Wednesday, April 8, 2026

Sipra's Diary:[posted-Nov 2023] POEM#. "Ode to the Transformative Journey".............

 Hi 

I submit this poem    to the prompt  of Rumi "Let the beauty .....      

  :Ode To The Transformative journey:  by   Sipra Roy

Beauty  is not always 'given'

But our mental projection;

The real "beauty" of Beauty springs from 

Creative mind : that's  why the poet sings,

'Half-created beauty' which any object inherits.

 Green sooting leaves  of the spring 

Bring joy; but the spinning dry leaves in the wind  

Around the barren mother-plant 

Have  also  other shade of beauty; 

It is our perception and love that  add  colour 

To the  great and small that god makes for all,

If  we  embrace change and  add love, even  

Hell  is transformed into adorable Heaven! 

Dipped in the ambrosia of perfect perception.

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Monday, April 6, 2026

Sipra's Diary: [pre-posted ] Tyranny of good habit -4-6-2026

 

Sipra's Diary :;Tyranny of good habit.  [nov3/2018]

I wrote  how 'good habits'also sometimes,turns to be a tyrant. I woke up early at dawn, try to do meditation, some free hand exercise, a little  morning walk, an elaborate shower;to use fresh clothes after shower which is quite a luxury here and the problem is that I can not make myself free from this grit of routine.
The day I spend the morning on relaxing out of routine, I feel lethargic whole day ; why can't I take a laissez-faire? 
I saw my grandma spent last 30/35 years just eating sleeping gossiping and enjoying  nursing like regular oil-massage in body and feet ,she passed away at her eighty. 
But my mother had to remain active as my brother and his wife both were busy doctors. But I have no such compulsion.My mother used to say that engaging in work keeps body and mind fit.My mother-in-law used to say 'work means worth' otherwise  life is meaningless; empty without work. Perhaps I am encompassed with all these  sermons tightly.

Now searching 'google' has been my latest bug,  added to that grit of routine. However hectic is my Sunday, if I don't see article of David Remnick from  Sunday 'archives', the day seemed to be on fasting; it is not exactly his article but the 'links' given by him are  very selective and unique.In september, just at the beginning of Fall session the article "School"pulled  the memory of my school life with a jerk.
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Sunday, April 5, 2026

Sipra's Diary : ( Poem +Comment)." New York"

        ***# 

About the Poem

 

 

This poem itself  seem  a great metaphor for me . 

As a newcomer  to this land  I felt myself  a lonely sailor in the vast unfamiliar city. Many a sleepless midnight, I looked the deserted avenues; through my window  and  stared at the high rise  buildings whose structures were lost  in the dark ; but the windows  from these buildings with their blinking lights conveyed speechless message which touched the spirit that metropolis bears. I  asked  myself  who is ‘Ancient Mariner’,- me ,or this Metropolis itself  ?

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 NEW YORK:   Sipra Roy

Metropolis, you always remind me 

Of the thirsty ‘Ancient Mariner’ 

Who sailing across the sea

‘Once wailed, ‘water, water everywhere 

Not a drop to drink’.

 

Here also incessant waves of people after people

But all are a nameless mass of crowd;

Not a single heart to beat for you

Or an eager ear to spare some moments for you!

Nor a thirsty eye looking for you!

Metropolis, yet we all love you!

 

What aptitude you owe to magnet

This vast crowd enchanted in you!

It is something more than the mere

Stakeholders to draw fame, fortune

Money or dream; or change of destiny. 

Though the ‘city of light ‘ never closes its eyes!


Behind the buzzing life a lonely soul cries;

By nature you tend to drift inward.

Standing like a monk on the bank of Atlantic

Letting the Hudson worship your feet;

You are divinely indifferent to what the city seeks,

You rarely care for name, fame, love or hate                                    

Everything is left on Time who awaits .

 

Metropolis! Are you only care-giver of this mob !

