Sipra's diary: ***. My. First time voting as US Citizen.-2024.

 

                                                     Me, the Early Voter    ..............WORDS=684

As I opened my eyes ,   I noticed the clock announcing the time as 7:45am. My daughter planned last night that we would go for early voting in the morning before the booth would become crowded.. So I took quick shower with regular morning rituals.As if , I am going temple for worshipping. .After getting ready we reached to John Jay College  by a cab. 

Full of excitement to have experience  physically of  First voting in America. I was ruminating the memory of  India in my subconscious mind . It was like festival to me in India;& carry the same feelings here also.

We reached the venue with 5/6 minutes. Number of volunteers ,(mostly seniors,)  were much more than that of  voters. We were greeted warmly from the entrance door to the counter all along  The volunteers were standing every 3 feet distance with smiling faces to guide us . The warm greeting reminded me wedding ceremony of India .

Any way coming to the #5 table  one of the volunteer gave the ballot paper & explained what to do.  After collecting the paper my daughter explained me second time . I knew the name of Trump as Republican and  Kamala  Harris as Democrat ; But there were names of more people [ i.e of state , of Supreme Court],of whom   I never heard.    There were some names  who were also without any of the rivals .   

Within ten minutes we  exploited  the highest civic power  of democracy in the greatest land  of the globe !

 'et Brutus too!'........

On my coming back home, I remembered Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" where Caesar commented about the  people as 'Roman mob' who were rejoicing then  Caesar's victory, but another time would act in the same way  to his enemy also, with the same enthusiasm    as they were not guided by reason, but  sheer Emotion.!        

I am not illiterate; still even after 400years I consider myself even  today a part of ancient Roman 'mob' while casting vote! 

Do I know exactly who  is the right man to guide & lead this land and its people to brighter  future with prospect?

Again the image of theatric shot  propped up in mind

                      'et Brutus too!'

 TRIUMPH  Of  TRUMP.[2024 ]

 Nov 5th/2024 was a very important day not only for this country, but for the whole world . This time election was full of speculation with excitement. The nation waited restlessly around the t.v. or  i-phone until they hear the  final result of election. 

Before 12'o clock night victory of the Republican was announced !        some  cheered the victory while some were sad with broken heart! Some expressed the victory of Trump against Harris as gender-victory! It appears to me little odd. But in the land of  LGBT the mass thought is naturally moves on  offtrack dump (b)-y way.

Democracy is the best administrative form in small country; but in large country  like America, practically  it is hard to follow!   90%voters are ,(whether literate or illiterate), ignorant of knowledge or wisdom about the true welfare of  country; they are mostly devoid of love for the land ; they know about their rights well but forget that duties for the country are also of same weight ! They lack national pride or feeling . 

Patriotic songs ignite & enhance the flame of lamp in mind .No schools follow national song.  National song should be included in school curriculum : from K-1. to 12grade.  Surprisingly, American Constitution  did not mention of any national language  for this country as it is a land of multiple nations. So far I know that  every  country has  own national flag, national language and national  coin.  

From early school life the kids should come under the canopy of the same  national song &learn the sacrifice of  the heroic  leaders & martyrs.  The first step of international citizen is to have clear concept of  becoming  national.  A child who never learns to love &. respect own mothers, is mostly  bereft of those basic emotions for anybody! The age-old proverb says 'charity begins at home'.

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Sipra's Diary:[Rep]> SANTACLAUS

 

LIVE SANTACLAUS IN NEWYORK

 I saw him on the pavement

Leaning against the iron railing

Of the Roosevelt building:

The morning sunshine

Reflected on his pink skin,

The white-beard face   with  such  grace 

 Resembling as Santa Claus without a red dress!

 Reached early to bless!

who is he?

The divine joy  and bliss  from  his  glowing face

Spilt over me like foaming milk!

It seemed an earthquake flood or storm

 Nothing can   him disturb or harm.

He was in his own mind,

 Looking  at nobody.

With grocery-bag in my hand 

I saw   him

He was in his own mind,

Looking at nobody! Was he blind?

He seemed to be  such an adorable man 

That I hesitate to release

 The coins from my left hand

Though I wished to do something for him!

Next time  as I saw the place was empty

So in honour of him,

With his thought in  my mind,

I made some offering 

In the nearest church. 

Before Thanks-Giving!

.,.,,.,..,.,..,.,..,..,,…,.,.,.,.,….,……….,

Sipra's Diary :What Fault In Christianity?

