Sipra's Diary: "Fable of an ugly frog '2026

 

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Tuesday, August 6, 2024

Sipra's Diary: FABLE OF A FROG : #. #. #.Trauma of the Poor Frog......

          # Trauma Of A poor Frog.

 A young frog,  promoted from tadpole, 

 Out of the shabby pond; hated to be a frog,

As he met a beautiful butterfly 

Who  captured his heart  instantly.

He hopped to follow the beauty

Until it flew too high  to view for his ability.

He blamed rejection is due for being so ugly.

He hated to hop or rejoice  with his flock  

With chorus croaking for juvenile mating

In the first roaring, romantic rainy season!

So in lamentation, rested  his bruised butt 

In a  muddy burrow and  slept in sorrow!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

                               #2) 

 The sad frog met his love in the sweet dream

 Wiping his tears with her soft silky wings;

 Thrilled in romance he couldn't resist but to kiss;

 Alas!it went in the dark cave of his gut with the kiss!

 He woke up with hiccups ;but slept  as it was a dream.....

His reverted sticky tongue was good to prey worms, 

But glad to know that it was perilous to play romance !

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                                  #(3)

He was raging in fury  for such  injustice .

'Hey cruel creator of frog!why are you so frugal

To make me handsome and  little bit  lovable ?

Why have you given me three chambered heart,

While  I fail anybody in life to attract  ?

 Any rejection make my heart painful

  It turns me like a punctured balloon!

I want to cherish kiss, not to swallow as monster

I bear this wretched life for  six million years!

 Now Change me having sweet voice and wings !

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                                #(4) 

The frog achieved  his desired 'form'  in dream,

Went in delight to his clan who stared at  him !

''Look at me!I am your new leader, the prince with wings;

I will  marry a butterfly  to change  ugly generation to likings!"

..One of them challenged " neither avian nor an amphibian 

Tell me first who  are you, what's your name !

Prince-frog  whistled  proudly making  his clan more perplexed ! 

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                              #(5)

Coming back aggressive to confront  the creator,   

-"Oye! My wings are too fragile to carry my weight,

And whistling voice fails to convey the pals my thoughts!

Most puzzling  problem to answer what is my name?

Why did you ditch me in such plethora of problems?"

-"Creature like you should be  named as"grumbletonia"!

As you hate your own body having lots of complain!

I create with utmost love this bright and beautiful world  ; 

Though I care for all but not responsible for their survival.

While you reign  even the  extinct of  dinosaurs and dragon,

Is not it amazing?  So  be happy with what you own!

                                  

The frog woke up with the  melodious croaking of his mates,

Coming out from  'trauma'  he croaked to join the flock 

To his delight he received response of  his  potential partner ! 

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Sipra's Diary: #....."Netaji Subhaschandra"....& Calcutta bookfair.

     " Adesh chilo, Delhi Cholo,

         Delhi mora Joi korechi ,

         Aj Tumi Kotha  Netaji!"

We grew up breathing  in  the elixir of patriotism ; The current flew   strong & powerful throughout our school life....,. 

My eldest brother of 13/ 14  years old,  who tried to sow seed of patriotism in     neighborhood  children team .   He taught them marching and patriotic music...... 

 My brother led the team of children to march with the music below:

 #. KADAM KADAM BARAYE JA,

      KHUSHISE GEET GAYEJA ,

       " YE  JINDEGI HAI  KAUMODI."

.......I was then too young to speak distinctly ; I  used to  sing  the last line  from my sister's lap  

        like....      " e-jing- b-jing- korbo-ki"!

All others made fun of it .

My father was posted in  HAZARIBAGH,,Bihar.

All the wealthy and elite class people of Calcutta [. so called 'Babus"] used to come for "change"in the healthy region of Bihar ;  Hazaribag , Ranchi Modhupur Giridih,  Jhajha, Jashidih , shimultala, Deoghar were  famous  among them. These wealthy people had their own buildings with large garden having variety of fruits and flowers  There were  gardeners,   care-takers  to look after the property. Throughout the year the children entered the garden for grabbing fruits by jumping over  the wall until they were chased by guard  to get out ! Sometimes the guard remained cool ;because the fruits were too abundant to be consumed by the boys.It was a time far from the hotel business flourished ! Most Babus had luxurious arrangements in the building ,not less than any starred hotel.

