?
That night went by, next night, it was desushiri time.I went for singing desushiri. It was unplanned. It was never thought of. I had already made up my mind that I would spend my time with family. I wanted to hear other sing. I wanted to rejoice at others performance and once again delve myself into sentiments. I wanted to go back to my past when I lead a group of young youths into door to door singing. It was then, for money. It was for earning. At the recollection of those moments I felt like laughing. This time it was for entertainment. It was for living the moment and keep record of moment I enjoyed.
Indelible memories remain in my mind of that time. Unforgettable moments reside in me of those days. I have forever created a unique memory!

Celebrating Diwali after 8 years



Celebrating Diwali after 8 years



After having remained away from parents in the most important occasions for several years, I was home. It was one epic, memorable and important moment for me, my family and many others who keep family as their assets. My life had seen the beauty of the most important moment. I felt lucky to have been able to make it for the occasion. The light that I lit that night—the candles fixed on the barks of banana trunks—not only brightened the night, but also the soul and heart of ours. We were celebrating together after a long time. I could see smile on the lips of my parents. The smile that returned after a long time with the presence of their son was visible from far. The zeal and effort with which they welcomed the night of the occasion was in itself revealing the excitement that was accumulated within them. The night was cheerful. Each moment that consumed the occasion felt great. One thing I realized forever was the fact that family union is the greatest moment of life. I was overcome with sentiments.
Since the morning, wreaths of marigold and other species of flowers waited to be hung on the doors. Piece by piece, the flowers were joined by long threads and when the crepuscular evening presented, doors beamed with orange hue of marigold’s wreath. Neighborhood gleamed in the same way. Firecrackers were the sparkling and blasting in the infant darkness over the sky. I got overcome by all those gaps and the moments I missed and could feel the eyes get drenched. Perhaps that was the only moment I got to have that great feeling after growing up.
When I was kid, I never felt like I enjoyed. Perhaps I took things for granted as we usually do. I would feel like everything that came by was something that should do and therefore, never had as much excitement as I had after this long years. Absent had made the heart grow fonder. And the long gap created so many spaces to take everything that came by in a grand way.
That night I wanted to sing loud, speak to the world that I was happy, that I was there again. I wanted to let the neighborhood feel that we were enjoying as much as they. Like my parents were living in the village—only bride and the groom—the neighbors were no exception. In some homes, old couples, lit candles, welcomed Mata Laxmi—the goddess of wealth—to their house and, perhaps missed their children. I could read through the expression they exhibited that they were not as excited as they showed themselves to be. I could do nothing but empathize with them and their plight. I wondered then, did their sons and daughters missed the parents as much as they did! Did their sons and daughters wipe subtle tears as they did?
That night went by, next night, it was desushiri time.I went for singing desushiri. It was unplanned. It was never thought of. I had already made up my mind that I would spend my time with family. I wanted to hear other sing. I wanted to rejoice at others performance and once again delve myself into sentiments. I wanted to go back to my past when I lead a group of young youths into door to door singing. It was then, for money. It was for earning. At the recollection of those moments I felt like laughing. This time it was for entertainment. It was for living the moment and keep record of moment I enjoyed.
Indelible memories remain in my mind of that time. Unforgettable moments reside in me of those days. I have forever created a unique memory!

