A Leaf and the Stream

I have often thought of the streams that rush by amidst the rocks and stones and the lush green bushes. It seems to me that their journey is so beautiful, proud and modest at the same time. Proud because it seems that their course weathers away the biggest rocks, smooth-ens all rough edges in the way. At the same time it is so modest as it silently flows on, without much clatter and in a moment reaches beyond our vision.

Once when I was travelling to a mountain destination and the roads winded up to the horizon. It seemed like the rounded staircase reaching up to the distant clouds and I fascinated that therein lies all the fairy tales I’ve read as a child and believed it to be true.So there was an unknown stream that accompanied our journey and as the bus turned bends in the way, my eyes chanced to catch a glance of a leaf, dark green,fresh from its fall flowing in the stream. I didn’t quite guess the origin of the leaf, I can’t much identify a leaf, my knowledge of plants being poor. But it looked so beautiful.

I thought about the sight much after, suddenly, when one day I was in my study and reading Shelley’s “Ode To the West Wind”, I read the line, “Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!”. Though in a complete different context, it somehow brought back to my mind the sight of the leaf I saw floating in the ripples of the water. I felt like writing a poem then, so I kind of pictured the sight I saw during the day amidst the distant slopes of the mountains, in the colours of night. Thought of sharing the same over here.

A Leaf and the Stream

Whispering streams,

Gliding by,

And the moon,

Lighting up the Heaven above.

While cloud-lets like angel-wings,

Cuddling beside the silvery orb,

It traces a maze on the rivulet below,

Shades and glow-

The glittery water whispering tales along the way;

And if you look in a glance,

There might be a floating leaf,

Boating itself down the rustling water

Amidst the sneaky stones, that clogs its way;

And then again resuming its float,

Sometimes in a whirl,

At times in a twirl,

Floating by.

“No wonder it has lost its road-map,” I thought

But then the leaf is a part of the river that way…

Endlessly united,

Rather united in their endlessness.

Then I was at peace.

As I knew at once that

Amidst all impermanence

I could still stay the same

Still united, still close

A leaf in the stream…together, even beyond our vision goes.

Do share your own little snippets of random poetry that would sure be a good read

Durga Puja, the feast in festivity


India, the land of a platterful of festivals of many colors, many moods and many cultures satisfies man’s apetite for the grand, the gorgeous and the subtle aspects of social existence.

In Bengal, and all over the country, this is the time when the winter makes its feel in the air that Durga Puja is celebrated. Either the start of October, or its midway, every year people indulge in the grand celebration of the worship of Goddess Durga. However though for Bengalis it is Durga Puja, elsewhere in India this is the occassion of Navratri where people sing, dance and worship the nine forms of Goddess Durga. It is the festive color in the air when everybody soaks themselves in the bliss of merrymaking, joy and devotion to the Goddess.

There are several variations and interpretations of the story of Goddess Durga and the myth behind the festival. But I shall tell you the simple story I heard as a child from my grandpa. The story was so gripping that I heard it all along every year anew.The story goes thus. 

In ancient times the sages and angels were continually disturbed and tortured by the villain of the story, Mahisasura, the asura king who reigned supreme. No one could defeat his enormous power. So the deities prayed to the holy trio in hindu mythology namely Brahma, Vishnu and Maheshwara to help them to win over Mahisasura and save the creation from distress and destruction.

Hence Goddess Durga was incarnated to put an end to Mahisasura and re-establish peace and serenity in creation. All the deities gifted their own powers to the Goddess and made her an embodiment of all that is supreme. Then there was a fight between Durga and Mahisasura where Durga emerged victorious. Thereby, as Mahisasura boasted that no ‘man’ can ever defeat him, there was Durga, the Goddess,the ‘woman’ who put an end to all chaos and brought peace unto creation.

Durga Maa as we call her, the mother of the entire creation. Just like a mother who defends her child with all her might, none so powerful and gentle than her…so also Goddess Durga protects her children, the entire creation from all that is bad. This story is so beautiful, it stresses that the entire creation can be protected by a mother…such is the Divine potential gifted to her. Likely enough, Goddess Durga rides a lion. She has two sons namely karthika and Ganesha and two daughters namely Saraswati and Lakshmi. 