 

In   Christmas holiday of 2009, we planned to go for a trip outside Mumbai But at that peak season of tourism, neither any ticket nor any decent hotel was available at that last moment My daughter searched franatically on the internet and at last found out some "odd-place" for Holiday. It was "Sivananda Ashram" at Neymar-dam, in Kerala. Not for tourists but for pilgrims; There also the only dormitory was available  We determined not to vegetate in Mumbai. So we were desperately ready to take the adventure of experiencing the odd and completely unknown place. I  was interested in the place as I  was impressed by reading the book of Swami  Sivananda quite long ago.

Neyyar dam is a small exotic village surrounded by hills and lush green, near Trivandrum. The Ashram was on the top of the hill, by the side of the deep large lake. On the other side of the lake a  lion -reserve where they were roaring now and then to entertain the guests.
The Ashram has a  beautiful temple decorated with art and painting, a chapel,two-storied hall for yoga-centre, a huge dining hall with a big kitchen and several buildings with rooms and dormitories for the guests. Swami Natarajan, an Australian man was the then president. All the sectors of the ashram were mostly run by volunteers who were Christians from all over the western world. Only Indians other than me, were   3/4 volunteers, several brahmin priests in the temple, cooks in the kitchen, and some native labours.
I was surprised to see so many foreign devotees, most of them young, in that remote village which was unknown to most of the Indians. They were singing and chanting in Sanskrit so accurately that I felt ashamed for my inefficiency. By asking I came to know from  European ladies that they were attached to the centre since long ago  There are many centres of  this Institution  too throughout the western world. They have taken 'Diksha' from Swamiji. As they had practised for a long time, they didn't feel Sanskrit as hard language 
I noticed how devotionally, after taking an early-morning- bath, these Christians were performing meditation, listening scriptures, doing yoga, prayer-songs dedicatedly from 5'0 clock morning.

I pondered why these Christians are so much inclined to Hinduism? However, I celebrated the best Christmas  of life and 31st December in Neyaardam with this global community;
On asking about their interest of coming,  most of them answered that they got profundity, and touch of spirituality in that place; the dry sermon of Sunday Bible reading failed to quench their thirst for soul-searching.

I wish sometimes I will write about Neyaardam and Paradise Island of Bahama in my travelogue.
In 2012   I went in Sivananda ashram of  paradise island, in Bahama, to celebrate 7-days'retreat during Christmas holidays Here also except 3/4 Indians,the rest were western, mostly young, came for taking 6 weeks' theoretical and practical spiritual training courses of yoga which ended with the exam before the Christmas retreat.

280 trainees came in that year. For excess accommodation, rented tent system was available.
 I was fortunate to be close to a global community. I have a curiosity about religion. I took Bible classes a few years back. In 2014 I took admission to Fordham University in Bible courses of Prof Shafer who was from Harvard.

 I  immersed myself in studying the Bible. As  I went deep and deeper, the realization dawned on me that in the nascent stage of humanity there was only one religion based on two instincts: Fear and  Hope which are still chasing human race but in different dimensions.

It was Land and Language which changed the colour and essence of religion influenced by the then powerful monarchs of the lands like Rome  Turkey, Babylon  Britain etc.

The Bible, especially the New Testament, is full of allegory and metaphors to keep safe and secured from the tyrant monarchs   who were a potential terror to acknowledge the supremacy of any power over them. The priests, in fear and for self-interest acted as the agents of the monarchs and not for the sake of religion at all.

.Christianity, the Gospels were too modern and scientific religion to be conceivable by commoners at that time. Then several hundred years were spent on the tug of war over monopolizing the Christianity between Constantinople and Byzantine, between the western and the Muslims.  History of blood-stained Crusade is an eternal disgraceful black chapter to not only to European history but to mankind as a whole.

The essence of  Religion remained unexplored, due to the long gap of the culture of the Religion during the crusade;  Only the dry shell of the Gospel was left for daily Sunday Bible reading as a monotonous ritual in the church. ..Perhaps,  very few enlightened priests or bishops were left to bear the rich legacy of spirituality to be embedded for the future generation. 

The church has less young and intellectual devotees and more seniors and blind orthodox devotional attendees. This is not desirable; The fault is not in Christianity, but in arousing interest in Christianity, failure to hold on the unquenchable faith of the restless youth.

In the course of time, the young Christian generation of 21 st century, started to search outside the church to quench their thirst for spirituality.

   How to get back the present young and the future generation back to the church?
Christianity needs to be revived by prominent spiritual thinkers and Christian leaders. It is high time to reflect on some of Jesus' most provocative questions find new life and meaning in the modern context of the restless world.

