Changes and Challenges..The Indian Woman

Her whole life is one long stillness of prayer.

The word 'prayer' is what sums up a life lead well and truthfully, is what I feel. Just let it be one of silent and humble devotion. The only true way that my religion requires for salvation, freedom, nirvana or mukti or whatever you may call it, is to free oneself of desires and possessions.

When you pray and you truly pray, not the usual standing before god and begging for all material things instead of worshipping, will you find that freedom.

I look upon a true Hindu woman and her life as a personification of the word prayer or a better 'Aradhana' , as in Sanskrit. She literally gives her entire life in all of hers, as a mother, sister, daughter and beloved wife for the happiness and comforts of the ones she loves. not a single demand for herself, even when she is selfish, it is for someone who she loves and not for her own. That is the the ideal of Hinduism in all its hidden glory, giving up our egos and comforts for others.

And yet these hundreds of years of selfless sacrifice have brought our race to nothing but to look upon women as something of a commodity, a possession. She is a thing and not a sentient being, who is to work ceaselessly for the comfort of man. she is not to have a say in her life, all of her life.

Most males and Indians are no exception, rather more aggressive in this respect, suffer from a false sense of mastership. they have over generations come to believe that women are created to serve and please them only. We comfortably forget that our mothers, sister, wives and daughters do not obey or follow us only because of our 'Manliness' alone. They do it more so because of the love they possess, for which they are ready to vanquish their egos and themselves too. May be it is selfless or selfish, but that is the case in most instances.

However these long times of servile love has imbued both men and women with decadence. Much as men can't handle strong and independent women, the fairer sex has also learnt to forgo correct and right things for the sake of 'Family' as well as their own selfish nature; the latter being a by-product of sense of self preservation. And each successive generation of parents and teachers have only reinforced these beliefs in the coming ones with their skewed visions and teachings.

The result? We have a society where men are considered inferior to each other and women, to all men; for 'the hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world'. And when those hands themselves are weak, what do we expect them to raise other than a race of bigots and maniacs. Those who are never given a choice in their lives, what education and culture will they give to their offspring save fear and hidden malice and distrust.

And this has created a paradox in recent times and more so with our generation. the older ones, our mothers and all are still rooted to the old and orthodox ideas of their inherent inferior position in family in family and society. The newer generations however fare no better and are caught in a doldrums as if. Most of them coming from 'strict' and middle class families when living, reading and working in the home towns are typically the 'Good girls'. And these same women when away from families are easy preys to a hundred temptations, waiting to beguile and destroy them.

And famished as they are, for the simple wants of freedom to think and choose, many cross over the lines just trying to experiment or have fun. the simplest evidence to illustrate these are the demographical data which clearly show the rise of smoking and drinking among women, not only in big metros but all over the nation. These two vices earlier considered the supreme taboo are now termed as casual and cool. And these are eating into the very roots of our culture and civilization as Hindus and Indians as well. Various social magazines proudly carry out sex surveys that celebrate 'the coming of age of the Indian women' . Replete with lurid articles on the ever increasing promiscuity in our country and new 'brave' concepts as 'Live-in relations' , where both men and women are reduced to the state of mere concubines or as in Hindi the word 'Rakhail' I do not know what they are trying to prove. The popular modes of entertainment viz. television and cinema seem to harp on the axes premarital and post marital relationships and other such misguided openness. And the phenomenon are no longer confined to large cities and metros, but also common in the smaller towns.

A question however arises. Are women only to be blamed for this condition? To a large extent we may use the doctrine of self responsibility and other such things but everyone knows the adage “You need two hands to clap.” So the society must accept the other half of the responsibility. A horse if kept in confinement for long, will naturally hesitate to walk into a open space even if left free. Yet after a few half hearted canters, it will run in every direction without knowing where to go. Too thirsty a man drinks water in large gulps not caring about the taste and quality. Therefore, it is quite natural that our womenfolk the modern, educated and self reliant, but away from the family are prone to practises which are physically and emotionally destructive.