Karthika rides a peacock and is well versed in archery, Ganesha is the wise one, a cute child of the mother who loves to eat and rides a mouse. While Lakshmi rides an white owl and symbolises wealth and prosperity amd Saraswati who rides a swan is the embodiment of knowledge. 

So I just narrated my childhood version of the story of Goddess Durga and hope you enjoyed going through it. I shall narrate such small stories from the myth that we love to hear in the way a child hears it. Such will be my effort…a simple story telling to sit back and enjoy.

Hope you enjoyed it…for further posts glue into my blog and do share your likes and comments for the same.☺

At School

School days are supposed to be among the most cherishable days of ones life. For me it was just the same. It has its own retro glow. Some candid moments with its own smiles and bruises. But a quick look at those glittery days make our eyes filled with sunshine…it does for me for sure and I think it does for most of us.

Authors, writers, poets and others who write, try to write or are real time writers time and again go back to their school memories and find out topics to frame their stories or poems, etc. Among Indian English novelists I loved to read R.K. Narayan’s Malgudi School Days where the writer’s pen weaves beautiful tales around a mischeivious kid Swami and his friends in an imaginary town called Malgudi. Stories of Ruskin Bond and that of Tagore and other Indian writers bear wonderful examples of childhood classics. They prove a good read.

For me, as I studied in a girl’s convent school so they maintained strict discipline there. It meant that we were aware of the certain disciplines layed down by Sister(our Principal) and were alert of her invigilating eyes from above her silver-rimmed spectacles. “Only English in school” was her rule and we waited for the tiffin break to relieve us into speaking in our vernaculars.

But ever since I grew up, I found out the immense good it has done to us. And then the other day when suddenly I came across our Principal Sister, who is now much older,she recognized me still. I was no more a kid at school now, so I spoke to her with such ease and familiarity that I would never have dreamt of at school. I told her that how much we used to be scared of her scoldings. I told her of how students used to imitate her behind her back, about the loads of fun we had at school. About our little innocent pranks etc.I went on talking and talking for an hour and more. And suddenly I realised that she had been quietly listening to me. I stopped to smile then.She smiled back and told, “look how well you speak English now”. And in a moment I saw a real teacher in front of me and there was mist in our eyes.


Do Share your snippets of school days down your memory lane…as I’m sure this never goes out of our memories.


All About Love

I just googled for an image to symbolise love and I picked a certain relevant one that you can see above. The hearts always symbolise “Love”. Whenever someone is in love, he often expresses his feelings. Some write poems, some try to write poems and those who really cannot, sing songs and some listen to songs, some paint, some draw and some live on emoticons in the popular social sites…: )

But whatever be the expression “love” hums the same tune in every ear. I feel somehow that when you fall in love it slowly ignites your heart unknowingly. And then one day it sets your heart ablaze…that’s how love creeps in. True love is a blessing in our lives…it just drags you by your collar and it’s like “Baby I’m here now”.

When I think of love there are many songs that I often rely on that justifies this special feel in my heart. Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years” is surely one among them. You can hear it for sure. The link to the lyrics of “A thousand Years”.

Love for me feels like the scent of the first shower of summer, when the air brushes against your cheeks and the water that drenches you. It is so pure just like the unpretentious laughter of a baby. As Divine as the endless sky. As majestic as the mighty sun in the horizon and as profound as the ocean. Just like the softness of the flower in your palms, is the feeling of true love, that which you can feel but words can’t well express.

William Shakespeare in one oof his celebrated sonnets (116) talks about the worth of true love. He tells us that it is an ever fixed mark he also tells that love’s not time’s fool he aptly manifests the power and beauty of true love. I loved this sonnet from when I was a student of Literature and read it for the first time. In the world, so transient, it gives me a lot of hope when I believe that there is something that stays on forever, that which we call in the words of the poet true love .