Who of this vast mass come out of your womb?

Who will be there to lit a candle in your tomb?


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About the Poem

 

 

This poem itself  is a great metaphor for  me . 

As a newcomer I felt myself like a lonely sailor in the vast unfamiliar city. 

Many a sleepless midnight, I looked the deserted avenues; through my window  and  stared at the high rise  buildings whose structures were lost in the dark ; 

but the windows  from these buildings with their blinking lights conveyed speechless message which touched the spirit that metropolis bears. I  asked  myself  who is ‘Ancient Mariner’-,- me ,or this Metropolis itself  ?

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Sipra's Diary: DRAMA>> "Drollery of Pickpocket"

                                           ( Drama )

Title : Drollery of Pickpocket. :Time:12' to 25' Minutes India./. TIME : 1965.

Genre: HUMAR

 Protagonist :Gargi. 

Antagonist; Pickpocket
Other characters : Two friends of gargi , Few college students (both girls and boys and others).
Venue : ...... Public double-decker bus-stand.  + Ladies'hostel
Words=959// page =7 *******************************************


The Narrator :
Calcutta was the #1 One overpopulated megacity of the world at the time of 1960s . It was hard to take ride into the bus during office hours in any mid- stoppage, as the buses became full at the starting point. From 9am to10Am. morning and 4:30--5:30 Pm. was the peek hours .

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

Act One Scene 1
Gargi with two other friends came outside of the university gate; 

Shenoticed some of their known friends taking chat excitedly:

 Someone suggested ," Instead of waiting it's better for us to take a walk for home; perhaps by this time ,we could have reached home safely.

Gargi. asked them: ' Hi, do you know how long the last bus left this stoppage?"
They( crushing their teeth) said in chorus voice ,"just now!

 Ju--st now two overloaded buses, successively like tweens, passed by us.

page1image13534528

without halting the stoppage ! The conductor waived his hand to mean he had no other way !".
Gargi :" Looking at the watch , it 'sjust 4 o' clock! She thought it shouldn't be so ,!

A commuter : Today there is a mammoth gathering in Esplanade for Election campaign. So some roads have been blocked ; Only two buses are available from here."
Gargi : O, I see .

Mallika screamed :"voila , some bus is coming !" to get ready she jumped down the road from side ways so that bus couldn't cross. Gargi : " Lo! you seemed to become a patriot , a crusador for getting boarded to the bus !".......

Just like warriors in army, they somehow boarded the bus... . Another fight was waiting for Gargi ;because she hast to drop also in the mid way .

( Scene -11)
Reaching to the hostel Gargi was very excited to show her new purse just bought on the very day, to her roommates . But she searched and searched inside the big bag, for carrying books and copies , but in vain .
Roommate (Looking eagerly ) commented : A-ww-h, it'sgone , now it must be owned by the wife or girlfriend of the pickpocket.
Gargi sat sadly . 
She looked tired : 

"you know, I bought it from the fancy showroom of the College Street. It attracted me from the showcase ; I entered the shop and bought that exotic purse which was Quite expensive for a student . But I needed some new to replace the old one; ( she ,as if, justified herself for being extravagant ) I emptied my old shaggy purse for that new one .Then I Put my two library cards of the university ,another one of the British Library ,and 3 copies of passport sized photo into the  new purse but not a single penny was left for the purse ! Because I spent all the money for it.

While putting the new purse inside my side bag safely , I imagined proudly that it would be 'Owner's pride and neighbour's envy"

 ..... Roommate snatched the conversation: HA-,Ha ha! 

" Pride has now crowned to somebody else's fortune......

Other roommate added : the thief must shower a plethora of abusing words for you, for not having a single penny and that too , a lady's purse which would be of no use for him ! You have spoiled his toilsome risky effort of the day !


Gargi became irritated with this jokes . 