My father became close friend with some of the "babu" family. I mentioned  my father's story  in my google 'Blog' account. But now I will add a new story. 

Netaji's family  also used to come every year in Hazaribagh. I don't know whether that was their own house or rented !

They used to invite my father's family in  the 'yangna,'  performed at the end of 'SatyaNarayan   puja. It was perhaps  about 1946,  before India owned independence.

When the most invitees left, my mother asked Netaji's mother about Netaji curiously,

"  Do you think Netaji is still alive?"

Netaji's  mother  smiled sadly ; then shifting eyes from curious face of my mother  she replied,  

"Sure, he is alive very much to me!" 

Mom:   [in whispering voice] "may I know where he is now hiding? I wouldn't tell anybody!"

By the time my father came to call my mom. He started  asking common formal conversation with Netaji's  mother; before leaving .

Dr. Sunil Basu [ Netaji's brother] treated my brother and saved him from critical condition. My brother had  typhoid and Septic mumps  simultaneously. Dr. Sunil Bose operated him in our house .  He brought all his surgical instruments necessary for operation and asked my mom to boil water .  

He himself came near the kichen for more boiled water . My mother was frying some "pokora / chop." 

He sniffed and asked my mother  to taste some warm fries . My mother offered him with tea . He asked some more fries.

Operation was successful but remembering pain  my brother used to abuse  random to the Dr. but the Dr smiled and never minded .

He used to visit our home almost everyday of his stay in the town.       I heard the story from parent  I also heard that Netaji fled  from Gomoh station , near Hazaribag . He was seen lastly in Gomoh , India.

Then in Germany under the shelter of Hitler. But he remained mysterious  in the heart of all Bengalese  like a painful lump !.....   Time to time rumor of "Netaji has come"' ignited the Bengalese in new enthusiasm!

Slowly time healed up the rumor in silence under  multiple complexities! 

Calcutta Bookfair -2026  knocked to remind India as well as the world how much love and  adoration the Begalese still bear for Netaji . 

Thanks to Kunal Bose for publishing the book in the broad arena of the Book-Fair!

Hearty  Congratulations on behalf of  ever-alive-all- patriotic hearts!

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Sipra's Diary:< Published > "A busy Street At Midnight"

 

A Busy Street At Midnight

 

It was  after a Friday late-night  show

Waiting on the sidewalk to go home.

Waiting more than half an hour 

Increased my worries as the crowd became thinner.

 

A busy street! long black deserted and sleek

So different to look at midnight!

Stretched almost straight and then 

Bent to be lost in invisibility

Made it so feminine and mystic!

 

The hole day so much load and traffic it bears

Instantly reminded me the tired face of my mother!

I felt to embrace her and wish let her  take

Sleep rest of the night, undisturbed by any invader.

 

Feeling became so vivid and vibrate in me 

That street remained no more street

Nor even my mother,

It absorbed intensely with me!

I forgot my impatience or worries,

And what for I was waiting! 

Until my daughter’s voice startled me, Mom!’

Holding the opened door of  ‘cab
Looking back I slipped silently

In the cab that that rolled towards home 

Nor through the road 

But sliding on my supra -sensuous  being!.

Sipra's Diary: (Poem) " INCREDIBLE. SPECIE"

                                "Incredible  Specie "

 Human race campaigned four billion years

 With many more lethal viruses

But did not extinguished like dinosaurs

Or some other specie like mammoth or platypus

He still reigns over the creatures in the universe;

Then why in Covid-19 should we be so anxious?

 

Time leaps over the heaps of pandemic -corpse,

As if, passing over the bough of cherry-blossoms;

Utterly impassive of human traumatic conditions.