Would be great if you share your feelings of true love…☺

A Handful of sunshine

Have you noticed how a bright morning in a cold day can make you smile? So it’s a fact that a little sunlight (considering it’s not the hot hot summer, like the really hot atmosphere) might actually help you to uplift your mood and do away with the sullenness.

Though personally I kind of love the rains. The drizzles I mean. The ones that make you feel romantic. The showers that make you look all sexy giving an all drenched look to your wardrobe. I love the rain as it makes me all poetic and stuff. And I love the sun just when it peeks through a mesh of black clouds after a short shower. It smells so lovely, only if you are away from garbage I assume…😁

While as a kid we learnt a primary rhyme that goes somewhat like this:

I love the pit pit patter of the raindrops…

I love the roar roar roaring of the sea,

But the sound I like the best;

The very very best is to know that-

God loves me”

I was talking of the sunshine though….my bad! the rains drained me…I mean dragged me through.

How many of us as a kid tried our best to look at the Sun without blinking…as if to test who’s stronger! I remember taking my protracter from my geometry box, you had transparent plastic ones…and I looked through it at the sun and whoa!! There right in front of my eyes was a rainbow…all the seven colors bright. A tiny drop of water on a leaf shining like a pearl in sunshine, isn’t that wonderful?

There are so many cute things we did as kids. Removed from the virtual world we dwelt in the natural world giving a release to our creative instincts. There were so many games we played as a kid, many which we made up on our own. We didn’t have to bother about the world…every kid an emperor of his own little world of dreams. That’s where geniuses are made. Looking back I feel the sunshine glittering still in the plastic protracter of my school compass box…still giving warmth and making me dream. Let’s try to keep that child awake in our hearts and not grow up so fast.

A jar of fireflies


Fireflies had always amused me. I had always kept wondering as a child that whether the yellowish orange light of the insect was real fire. I bet all of us have the same question when we see one,and I was no exception.

My grandpa had his own way of telling a story and explaining things to me. So when I asked about the light in the firefly he came up with a story. Here it goes…” Once upon a time( as every tale begins with) there was a firefly. It was a small insect which lost his parents as a child. So not knowing his parents, he went to a swarm of houseflies. They threw him out. Heartbroken it went to butterflies and they were too proud to talk. Evening dawned upon and feeling sad it went to the bees and the flies and the dragonflies and everyother insect that could fly but everyone turned him away. He felt lonely.He could not trace his path in the dark and therefore couldn’t find his family.

So the firefly started crying and soon fell asleep. In his dream came a beautiful angel who told him to wake up next morning and drink the rays of the sun, which is the king of the sky and as such the master of all things that could fly. The angel then wove its wand in glittering colors and startled the firefly woke up. Soon he was blinking in the sunlight. He remembered his dream he had last night and started drinking the rays of the sun till it was full. Satisfied, it again fell asleep. He woke up late at night when everrything was dark and whooaaa to his surprise found that there was a little piece of sunlight under his little wings. Overjoyed he started flying in the dark while other insects searched for light.

🌜From then on fireflies started having lights under their wings and showed light to man and animals in a dark night when the moon hid under the clouds.”

….This was his short story. As you would ask me now did he find his parents with the new torch in his butt? I had the same question. Also I remember asking that why does the light have to be there only, why not have light in wings rather? You might also ask that since the light is on the rear end how does the insect light his own path?

Now you might ask a bunch of other questions as well, just like I did when I was a kid. But anyways each story can have a thousand beautiful ways to explain it. Just depends on how you want your story to be.

So why not let me know your great suggestions, a cute little version of your own story of the fireflies. Let’s try to tell stories.It would be lovely…

Do leave comments to let me know…☺

Growing Up


I grew up amidst my parents and grandparents, sibling and cousins…a joint family as one calls it. Though you don’t get to see such families a lot these days. Curiously enough our house never had a name plate. I think it’s because there were too many opinions and my grandfather, the eldest of the family, never got to decide. So instead of it our house had a yellow name tag on the door which read the name of my grandfather in alphabet stickers. Some of the alphabets missing, me and my sister sketched it with felt pens when we were kids. It was amateurish.