All of this raises a need for a solution if there is one. Is it ? I think there is. however it will take some time. When a river breaks a dam, the first rush always brings the filth and silt which has been collecting against the wall for so many years. Similarily, this ongoing upheaval and change in the women around us is but normal sign of the process in motion. This eruption of so called 'repressed sexuality' and other forms of femine transformations, both good and bad. However as the flow come to a normal level in due course of time, the river will become life giving once more.

It is our collective responsibility to understand and assimilate the good things that have come from these transformation. All of us the parents, teachers, friends, colleagues and most of all, each individual especially the modern Indian women must understand their rights and roles. Theirs is a delicate and very important role in our culture. they must learn to get their rights as responsible adults and do their rightful duties.

We want to go back to the days of Savitri the ever pure and ever free, who chose her own husband fully knowing the consequences. Let the daughter of Modern India be once more Rani ahalya bai, Jhansi Rani Laxmibai and virago chennama of Kittur. No doubt we have modern examples of Indira Gandhi, but these are far and few. The age old gender bias and the religious narrow-mindedness are sending us back to the medival ages. We need to turn back and move ahead.

the only thing neede is to provide right example before our children and everyone else and believing in the choices they make.

We need to be their guides and not their masters.And then only once more the pious motherland of ours reverberate with the chants of

"Yatra naari pujyante, ramanti tatra deavata"

Verily the gods reside, where the women are worshipped..

Amen...

Thanks for your time and patience

Picture : Raja Ravivarma painting--Lady with a flower garland

Dark Side of the Moon

Something, a bit dark....




Have you ever felt all alone and forlorn? Something running from the tip of yor head
to the end of your toe, chilling all that is and freezing something inin your
veins. Something that is arcane,pure and unadulterated, like life itself ,surging
through.
With every breath of yours, it slows and clots.
And yet a sudden spasm blows it up all again.
A dormant volcano brought to life, breathing fire, turning all ice into lava.
Yet it flows down, the ale of spirits, scarlet and all intoxicating.
Drip ,drip,drip; drop by drop it falls and accumulate, blackening the floor beneath.
Thick and dark, it reeks of a sickly sweet mixed smell; the smell of dreams and
desires both hidden and revealed. of the tales your heart hid in a deep lair or told
them for the winds to spread. of guilts and sins and thoughts so beautiful and
lovely as the summer mornings and the ones dark, pitch dark of the secret revolting
pleasures you want to enjoy.
Thoughts that rush all at once, swirling and hurtling; to suffocate you,smother your
senses drowning every last bit of your existence into oblivion.
And a bleak purple silhouette enwraps you, as you lie in the bed; a crimson stream
running down your slashed wrists and slit throat.
Your mouth! Its full of bitter bile and blood; your own blood, every time you cough.
Tell me, how it taste? Nice and hot? or Vile and salty?
Inches by inches pain shoots up in your body,like the poison from a viper's kiss.it
crawls all along you and singes every part it touches. you burn and smoulder, but no
flames ensue, no smoke either.

Calm down my friend.Lie silently; feel yourself floating in a vast river or on blue
sheets of icy glaciers that skim the oceans.
Just drift uninhibited; give up the futile struggles.

And embrace your final destiny. The last dance.....
Amen!


Regards,
Gunjan

The Dark Side of the Moon

Something, a bit dark....




Have you ever felt all alone and forlorn? Something running from the tip of yor head
to the end of your toe, chilling all that is and freezing something inin your
veins. Something that is arcane,pure and unadulterated, like life itself ,surging
through.
With every breath of yours, it slows and clots.
And yet a sudden spasm blows it up all again.
A dormant volcano brought to life, breathing fire, turning all ice into lava.
Yet it flows down, the ale of spirits, scarlet and all intoxicating.
Drip ,drip,drip; drop by drop it falls and accumulate, blackening the floor beneath.
Thick and dark, it reeks of a sickly sweet mixed smell; the smell of dreams and
desires both hidden and revealed. of the tales your heart hid in a deep lair or told
them for the winds to spread. of guilts and sins and thoughts so beautiful and
lovely as the summer mornings and the ones dark, pitch dark of the secret revolting
pleasures you want to enjoy.
Thoughts that rush all at once, swirling and hurtling; to suffocate you,smother your
senses drowning every last bit of your existence into oblivion.
And a bleak purple silhouette enwraps you, as you lie in the bed; a crimson stream
running down your slashed wrists and slit throat.
Your mouth! Its full of bitter bile and blood; your own blood, every time you cough.
Tell me, how it taste? Nice and hot? or Vile and salty?
Inches by inches pain shoots up in your body,like the poison from a viper's kiss.it
crawls all along you and singes every part it touches. you burn and smoulder, but no
flames ensue, no smoke either.