    I have started a small step in this project with vigorous effort.
I would like to explore it further.

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Sipra's Diary : (RE),,,,,,Entrapreneur of Planning Own Obituary as next career.

 

Entrepreneurs of planning own obituary as next career.

A few weeks ago I saw some mail recommended by Linked-in that stated “to the planning of your own obituary as next career move. 

The caption sounded unusual and satiric, rather than ‘macabre’to me.

Life is like a string stretched and hooked to two points named birth and death; multicoloured lights of dreams and desires clung to that string; some are as bright as neon while others blink like tuna-bulb; some of which focus and inspire life-force, and some are fused to create a patch of darkness.

Thinking about own obituary means how I wish my death should be celebrated; planning to prepare before it actually happens.  There are already plenty of thoughtful benefits in America and all over civilized western European countries such as Medicare, Medicaid, Life Insurance policy, social securities etc.; aren’t these facilities enough assurance for pre-obituary planning?  I think

Persons with a positive outlook always think how to lead life wisely and meaningfully Which is most important. My father-in-law often used to quote "To die is natural, and to live is a wonder." We all know that we will die; still, we aspire for living up to our last breathe.

‘ Cowards die many times before death’. Death or loss of life makes us totally free from pain or pleasure. 

Why one should torture and spoil the present moment on planning for ‘obituary’?  Who cares ‘life after death ’like the ancient Egyptians? The concept of ‘obituary’ perhaps came from that time on the belief that there was still a subtle ‘life’ after death.I am very much influenced by the idea of  Hindu philosophy that believes that death indicates the new beginning of life and not the end of life .we put on new clothes when the old one is torn; likewise when life ceases from the physical body, , soul changes a new one  from the old body.  In that sense, we are basically immortal.

So let death come peacefully; whether silent or slow or sudden.I heard stories that in olden days people who didn’t have children  (who bears the responsibility of obituary rituals), they used to perform all  the rituals and celebrate their own  obituary during their life-time. In Bengali it is called ”Jiyotkarma (Live-obituary) They  did so because they used to believe that without obituary soul could not be free from the bondage of body. 

There is a good joke: once a lusty and prodigal man was celebrating a party with friends on a boat-trip; Suddenly Spirit of Death appeared before him and announced, ”I have come to take you. “

“Why, at this odd time?”

“Because your time is up!”

   He asked in timorous voice, “What do you mean by ‘time is up’?  ‘I did not get any notice!” 

He Got so nervous that the glass of wine dropped from his hand on the floor. 

 With trembling voice he tried to convince,-

“See, my head,-- not bald ,still enough hair; all my teeth are intact; to convince his youth, he showed the teeth like Colgate Ad; Then coming nearer to  the spirit of Death like a toddler, whispered the man, “see, why all these beautiful women are waiting? Because they enjoy my company ,  Hmm!”

He appealed ' Let  not spoil this  pleasurable moment ;Come to join us. 
As he turned towards the women his body thudded lifeless on the carpet.
>>>>>>>

Sipra's Diary: Prompt from Project Hamilton. about your idea of ...."TRUTH"

                    Idea Of Truth.   words=162/. lines=24

  As a kid for hand-writing I practiced one page 

 "Always Be Truthful," otherwise,

You'll be thrown to be fried in boiling oil in Hell's inferno

Image of Hell was scary and vivid for liars,

Whereas truth is defined vague and dubious! 

 

As young adult I learn truth is not a mere  word;

But the base of knowledge :Truth,Beauty Goodness,

'Sat-Chidananda' as viewed in Hindu Vedas.

By nature it  is non-changing eternal, not judgemental.

 

With maturity as I become judgmental

Truth comes  to be a  great 'lie '--

That  has not been yet  discovered !

By time new ideas swap  the old to remember

Truth of bygone days becomes myth in future. 

 

Copernicus, Socrates, Galileo, and many others 

Had to die for pioneering new truth, rejecting the past.

Why truth is  so slippery and tricky, not vivid as hell! 

Whether science or philosophy, art or religion,

Ideas of truth changes with time, nothing is eternal.   ***end.

 

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Sipra's diary: Austin Chap Aug5/2024Bela ....Jolke Chol...

 

....#1............" Bela Je Boye Gelo Jolke Chol"..........

It is time to store water, water for future ; have I?.........

Time flows ;sometimes calmly; sometimes swiftly ; sometimes torrentially ;  but it is really violent if  it seems  stands still !  not moving; when it  loses   any demarcation between  yesterday , today and tomorrow. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> #2.

