A path under the Sun

The expectations are high,
with challenges ahead,
paths unseen.
Limit is time,
so do power,
Steps & Sun
and he is still far,
smiles mixed tears,
shedding the fears,
with a reposed face.
To find the truth,
a bit from,
the great creation,
to overturn stones,
to make milestones .
Accepted the task,
hopes intact,
nights spent on floor,
to hear the cuckoos
of very mornings –
before the alarm buzz,
to meet the horizons.
Running the terrains,
before the dusk,
let the Sun guide him.

Look & Feel Changed

One of my blog sister complained about look and feel of my blog. Her complaint was that, the fonts of my blog were too small to read easily. I too have felt the same earlier. So I have increased the size of post fonts to 14 pixels, may be more comfortable to read for majority.Though changing the template was the most easy way to do so, when default fonts are predefined in them. But this template has to be maintained as it suited my posts. Though changing font-color, style and size in this template require extra efforts of using CSS( Cascading Style Sheets) in spans,I shall be doing that. I shall increase the size of fonts of other last posts too after some time.

Fiction or Real !

The JNVians’ GT @ Kanpur finished off well on 19th Nov. Though except my little contribution of work for the GT, I was not present there physically. The organisers needed time to come-up with reports. For the time being there was no GT reports at forum. Then with ingredients of little but exactFiction and Real information, I had on hand from venue and after adding up my imagination, I cooked a piece of Kanpur GT description. Though, I never wrote that I was there, our alumni read it like original piece. But at one place dear Sumit spilled the beans ! On being questioned by Ajay, I had to give them clue that it was fiction. But the attendees of the GT complemented, its as a real fiction!

Earlier another funny fiction episode occurred, when I wrote on my so called second marriage anniversary 🙂 .

Though have not read many fictions, I have started dreaming to write someday real fiction too.

सादे पन्ने

पड़ी हूई थी चिठ्ठियाँ
आलमारी के कोने में,
फेंका भी नहीं उन्हें ।
कभी दरवाजे खुलते,
देखा हँसते थे –
Blank Pages
अक्षर उनमें ।
पर वह न हँस पाता,
टपकती उसकी दो बुँदें,
आँसु की तब,
भींग जाती स्याह,
मिटने लगते अक्षर ।
मान न पाता,
बस खेल था वो ।
बंद कर आलमारी,
बैठ गया कुर्सी पर,
देखा तो वहीं,
कलम पड़ी थी
टेबुल पर और,
कागज के सादे पन्ने,
पर बढ़ते न थे,
हाथ उसके,
लिख न पाते,
अगर लिखा कुछ
इस पल,
जो बीत जाएगा,
रह जाएँगे लिखे पन्ने ।
जो उसे प्यारे थे, और
बन जाएगा इतिहास ।
और फेंक न सकेगा ।
फिर नहीं लिखा उसने-
पुचकारा वहाँ पड़े सादे पन्ने ,
जो कम से कम,
चुप तो रहते ।

अँखियों की रातें

आँखें तो बंद दिखती उसकी,
पर अंदर पुतलियाँ सोती नहीं,
Sleeping Eyes..
दोनों सहेलियों सी टहलती ।
निशा-निमंत्रण वह कैसे देती,
पहेलियों में जो उलझती गयीं ।

उन करवटों में कुछ भावार्थ था,
वह स्वपन था या यथार्थ था ,
वहाँ स्वार्थ था या परमार्थ था ।
बीती रात की दुसरी पहर भी,
आँखे फिर
कब, यूँ ही सो पड़ी ।

Bihar – the write thing ! (9) – Being a Bihari

In my Navodaya days, I remember that during our vacations in home, after hearing the tone of my Bengali, Ma used to warn me – “Why your tone of speaking changed, be polite!” I used to wonder – how she marks it! Afterwards Navodaya days, for our career scopes, like thousands of learned family there, she too insisted that proceed anywhere outside than Bihar.

Year 1994, Ma and I reached Chennai by train for my coaching admissions. On the way in train, I was carrying all my certificates too. I had felt that, she didn’t slept most part of the nights, knowing my 10th mark sheet was in the box. Though the train comes out of Bihar territories, but it was the result of our fear of losing baggage in train journeys of Bihar!

At T. Nagar, Chennai, Ma took me to a hostel for making my stay arrangement during the coaching period. We were waiting at the reception unless the manager was to come. By the time on being asked a guy there told that one bed is going to vacate next 5 days. I used to be smarter those teenage days. I could talk in English too! As the manager came, I took the lead and was asking for the seat, if any. He refused to have any. I argued,-“Next week some seat no. was going to vacate”. He was surprised and now he refused more. Ma didn’t tell anything to him at that time.

After searching for few more hostels, Ma insisted to return back to same hostel. Now she spoke to him and requested for temporary arrangement if possible unless any seat is available. He immediately told okay and took my luggage into room no. 7. I was given a temporary seat.

Next day manager was telling to me -” See guy, I was not willing to give you seat here. But seeing your Ma and her behavior, I gave you seat. Otherwise Biharis I don’t give! I was shocked. “But your mother is Bengali”, he added. “Yes”, I nodded with surprise. In those days, I did not know that by costume one can be recognized of place of belonging. “How you knew that?”- I asked him. He added to prove his expertise- “People from all over India come here. Did not she have white & red bangles (shakha & pola) in her hand and Bengali sari and sindoor”. At that time only I knew that its unique identity of Bengali married ladies. Later on I knew that Oriya and Assamese ladies are almost same.

For such long period, I was for the first time outside Bihar. I mingled with the people from all over India there. Those 6 months were my days of improvements.