Calm down my friend.Lie silently; feel yourself floating in a vast river or on blue
sheets of icy glaciers that skim the oceans.
Just drift uninhibited; give up the futile struggles.

And embrace your final destiny. The last dance.....
Amen!


Regards,
Gunjan

Ramblings of Mind - Part 3

oDear Guys and gals, another one in set of the Meanderings of My mind. I just want you all to read and enjoy. I do not wish to hurt anyone. The views are entirely mine, no judgments on anything/one. Grammatical mistakes are unavoidable. Please enjoy the article and thanks one and all for your time spent to read it.

!

Mind is the most beautiful thing, sometimes I feel. It’s so wonderful creation of a master worker. It has created marvels of marvels with all what nature gifted us with. A will to go beyond the seemingly unsurmountable impossibilities posed by nature. The impediments of distances, depths and heights, unthinkable and unfathomable as they were, but no longer. Not to mention the barriers of cultures and climates. So many inventions we take for granted so many things around us; small everyday commonplace things. We forget the beauty imbued into trifles, as they seem. Rains on rooftop, the smell of a lawn cut freshly, smiles all around you, of small kids or strangers and your loved ones. I feel like dancing, when I listen to a tune played somewhere., on a radio on a loudspeaker. Songs, they lift the heart in a way nothing else can. Nature has given from her coffers so much, and we have used the gift of intellect bestowed upon by the lord to recreate the magic. Sometimes I sit and think of the things I daily use and my heart is filled with awe and admiration to what we have achieved, as humankind.

Let me start with getting up from my bed thing, by the pleasant sound of the alarm in my cell phone. Now cell phone is an amazing piece of engineering. A music player, a phone of course, message storage box, radio, internet and what not. Name it and you have it. Taking a bath on the third floor, under a shower seems pretty normal, except if you can imagine bringing the same amount of water from a well. Then comes dressing up with clothes I feel comfortable in. And last but not the least my shoes, Lee Cooper ones. So nice they are, so cozy. I just wonder who would have invented a comfort so necessary. Hats off to the guy/gal, who built the first shoe.

And also to the hundreds and thousands, who created small things of daily use; a needle, a mirror, a wheel, a button, a zip and thousand other things. Can we imagine our modern day Lives without any of them? Then there are some personal favourites, like the steam engine, a printing press, a typewriter, a telephone and internet. All of these spawned amazing progenies; the sparked desires. Desires to shorten distances, to bring all humanity and the knowledge together as one. Increased productivity in terms of material wealth and basic necessities. Better houses, better sanitation, better medicines and better life for one and all. Recreation is as important to man as work is. It takes us back to the primal source of all knowledge, the thought. Dance, music and other such fine arts make us transcend the normal limits of traditional thinking and reach a sublime sphere of being. A place where everything is beautiful and untainted. A flute sounds like a cuckoo singing, a drum like a thunderstorm. The magic of nature created from the creations of nature and human genius. The musical instruments are among the most marvellous of our inventions along with the colours, paints, the pen and the paper. For centuries they have kept the legends alive, nurtured the soul of mankind with milk of sweetness and hope. They created awe and inspiration for the generations; to achieve the impossible, to go beyond the unknown.

I am currently reading the autobiography of Helen Keller. For those of us who do not know her, she was a deaf and blind woman. She was the first deaf-blind person to achieve a Bachelor of Arts degree. The book is a gem for all of us to feel rather than just read. I would suggest everyone to read it, for it will show what determination and grit can achieve. More than that, it makes you appreciate the sensory faculties we have been blessed. Ability to see, hear, speak, touch and think; just imagine what your life will be without one of them?

