Tag Archives: life

What is love?

This was a question asked in “Kuch kuch hota hai” movie and suddenly I thought I should try to answer it. So here is my analysis-

Love is a restless feeling, wonderful in its own ways. You do anything for something or someone you love. Love gives you hope for life but itself it is very hopeless. Happiness is the very essence of love. Love is the very essence of life.

“If there could only be a little more love in this world.”

5 Big and Small things I could Die For!

1. To lie down on wet grass after rain and smell the aroma of the Earth.
2. To sit on the crooked branch of a tree and read fairy tales.
3. To have a golgappa (phuchka) eating competition with friends back from the old school.
4. To make the paper boats and sail them in puddles.
5. To have one little moment in complete peace and silence.

25th of Baishak

Kabi Guru Rabindranath Thakur

Hello guys! Today we celebrate ‘Pachise Boishak’. This really is a very important day as is it the birth day of a most unique man- a poet, a lyricist, a writer, one of the most brilliant men who set foot on the Earth- the bday of Rabindranath Tagore. Today even the hot Sun, raising temperature in Kolkata to 40 degree Celsius, can not lower the spirit of men and women. From dawn till dusk I can only hear the Nightingale like voices sing Rabindranath’s songs, recite his poems, love, respect and adore him. Tagore did not only start a new school, wrote brilliant poems and songs, won the Nobel Prize but also started a new culture- a culture of love, brotherhood, freedom and equality. Today I pay my respects to this Bengali legacy by only saying that we are trying to build, we will build the country where-

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by Thee to ever-widening thought and action.

                                                              -Rabindranath Tagore

Who do you live…

Who do you live for?
Myself

These are words of a woman whom I deeply respect and won’t name here. This person has lost all her family one after another. The more she tried to be happy, more the loss fell into her lap. But she did not give up. She wants to live happily. She is living happily. She is presently the CEO of a box manufacturing company with a massive turnover every year. She started with nothing but she has everything- a purpose in life. This is the type of woman Ayn Rand described in her books.

Hail to woman! Hail to life!

Lives Change

Time changes,people change,you change. The same happened to me. I remember myself as the free living beautiful creature with no bounds, no addictions, no love and no hate. I loved myself, adored myself in little ways I did not know. Lethargy, laziness were not the things that were prevalent in my dictionary. I praised myself on little things, I cried on little things. Everything was so simple, so just, so open, so transparent. Life was so easy, so good, so bountiful. Nature was so beautiful, human beings were so joyful.  I lived in Dehradun then, living the happiest life I have experienced till now. I do not remember the houses, the trees, the roads, the rivers. But I remember I was innocently happy and innocently sad. I remember the farewell party which was organised and all the Bengali friends invited. I remember the bus which was rented to take us to the station and I remember us standing at the door of the rail car, while the train accelerated, while streams of tears rode down my eyes and we bade our last ,but not the least farewell, with my parents’ and mine closest friends.

I do not remember the journey or our stay at my aunt’s house in Tollygunge, Kolkata. I remember that some dangerous bacteria or virus or whatever else had attacked me and that I had to spend long nights in the children’s ward of a hospital with something itching all over my body.  We did not go back to my aunt’s, I was taken to a small quarter in the thirteenth floor of the longest building I have even seen by now.  We went up the floors using a lift which used to look like a mini-train to my exploring eyes. Once in a while when I returned from school I found that there was no electricity, I only climbed all the way up using stairs because the Kurkure packet in my brother’s hand seduced me. I remember the days when I used to cover all the easily breakable things with pillows and make a boundary out of it so that I and my brother could play mini cricket on bed. I remember rearranging those pillows into mountains and hiding some mini-objects into it so my brother could find it(he did the same for me).

Then I remember another move, to the opposite side of Kolkata, to a better house, poorer neighbours, better connections, poorer school and better friends. Yes, in that new school painted red, with plasters peeling out of walls, with cobwebs hanging on the classroom walls, with a single toilet that smelled like hell, with broken marbles and sand filled ground I found my best friend, that I found myself to undergo a change.

The girl who I described as my best-friend appeared to me at that time to be a thin girl with large dark eyes and chocolate brown hair which used to form a fine braid. She is and was quite a beauty if you could imagine her without the limp. I met her on the second day of my new class. She sat with me. She might have bored anyone else with her nonsensical talk but she did not bore me for I still had not gained the habit of talking and hearing much. Whatever were her failings in studies, she made it up with her good behavior, polite manners, helpfulness and caress.

I liked her to be on my side through petty happiness and trouble. But I was attracted to other students, students I considered of a higher value than me, those who I despised and yet at some part in my heart admired. they did not like me,they never talked for I never brought up a conversation meaningful enough. So the more I despised myself and them, and so the more I admired them.

Then suddenly I discovered that I was a good enough to compete the students  to whom I gave such a high stature, then I became sure. At some point I become proud and then over-proud.  I had come to believe that it would be easy to change-to forget the old and accept the new. I desired to be the friends of those who who had popularity,intelligence, smartness and somewhere hidden in them- a desire to live and to ignore the life.  But somehow my plans backfired. Somewhere I went against the plan of God.

Yes it was easy to forget much but not all. Yes it was easy to adopt some but not all. Somehow I got hung between two branches. I no longer belonged to the clan I had tried to leave for good, it being stated by material mouths matter-of-factly (which carried some amount of regret I assume).  I entered partly into the group i desired but not as full and whole. They now talked to me but not let me be with them. I sat with old friends but did not share with them. I became oceans between two lands, wanted only for having fun. I became salty like sea, remembered but yet not truly essential. I lost something to get nothing. Somehow those days made me lose something inner,made me lazy and tired. Somehow I lost my beauty, my grace, my bounty over the thing you consider as a trifle incident. Somehow I lost my charm. Somehow I lost myself. I got for the hate of me something I hate more. Chains broke to let me starve. I recovered from that dreaded state of human life, but it was not me who recovered. I am not me, no longer.