 If we can’t get rid of worries and fears of present virus,

Chariot of Time will carry us, defying all obstacles.

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Sipra's Diary : Success >. A blackhole.

 

Success!

All of us in this mortal world crave for 'success' , die for achieving success ! We don't think of the flip side of success. How much hard it is to handle success,..to digest success.

First success pushes to leap for more and then again to jump far more and then  to infinite 'more'& more ....,

That is why most  super -duper -celebrities doom in drugs,  in  frustration, even suicide . They feel alone in a lonely icy cold planet.

Starting from Plato, Michael Angelo, Leo Tolstoy , Newton , Madame Curie, Beethoven , Abraham Lincon, Emily Dickinson Steve job, Sylvia Plath, Van Gaug, or Michael Jackson great thinkers or artists  ended life as sad and lone persons.

It is better to have some failure like Robert Bruce and to get to be inspired to experience   success from failure through trial and error from the spider.

Failures leave ways to move forward whereas success has  either dead ends, or enters ultimately to blackhole!

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Sipra's Diary : "Art Of Arts "..>> [for"CADENCE>" FSPA-]

              “ART Of  ARTS”

Let the poetry be pristine 

And untouched by any  ‘art’  

As itself is the ‘art of arts’, 

Quintessential form  of heart.

Art is another form of artificiality:

 Alias of adulteration.

Let it sustain to express 

The freedom of mind without fear 

Not to be bound with 

Superstition, rules and regulation

Let her remain savage as 

Wild flowers, not to ornate 

With flowery language or 

Burdened with pedantic knowledge

Just like flowers bloom 

To spread fragrance ,

Let her spring the message of

Truth, beauty and goodness.

 

But who is there in near future 

to worry about the “art of poetry?”

In this digital age, as AI is ready 

To step in the literary garden

Who will appeal or protect I

In custody the  “Art” of poetry ?

If the ‘App’ in brain produces 

Poems of love, loss, laughter

From the AI factory, 

To replace the   Eden of literature!

Who cares for creativity?  

What future for ‘imagination’ ?

 

 Yes, graveyard is ready, 

 Coffin is waiting ………

 What epithet will be chosen  

 To inscribe on the tombstone ?........

 *”Step softly,  a dream lies here!”

                         or,

 * ”The best is yet to come !”.

  Of course , that epithet 

  Also has to be borrowed 

  From frozen cemetery or factory! 

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                      2.

Sipra's Diary [:reposted]> Birthday Celebration in Bahama>1-2-2026

 

Ba, Bah, BAH-AMA!  

We were invited by my daughter's friend who celebrated her B-day. in Bahama  island.  It was a party of twenty .We spend there five gala days. First day for  the city tour by  fancy bus , second day  boat journey on the ocean; the young folk enjoyed  fun in snorkeling & playing  golf on  the beach & taking lunch in  a restaurant of island. I picked some shells which I left in the  balcony of the hotel by mistake .On the third day grand celebration of birthday party in an  Indian restaurent;  food along  with drinks-dance-music!was awesome.The added attraction for me was the event of my debut launching "EYEs Are Notorious"!

People of Bahama are  nice, warm -hearted and tourists-friendly. 

It seemed my room on the hotel was hanging on the ocean! I enjoyed ocean view all the time.Here color of the ocean is very different from others . Weather was nice.All the hotels were full of tourists who came on spring  break.There were two/three swimming  pools.We enjoyed the water glide on tube .Whole day the pools & beach were crowded with merry-making  people. 

I felt water still little cool for me . So I enjoyed from my balcony the  elaborate, ' massive bikini cum butt-show':  bony butt, fleshy butt,         big butt like tea-table of all ages:  

Butty-Bahama !

Most bikinis are made of more scanty cloth than they  used to be ;  Some bikinis are like dental  floss  between two variety of halves..............    

whereas the men folk were in normal swimming dress.Because the poor folks  haven't any extra flesh on chest or butt to compete! 

I wish the bikini 'designers' & their marketeers  to be guillotined by constitutional law!

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