And yet here we are, most of us going through the whole of life putting all those small jewels of time down the drain of ego; a murky, obnoxious mixture of petty feelings, jealousy, arrogance, hatred and so many negativities. Why do we need to feel superior to everyone around us, usually in a tyrannical sort of way? A foolish will to control everything around us, knowing very well you can’t. And in the end wrecking our lives and hurting the ones we claim to love. It’s so confusing and disturbing. Quarrels and fights on matters so non trivial. Which god to pray and how, when hardly one in a million will have the real knowledge of what praying really means, what actually god is. But I will slit throat of innocent people, burn houses without remorse, if your thinking differs from mine on anything and vice versa.

A continuous march to the grave or funeral pyre as the case may be all of us are onto. So my friend, why not make the path more serene, blissful and blessed for our children who follow us and make our ancestors proud who went ahead. Why can’t love each other without thinking of return or authority? Why can’t we let our children grow in a world full of mutual respect, love and help, instead of the deceitful and pathetic one we are creating? Everywhere I see people dividing themselves in name of god, caste, language, colour and creeds. Not considering even for a moment the hollowness of these criterion as we apply them today. People blowing up themselves for a reason they do not understand the implications of. Ages have passed and will pass. Hundreds of Buddha and Christ will walk and yet the earth will be deluged with blood of innocent men and animal for pleasure and insanity we pursue unabated. Leave the war fields and other such big things. Just look into our very own daily lives. Walk in front of a mall today. We can buy a pair of jeans or an ear ring or a Mcdee Burger, spending a large amount of money on something so frivolous. And yet giving a 5 Rs coin to a beggar we feel ourselves as King Vikramaditya, who it is said would donate one lakh gold coins every morning. Our generation is destroying itself in smoke, alcohol and promiscuous relationships.

You need not go far, just look at the young generation, guys and gals working in large cities, in sectors new and paying handsomely. They are flush with so much money, hard-earned though it is; they know not what to do with it. The vices are just around the corner in such cases to prey upon them. We walk blindfolded on the promontory eventually to fall in the sea. A rush is there to nowhere, and the end is not in my sight. And yet as someone truly said “Faith is the bird that sings, when the dawn is still dark”, I too have hopes. Hope that someday we are out of this stupor. So that we work for those who can not afford to help themselves.

I feel we are all connected, all humans and beasts,deep within. Otherwise why do I feel sad when a car crashes or a misguided guy blasts himself to pieces; when trees are cut just to create just another mall or something equally stupid? Why am I happy when I see a puppy jumping on all fours, a kid playing naked in rains smile, or when someone braves all difficulties to help a complete stranger? I am happy and sad with every one of you, as you are with me, knowingly or unknowingly. Just try and feel it, and you will know. May the best thing we have, our brains; the thing that created this keyboard I am typing on and the net which will give you this message, be calm and peaceful. Let us all grow in a spirit of togetherness, preserving our individual cultures and harmonizing with others. May we overcome petty habits of food, creed and language. They were created to group ourselves as one, not to be the cause of battles. We lower ourselves than the brutes that roam or the spineless creatures which slither, when we offend the spirit. And we know when we are wrong, just that we do not want to admit. Only because of a false sense of pride; a pride bound to go, whatever the reason of it be.

One day your body will fade away and your thoughts too. So will go away the name and riches you desire. We are not the centre of this Universe; we are mere specks of dust floating in this vast universe. It is all beautiful and happy, only you need to look the right way. And you will see the light, shining beautifully, beckoning you.

Let peace be unto us.

Amen

Love,

Gunjan

Ramblings Of Mind -2

Whenever I sit to type, a question arises as to what to write and why to write.

I try to find an answer but can only find an explanation I deem fine enough to urge me to continue.

I believe writing is like a undertaking a journey, that has to be completed to know whether you began it on your own in the first place, or were cajoled by some instinct.

The following thoughts came and played and danced with my mind and heart as I was returning home this February. I present them with a little extra embellishment to the original draft, as to be more palatable. So one and all get ready for a soothing and smooth ride. Bon Voyage!!