She murmured sadly "it was too uncommon to find the second one ! She had to bother for issuing new library cards for having access to the library But she was really anxious to think of her address and photos which evidenced her personal informations; If the pickpocket belonged to gang and tried to exploit her ! She heard Calcutta was a notorious place for professional pick pocket gang who are trained ( in special institute ) under gang leader. She was worried
It made the roommates also worried ,they came near her to console , sincerely .
Kajol, one of the roommate ,Said ,'my uncle is chief inspector in Lal Bajar Police Station. Let me report him the fact and ask for his suggestion !

( Scene-111)
After passing two days in tension, Gargi got a parcel delivered from the Post office . She opened it curiously and screamed in surprise and joy to see her lost new purse ! She hurriedly pulled the chain to open all the folders and relieved to see everything in place But she found out an additional envelop in one of the folder. She unfolded the paper which was actually a note for her :

"Hey, penny-pinching lady, don't you feel ashamed to move with empty purse, wretched than a beggar? I have to spend even the postage from my own pocket! Such a disgraceful instance in the biographical history of pickpockets in the world !"

" Gargi commented emotionally,
" Thank god ! honesty is not eloped still from this earth !
Kajol grinned and winked eyes to other roommate to say ,
' no 
god to thank at all , my friend ! It is your "photo"left inside the purse !
....Hmm, what to expect next ?”
I am sure very soon a  extra-juicy "love letter" from this Roam-
antique- fellow will come addressing you :
Hello , Heart-picker [or broker/breaker ?] , ..........
Gargi blew the rolled newspaper to her...
--" you mean,  silly creatures  !'. . ..

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Saturday, April 4, 2026

Sipra'sDiary : " HIDDN POWER" &. "DAY & NIGHT"

 #(1) Hidden Power   W=32 //L-8

  We are as kids 

  Remain clasps-in-buds,

  But immense power 

  Stored within us .

 As soon as we wish 

 To open our fists,         

 The dazzling stars 

 Come out, bewildering the universe.



#( 2)  Day And Night     W=59//L=10


Each day before the sun sets

Illuminating the horizon in the west,

Consoles the earth to come back 

With the blessings for a new day.


We must accept joys, sorrows equally 

As inseparable part of life ;

Following the rules of day and night:

Must pray peace and prosperity,

To make other's life richer!

By bringing smile and cheer .

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Sipra's Dairy: (OPAP,FSPA) "Wonder"!

                  WONDER: Sipra Roy /words-118

 

 If   observable universe looks like  sphere , 

 

  I wonder how the scientists speculate

 

 The shape of the universe, without 'surveying'!

 

  How do they calculate? 


By applying algebraic formula   ? 

 

 Or photocopy of the nebulae that remains

 

As budding idea innate in the brain! 

 

 Waiting  for some big bang in Imagination!

 

To bloom like celestial flower?

                                                                                          

 

One day, I dreamt the universe explodes 

 

Like a vast fire-cracker in multicolor which

                                                                                         

Resembles the 'sparks from radium' of Madam Curie!

                                                                                          

Holding the human brain  in clasp of protected  skull, 

                                                                                          

Which were spinning with the speed of light year!

                                                                                          

I woke up with sweat but found my troubled head 

                                                                                     

'Instead of spinning', resting safe on  the pillow in  bed !

 

 

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Friday, April 3, 2026

Sipra's Diary: "PHISHING ON PHISH



Wednesday, August 26, 2020

Sipra's Diary: phishing on fish........ [ fugitive]

 In Norway, New York and Canada  wild Salmons are very tasty but too expensive to be affordable to buy for many. S some fish entraprenuer started to breed the same fish in artificial lake near by the sea .But these 'farmed fish' was found not as tasty as wild salmon.After research it was discovered that fish in ocean have to struggle hard  in fear to save their lives from the predators  This fear cause some hormone from  their gland which make the natural wild fish tasty. Then the fish businessman  left some baby shark in the lake so that they can cause that hormone in the gland of farmed fish to become tastier.