         Most of us live  with  having  two selves; one half of the   self that is socially clothed, who is  busy and bruised to adjust and  adapt with environment , always in mask, pleasing to every one .

The other part is inner  self, the true self .There is little time to pay attention  for  it ; it happens that this part is sometimes moves far away from own self ; even forgets its wishes; may be wishes are also either fossilized or transformed into  metamorphosis!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>#3.This is why artists or creative  and geneous. persons who are sensitive are  socially judged  little odd.  as they don't bother much to adapt or adjust to society , to others. They care for the "Other self", they prefer bohemian type of living.

They are  mostly geneous; they don't try to  follow discipline or rule to restrict their  wishes. 

Da vinchi , Van Gogh, William , Camus or Kafka and lots are there !

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TitleRepresent of ModernAmericanFamily : Women Power!

 

Title:::::: Represent of  modern American family : Women Power!

         On my daughter’s mobile screen the image of goddess Durga with her children and pets are saved. One day her colleague who sits beside her, asked curiously, "Who is this lady with ten hands, holding a long spear targeted at a muscle-man with  huge moustache?" asked her colleague.

“This is the goddess of our biggest festival in West Bengal. The goddess comes yearly, once, for only five days in the Autumn, in her Mother’s house, with all her children and pets.

“Why does she have ten hands, with weapons in each hand like a terrorist?"

My daughter jokingly replied,  'Perhaps to protect and control the two beautiful   young daughters and two young boys. She comes alone from Kailas from the Himalayas, struggling and killing demons and overcoming all obstacles  with courage and bravery. 

Actually, she is the symbol of “woman-power’. She has to manage the land and family both!

“Is she single or widow?" asked her friend.           

  "No,No! Neither”--my daughter laughed.

"Then, who is her husband?"

"Lord Shiva" .             

"What does he do?"

“Nothing! He has no responsibility for the family"

‘He takes Ganja (marijuana) with his pals, dances, and roams the whole day half-naked with a snake around his neck."

  "Aww!" her friend thoughtfully murmured, 

 "That sounds very similar to modern- day  marital relationships !”

   

Sipra's Diary: Great job of the bookshop "KINOKUNIYA" on 40th /6 in Manhattan.10/7/2024

 

As you come out with empty mind 

By shedding your ego,

You will feel the heart-beat 

Of the greater universe!

My DEBUT "EYES ARE NOTORIOUS "   at last delivered by 'Forcep surgery'.  It is available to amazon. com. 

I sent the LINK to my relatives ; they say that neither they can open nor it is available in amazon.com

 I don't know what to  say them & what to do next .I asked some other debut author in LINKEDIN,  she mailed me it is not supposed to be so.It should not be out of market within one  year of Print.

Today I went to a bookshop 'Kinokuniya' near Bryant Park. I asked at least 8/9 persons on my way about the location of the shop . At last a security police outside the Central library gave proper direction by researching Google Map in his Phone. It was for me a great  expedition!

There I talked with some seller who gave me  contact of helpful person

and asked  for one copy of my book for keeping in the showbox .I am grateful to this man.

The earth is still a nice place to live for all these wonderful people who  act like Medas Touch 'I am not alone'!

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Sipra's Dairy: Bliss Of Time lines=27// words=224

 

                        BLISS OF TIME

How silent was  the  noon of Austin in  summer

  Like inferno and more lonely than midnight of winter!

  Taking  backstep journey   of 23 years ,          

  I  wonder to remember how I used to take walk

 At mid-noon in  the neighborhood Shroedder Park ;

 When not any squirrel  or even a bird was in sight!

  Or sometimes  I walked  aimlessly towards gas station

 Seldom some car appeared  to  pass over  by side -road.

  Some times I  needed to enter  near a rich neighborhood

  Named  as  'Balcones'wood',   with my  trolly suitcase 

Full of dirty clothes. I was not legally supposed 

To  use their  washing machines as outsiders

But fortunately never  questioned  by any security  guards.

 After the 9/11 incident, I always noticed  outside  the gate 

 Radiomessage  continuously  from the  microphone  of a police-van 

 I  became  worried  to be caught by police for encroaching 

Anothers' 'Laundry-room!My son lost his job in lay off

After buying a house with damaged  dishwasher and washing machine;

I was parceled to  my daughter , studying  in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

All these  misfortune  showered one after another  

Within short interval of my husband passed away.

It was hard to imagine how a  brilliant scholar , winner of accolades

Could lose job from a Start-up-Company, pitched  me in sorrows. 

As curse of time passed over , I  forgot those depressed  years!