Train journeys are so beautiful a thing, if you have the patience to bear with all the strings attached that come; especially, when I talk of our very own Indian Railways.

All the noise, dirt and dust along with the usual sharing of seats as and more such thing. All this, if you dare travel in the normal sleeping class and not the AC, which is a fashion statement, at least to me.

Trains are the lifelines of our country; one of it’s the largest establishments and an unsung, silent pride which only a few of us admire. Carrying the vast and so diverse a multitude of people and goods to even more diverse landscapes. Some people, travel in search of a refuge and some opportunities; all however, seek a path to their dreams and destinies. The great expanses and the multitude of geographical barriers these trains surmount, is a burning example of the tenacity of humans in general, and of us Indians in particular. Trains, I always felt are a wonderful thing; a giant metal caterpillar put on Iron tracks, coming alive as if by magic every time the engine starts. The Chug-chug echoing all through its body like a giant heart throbbing and pulsating; coursing the blood red drop of train on to the veins of tracks. And inside the bogies, so many faces, all of so different hues not even the rainbow can match, you see at one go. So many languages in the air, yet all smiling in one, of love. Sharing together the food and talks with all as their own family, anecdotes and advices too. It’s a wonderful dance going all around, but only for the one who can see it. So many different tastes, smells, sights and sounds! ; All rushing to the same destinations, filling your journey with the aroma of a wonderful experience. A fragrance that gets stronger each time I travel.