Our house always was having some sort of flower springing in the garden bushes. Some of them planted by my mother and others planted by nature. Some of them as birds flew past dropping seeds of fruits. We had two mango trees, one grapefruit tree, two lemon plants two coconut trees and a guava and two papaya trees. So these comprised of the ones that could be eaten. The non-eatables included a line of rose bushes, marigolds, sunflowers, bougenvillas, a beautiful orange coloured wall creeper(the name of which we didn’t know) and a lot of other flowers. When we were kids and summer was in its sway, we used to sleep in our garden placing mats on the varendah and my mother used to tell stories till we slept. Sometimes it was my grandfather who told us stories. While my elder grandpa used to love telling stories of kings and wars and adventures, my younger grandpa told stories of princesses and fairy tales and such which give a smile while you sleep.

My mother used to make up unlimited stories on her own. After the days work, tired as she was lulled herself into telling us wonderful tales. And from her I knew that no true wish made from your heart goes unanswered. So I used to look at the stars on a clear night and secretly wish for a Prince Charming to come for me and dipped my face in my mother’s lap. While my sister slept midway of the stories, I stayed awake till the story completed in a happy ending. I always wanted to get to that point of the story that seemed to be the happiest part. I think that might precisely be the reason for all the positivity I have in me. No matter how cold it seems in life at present, I believe that spring is near, I believe in happiness. Hence my blood group spells right…I’m an ‘A positive’.☺

There was one story which was my favourite. Later I knew as I grew up that it was the one of the “Beauty and the Beast”. I heard it from my grandpa and often used to nag him into telling it almost everyday after every other story until I slept. Later when I grew up and studied English at school, further as I pursued literature as my graduate and post-graduate subject then I knew that this story was so famous. I wrote a paper on that. I emphasized the symbols used in it, the underlying structure and dissected the story in many literary critical standpoints. But all through my attempts at the core of all this was a little girl sleeping on the varendah in a moonlit summer night, her head on the lap of her grandpa. And her grandfather telling her a story, the story of “Beauty and the Beast”. So now I know what is the strongest force that can be, yes you guessed right, it’s ‘laziness’☺…just kidding…”true love”❤ it is. Now you know.💕

Somewhat a poem


It seems to me sometimes that poetry is composed not only by lines that start and end within the poetic compasses of man’s pen, but even a prose drenched in the sweetness of feelings can form wonderful poetry. Even the daily humdrum life can be subject enough that can suffice the poetic needs of a creative mind.

It is therefore a little effort rather a little delving or dwelling in the aspects of a subject, defamiliarising it a bit, perhaps reflecting on it a while and there comes the lines strung in the rhythms of a beautiful poem. It might seem a bit obscure though, I tend to write lines that tell simple thoughs somewhat poetic in composition. Let me try to write something of my own.

“The leaves that sway in endless symphony,

And weave the tune of joy,

The rhythm of life in it to be found,

Times endless mysteries in a simple sway bound,

Where tales from childhood unfurl so true,

and fairy-tales exist in a wonder hue…”

So I put an effort to pen down a somewhat simple poem that I used to picture nature amidst the truth of a gentle childhood belief. Wordsworth, a master in writing poems under the plethora of nature’s endless forms nonetheless had gifted the readers with such rich and splendid poetic vocabulary under the garb of nature’s beauty.In fact Nature had played an important part in the poetry of the Romantic Age in English Literature.

My First blog post


This is my very first attempt in writing a blog. But I seek to employ all my learning and creative instincts in the digital pages of the blog. Each start is special and therefore this blog marks a start of my journey in recording my literary attempts in the ways of technology.

So readers…be prepared to feed your soul with the comfort food of creation. That which nurtures the subtle aspects of your mind and heart effortlessly. It is just like enjoying a bowl of ice cream at midnight…delightful and exciting at the same time satisfying. My blog shall be such a literary treat to the passionate readers who love to read.

There may be various topics that I shall try to reflect upon, preferably literature and the creative aspect of human mind and trying my abilities, hoping to write some worthwhile content here.