Whole Food is famous for the variety of fresh fish. In UsA every fish-tray bear their historical biography written over each packet with date, rate, weight and price. some fish-crushed customer bought 3 packets of wild fish onsite. 

But he did not relish it as tasty as it should be. He then took other two packets to the food inspector for verifying its genuinety.  After knowing that it was  raised as farmed  he came the manager of the whole food. with a complaint. In USA the business stand on law and  ethics ,quite  different from Asian countries  like India or China, where business model stands not  strictly on ethics but on profit.:Adulteration  is detected even in babyfood!

The man demanded justice : why fake informations were written on the packets. The man was resistant to change or taking back money  from the counter, as most customers do. So the case went on for a long time :Whole food vs fish agent. At last, the fish agent admitted that the fish was in the farming lake nearby ocean ; but somehow some of them jumped to the ocean to grew up as wild salmon; So both farmed and wild .

The customer alleged :'in that case, it should be marked on the packet "from farm to ocean" or "Fugitive."

Bravo!

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 In 2015 my brother went Puri in India .Puri is situated on the bank of Bay of Bengal.He stayed in some resort nearby the sea.  He used to walk early morning  for a walk and also to see  unloading of  the fishing boat.it was amazing to see many never-seen rare sea creatures in the fishing nets. Every time he met a man who became familiar to my brother.  He was Keralian   and worked in a fish research company in Tamilnadu  My brother noticed that man took out a small container from  his side bag  to give the fisherman  who collected something  taken out  nearby from the gills. of fish  

 Oneday my brother asked him curiously,"What do you collect from the heads of fish? What do you do with that ? 

The man replied" I work in a fish research company in Tamilnadu. I will send those collection from fish to the company .There the fish  in farms are fed  these glands ,which help the fish grow and  become heavy-weight in very short period. Calcutta is the biggest customer of this company.   These fish are at least from 10 to 15/20 "  kilos .The price is much cheaper than the local fish .   They are sold to all hotels /restaurents, big or small, marriage party and social gathering "" _ . 

  ' O,I see." 

I heard this from my brother and remembered in flash back related to this story.

My husband used to avoid fish in any party and also told me to follow him. Though  I did not know this  off-scene story in detail before , but I have seen whenever I took that fish ,I had stomach trouble.  When my elder brother was   posted as railway officer in Sealdah station, I heard from him that at midnight fish wagons from Tamilnadu are  unloaded   from midnight  and finished before 3 AM in the local  platforms .The platforms are without crowd  at that time ,but the vagabond platform   kids , both  teen sand adults wake up and wait  for this golden moment As the wagons move away from the platform after the unloading is done  they become enthusiastically active to clean the platform and the rail line . They gather a lot of scattered fish from platform and under dirty rail line which are  slipped from the porters  hands as the porters have to hurry to unload quickly; as they need  the platform to be cleaned and fresh (without fish-odor )before 3:30AM for starting of the local trains peacefully.  

The vagabond kids living on platform  have a good earning by selling the free fish .But the money are used not only for food but mostly in abusive activities.   

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Thursday, April 2, 2026

Sipra's diary: [Memoir] "CHILDHOOD FEAR". [ GHOST& it's Stories]

 

 

                                          CHILDHOOD   FEAR.         W=1,323//p

 

 Like most other kids I also grew up with fear of ghost and ghost stories. Although   I love to hear the ghost-stories,  but  an orchestra of fear and  lure both used to play  simultaneously  on  my nerve-system.  

I started going  to school at the age of five or six.   An elderly girl was my companion,  

who infused this  unseen fear in me.  On the way to my school I had to cross a church, a cemetery , a football ground enclosed with wooden fencing  and an open field of some timber trees. We used to take  a  regular walk  of 15/20   minutes.

Ruby, my school companion used to spin the record of  ghost stories at the time of returning home from school.  I used to cherish those stories  as the sunlight goes off.  