The inferno of summer,  or  snow-covered plants of Ann Arbor in winter

 Looked like eerie  ghosts !but now seemed the life-story of another..

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Sipra's Diary: The Immersion Day. of DurgaPuja [Fragment of memoir]

 The  immersion.  Day of   Devi Durga 

 The greatest festival of Durgapuja has come again. My daughter informed me excitedly,

" Ma, this year Durgapuja  will be  in the Time Square; So we will go on Saturday."

  So long,  in  all  other years we used to go long way  like Jersey City, Edison , Princeton, Bharat Sebasrom,  Queens etc. 

The festival Campus  appeared  as if I was in  Bengal, not in New York! A vast Bengali crowd with new sari &  jewelry,  more gorgeous   than  the native land made me surprised.

In my childhood there were many poor kids thronged around  specially for getting "prosad" i.e.fruits with sweet ;they didn't have new or even old clothes ; Still they looked happy ; they were always in group. Here this prosperity remind me those lean & thin lost faces with  a deeper feeling of sadness. That fade ,vague childhood feeling about inequality comes back now to strike conscience .

Why banging with only "feeling"  but never actively done anything ?

...........However old we become, but  perhaps  our childhood  never leave us .

         I saw this following blog written  on 2018.

The biggest festival of Bengal, 'Durga Puja' ended, leaving a feeling of nostalgia like every time. So many years passed by, still, the mind goes back to the childhood of Giridih, small but very much commercially rich mining town. Though I was not aware of it at that time. what I remember  was: five new clothes for five days,new shoes,new ribbon;...to pluck flowers at early morning  with friends for the neighbourhood puja;...[as if,  a competition of  who could be first to empty the plants of flowers!] taking bath at early morning ,doing small works in the pandal like making garland, distributing flowers to the devotees,giving 'Anjali';beat of dhak accompanied with 'kasar-ghanta',.. taking 'prasad 'repeatedly in the queue until being caught  and chased mockingly, by someone  was a great  fun ; the freedom to stay outside in the pandal for long hours! 

The puja pandal was just opposite to our house. Then three-four hours break at lunchtime, waiting impatiently for the evening to go again in the pandel, wearing a new dress for more fun. In the evening during Aarati time, all ladies used to throng in the pandal; the whole atmosphere seemed to be celestial with the smell of dhup-dhuna, beat of dhak [= drum]. and kasarghanta at least 30 to 40 minutes continuously. At the end of 'arati', we pushed each other to keep our palms over the 'panchpradip'(=divine lamp) for the blessing of the goddess and then touched on own head; and there was also a competition to keep palms over the lamps repeatedly;...as if, who can gather more blessings than the other. 

During Aarati I used to look my mother's face turning my neck; she looked so beautiful with bright vermillion red 'Bindi'on the forehead between two eyebrows and new sari. It was my great pleasure to see my mom enjoying any festival, away from the kitchen and home.
I passed different phases in the long passage of life as a wife, as a mother, a daughter-in-law; But all festivals drag me to the memory of childhood, parents, friends.
I feel my parent always stay with me like a shadow! Perhaps, I think, this is because my ID as 'daughter' is most strong in me.

There are no puja festivals in mid-Manhattan. But who bothers! 

I am fine with the trove of my memory treasure ....Every morning after taking shower I switched on dhak beat, chanting mantras in 'youtube' from the day of 'Bodhan'(starting-day) to the last day of 'Bisarjan'(Immersion) in full volume to create festival environment in the lonely apartment; Looking at the immersion of the image on screen, I felt the similar  childhood nostalgia,-- in Manhattan!

After the immersion, we used to come back in the empty pandal with missing hearts to get 'shantijal' which the priest sprinkled over our head' for peace and blessing of the goddess. The vacant alter without the image in deserted pandal stood only to spread over gloomy air of hollowness.......
The image of clay melted in water after the immersion long ago; but not my memory; it still lingers.........

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Sipra's Diary: " Birds Cage" (,Art work with Nancy ,DOROT )

                           BIRD"S  CAGE   

The happy blue bird from the tree,

Sings for  the green one, "come with me 

To fly  free in the open sky.

Once you embrace  liberty 

Will forget the bondage with  this cage;

Forever, forever!  we are fortunate 

To build  happy home in Nature!

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Sipra's Diary: HOME. (1), (2), (3)

 

                                                               HOME-(1)

      Primarily  home is a place where we take refuge safely ,peacefully; .Love, caring and sharing among the members of family are the basic components that turns a house to sweet home: The age -old adage "home is where the heart is " has become a cliche.