But my Bihari – non Residential Bengali identity remained unsolved. For my whole stay in Chennai, I used to tell people, I am from West Bengal. Though in fact, I stay at the boundary town of Bihar- Bengal. The 2 km south and 2 km north of our town is the boundary line of West Bengal with our relatives.

Again it was the year of 2001-02. I was working in a computer lab in Bangalore for my project works. My Professor used to have and still have fatherly affection for me. Obviously he knew well that I am from a Bihar town and he also knew that I came from Bengal town institute, Siliguri (Darjeeling) for projects. But several times when seeing me in the lab, his colleagues used to ask him about me. He used to tell them straight- “He is Prem from West Bengal, Darjeeling”. Once in hurry even he told too that “He is from Assam”. I have to digest the reality behind his convincing answers.

Still at the workplace or somewhere else on being asked my name – people get confused. Next question comes – “From where do you belong?” Obvious the answer is “Bihar”. But sensing the situation, I have to enrich them “though I am Bengali”.

Coming back to our home, Ma, though for our school studies she preferred Hindi than Bengali and at home our mother-tongue remained Bengali only. I can guess today that she maintained an unseen boundary around us from the local culture. Since our childhood days she impregnated fine arts, music, classical dance and other cultural activities which are indispensable part of any cultured Bengali families. We were allowed to mingle with selected friends only. Though she has risen up the levels of caste, creed and regional variations, after getting good marriage proposals from native Bihar families for my sisters, those could not be materialized.

I have to hear and bear the facts underlying. There all the things need to improve a lot including socio-political culture with added sense of responsibility.

In the cosmopolitan life, I am escaping the situations and maintaining my Bengali culture. The fact remains that I am born and brought up on the land of Bihar. I would have been happier, had people embraced me as Bihari !
Last posts in the same series :

Health Services , Rubberi Devi, Tea Production, Common man and Media, Democracy , Common Life, Origin as a State.

Who are You ?

“Who Am I ?” was my first post on my blog journey dated November 23rd, 2004. Yesterday this blog completed two years.

The internet based technology is my bread and butter. Its my lone technical love ( addiction) too. It rewarded me honestly, and I too kept the blog associated with my principles of identity. Flowers

During the journey, I learnt many things from my fellow bloggers with best possible transparency. I got connected to a good circle around, some became indispensable. My posts sometimes got praised well, was tolerated many a times and few were criticized with dignity. I am proud of my global associations here, specially the network of Hindi bloggers and consistent readers.

Some other things I learnt were the typing in Hindi. But adding to sorrow, I saw disappearance of some blogs and final disappearance of a blogger too.

I learnt to come out of a shell. Since my words are expressed on public place instead of my personal diary, they are half worth unless those can reach the heart and brains of audience. The best thing I learnt here is rationality in thought. Though emotional outcomes could not be checked, its impossible almost.

FlowersOn this occasion of celebration, I do hope to add new category of humour as per my Ma’s guidance. She thinks (me too) that, now a days with a loads of work and due to lack of understanding of feelings people are already stressed. They need something to smile back. On this Sunday, I am going to buy ingredients for preparing the (0 – 100%) guaranteed humour tonic. 🙂

Obviously, the journey started with self centric posts, later moved towards people around me. Hence as a mark of respect to all around me, this special post is dedicated to my readers.

Thank you, very much, my inspirations. Something kept me intact for two years, I do wonder, who are you ?

ऐसे हैं कुछ रिश्ते

वो कहते, भुल जाओ सब,
वो कहते, मोड़ दो राहें,
वो कहते, तोड़ दो रिश्ता,
वो कहते, किस्से हैं सारे ।

जानकर भुल गया सब मैं,
रंगीन दुनिया में खो गया,
हँसता- गाता, आवारा सो गया,
पर वह रात सपनों में आ गया ।

सुबह मोड़ दिया, रास्ता अपना,
अनजानी राहों पर निकल पड़ा,
भुल गया सारे गलियाँ रास्ते ,

वह अनजाने मोड़ पर दिख गया ।

फिर, उसे तोड़ दिया, टुकड़ों में,
फिर, बेजान टुकड़ो को पीस दिया,
देखा, वो धूल बनकर बिखर गया,
मेरी माटी में अमिट बस गया ।

ऐसे हैं कुछ रिश्ते ।

Its a Page-3 lesson !

It was the set of movie Babul. This incident is a real one . Rani Mukherjee was learning bike driving lessons from Salman. He gave Rani the clutch and accelerator lessons well and she paid half attention to those.Rani Mukherjee

She started the bike. With her half learnt lessons, the bike accelerated full and jumped into the air few meters high ! To everyone on the set, this was an unbelievable real action. As the bike crashed on land, every one on the set was looking towards the British guy present there instead of the bruised Rani. The 10 years old bike was owned and well maintained by the British guy. His bike !! To surprise, British guy without any worry was laughing. On being asked he replied “Mr. Salman, why only 1 bike, I can sacrifice 10 such bikes to see such an action”.

Maintaining a bike for 10 years was easier but not the calm composure and emphasizing the action happened there. I adore you, man!

अनजानी बातें

काश मैं समझ पाता,
गुलमोहर पर बैठे,
पंछियों की आवाज,
उनके गीत, उनकी वाणी ।

उनके ही तरह मस्त,
काश वैसे ही दौड़ पाता,
पतली सी टहनियों पर
गिलहरियों के साथ ।

काश मैं समझ पाता,The colors
तितलियों की टोली को,
खिले फुलों से उनकी बातें ,
फिर चुपके से रंग चुराना ।

काश मैं समझ पाता,
वे सब अनजानी बातें,
तैर रही थी पुरवैया में,
बस छु कर निकल गयी ।