 My sisters noticed that   my behavior pattern began to change as the evening set in . I remained close to them; I couldn't go to toilet alone ; There was no electricity in the town  at that time  ; There were  big kerosine lamps for  our study-room and father's table ;Those  lamps were heavy and  so  were placed    on fixed place ;they had powerful light ;there were other three lanterns( harrican )with  handle that could be  carried  from one room to another. I noticed the shadow became sometimes large sometimes small  while moving with  hanging lantern from one room to another .

Ruby told me  the shadow of ghosts   would be always bigger than that of me  and ghosts  woke up as evening  set in.  They speak in nasal voice;  but they can imitate others' voice too  to befool.  I was fully convinced with Ruby's words.   It was scary to me to see my own shadow ; If I was called by my sisters or anyone ,I didn't respond immediately .As I was told the night-ghost( =nishi-vut )  would call the name thrice .  So I responded to fourth call while  the first call always startled me.  I embraced  my sister  on  bed while lying for sleeping  and asked,  

"Why the ghosts always follow kids and not the elders ? Do they  twist the neck and suck only blood from kid's body because it tastes sweeter?"

My  sister asked ,"who said all these rubbish?  'there is nothing known as 'voot' (ghost ).' 


My father was the railway employee. There were many Europeans in the  railway neighborhood.  There were big and small  cemetery which were not very far . So we  were  afraid but interested to know about   the  stories of  "white -ghosts."


 Ruby used to tell me hair-raising ghost story while passing by a cemetery. I had some eerie feeling. She told me not to look at that side. I obeyed her.   I narrated the story to my sister as told by Ruby.

" There  is a cemetery surrounded by low wall,   on the way of  my school;  inside  there are lots of concrete graves under which the white-dead person were buried  ;they sleep at day-time but  wake up in the evening  to take revenge on  live people ! One evening while one of  Ruby's   uncle was coming home from the club ,  he sensed  the smell of strong  perfume and a white suited- booted 'sahib'(=white -skinned person)appeared before him and asked for a cigarette.

 

The uncle said,'  sorry, I don't smoke.' 

All on a sudden  the sahib-'voot' blew a slap on his cheek  so violently that he fainted on the road .  He laid on the road until  he was seen and rescued to home by a passerby.  His cheek bore  distinctly the signature of  ghost's fingers. " 

His uncle went back to his own place and never visited their house!" 


My sister giggled and embracing me, thumped  my nose dotingly.

 

 " Silly girl,  don't believe this awful stories. 

 This funny story is known  to us all.  The fact is her uncle  got the slap not from any ghost but from his friend  out of rivalry . The local boys planned to drive that 'dude' snobbish  uncle  from the town .' 

 

 'Listen to me, I'll give you some 'mantra' which will make you brave and bold.'

 "what's that ? I asked eagerly.   


"very easy!" whenever you are frightened, start on uttering 'OM Ram, Ram', .'

You will get rid of any  horror; no evil spirit can touch you !'  

My sister said so convincingly  that it worked magically on me !  I  gathered mental  strength .


It was one Saturday, half  school.  School was off at 1:30 instead of  3:30PM. As usual, Ruby started to say, '"this Saturday mid noon is very inauspicious time ; don't walk under the shadow of tree; walk through the middle of the road ; otherwise , ghost would jump from the tree on you  to capture  you .

 I countered her, " But you always. told me that  they wake up only after evening ; moreover , as my sister said not  to believe   any 'vut'.   So I don't believe.   "


Ruby screamed , "how dare are you to utter this?" And that too on the mid noon of Saturday?"


 Pointing to my shadow on the path she  said in husky voice "look down , ghost has caught your feet ! I replied in challenging voice ,"it's  my own shadow  and you  too, have your own!"


