Sipra's diary: Experience of 4th July in US

4thJuly,2o18

This year I went to upstate new york by bus for attending a religious retreat The  big Academy bus was full of participants.It was like picnic party . we were practicing the choir  music .The journey took about two hours.I occupied the window seat to enjoy the outside view. I felt the  same vibrabation  and echo of childhood-excitement  of Independence day also here  on 4th july:the  national anthem in chorus with drum-beat and bugle....The bus ran through the City, Newjersy and then small towns. I looked outside  with curiosity.I did not see  any teacher guiding  the marching of school-children or singing pariotic songs anywhere throughout the bus-journey;  nor a single pedestrian walking on road; only  few  running cars moving now and then. Just a regular holiday scene;late rising ,wallowing in comfort on bed .
 Why such a big democratic country is so silent in this auspicious Day?.......I remembered  my  past and first experience of 4 th July in US.

Sipra's diary:Stupefying Ad in the bus-stand...

I was coming back to home from the senior center  after the music program was over. As I was walking towards the bus-stand I was quite stunned to see the advertisement on the huge glass -wall of the bus-stop,86 th street of columbus avenue,Mid-Manhattan,
"MUSEUM FOR SEX". Now I googled the meaning with etymology of the term . Most suitable meaning which matches with museum is "gender'or"male and female'. "sex"does not sound good. It will not attract  standard audience;  it should be replaced by"Museum Of Gender".
Museum is an institution, a home of muses,an adorable place almost like temple.People are so  much sensitive about so many social issues but no voice is raised against using unparliamentary profane words in case of   giving 'title'or advertisement.

Sipra's Diary: WORD THE BEEHIVE.

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Sipra's diary:::::::::::::Experience of First 4th july in USA

***.I came to US first time in May 1999, just in the last millennium and before stepping of the current( 'the then' advent of new millennium').I was very much excited to think of witnessing the Independence day in the biggest democratic country, being physically present. It was West Virginia.
In India 15th August, the Independence Day is celebrated with enormous enthusiasm;  all around prevails a joyful feeling of festivity! All the school children with white dress reach the school premise within 7:45. AM.  The flag is hoisted between 8AM to 8:15with the national anthem 'Jana-Gana-mana', bugle and drum-beat. As the flag goes up to unfurl, a bunch of flowers drop from the folded flag. After the inspiring talks are delivered about the lives and sacrifices of the patriots and martyrs. People/students pay homage to their memory. The ceremony usually ended within 11AM with the distribution of some sweets and snacks. Not only schools and colleges but all institutions, court, offices follow this tradition sincerely.
With this picture in my mind, I dressed up myself and set out with my husband at 7 o'clock. My daughter screamed from her bed in a sleepy voice,
" where are you going? Today is a holiday ;  Here nobody
gets up before 10AM on holiday."                                                                                                                                                        "idle girl!" I murmured in my mind and pushed my husband silently to hurry up. We proceeded towards the City hall, downtown. We walked throughout the lonely and silent road. In every turn of the hilly road, I was expecting curiously to hear the cheering voice of school students and people.
My enthusiasm began to fade when I reached near the deserted city-hall.
It was an 8:30.No trace of any people.

 My husband said,"My daughter was right, you didn't listen to her."
I replied "Perhaps we reached too early; let us wait up to 9-o'clock"
 We walked towards the front side of the city hall and saw the national flag tied up to the pole. The flag seemed to be quite old; no scattered flowers under the pedestal of the flag.

 " Oh, see, the flag has been hoisted before we came";
my husband exclaimed!
  I said,"never, we reached here before 8: AM".
"It seems the  city-mayor did  it yesterday night to avoid getting up from sleep early morning on holiday."

I laughed  & laughed to hear his comment, breaking the morning silence.
Actually, my husband wanted to leave the place as he missed the morning tea before coming; and here also he didn't find any hope, as no tea- stall was visible.
I felt for him; so I said  sympathetically,
"let us go to the pole to bow down near the National flag of US; maybe we will never  get the chance of coming on this day!"
" That's a good idea!"My husband answered cheerfully at the thought of going back to home.

