When time stands still

Death the leveller. Death , with its cold hand doesn't spare anybody.Its the moment when time stops.Everything falls apart.
The near and dear one's are bereaved and crestfallen. The journey of man from the cradel to the grave seems very meaningful at this very time. The existenceof a human is very obvious and taken for granted on a usual day. But once the catastrophe falls over , the life gets an extra resonance . This last journey to the grave is the longest journey of a man. there are tears , chest thumping , memoirs and event rememberences.Time hangs heavy . It stands still. The usual glitter of the day seems to be like the darkest of nights.The bustle around the city doesn't seem to affect. The ever raging clash with the present seems to cease.
Peace dawns at last. The leaf drops from the twig.Life continues outside with sound and fervour.The music has lost its tune. But life continues !!!

My World

There is joy , there is love, there is compassion, there is colors , there is fulfillment in my world. I like most of us love to be in my own world. The mist , bright sunshine, the hush of falling leaves the distance sound of “silent night and holy night” is my world.

The portraits of colors are stroked in my canvas. There are colors of many different kinds encompassing my whole universe. I am self-contented in my envelop.

The poetic expression goes on and on. Droplets of dew hanging over the tip of the green twig , the yellow rusty dry leaf meandering its way down from the branch , the nightingale’s lonely song is a slice into my world. The element of magic realism may find some resonance in my theme world.

Poetry of Life

The colours of life for me are hued in wonderfully varient shades. The party bagan some day in the mid of 1980's . The eyes wide open with wonderment and amazement . The days were cooler , life was cozy and comfortable. The garden had many flowers with breeze gushing over it. The sweet fragrance overshadowed the whole life. Those were the days with just no commitments and full of fun and frolik.
Days passed by , responsibilities changed . Failures were more than notable successes. Life had its twists and turns. The dark alley of the mind hovering into the uncharted annals of complexity had its toll . The life ahead seemed to be dark and bleak.
As seasons change , so do the courses of life . Hardly do we conceive the future that is waiting in hushed silence , to present us with the precious gifts of life.
A good story , not so well told has its charm of keeping the readers engaged in the premonition of another effort to script the poerty. The poetry of life is a personal song of every individual. We are caged in the world of our own . We all have our untold stories.There may not be takers for that. But trying to push forward one's own story is always a very enchanting experience. You are scripting your life's tales. Its just an act of ponderous reminescence. It has its own tune and melody.It may be rich in rhetoric conveying very little practicality. It may be a process of self discovery. It may be a soliloquy . It is a lifelong serendipity. It may be a torrid love affair. It may be streams of sorrow. It may be self-revolution.It may be a bunch of repeated stupidity.

Whatever it may be , its one's own tale. It is overtly autobiographical. For me , it is the greatest , poetic pause taken in my life .I stand at the shore , watching the birds return to their nest , the boat moored on the banks of the tossing river , the clouds hanging from the distand west . The rain might gush down in torrents , but nothing can deter to make my story being told. I dont expect my friends to listen to my story. I just want you , my dear , my companion to listen to my kind of music.

Hopelessly Practical World

The world where we live in is hopelessly practical. Mostly distraught. There is hardly any space for poetic pause and contemplation. Oh my GOD !!!!

I and WE hardly have the romantic space for recapturing solitude. The collage of our day to day life is just the rush for meeting the days end. Stretching my horizons of imagination I try and try not to succumb to the travails of the mundane. We appreciate poetry and aesthetics just to transcend the dull and sullen forces ozzing from our day to day struggle.

Money craving is a fashion today. You may not have a silken soul , but you ought to possess a spacious apartment. You may not have compassion for the proletariate but you are supposed to drave a car.

I am an outright impractical , hopelessly incorrigible fellow with a non-chalance to the proven order of accepted pathways of livelihood. I muse at the marvel of the multicolured falling leaves that stud the landspace of Noth america in the fall season. I stare at the flaping of the wings of the white swan from amidst the opulent lake. I love to see the cuckoo's nest. I reverberate the sound of the nightingle. I love fiddling with the blades of grass. The dew drop glittering like an effulgent emerald makes my day a happy charm. I literally wrestle and fight against all these tender forces to puff in the race for daily life.



The World that I behold , is the world of my own. May be some happy mongering fellows do get into my fold of ideas. The din , bustle of the overtly fast life is a pain of its own. What is life if full of flair , with us having no time to stand and stare !!

Monsoon

Monsoon in my country is a harbinger of hope and joy. Mostly the country is perched in the dry months. The country lives in the villages. The rustics and farmers long for a pregnent moonsoon.
The memories of my country's moonsoon set at the background of villages arouses a very romantic feeling in me. The dark clouds hover across the sky. The gushing winds blows past.The peepul and bamboo trees sway along their sides . The birds lost course on their way . The nests hanging with some siblings crying for help.