It’s a cold February day, as I travel back to my home from the land of my bread and butter, the Bangalore. The journey is a long one, two days to be exact! I make myself comfortable on the Upper berth. Have put the luggage below the lower one, chained and locked! It’s time to capture the window seat, which I luckily get. “Roma Victor”, I mutter to myself as I stretch my legs. The compartment is S5, in the middle of this 18 bogies long train. As Bangalore is the starting point, the place is thankfully clean. Its quarter to 8 and we are about to leave the station. People are rushing on the platform, all in a hurry to get to their seats. Its semester break in the engineering colleges, and noisy bunch of college kids are in my compartment too. Though it’s hardly been two years since leaving the college, seems a lot has changed inside as well as outside. I am lost in my college days memories. I come back to the present world as the train picks up speed and the air gets cooler. Time to survey the co passengers! Two guys and two girls, all travelling on their own. So, a bunch of strangers stuffed in an 8'x2.5’area for 48 hours; hmmm that should be interesting. I think some reality TV people can cash in on this idea. Anyways as in all such situations, there was an aura of aloofness all around. Everyone seemed preoccupied with themselves; making bed, getting paper plates ready for dinner or chatting on cell with their family & friends. I had had my dinner just before coming and the wait at the station had made me sleepy. The nice breeze blowing added to the state of stupor and in half an hour of moving, I was lost to the world into caverns of hypnosis. One of the damsels, yeah she was cute, gently broke my dreams with her imperceptibly low voice “excuse me but I want to sleep now, if you can please move to your berth.” To be true I did not want to go anywhere and would have asked her to sleep there, but I am a ‘civilized’ guy you know, so the chivalry. I climbed to my berth, ate a chocolate and few biscuits and lied down to sleep, which I did, I don’t know when. I woke up groggily; it was only 5 O’clock. I got down muttering some unprintable words. And this young lady was sleeping with a serene bliss on her lovely face. Now that is some way to make a morning, thank you God! I go to finish you-know-what all, coming out fresh. I am hungry now, ah a cup of hot tea! Standing at the door, sipping tea as the weather gets colder every passing hour, I blow dense clouds of acrid burnt tobacco. Yeah the morons at railways have made it illegal, but apna bharat mahan hai yaar, sab chalta hai. So here I am, enjoying the lush greenery and the hot national drink. I return to my compartment to find the sleeping beauties still in their kingdom of slumber. I do not wanna raid their dreamlands, so I try adjusting myself on the lower berth, half bent like the brooding philosopher. The train is soon filled with the smell of hot Dosas, Idlis and other morning breakfast savories. My hunger has reached its peak level and the fuel tank is rumbling. I bought 2 dosas and lessened the ache in my stomach by stuffing them as fast as possible. The lower berth guys have also woke up. As one of them makes a move towards the bathroom, I lie down in his place. Some 15 mins later I am woke up by the owner of the berth, who wants to take some food from his bag. Our sleeping princesses finally get up, smiling brightly and finally we can get the middle berths in their original form, to make more comfortable seats. The train is about to reach some station, infamous for its eunuchs. A silent tension and nervousness was palpable in the whole bogie. And then they came, clapping in their traditional trademark way, asking for money. The refusal led to insults and even more dire consequences you know about, but again they are unprintable to be read by a civilized person like you. I gave a 10 rupees note to one of them and he/she (?) blessed me, with luck and kids and all good things. I smiled and after a moment became sad. True, these people add no value to our country and are almost everyday cheating the people. Many of them are involved in prostitution and other crimes, but are we not equally responsible for their plight? Shunned by the society just because they cannot identify themselves with any gender, does it let us claim to be cultured and better than our barbarian ancestors? They are treated worse than pariahs; singing in marriages, when they will never enjoy the marital bliss and on births, blessing the new born but will never have kid themselves, are they not more sympathetic than rest of us. Devoid of the most basic of identities which make us humans, these creatures (?), I believe live a life that is unthinkable. But as the train leaves one station for the other, people too come and go and the stories with them also. The bogie is a mix of relief and laughter as the eunuch force marches on. I shared my cigarette with one of them and the smile on his/her face was a sight to behold. The weather, meanwhile has heated up a bit and the whole atmosphere is pleasantly cool. Even the sunlight is fuzzy and cozily warm. Outside all I see are villages and farms. Men, women all are working together, ignorant of the so called gender based discrimination at the work place. Lot of cattle, cows and buffaloes and herds of goats graze in the fields. Half naked kids play around, their tanned faces reflecting sunshine with innocent smiles. A few clouds are visible in the sky, but I felt they were the lost passengers of a caravan that has passed by. There are mud puddles all over owing to the downpours last night, the newspapers said so. We could well hear the frogs croaking and see a few birds catching insects in the fields. The trees were all washed up and the scene looked like a freshly painted canvas. Some ice breaking occurs between us co-passengers as we sip more tea. The girls are college friends and colleagues in a software firm, going home to attend a marriage. The two guys are colleagues too and on a business trip to Kolkata from their company. The rest of the bogie as I said earlier comprises mostly of college kids going home in semester break. The atmosphere gets nostalgic all of a sudden for me, as one of them picks his guitar and is joined in chorus for the song ‘Summer of ‘69 ’. The great college anthem by legend Brian Adams, it stirs up deep emotions every single time you hear it. All those careless days of joy and freedom; bunking classes, night outs for exams, the hostel mess, classroom crushes, they just come hurtling without a warning, drowning you in memories that will remain in you till you live. Unconsciously all of us start singing and by the time we finish, I could see quite a few moistened eyes, but all happy ones. All of us start reminiscing about those gone by moments of fun and tales after tales tumble out. By the time it is noon, all five of us are like long lost friends, sitting together after a long time, taking a class trip. Something is loosened up inside, as if all the burden and responsibility that accrues with the so called grown up life and job has fallen off my shoulders. I am a college guy again, smiling and dreaming, going back to my home. Post lunch, all are tired and climb back into their places to sleep. I am the lone sentinel, sleepless one. The sky is slowly turning to grayish black as a huge mass of cloud seems rising