Sunday, June 19, 2016

A letter to my parents

Dear mum and dad

At times, when I am alone, many kind of thoughts play in my mind. Some thoughts please me. Some thoughts upset me. While, there are thoughts that kill me within. I wonder as to why I am here—away, far away from you all, my mum and dad; far away from the land I have grown up. Beyond hills; beyond rivers and; beyond thickets, I remain like a colonized man. Invisible handcuffs and chain hold me tight so much so that even if I want to escape, my desire and dreams would not let me go. I am jailed in the prison of so called fate. Although, technology has eased the connectivity, I still feel like we have been separated by thousand miles. Each time I remember you all, copious tears drop off my eyes silently. In principle I don’t have desire to be away from you. My sentiments hurt each time I have to spend time away from you. I know, no one has caught me and tied me, yet my desire and your dreams of me keep me confined here. Hoping for the better day—the day you may feel you have accomplished as parents, I remain bearing the pain of separation. I can’t accept the fact that we have to separate one day or the other; nay, I can’t live a life where people like you are absent. Be it happy or sad, I wish we could spend our time together. Yet for a better tomorrow, I am enduring bitter today. Don’t ask me if I don’t miss you; I do! However as I already said, I am learning to be a better son.
I know why you had to bear the pain of my departing from you. I had to do it as well. In the chilly morning of winter or rainy hot morning of summer, when we all had to wake up early for my departure,I have undergone the toughest experience. I would feel suffocated yet what would I do? All I could do to hide tears in my eyes was to assure you all that I am coming back soon. You and i—all of us await a moment when we would have some cashes to buy stuffs that as a farmer we couldn’t do easily. The entire life you have spent on children like us. Sometimes into the rain, you have worked to earn something; sometimes into the scorching heat of sun, you have sweated to complete a task for money. How can I forget how hard you have been toiling in the worst of weather so that one day when your sons get into job, you can sit on a comfortable chair. Every day of your life, I know, you have been waiting for day when you can see your son become a successful man so that you can go to the neighborhood and boast.
I am sorry, dear dad and mum, that we may not have lives we all have been dreaming of. Not all the pleasing dreams and plans may turn out to be as good. We might not have enough money for paddy cultivation and harvest. Although I have been reminding myself that no matter what, I will make you proud; no matter what, you lead comfortable life. However, I am a little apprehended about what might happen to me after I am married—you daughter in law might not allow me to pursue my dreams of helping you. Looking at what many sons and daughters have been undergoing, each day I grow up into an eligible bachelor, I have this fear over coming me. I am scared of how your daughter in law would look like. I wish she doesn’t catch my hand and stop me from helping you. I know these are some useless stuff to write, yet I am being practical. Your son turns out to be old each passing day yet I haven’t started earning a single pie.
I have been away from you all for sometime. The place where life saw how the world looked like gradually becomes like a dream dearer. Blur images of the place my childhood trod appears like a fluttering of a flag. Like fading food steps of departing souls, the memories that once were close to my heart, fade. I am afraid of the impermanence of the mind. What if I develop interest in other places! I know, if I do, I will not be able to forgive myself. I am a little afraid of this useless thing and I want you to know this.
Dear mum and dad, i want to say thank you for all the help and kindness you gave me. I am sorry for all hurdles you have to undergo for me. Each passing day I am learning to be a good son. Each passing day I am sewing pieces of dreams .I am weaving great thoughts for days to come. In wait of a fine day, I am dreaming like you do. Perhaps, we will have a better life together.
Thank you.

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Mother-a multiple role actress in the world



