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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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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Sipra's Diary :Blockage for Aspiring Writer-(Motherfu...")feb,2026

 

       Blockage for aspiring Writer: ' mother fu........r '

Saheb  reached central park little earlier; so he sat on a bench near the big golden statue, waiting for his friends Rasul and Amir. 

He took out the fiction' 'Hacker- mocker' from the side bag.  But his attention from the fiction  was stolen towards  a  young  couple who were walking with hands locked to each other lovingly. He gazed at them minutely  unless he got a slap on  his back  by Amir . 

He turned back startled !

Amir asked ," what are you looking so romantically?  

You are   absolutely duped! It  is wrong what are you thinking !

They are  gay couples, male-partners !"

Saheb:  "No, no. On  the  left side is a  hot female one : nice figure, delicate walking! I am little attracted  to them......!"

Amir- "Because you get only the back view, front-view is tractor -ridden-plain-landscape without any wave in body!"

Saheb:" You also get same view as me! What makes you to understand otherwise?

Amir.  " I can understand easily from the walking style!"

Saheb  "Then let me know that style !"

Amir,   "One who will walk like 'corgi-dog' with heavy swaying butt is sure to play female partner among the gay couple!"

Saheb took a last look of  disappearing  'corgi-butt'. 

Saheb: "Amir, I am interested to visualize  the swaying butt of an actual corgi dog."

Amir burst into laughter !

"OK. Queen Elizabeth has 5  Corgi dogs! We will enjoy Friday night on the Netflix show of the "Queen"  episode !" 

Amir added farther ,"I feel their  butts are so funny!as they walk"...

Saheb with dreamy look said, "I am waiting with excitement for Rasul

to come with my "manuscript"of first novel. His friend got some odd job  in a small  Publishing House . I have handed over my manuscript to him two weeks  ago."

"From my school life my  goal of life was to be a writer, a successful writer !  Rasul  gave me that hope of life ! I am so grateful to him !"       ......................

Amir did not reply. He knows well that  how much  crafty Rasul is enough to give false promise!.........

"Lo, he has come!"  

Saheb looked at Rasul with great hope. 

But to his disappointment Rasul conveyed ,

"I'm so sorry Saheb!" 

My friend in publishing House complained that  amidst  380 pages  of the manuscript  not in any  single place is mentioned the word   'fuck'.

I advised you repeatedly to put in the story enough 'spice' which means cocktail of raw sex  with slang words  and vulgarity ; otherwise theme  or plot is not  enough to attract general readers, understand?

To become  'best seller'   in US Publishing Houses  you must pack some juicy matter like illicit gossip, rape , 'fuck' in several chapters!...hmm...

Such a novel without salt or spice will never be published in this country.  Rasul threw the rolled manuscript from his side bag on the ground in disgust! 

Saheb with insulted red face started to pickup scattered pages of the manuscript and murmured in contempt : it is a story of single mother struggling to bring up her children to respectable position in society......

Rasul cried out,  " Eureka!....snatched the dialogue by stopping Saheb. 

.... Why arn't  adding 'Motherfucker'?  

     It's mother-fucker!...perfect fit.

"Saheb , Try, try again using the word  'mother-fucker!'

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Two elderly women  passed them with walker little  ago ; they turned heads from little  far to hear the slang word "fuck". From the opposite side  a police van was coming and was stopped by those  women. 

Amir said to Rasul, "we will be arrested by the police for you! Look the  women seemed to complain something about us to the police !"

Watching it Rasul hurried  them,"Let us leave this place quickly by taking nearest  subway stairs !"

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Sipra's Diary: "BABURCHI"

                              BABURCHI ( COMIC)  W=543

Abdul   Khan was happy to be  posted as ranger officer in

 Rosulpur, Murshidabad . He was a widower with no issues . He owned  a doberman as pet . He loved wine and his pet. He was foodie and fond of classical music.

 

Every evening he  was addicted of taking a whole chicken cooked in plenty of butter & red chilli, roasted potato with a bottle of wine along with listening classical vocal music.

 He loves isolation more than socialization  except  Saturday night only that  he took tea after the lunch to chat with  some  colleagues but they al used to leave  before evening .

His old cook  Ismyle introduced  his niece Amir to him as his new cook before going home for serious  operation of his kidney which might take  three to  four  months to be cure . 

Mr Khan started liking young Amir more that the old one: pretty intelligent witty and able of delicious preparation. 

Mr Khan was not a kind generous man at all.  Shortly clever Amir came to understand his miserly nature. Mr Khan was frugal to treat with the household servants; though he was enough rich  and had neither wife nor any issue! 

Young Amir was a voracious eater.  He felt his mouth was full of water while cooking chicken in butter and rare aromatic spice.

Mr Khan spent long time to finish dinner; he ordered Amir to prepare the peg of drinks time to time during his prolonged dining hour; He praised Amir a lot about his culinary skill but  never spared or offered him a piece of chicken !