Then we were looking all around in search of any stall for morning tea.
Now I noticed a man with tattered clothes leaning in the corner of the wall of the hall with two empty bottles of liquor  between his stretched legs; he seemed to be heavily drunk. I am scared of a drunkard and mad people. So I turned back swiftly to step down the stairs and leave the place. Near the corner of the stairs under a big shady tree, another man came to our notice who was fumbling the huge trash-can;  I can hear him murmuring and laughing softly; He also seemed drunk and mad both,  .. but divinely a happy man!
In the midway of the street, we saw, on our way back, some well-dressed gentlemen and women coming from the opposite side.
I hopefully said, 'see, people are now started coming; it is 9:35, the celebration will be at 10:00PM, as my daughter told.
But those people entered in a church by the roadside, disapproving my guess.
We came back home with much disappointment.
My daughter, still lying in bed, giggled," I told you, It is holiday, nobody will be seen before 10:0'clock!  Did you see  anything happening?"
 My husband promptly replied, "yes-yes, only two happiest persons.  of this country : a mad beggar and a drunkard!
My daughter replied," Oh, you will see them always in the downtown.'
I put the tray of steaming tea and toast in front of him.
 My first experience of 4th July often comes back to my mind on Independence Day, with some dismay.
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Sipra's diary: :Poetry Tribute to 4th july in Mirror

 

       'Oh  say, can you see',what lie ahead,

       Standing under  the pressure

       Of undesired piles of crises

       Are you perturbed or Afraid?

              

      Oh America, what a great test

      Now that  you need to select,

      whether  you would chose  to be hunchback

      Bankrupt father of the opulent immigrants

      Or, a solvent capitalist leader of the Nation,

     To take care of the country with allround vision?

     At the dawn of your young   days

     You famed as a 'nation of immigrants'!

     But long back,you achieved to ride on

     By your own; stood up as savior with valour;

     As asylum that is  too overburdened

     To shelter now  anymore!

    Oh, Time summons you to pitch deeper

    In the heart of the Nation

    The star spangled banner

    That waves with reminder:

    Each bright star is the symbol

    For each state  that was rescued

   At the cost of blood and lives of  the  ancestors,

   Who sailed  through the stormy ocean,

   Crossed the desert and mountain,

   Marched bruised,on prickly thorn,

   To bestow peace and freedom to the Nation!

Oh Nation,

What treasure  do you restore

For the ancestors  as tribute?

Can you  promise  to retain

Their pride, power, prosperity and peace?

How much to expect

From this 'Humpdty Dumpty' diverse nation?

Are they willing to chant  together

 In chorus tune again

 'God  bless  America!' 

                          

                          

Sipra's diary: : Blog-disaster

I composed in the last week a poem about 4th july along with  some flash-back memories.I wished to attach it with a photo of national flag  before posting it in my blog.
Yesterday night I tried  desperately to transport it from Microsoft words to google.After highlighting the piece as soon as I clicked,  my poem shrienked to be turned like a broad margin , as the letters became as small as dot.Then with a second click to "undo' ultimate  diaster came down; the poem vanished  like a genie in the bottle, but the bottle too was 'invisible'!I could not find my staff anywhere, niether in 'file' nor in 'document'. I  applied all my skill more than hour but could not rescue the poem or blog.
 I dashed my head hundred times between the  two  walls of 'clicking'"undo" and "redo,"and created more complicacy.
This is why I have  become"clickophraniac."  ....The mouse roams to and fro but my palm becomes numb before I click .  
The  draft of the poem is still in my note-book. But when I copy anything from note-book to internet, it always  changes.Even if I write it again,it will not be same as before. Also writing  depends on flowing mood of thoughts ;Once interrupted, it  may turn back  to somewhere else.
At last, I went on bed lamenting on my fault ,what harm  was  there  to leave the poem appeared as sleek and modern  like a  cookie-cutter super-model  ?

         I dreamt to be a block-buster,
         Instead I stumbled upon blog-disaster!
         And rolling down and down
         Through the sloping ground
         To the ditch of ignorance
          About internet  super-age!
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