Mother-a multiple role actress in the world
 PC:Internet
 An old Jewish proverb goes thus, “God could not be everywhere, so he created mothers”.  Indeed, this proverb holds truth eternally. Mothers are the goddess in disguise.   She forgets her today for our tomorrow. She sacrifices her favorites for our welfare.  An ancient Indian adage reads, “Mata pita guru deva” which when translated stands for mother, father, teacher and god in its strict sense. A mother comes before god and thus she represents the noblest of all people. Milton Berle says, “If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands? This emphasizes on the multiple role she plays in her life. It reminds us how a mother frees her busy schedule to do a lot of things. Thus, a mother in her life time lifts the heaviest burden and plays a role of a nurse, teacher and friend.
Since the conception, till she delivers us to this world, one can just imagine how ceaseless agony presses her hard. Sometimes, giving up her favorite food to maintain us inside, how, miserable she must feel. We can’t feel because we never become one.  She sacrifices everything for her baby’s health—her beautiful time to her favorite dish. William Goldsmith Brown says, the sweetest sounds to mortals given, are heard in Mother, Home, and Heaven”.
After we are born how tough life blows her, one cannot imagine. We don’t know what goes through her life, having to raise us despite our being so vulnerable to natural calamities. From an immovable- log like us to the dynamic- machine like human being, she helps us metamorphose. She provides everything for our growth. Between the times we are baby, till we consider ourselves grown, she cares for us like nobody else. The bed which we urinate and that stinks,   she washes without even the slightest sense of burden and filth. The bottom where feces cling like dew drops on a leaf, she wipes with her bare hand without taking it as a burden. Often times, when she falls asleep early overcome with lassitude, just at a single cry of ours, she wakes up to console and fondle us putting us back to sleep. No matter how hard weariness pulls her, consoling us on her aching laps, she never ignores to suckle us. Even when rivulet of sweats drains her forehead and that she is parched, she never forgets to give us her time. “Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What’s that supposed to mean? In my heart it doesn’t mean a thing” says, Toni Morrison in the Beloved. To a mother, we never grow old; we remain the same young baby no matter how grey and long our beards grow. “Being a mother means that your heart is no longer yours; it wanders wherever your children do” reads another adage by an anonymous.
While swinging us on a cradle, she sings lullaby to put us into sleep. Sometimes grasping our hands, she teaches us to walk. Sometimes, chewing eatables for us, she teaches us chewing things. The times of life when legs are just useless organs, she teaches us to crawl. Carrying on her back, she teaches us utter words so that world bows to our words as we grow. An anonymous writer says, “The formative period for building character for eternity is in the nursery. The mother is queen of that realm and sways a scepter more potent than that of kings or priests”. Yes, it is the mother who teaches the ABCs of ethics and discipline.  She is the one who instills in us attitude . I always remember what my mum says: She says, “don’t let a day come when you may have to droop your head low”. Everything summarizes here —she has taught me the values; she has taught me not to incline my actions towards wrong doings and, of all, she has taught me just not to be a better   son but a better human being.  James Russel Lowell further improves my statement. He says, the best academy, a mother’s knee—meaning that she teaches us a lot of things in life.
As a friend, a mother shares us her life with us. In the words of Washington Irving it follows thus: “A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts”.
In the words of Oliver Wendell Holmes, it says: “youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall; a mother’s secret hope outlives them all”.  This clearly tells us that it’s in the heart of a mother where unconditional and unfailing love grows. It is her love that keeps us moving; that keeps us living and boosts us with encouragement to feel we ought to live. When the rest world turns deaf ears to our feelings, it’s is she who would listen to us with sincerity and curiosity. She never gets bored of listening to our useless jokes, meaningless stories and repeated requests.
Therefore, having known what a mother does in her lifetime, it is said that there is no action that can repay our mother. Sometimes acting like a nurse, she nurtures us. Sometimes in life times, as a teacher she preaches us the unfailing qualities of unconditional love. She teaches us what it means to be disciplined and ethical. Above all, she guides us to be a good human being. As a friend, she always listens to our problem, console us and pull us back each time failures push us down. Time to time, she pats us on our back and remind us she is with us. A mother is not just herself, but angel!



Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Farewell to you



Farewell to you

As you wished to part from my life
Where deep slumber comforted you,
I open my arms,
And close my eyes;
Though sweats on my teeth cling vulnerable
 Thunder and lightning occur in me
And into pieces, my heart shatters,
Yet you chose to go
Living me overcast with darkness
I bid adieu
Or what can I do more?
I shall not stop you
With the fence of my tears
Or beg you to come back
With the tone of breaking voice.
With wishes at heart
And prayers  between lips,
May your going
Leave no trails in me
That would walk to you often
And drag me on your feet again.
As you chose to go,
Go as a liberated soul
With dead energy to haunt me.