To me, it is neither the beauty of nature with wonderful environment nor a baroque  marvelous piece of mansion decorated with expensive furniture  and  most sophisticated  gadgets;   but the  loving relationship between the members  and interdependency to each other  constitute  the  bond of family,  the plinth of the family who come to  live together in a dwelling place called 'home'; home brings  the desired joy,  peace and security  to everybody  of the family  who belong  to..Home does not refer to structure of some concrete building; it is more personal or emotional refuge; even it can be something abstract. (a place in my mind).  Home  is an abode of peace and security. just as  bird   who come back at the end of day to its nest for safety, security and peace.

          My father had transferable job in  Indian Railway. So I moved  with parents   from small two bedroom Railway quarter  to big bunglows. with outhouses which were almost near to where I spent my early life.  I, even, did not know the difference  between "home" and the houses my father owned during his service time until his retirement. I consider all of them  equally as my home .

After  marriage  I moved with my husband from smaller bachelor's house  to bigger  officers' bungalows, cherishing the same feeling. But, by the time  I was then aware of the difference between home and houses.. I never felt that those are  property of company. My children never scratched the wall   with pen or colored pencil unlike most of my friends' houses I noticed the wall marked   dirty with alphabets ABCD and drawings. If asked ,they often shrugged shoulder to say reluctantly,"it is after all company's house, let  our kids enjoy.'

My husband was the first one of his batch to build  and shift to his  own house . I was sad to leave the luxurious company's bungalow and the neighborhood which became as  my extended family.  On the final day of shifting ,tears rolled down my cheeks ,surrounded by neighbours who came to say 'bye'. They consoled me "you are the lucky one among us to have your own house . Cheer up ! See, your husband looks sad to see you   crying.  give him a smile! We all will go in your house warming and stay overnight.' They wiped my eyes. 

As my husband  passed away suddenly with cerebral attack, and I was ill ,my daughter brought me here with her posting in New York. Not only family and home but uprooted from own country , own land ,it was quite challenging for me, and for any woman of sixty plus,to replant in a new land with different culture,  rituals.

From early life I was an arduous lover of academic life and interested in art and creativity.Soul finds its own community,  so I did .

Now I don't feel disconnected; I attend  different religious retreat, poetry class, memoir writing ,Art, music drama. I don't feel lonely Even in pandemic. I feel sad for others who have lost their near and dear ones ;also for immense loss of lives ,loss of jobs, loss of confidence but not for myself ; I am not burdened  by the  shadow of engulfing fear, and confusion of the future.There is no doubt that this pandemic will create a revolutionary change . Let us hope positive. Every creation  comes after destruction.

A new global society will emerge out of the chaos of pandemic .

Part (2).      What do you mean by "home"?

 

 Mother nature  provided shelter to our ancestors in mountain caves forests and trees which might be named as primitive homes.  They

lived decades after decades as  long as they were hunters and gatherers  

As they learnt farming ,they had to wait  in one place for getting crops. They built  huts with log or mud to stay;  Change  to agricultural life from nomadic life was the first step of civilization.It continued a long time.

When agricultural life reached  Industrial Age , civilization ran in galloping step with  booming scientific innovations like steam engine, airplane, electricity, radio, printing press, telephone , cars ,TV, refrigerator .Importance of machine captures a lion share in human life as it brought more comfort ,more luxury.

From forest and caves dwelling, tribal life upgraded to sky-scrapper multi-storied metropolis via  villages, towns , cities and metro-cities.  Perhaps  the "divine dissatisfaction"in human nature pushed him to achieve more and more  without limit.

With immense intellectual power , innovations, now in its pinnacle,  captured  the digital world.

After achieving dream house ,car ,wealth , everything still remains some empty spaces in human mind : craving for 'what is not"!  

...What is that?

FREEDOM. Freedom from bondings ; freedom from all the  mundane achievements ! An eternal  human  wish to fly  like a bird in the open sky!

  Nothing is comparable to freedom , ofcourse, with physical fitness.

...............................................................................................................

Part (3)

                                            BIRD"S  CAGE   

The happy blue bird from the tree,

Sings for  the green one, "come with me 

To fly  free in the open sky.

Once you embrace  liberty 

Will forget the bondage with  this cage;

Forever, forever!  we are fortunate 

To build  happy home in Nature!

>>>>>>>>>>>

 

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

Sipra's Diary: Home [ Nancy's Art-Workshop]

 

"                                           Home: "What do you mean by HOME". Part(1)

Primarily  home is a place where we take refuge safely ,peacefully; .Love, caring and sharing among the members of family are the basic components that turns a house to sweet home: The age -old adage "home is where the heart is " has become a cliche.