This season is marked by young kids and village girls dancing in the rain. They just want to feel the first drops of rain. The children try fetching the ripe or unripe mangoes from the trees . There is such an innocent joy in these ventures.
The pond sweels up . The fishing pot gets up to the brim. The rain water is running in reels down the isles of the fields.
The thundering of the clouds evokes in all of us a sense of freedom and joyfulness.The peacock struts .
Evening palls in my village. The earthen lamp simmering with the dark fumes , the window pane reflecting the lightning across the night sky. The trees getting swayed like masculine demons casts its shadow over the glass panes. The sound of the speedy winds creates an eerie feeling in me.

Thats all I have as a moonsoon memory !!!!!

Torment

I give away thee with all my worldly possessions for the sake of my childhood days.
Those simple days with a carefree gait strutting all along the river banks holds my life for the beat. The dense shadow of the peepal tree underneath which , I used to sit with you , my darling.
We spent some of the most precious moments gazing at the blue sky , the passing boat with its oars man singing the rustic bengali earth song. The cool breeze swayed past your hair , your hair with the curls fell upon your face. Yeah those days are so very precious to me as to you !!!!!

Today , life is busy but I am missing the indolence of those moments . The fragrance of the atmosphere stirs me. The puff of this dream like reality is ever perrinial and blissful to me.

Hey are you listening ?

Touching the nature

The idea of myself , being lonley , alone and ruminating on the banks of an unknown rivulet overpowers me. Sitting on such a bank , with my legs dipped over the surface of the flowing stream brings me close to mother nature.

Nature has been a source of perrinial inspiration over the ages for men and women. People weary of their lives , burned down by the chill of heart breaks , come over for a tryst with nature. The foliage,flora,fauna that makes the biosphere of the nature is opulent with life giving ambrosia.This incessant flow of ambrosia succours the perched soul of the timeless traveller in the path of life.

I am sitting idlly on such a bank ozzing with the life juice , my feet touching the stream, the smell of the grass and flowers envelops me , the setting Sun with the fading light peeping through the deep forest covers conjures up a secret rendezvous with myself and nature.

All my sorrow, tribulation and angst inflicted by this material world finds solace here . The benign touch of mother nature balms over my soul . I feel light. the gurgling brooks , are my books. The wild Doe is my friend. The cold breeze flowing over me kisses my body with utmost love.

This is a glimpse of the vast magnanimity of nature. I come close , talk to the birds , resonate to their tune and become joyful.

Analytics of Emotion

when Life's wind
drifted us close
we discovered a
new island

The waves of sea
with rising foams
transformed us both

But life sometimes
with waste land of thorns
poses questions
with throb
in our heart

But emotion rules
the roost
the queen with the crystal
crown gazes and sheds tears
for the estranged lover !!!!!

Outside the tinsel town

I wish to show you the fluttering of the butterfly
the water lily floating on the lake outside
the dales meandering through the valley
come with me , I will take you by my side
The fragrence of the spring flower
may sweep you with wonder
the golden dusk with soft rays
may call you with open arms to reach yonder !!!
Nightingles sing amidst the weave of sunshade
calm , cool winds blow over thee wealthiness
purging sin and hatred
to contemplate with thy happiness

The Road ahead

In the dark night
with stars hanging in the cold
I wish You could have been
beside me !!!!
In the route obscure and lonley
haunted by ill angels
I wish you could have been
beside me !!!!
By the lake that lie outspread
with lilies spread thin
i wish you could have beeen
beside me !!!!
By the grey woods- by the swamp
where the road takes us to the land unknown
I wish you could have been
beside me !!!!!
by the dales and the moors
where slush sips in through
I wish you could have been
beside me !!!
The road ahead is lonley uncertain and grim
and chasms , caves and woods all along
the sad waters , dull and chilly
I wish you could have been beside me ...

River

standing on the shore of the river
the questions dawn upon me
trying to find my identitiy
who am I ?
Where do I come from ?
in quest of my entity
with waves seeming still
The questions find answers
in the serenity of the setting sun
realisation dawns
harmony and tranquility encompass
the ONENESS resonates
The sonata plays on
with eloquence
the unison gets to the cresendo
all playing as ONE
in the shore of time !!!!

Morning Sun

rays of morning sun
breaks free through the shadowy mist
the little twigs and flowers swirl
wind blows past all these
the birds gentle call
received no reply
my heart moans
but the sun kindles my soul
the fine wind touches me
caresses me , hugs me
the morning is reaveled
no sorrow no pain no suffering
lingers within me

Drops of Rain

The indolent moments of my childhood days , brings forth moments in time,space and horizon in my minds eye. The dullness of the very moment,is very romanticizing !!!!
The Summer vacation afternoons used to be the most poignant solitary moments in my life. I never realized it then , but I cherish those anonymous moments now.
In India the Summer is often punctuated with unprecedented spells of lushing rainfall. It used to be these rainy spells that aroused the 'joy of living' in me.
The first drops of rain over the perched earth , with water seeping inside the fissures , the slushy fragrance emanating from them evokes a wonderful reminiscence. The sky over cast with Grey clouds , pregnant with heavy water , the gushing blows of stormy winds used to flutter my thoughts. My mind traveled unto the unknown territory with utter bewilderment. My earthly existence lost significance , I was journeying into the flights of imagination over the joyride of the Grey clouds.
The rainy days evokes some poetic feelings in every soul. So each one of my gentry might have scribbled some doggerel penning their thoughts on this subject. The Indian peacock struts , when the cloud roars. The droplet hangs on the tip of the twig , hoping to get immersed in the clear flowing stream beneath. The full cycle completes for the particles of rain. Up above the cloud , they are born to meet their final destination. The cycle of birth and death finds resonance in this allusion.The Human life is yearning for the ultimate sojourn into the divine. So do the water droplets longing to disappear into the seas finds an exit way into their journey towards the sea.