Ruby looked  nervous , irritated and confused what to say  more after this;  perhaps little annoyed to notice my new form. She stopped in the midway and said ,"if you don't believe in ghost then go and touch that tree !" 'Bramhaottiy'  occupies this palm tree."



       " "Brah-ma-dotty!"  what's that ? I asked in quivering voice . This never-heard term roused  an eerie feeling  that crawled through my spine .

 

Ruby, " hu-hum... you will know soon how terrible ! he is the ruler of  the 'vuts'(=Superior ghosts dynasty.)   A Brahmin after death becomes "Bramhadotty," more powerful than the common ghosts". 

My courage started dwindling. I started 'in fear  whispering 'Om-Ram-Ram' mantra  as safe-guard.

"Go, let me see your courage! go,go!" 

 

Though I was only 5/6 years old and Ruby was much elder than me, but I  became  desperate  to retreat as she insisted repeatedly. It was a question of prestige for me!

The tall palm tree stood on the road side meadow. I slipped down from the road to sloping meadow   to reach the tree.

 

Remembering my sister’s advice  I was meditating on "Om,Ram-Ram"continuously. I stretched the hand ;my palm was almost to touch the stem of the tree. My body became cold and freezed; my heart was beating  violently like drum to my ear; catching   firmly the stretched  wrist with other hand  I somehow  pushed forward to touch the stem of the tree,  first softly. .. ………….         

No ghost jumped upon my shoulder or strangle my neck from the tree......

I came back to my sense.

Looking at Ruby standing on the road, I said ,"Look, look  here!  I have touched the tree and nothing happened to me ! 


Bursting out of trauma I touched twice more and raised my head to seek  the top of tree but  bright sunrays  blinded me.  With joyful galloping step I came up in front of Ruby   who was stunned and glanced me with stony eyes. I felt as light as feather as I triumphed over Ruby and fear. 

 

At last, Ruby tried to spell her last attempt: 

" well, now you are saved ; but you will see what disaster will  come upon  you with the sunset   in the evening  for defying them !


Whole night I had  bad dreams of ghosts . I used to run away for escape being  chased by them, but always my feet  were stuck which made me scream to break  up from sleep.

I passed  over so many years. But those horrible dreams of ghosts from  childhood chased me long time .  They are now knocking the threshold of my  childhood  memory. Now it seems to be only matter of fun. 

  

Next time with more ghost stories.

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Wednesday, April 1, 2026

Sipra's Diary: "APRILFOOL".. .[Ptoject Find]

    

            APRILFOOL

In early days of my school-life ,

Often  I was confused and  duped 

By some of my classmate who cried out,

“Hey,a wasp  hovering over your head!”

 

Holding the bag on head 

Immediately I screamed !

Group of classmates jumped 

And shouted “April-fool,April-fool !”

I understood nothing!

 

Throughout my school-life I remained 

A super-Duper model of April-fool

Both in school  or in neighborhood. 

Though I tried hard to be smart 

And alert, to be tricked by friends 

Protecting me for any foolish act! 

.

Starting from my first school 

On each April I was a gullible fool !

Now I Search  the meaning of 

Celebrating such hoax as festival 

Throughout the world !

 

When did it origin?

What was the historical background?

Perhaps some story be found 

In the fertile hunting   ground of Internet!

 

As  ‘Month of poets’ to be ranked favorable 

Why not to replace “May-fool” or “June-fool”

That also sound   sweet and cool!

Saving April from slandering or defaming!!

 

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Spra's Diary:[pre-posted] EGG FIRST Or CHICKEN .....?April-1/2026

 

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Egg first or chicken first?

What makes the world go round?
Unanimously the answer will be ---it is money,money  the sweet honey!
If money is not flowing , if business do not  keep going,   there will be no innovation ,no growth no investment ,no product ,no jobs . Is'nt a puzzle ?Money was created by people ,"By the people ,of the people and for the people". And now the  power  is reverse.
       It is another piece of example of irony --- played by the TIME.Who drives  the world , money or people?
 Like great puzzle/ enigma. : egg first or chicken first?  
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Tuesday, March 31, 2026

Sipra's Diary : [ MEMOIR] " Listening to myself ".........

