mahalaya

every year,since i can remember,this day my mom is up at 4.00 am and my dad at around the same time,and i am woken up and my room ,which has always been the largest one,is rearranged,so that the purohit can perform the tarpan ceremony.
meanwhile,i am shifted to the other bed,and i always sleep off again,and then i am reawakened at around 6.15,and wrapped around in a blanket(when in Delhi)and bed sheet(in Calcutta),for the shaanti jaal to be sprinkled on my head,and just so that it doesn't touch my feet.
and this is when i know its puja time
when i was in school,i knew,holidays (though a short one of only 10 days)were around the corner, and my new dresses one each for saptami, ashtami and navami were ready.i knew the menu for ashtami always,it is still the same today,luchi in morning just after the pushpanjali,afternoon khichudi with beguni,or fulkopir pakoda,and night if we still have stomach for it,pulao or paratha,usually the latter sharing from my mothers plate
puja over the years has lost that charm for me,i hardly get excited at the thought -i think of the traffic jams,the noise,the hopelessly large crowds,and the ever competing pandalware;but mahalaya remains special as it did yesterday
forever i have seen my father performing this tarpan,not only as a duty,but because he believes that his parents and forefathers deserve this .he has never ever complained about there faults,or mistakes,he has never judged them.
he believes what they did was right,what they taught was right....
i used to think he was blindly following rituals just for the sake of doing it, but no,he believes
it is his conscious will,
that is why he is a great man,
unlike me who will always complain and blame him for all my shortcomings
puja is here,its time to chose the gods whom we want to worship.....

a waste

this moment will not last forever
it will last for this one moment
and then be lost in the mists of past
one moment in future will be wasted
in regretting this one moment
two moments of happiness lost for ever.

rainbow

What can i write
about a rainbow!
A rhyme,a prose,
a sonnet,an ode...

A beauty so rare,
flawless,alive...
Without it would we know
that violet and yellow jive?

That life has more shades
than grey.
That black is actually colors-
revealed only in the day

That once you break it down,
Life will burst through-
in all its pinks,reds , brown
greens,yellow and blue!

Can i write about the rain
making way
for the day end sun,
leaving a memory so exquisite
the riot of colours
and the bow unstrung

For only Ram could string it
across the three worlds
joining them all
in his quest for love

a love unfulfilled
unmentioned , unrecognized
the tragedy of errors
unforgivably politicized

Sita believed
and that sufficed
always waited
always sacrificed

At the end of the rainbow-
she lingered forever
where Ram would reach,
humans, never

Where the raindrops float.
and the sunrays bend
Where colours begin,
and eventually end

the ant and the grasshopper

When we were in class 7th,our english text book was changed from the age old classic Gulmohar reader,to Modern English reader.it was a remarkable change,in the sense that healthy,moralistic reading was suddenly transformed to challenging,and more realistic reading.
it was difficult no doubt,our marks took a nosedive,but English classes became interesting.
has anybody read the original Grimms fairy tales,or the unabridged Hans Anderson,these are definitely not books one would give to children,but they are good read for children-if you get what i say,i mean one would really not present a child with a playboy,but that is exactly the book the child would like to read.
coming back to the point,Modern English was a great book,it opened up contemporary writing to us,along with Keats ,Shelley,and Wordsworth.
For the first time i read the original ant and grasshopper fable..
it was but a few lines,
The ant slogged away all summer,saving food for the winter
the grasshopper idled away
the cruel winter found the grasshopper at the ants doorstep begging for food,
the ant asked-and pray what were you doing during the summer
the grasshopper replied:why i sang,i sang all day
then the ant gave his all time classic answer: why then,go and dance!

all the time before this i had heard many variations of the story;all of them ending sweetly,with the ant forgiving the grasshopper,and sharing his food;some stories even ended predicting grasshopper slogging next summer onwards,having learnt his lesson!
grasshoppers can not slog,they can never become ants,they are different species alltogether
so are human beings,
we are who we are,people dont change

an ode to my sunglasses

Is it a tear
or a drop of sweat
you saw my hair,
Drenched in this kolkata autumn,
all wet
you saw the drop of sweat,
Begin from the roots of that solitary lock of hair
Flowing down over my eyebrow
the meandering stream
Tired,solemn,narrow
just managing to skim those few hairs,
Without wetting
and then dropping into the eye.
you waited for it
to catch some air..
Then watched it flowing down my cheek,
Picking up speed,as it found the groove along my nose.
Finally kissing my lips...
losing its way
touching my tongue
salt...
you thought you saw everything?
you just saw them flowing down my eyes
you felt them rest
you missed my tears joining them on their quest
know why i wear my shades even in shade....
i tasted it
salt..
it was sweat
after all