To me, it is neither the beauty of nature with wonderful environment nor a baroque  marvelous piece of mansion decorated with expensive furniture  and  most sophisticated  gadgets;   but the  loving relationship between the members  and interdependency to each other  constitute  the  bond of family,  the plinth of the family who come to  live together in a dwelling place called 'home'; home brings  the desired joy,  peace and security  to everybody  of the family  who belong  to..Home does not refer to structure of some concrete building; it is more personal or emotional refuge; even it can be something abstract. (a place in my mind)

          My father had transferable job in  Indian Railway. So I moved  with parents   from small two bedroom Railway quarter  to big bunglows. with outhouses which were almost near to where I spent my early life.  I, even, did not know the difference  between "home" and the houses my father owned during his service time until his retirement. I consider all of them  equally as my home .

After  marriage  I moved with my husband from smaller bachelor's house  to bigger  officers' bungalows, cherishing the same feeling. But, by the time  I was then aware of the difference between home and houses.. I never felt that those are  property of company. My children never scratched the wall   with pen or colored pencil unlike most of my friends' houses I noticed the wall marked   dirty with alphabets ABCD and drawings. If asked ,they often shrugged shoulder to say reluctantly,"it is after all company's house, let  our kids enjoy.'

My husband was the first one of his batch to build  and shift to his  own house . I was sad to leave the luxurious company's bungalow and the neighborhood which became as  my extended family.  On the final day of shifting ,tears rolled down my cheeks ,surrounded by neighbours who came to say 'bye'. They consoled me "you are the lucky one among us to have your own house . Cheer up ! See, your husband looks sad to see you   crying.  give him a smile! We all will go in your house warming and stay overnight.' They wiped my eyes. 

As my husband  passed away suddenly with cerebral attack, and I was ill ,my daughter brought me here with her posting in New York. Not only family and home but uprooted from own country , own land ,it was quite challenging for me, and for any woman of sixty plus,to replant in a new land with different culture,  rituals.

From early life I was an arduous lover of academic life and interested in art and creativity.Soul finds its own community,  so I did .

Now I don't feel disconnected; I attend  different religious retreat, poetry class, memoir writing ,Art, music drama. I don't feel lonely .Even in pandemic. I feel sad for others who have lost their near and dear ones ;also for immense loss of lives ,loss of jobs, loss of confidence but not for myself ; I am not burdened  by the  shadow of engulfing fear, and confusion of the future.There is no doubt that this pandemic will create a revolutionary change . Let us hope positive. Every creation  comes after destruction.

A new global society will emerge out of the chaos of pandemic .

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

Part (2).                      What do you mean by "home"?

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Mother nature  provided shelter to our ancestors in mountain caves ,forests and trees which might be named as primitive homes.  They lived decades after decades as  long as they were hunters and gatherers ; 

As they learnt farming ,they had to wait  in one place for getting crops. They built  huts with log or mud to stay;  Change  to agricultural life from nomadic life was the first step of civilization.It continued a long time.

When agricultural life reached  Industrial Age , civilization ran in galloping step with  booming scientific innovations like steam engine, airplane, electricity, radio, printing press, telephone , cars ,TV, refrigerator .Importance of machine captures a lion share in human life as it brought more comfort ,more luxury.

From forest and caves dwelling, tribal life upgraded to sky-scrapper multi-storied metropolis via  villages, towns , cities and metro-cities.  Perhaps  the "divine dissatisfaction"in human nature pushed him to achieve more and more  without limit.

With immense intellectual power , innovations, now in its pinnacle,  captured  the digital world.

After achieving dream house ,car ,wealth , everything still remains some empty spaces in human mind : craving for 'what is not"!  

...What is that?

FREEDOM. Freedom from bondings ; freedom from all the  mundane achievements ! An eternal  human  wish to fly  like a bird in the open sky!

Sipra's Diary: Poetry Theme For the 'Project'>. Embarrassing moment.....sep2024

 

Embarrassing moment :     Sipra Roy.

It was an old  abandoned  double storied  house,

Where I went as a participant in classical music  contest 

I was   number  six out of nine candidates 

All of us waited  sitting on the carpet spread on the ground.

One by one was called by name to present their talent 

To the enlightened examiners to an adjacent closed- door room.!

I was memorizing the tough 'tunes 'with closed eyes and palpitation

As  next one  was my turn to  appear before them; 

Suddenly noisy commotion of thumping and running feet 

Through stairs, Sound of conch from neighborhood 

Along with screaming voice  "Earthquack!"chilled my bone; 

 I saw me sitting alone  while  others  were rushing down.