like a dust storm, far away at the horizon. The twilight is coming rather fast, and before I could think of anything, the whole sky turns dark black. Heavily loaded clouds burst upon us as an army of suicide bombers. Outside everywhere, everything was lost in a thick sheet of water falling from the heavens with all its fury. I hastily closed the glass windows, by when I was half drenched. Slowly and suddenly a chill spread in the air as the weather grew colder with the rains. I switched off the fans as almost everyone got up in my compartment. The view outside was all blur as torrents after torrents gushed out. Sky was nothing but a thick black blanket of clouds, which seemed impenetrable and an inexhaustible supply of water right now. The electric lights overhead came on as the darkness outside grew and also the ferrying trips of tea vendors and Pakodawallahs increased; clearly railways had appointed smart caterers! The fares sold like anything; the whole compartment was filled with the odour of pakodas and din of chattering, over the hot cups of tea. I silently watched God watering his gardens. Paddy fields getting soaked in the gushes from sky and all swaying in mirth and joy! Every thing covered in the translucent sheets of water and a cold wind has started them off in an orchestrated dance. I can see quite a few shawl and sweaters out now. I sat quietly watching the dance of rain on the bosoms of trees and leaves. The smell of the earth! Intoxication arises from the skin of earth as she bathes in the love of the skies above; A kiss from her beloved! I just let myself drown in the aroma wafting all around me, losing my existence in the intense experience. It’s so calm and soothing. No one is around, and I walk as if in dream on a forlorn path amidst high and mighty trees swaying in stupor of the moonlit night. An arcane forest on the edges of a dreamland and I walk all alone. The reverie was broken as the train came to a halt in the middle of nowhere. We were held at an outer signal to same station. The rains had abated in their fury and it was a gentle shower now. However, the cold had definitely increased, and I was forced to put on a jacket. We were passing through another of the small towns, streets all submerged in knee deep water and the street lights reflecting in them. The rains were still there and it was all a shower of molten gold as the lights peered through the gossamer sheets fluttering with the chill winds. The chill was bone numbing. The train was moving at a very fast pace and even darkness was all but a blur. After another hour of speeding, we reached a relatively big station. At this 11^th hour of the night, the platform was almost deserted, save for a few tea shops and some teenagers selling cigarettes, illegally though. I bought a fresh pack at one and a quarter of the real price, but in this cold weather it was a bargain. Some warmth crept into my body and the soul, as the seductively addictive smoke made its way into my throat and deep inside. I stood at the door, puffing and silently admiring the beauty of night. It is a great leveler, isn’t it? All things and beings, no matter what or how they are in the daytime, are covered in a cloak of black. No demarcation or differentiation; most of them asleep as babies, harmless and peaceful. And yet the predators lurk into the enchanting darkness, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. The chill in weather has further increased as the continuous rains are heavier with a dose of hails, quite a few of them drumming on the bogie’s roof. At a distance, I see a cluster of huts and a very small light, maybe a lantern, swinging with the wind. It is like a lighthouse in a sea of black. I sat on the TTE’s seat near the door, and peered out. Dark shapes of trees and fields stood drenching and swaying with the night, pitch dark from every side. I opened the side window and closed my eyes, feeling the night through my ears. Frogs croaked, crickets chirped in fields and the raindrops pitter-pattered on to everything; the music divine! My nose soon grew cold with the wind kissing all around my face and I could feel the moisture settling on my lips and cheeks. It was the kiss of a rain soaked night, sweet and shy, one of complete submission and lovely, as the virgin’s first one. She travels with me, lulling me into a sleep, away from all that binds me when I am awake. I am myself; a bird, flying in the vast azure sky, unaware of the miracle it performs as other creatures wistfully look. Dreams of unknown shades float all around drowning me into fantasies unimagined or the horrors unthought-of. And all of sudden, “Aaaitsshchoo,” I sneeze. The cold is really unbearable now. I shut the window down and climb onto my place. The snugness and comfort of blanket are a great welcome and I cosily loose myself into the land of sleep. Even in sleep I feel I could hear the incessant rains. Next morning, 36 hours in the belly of the metallic, motor driven reptile I was kinda mentally exhausted. We had crossed the state of Orissa last night, and now were in ‘Aamaar Shonaar Bengal’; an hour more to reach Howrah station. The last leg is always the most difficult one. There is only one thing in mind as to how fast the journey gets over. There was sadness in the compartment. In last 25 hours we had developed a good bond between us co passengers, and it was not very comfortable to be parted. But then life has her own ways. Email and phone numbers were exchanged, with promises to meet. Only god knows how good these promises will hold. Still the time spent together was another experience, sweet and priceless. The scene outside was pretty much repeating, ponds and houses and houses and ponds. The only additions were the mud houses, a lot of them and lot of political stuff painted on their walls. Everyone was busy finishing the final wrap-up. The whole bogie looked strange. Only few hours ago the berths were all covered with bedsheets and blankets of different colours and designs. And now they were all same coverless as at the start of the journey. The trains do bring out the Gypsy in all of us, the nomads, and the caravans. Travelling together up to the final destination, as a single family, and then everyone go their own ways. So finally the chugging engine enters the Howrah station, one of the biggest and oldest ones. The city of joy beckons us all. I have 5 hours to spend before my train arrives. The question is, what to do till then? Ok, I deposit my luggage in the cloakroom. A signboard there reads “Beware of Rats.” Hmmm, I think I will pray for my luggage. Coming out, I light the final cigarette as I feast my eyes on the Hoogly River, flowing in all its majesty and then the grandeur of the timeless, immemorial Howrah Bridge. I take a lungful of the crisp morning air all aromatic with the spices, fish and other breakfast savories being sold in the numerous eateries around the station. I walk towards one of them to have the ‘Pooris’ and ‘Aalu-chanaar sobji’. Then to take a few ferry trips across the river and another pack or two of cigarettes. The Bengali gals are another good reason to roam around. So till I come back have a break and have whatever you like. Hey! There, yeah the one in Pink salwar suit looks pretty hot. Me going, will tell you the rest of the story some next time. Take care till then, Bbye. “Oye Aamar pink Roshogulla, I am coming.”