One day the spicy aroma of chicken  made  Amir too crazy to check himself from tasting it. He thought himself 'Mr khan might not notice  that out of  alcoholic intoxication. He Grabbed one leg-piece of the chicken out of greed  during cooking.  

He served the dinner on table with wine at as-usual time and  played a record of Mr Khan's favorite classical singer great bade Golum  Ali Khan! Mr.Khan was eating and listening music with closed eyes , exclaiming ,"a-haha!" 

Suddenly he opened eyes on his plate with searching look ; (apprehending possibility of interrogation)  instantly Amir pretended to be absorbed in listening  music with eyes closed! 

Clearing throat Mr khan asked ," Amir, where is the other leg- piece of the chicken? Go and fetch it from the cooking pan."

Amir  as if, woke up from melodic ocean! Scratching head he answered,"this hen had only one leg, sir !"

Mr Khan murmured with displeasure,'I never saw an one legged  hen  or turkey in my life !'

Next morning was Sunday. Mr Khan was taking morning walk with Amir on the river bank. Some cranes were waiting to  prey fish with one leg  hidden  under their belly.

Amir cried out in excitement , "sir, sir!please look at  the cranes! the hen also was like them with having only one leg!" 

Coming  nearer as Mr Khan clapped , the cranes flee away showing two legs visible!

"Hey I see them moving with two legs ."

 Amir replied,"But sir, you know the chicken was in that position of   one hidden-leg at the time of cooking.".................

 

   Mr khan couldn't but appreciate Amir's presence of mind!

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Sipra's Diary:....[. POEM] "Am I Nobody?"

 

     AM I NOBODY?    Sipra Roy      LINES   >40

 

When I came to New York as visitor mom,

First time I heard of Emily Dickinson,

As I visited Morgan Museum, where 

Her Birthday was going celebrated by the Museum.

 

I noticed at the main entrance,” Who are You?”

Written in giant letters, welcoming the visitors !

Though I was ignorant of the fact that it was excerpt 

From her verse, I was little confused but greatly hooked.

 

Inside the hall lots of excerpts from poems and poet’s portrait 

Were for display on the wall; my daughter took me upstairs

I noticed there a ‘poetry workshop’ led by an Interne of Harvard 

My daughter registered my name sensing my interest.

I enjoyed the class that sparked me to add  some thought;

“Who are you?  Are you nobody too? Then let us  paired.”

 

……….How nice to be self-banished

           Under the shadow of Nobody!

 

           The truth is that I crave to be somebody.

           Like everybody does on earth.

           When the eternal ambition of humanity

           Aims to shine  as 'somebody' that  remains unfulfilled

           Then seek shelter under the umbrella of  

           Familiarity   for comfort and self consolation.

          ‘ Of course grapes are sour, if it is beyond reach!’

           To be somebody is dreary .

           Why?

            As to bear the bug of identity 

            Paired with the crisis that 

            Runs parallel; 

            Chased by social insects,  name,

            Fame ,glories: maladies of modern time!

            Still achieving  dream through these maladies

            Is  the 'paradox' of life  !!

 

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Sipra's Diary: [prose]>........"AM I NOBODY?"

 

   " Am   I  Nobody-"- (  Prose )

I Have lots of projects in my mind to do  but at the end of the day I am frustrated to see  the barren land of my creativity,  an arid  desert spread with cactus . Writing   gives  me   joy but my relationship with  old  buddy of pen & paper  has been tragically  swapped by 

new  attachment with computer ; At the time of taking morning walk  or shower or 

cutting vegetables ,   fantastic ideas pop up  in me;   when  I  sit on the writing table I 

decide every time to turn back to my old buddy -'pen and paper' but novelty of new love 

magnets me to   surrender 'decision'  which  finally  collapses to   the alter  of  'Wish'.  In the tug of war between    thoughts,   ideas become either fugitive or lost.  While hand  moves  like snail,  ,ideas are  too speedy  like mail  to hold on.  

When I started to write blog ,I wrote them to improve my typing speed ; I wrote them for my own pleasure. After I joined some Creative  Writing  Class  I saw most of the members are published authors They displayed their books with hard binding & attractive covers!I became quite impressed  and  turned  me into fireflies ;  I spend much time to  learn computer    than to  practice  writing; I took free classes in library and senior center ;  All the seniors  were  interested to learn E-mail,  Face  book  games  photo shop and   not more than that.  I lost   my. several writing pieces  in " the.  trial a & error practice of "online' submission.   I.  applied    in New Yorker   magazine  ,Wall. street , as freelance writer  with no response ;  When I read some of my own   pieces   I patted myself  ;  It  leads me to think  that  all   famous   writers began their    journey   as "new'.... .  suddenly Emily Dickinson  came into my mind ; perhaps  she wrote it in her early period of poetic journey,a popular piece of poem to become cliche later on    "Who are you?......are you nobody ,too ?"

          YES!

 I am 'nobody;'.....but I want to be somebody.      [next]                                                                                  

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[ Poem]