My cramped leg, numbed feet due to prolonged 

Sedentary position made me lifeless statue 

An excited volunteer screamed at  me,"move and run"!

My  choked voice made me dumb in fear 

As a chunk dropped  from the roof-top spreading cement powder!

I threw only a helpless vacant look around the empty room!

The volunteer picked me in  sedentary  pose to his lap

 And came down swiftly in the open courtyard among others.

Finding myself like a baby on the stranger's lap embracing his neck, 

 And Some  anxious leaning faces encircling me who commented:

                          'Is she fainted?"   

Shaking dirt I stood up  on the  floor, feeling  quite  embarrassed!

By the time earthquake stopped., luckily nobody  fatally injured.!

******************************************************

 

Sipra's Diary:[Re] Titles of my "Sibling Poems" under One Canopy.

 

I wrote a poem.       (1)"   Crack -in-jar "

                                 ( 2). Creative Force .  

                                    (3). Outburst.  of Pain. .

                      I was browsing.  my Treasure-box of Google Blog  "Debut 2015'.   I do it    to. edit  and  check   whether anything is lost .   The above poems are almost  of  the same theme, but written in different time ; Only   Some  of the  Lines,  languages  are   little different. .

Now I brought them under  same canopy of  "SIBLING". poems.  

I have no proof   to establish the truth or validity of my thoughts .

All the sibling poems were   spurred  from   Rumi's  who  inspired me ,  to write  "CRACK-IN-THE -JAR".         Likewise,  I wrote. also

 some more "Sibling Poems  on  SILENCE   like  :"Spirit OF SILENCE". ;  BLISS. OF     SOLITUDE'   .

.......Some of my thoughts are very unique. But I seldom expressed  them public .  Because they erupted from my own brain or heart or mind ;  They are not of research-based -product . . 

I  wonder  to think that how those profound facts  of  cosmos visually appeared in me like  vivid images ! Perhaps those profound paradoxes were buried in the chthonic  level of spiritual  ground  as seeds. and  came out from the  Atlantis  of soul. ;  I am not sure whether  they are truth or mere myth ..  Because  our real understanding is a creative mixture of certainty and unknowing.     But I am proud of my   heritage  ,  of my pious parent from whom I owe this  spirituality,  unconsciously.  I  wish to sweep over the layers of   my psychic fog and  open my natural alchemy of  personal   transformation ;  

....true   personal strength. doesn't need   any superior intelligence   but     courage   and  earnest  willingness to reveal,  and  divulge. .

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

 

Sipra's Diary: PALM- TREE. [TAL -GACH]

 

Sunday, August 28, 2022

Sipra's Diary: Title: "Palm Tree" (M). Lines 19//W97

     Title : PALM  TREE   by Sipra Roy. 

   Standing on one leg  tightly with might,

   Surpassing the other plants in height

   The tallest palm tree peeps high 

   As if, wanting to penetrate the sky !

   When its  huge and round leaves 

    Move and sway upward in breeze 

    She wishes let them be her wings 

    To fly her high to be pitched in the sky! 

    

     As the sun disappears, sparing 

     Spaces for the twinkling stars ;

     Softly evening approaches and 

     The breeze stops  the leaves to swing,

     Then  it feels  lonely and begins to moaning 

     For the warmth of mother Earth ,

     And come back  again close  to her

     Where once it  is  rooted since birth!

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

  The poem titled  ,"  TAlGACCH"// (which is known here as PALM TREE. ),   I learnt  at grade 2. in  Elementary school;  Like many other  kids I   also recited it often in different occasions. Though it  is a simple poem ,but carries a deeper philosophy:

the eternal & integrate relationship of love between mother and her baby.

Since then unto now ,  whenever a palm tree comes in my visibility , I recite it mentally: "Standing on one leg"!      What   a  wonderful  vivid expression! 

 It was composed by R,N TAGORE,   The only poet in the world who can portrait  such poem ! I don't remember the original version of the poem , still the  impression  of  theme  remains .in me .I expressed the feeling in my own way ,

NB:

                            I sent this poem along with four others to  several publishers           [ [[including    New-Yorker, who never responded]]   but has been rejected . So I read it repeatedly  to find out what can be the better Translation of Tagore's " TALGACH".I searched   Google in vain  for a photo of "Talgaach"to leave an impression of the image to readers .  I found only picture of  date plant . I think "Talgach" doesn't grow in America .

.............................................................................................................................................