Perceptions

This is the result of an experimental combo between Me and my Genius frnd Preeti.
Our styles,use of words and almost everything is different yet I believe the work has come out nicely, kindly comment.


Perceptions


Words and Words, I paint in my ink
With the brush of pen on this canvas of world.

Myriad hues of hidden,obvious clues,
soaked in juices of life, all sour and sweet.

Warm smiles, tears bitter,some happy moments & sad others,
I mix 'em all in cauldron of my palms,to make u a brew of life my friend.
(Gunjan)

The exuberance of varied hue,
The fates parody marinated in brew
Paints the ineffable logic of life
and whispers a song forever anew
Like the tears of the air shines as a dew
Like the shredded clothing is mended by sew
Endeavour to swim across the shallowness of life
Pervading smiles allover,returning destiny its due. (Preeti Venkateshan )

Wanderings of mind--Part 1

It grows dark outside my window on the third floor, as I sit alone and type.
Nothing as readable, just a few ramblings of mind fixed here. To locate my way back if I lose the path. Heat is a bit stifling and life too seems to have got stuck. So no rhyme, no rhythm, no reason. Come let's float in the flow, uninhibited without any struggles.

Sometimes a despondence creeps up out of nowhere, and grips the whole being. Losing into nothingness seems the only way out, but the path is uncertain too. So many people in my life, yet no one to who I can completely open my heart. A sense of responsibility and duty too hangs out, but towards what?

And suddenly you feel indifferent to all this hubbub and drudgery of existing. It all seems futile. No I am not being a depressed suicidal maniac, just plain bored of life.
It is like being in a party where no attraction or reason to stay is present, yet you can not leave for the sake of courtesy.

So I get up from the bench and start walking into the deep dark forests of my thoughts. Shrouded in mist and wrapped in cobwebs. Some memories so old, I forget what time forged it.
Is there a reason for memories to stay in your head? To warm you, warn you or hurt you repeatedly? I do not know neither I fathom. I continue my stroll as sun gives way to the approaching night. The river silently flows making a soft murmuring sound against the stones. A few boats with lanterns tarry homeward and someone plays a melancholy note on the flute.

far away mud houses are baked from inside by the kitchen fire, dark sooty smoke arising from the roofs. Children shouting and running around as the birds roost making an awful noise. A few stars appear on the horizon as if terrified to come out all together and shine. yet majestically night comes, wearing her black dress of darkness. she is a temptress, smelling all over of jasmine. The mesmerizing catwalk on moon rays and the teasing smile of cool breeze. feel like taking my shirt off and letting her kiss me all over. Soothe away all the weariness and worries. I light my cigarette and come back to my room, adding a bit of cloud to the air. My kiss to the mistress night;
I LOVE U.