 

 

Life  know not what thou art!

Though you and I walked long together

But why so apart from each other?

 

Throughout the life I swing like a pendulum between dilemma  of : ‘ to be or not to be ,‘to do or not to do’. Seldom I followed what my inner voice  aspire. The reason is that I made compromise with the situation. I gave priority to others’ demand instead of listening to my own voice. 

My first compromise happened with the most important event of life of accepting marriage decided by my parent. They got an exceptional matrimonial offer from some enlightened wealthy family with no demand of dowry; my parent was so elated that they fixed the date of marriage without my knowledge. My parent assumed that I had no objection. My aunt invited us in her house after I did   my Master degree.  My future in-laws family was invited to be introduced with me; the meeting was pre-fixed by my aunt and parent .I knew nothing about marriage ;I behaved freely thinking them just  guests. When my aunt’s daughter asked me whether I liked them, I expressed courteous  opinion, just casually. Due to communication gap of proper understanding between us, my sister showed green signal to my parent. Perhaps in those days parents used to ask indirectly   through third party about marital choice.

Though it sounds now surprisingly amusing but it was quiet normal in India at that time. 

 

       In my youth I didn’t have the traditional feminine desire of raising my own family; I had great fascination of idealistic life which meant to me we were born for good service to others with philanthropic purpose. At that time I cherished in my mind to stand by my father by taking a job and to help him to bring up my two younger brothers. But never disclose my wish, my dream to anybody. My father spent a lot of money for my education by keeping in hostel as he had transferable job and there were no good colleges he was posted.

 

      It was a time when a girl child was brought up only for getting married. .Education was given only to have better matrimonial connection  with a boy of  good family ,having bright career. Parents did not expect any financial help from a girl by earning money for parent.  My parent, too, held  the same  philosophy.

 

   When my mother saw me sobbing in the bathroom as I heard of marriage, she thought I had some boyfriend of my choice. She, apologized in choked voice for not asking my consent directly. 

She said, “ if you want, we can cancel the ceremony; it  costs only  fifty paisa  to send  –a telegram  to the  groom’s father for cancellation. But think of your father, how  his prestige in society will be ruined! A disaster in his life!” 

. .

 “ Ruining the prestige in society!” was like electric shock to me. Instantly my father’s  painful face  floated before my  mind’s eyes .

 

 “No ma, You needn’t do that ! 

The fact is that I have  dispute  not about marriage but about the ‘time’ :I am not mentally prepared now for marriage; I wanted to do  job  and complete the B.Ed course where I am endowed  with full scholarship,” .

 

  “You can do that even after marriage. We shall inform your wish to them. But such a matrimonial connection may not come back again.” said my mother. 

 

I noticed how my decision changed the body language of my mother: one eighty degree; minutes ago she seemed to be a frozen statue of grief, talking in husky trembling voice and now  seemed a joyful  robin bird. She was moving to and fro for ceremonial preparation as swift as a winged fairy .It made me happy; though I gave  consent half-heartedly. 

Introspecting my face, she consoled me softly,

 “ happiness of family is based on the  degree of compromise; It will be good for you !”

 I came inside and saw my father sitting cross-legged on the bed  for everyday meditation like  a calm and peaceful  glowing image !

I said to myself,’ I should never be selfish to hurt my  adorable parent’.

I surrendered my dream to the alter of social prestige, to save the family reputation of my parent.  