I had never read old literary marvels of our country . But I am aware of the mention of rain as a romantic messenger for the estranged lovers across lands. The dark clouds carry the message of loneliness and yearning across the lovers set apart by distance and time.
Their pine is resounded in the roar of the clouds !!!
The heavy downpour continues unabated , making the lives of the have-nots in our society more painful . They lose their homes and means of livelihood. The haves marvel at the beauty of nature and compose serenades for their beloved. But the world on the other end is grim . They suffer from indignation and want of basic amenities of life. They are vulnerable to the water borne diseases , thunder storms, homelessness , joblessness and even electrocution.
But remaining a foot soldier for furthering the cause of aesthetics , I can vouch that rainfall amid the perched earth brings boundless joy in the lives of millions. The rainy season is synonymous with prosperity of a nation.
After the rain has fallen the tumult in our soul subsides. The weary traveler in the path of life finds some solace in the succor provided by mother nature.
So I am indebted to those dull inactive afternoons of my summer vacation , which lended this beautiful subject unto me. Hail the indolent afternoons of my summer days in School !!!

Bored out....

Life has become totally entangled in the web of daily habits.prisoner of dead habits ... driven by the inertia of repeatetive actions .... this is called boredom.Deep silence brings forth self realization , the questions of life and death finds its meaning in the depths of silence.

Do the signal man ever get bored waving the flag whenevr a train passes by , did Dalai Lama get bored disseminating the pearls of wisdom to the common folk innumerable times, or did Martin L King Jr get bored proclaiming the equalityof the blacks and whites where ever he spoke out ?

May be the answer to all these is nay. The colours of imagination springs forth when the spirits are at the bedrock of boredome. We get ourselves charged up , feel the urge to create something very astounding only when we are bored at the current scheme of things.
So boredome is a blessing in disguise. It acts as an elexir for imagination. So embrace boredome and try to innovate ways out of the labrinth of solitude , steer forward to look into this world with a new outlook.

My Deepest Respect

My friend , My soul , My everythingI had been wondering aimlessly in this worldI had been plunged in the slush of banalityLife had been dull and utterly boringthe existence had been reduced to a mere act of metabolism You appeared in my lifeBringing fresh life and airI just opened up my eyesFound you The world bacame my familyI belong to the worldliving life from the sphere of fulfillment Everything in my life is because of youI have metamorphosed just because of you You banged on my door,the door opened lightened my roomfilled with fragranceJoy and Joy is the only essance thats flowing over me.....

---My Deepest Love and respect to my Guruji Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

Serendipity in Shenandoah

The country roads did take me home to the valley of Shenandoah national park. The place is a treat for every nature lover. Located in the vast stretch of Virginia, the Appalachian mountain range offers a long 5/6 hrs of scenic drive over the skyline providing a panoramic view of the valley from all possible angles. The landscape is characterized by long stretches of wild meadows, lush green forest, unique rock outcroppings and spectacular waterfalls. Our journey started on a long weekend . We decided to explore the valley with utmost indolence. The more time you give to nature , the better it reveals itself. The serpentine roadways over the Shenandoah Valley occasionally punctuated by gurgling streams and covers of moss on the bark of trees creates a deeply engulfing atmosphere. The trailways leading deep inside the forest . The seduction for the wild is inescapable.It’s like a hermits resort to engage in timeless conversation with nature. The sound of silence finds an extra resonance in these high altitudes where the cloud floats past you. Here you can touch the sky !!!The deer passing before our car , the black beer peeping out from it’s hideout , to have a glimpse of the civilized gentry. Expect all these in the forest valley of Shenandoah. The vast valley lying on the mountain range of Appalachian , with the meandering Shenandoah river conjures up the folklore and songs of America's past.The idyllic landscapes , rolling hills and pastures captures the soul of this valley. Truely a resort for the perched soul . I looked at it with the eyes to make accidental discoveries.This valley stretches for about 300 miles along the Blue Ridge mountain which reminds the great hard wood forest that blankated most parts of Northern America.
The ephemeral whimsies of nature are refreshingly verbose. The rain wave comes gushing over us , letting us get inside our car , immediately in the next turn we could see the golden rays of Sun drenching the valley , again in the next turn the cloud and fog flows past us. The evening is characterized by the dying glow of the Sun. The soft rays of Sun , emanating from behind the clouds makes us pause and ponder. Nature gives us ample opportunity to reflect and introspect on the questions of life , death and astral quests. Bidding adieu to this valley, with the song of John Denver still lingering in my ears makes me promise for another rendezvous. The country roads do bring the nature lovers home, to rest and repose in the lap of Mother Nature.