 

I remembered I woke up little late with the sunrays of August from window on my face ;the melodious tune of  Shahnai  penetrate  my ear and dashed   on my  heart like waves ;  Three rattling words :’today’,’my marriage’, and ‘compromise’’ like a howling siren  crackled into my  skull !” I got up with  heaviness and headache;  I came out on the front side terrace; Scattered labourers of decorators were busy with lighting arrangements; …the sun was so scorching at 8:30 morning! I never felt before that the   melody of shahnai was  so painfully shrilling; Suddenly I felt  a tremendous anger in me ; a restlessness; I realized I did a great blunder; why had I given consent? I came to the backyard terrace; it was shady and cool ;but strong smell of cooking and noises from the ground floor; But one corner was comparatively silent . COOPER”S REST HOUSE a big bunglow   with huge compound: I was thinking restlessly how to stop the ceremony! With anger I became revengeful; revenge against my father; I leaned against the  cornice  and looked down ; nobody came in my sight; ; Mr. Cooper, the owner of the house was a British ranger officer; he ended his life by suicide ; after that this house came to be known ‘GHOST HOUSE.” 

Should I jump for suicide?  

This was the only way for me to escape from marriage; I surveyed the ground floor again leaning against the cornice;  I wouldn’t die but only thud on the soft earth, even if I jump from this  height; just then somebody touched me from the back; I  looked back startled; saw my cousin sister with a glass of Horlicks for me.

 .

 

Destiny did not accept my choice; coming to later age  I realized  from this first compromise I gained two awesome gifts :my son and daughter. I spent basking on their successful life. My parent left long ago. My two younger brothers are well-settled in life without any help from me;  In short run my choice would have given me self satisfaction, might be elated  in  sacrificing  for greater cause but in the long run life Would have been very lonely and deserted. What happened, has happened for good. 

 

My second compromise happened after marriage: My father-in-law  vehemently  object against taking   teaching job. He thought it was menacing for his family to earn money by daughter-in-law.  My husband encouraged me to fulfill my wish; but I obeyed his father’s order.

 

I repented in the later life for neglecting and spoiling my inner wish .I had innate  ability  for teaching; an arduous zeal for research and academic life which remained  unfulfilled.

 

I learnt from life that we should neither be too rigid nor too flexible about listening to own inner voice; let not compromise  or surrender the core desire to erode the self-identity.

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Monday, March 30, 2026

 

Snowy the Pampered pet .     Sipra Roy. 

                  (Autobiography)

My name is Snowy, a German Spitz by birth;

I belonged to Roy family as a puppy of one month;

I heard later from their little daughter that I was 

The most precious birthday-gift and pride in her life!

My memory is sharp to remember my early days.

She called me 'Snowy' as I looked a furry piece of white ice.              *

She recorded my each activity in album as her pride piece!

 I felt sad when she left me to play with her friends, 

So whenever I saw I barked  ferociously to  drive them!

I will narrate my memoir of thirteen years bit by bit:

On my first night I spent with them inside the mosquito net 

Between mother and daughter, as the whole night  

I was sleepless and whining in unfamiliar Environment! 

I was fussy to drink milk unless my little Miss 

Feed me with a dropper taking me on her lap.         

 I enjoyed that pampering!

An ugly kitten used to finish my milk from the bowl, 

Me, the poor puppy(!) lacked courage to attack or to howl. 

The senior madam mocked for that to her daughter,

Who with empathy defended dotingly my sissy nature! 

All these stories I heard only, but not remembered

 Later I grew up as a dare-devil macho to kill seven cats 

Perhaps in revenge and in remembrance of past insult!

My little miss also grew up to go college leaving home. 

I was so lonely and sad! I spent the afternoon in gloom.

I waited for the evening for the master to  come .

Out of affection my revered master brought another puppy 

For my company; it was a 'Golden Retriever, cute and fluffy.

He grew up as wild,  notorious  and jealous of me!  

Madam named her "Bicchu" from the very first day. 

He won easily my master as younger and became his favorite.

Noticing that Madam became more kind and soft to me! 

I was happy to win her support and motherly feeling!

[ Bicchu=. Naughty ; scorpio]

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