Vive la Vivekananda

My first poem to be published... in school magazine.

The poem is...

“Enough of lazing, awake”,

Hailed an earnest voice

Sonorous in its aplombic make.

A floret blowed, its petals rejoice

Down and up they parted,

The effulgence to flare through.

And robust articulations darted

Bearing diligently that was true,

“Oh latent lion, would you light the dawn?”

Choice it was, between a lull and travail

Betwixt existence and oblivion,

Of living, the right to avail.

Elected the thorny path of act,

Garbaging the path of inaction

Deluding to nowhere, and in the sect

- Order of service, an echelon

Commenced on the path to Fate,

To find key to the fledgling’s cage

And unshackle infinite Possibilities; Gate

Of an epoch – gaped a sage

Erudite in brilliance, of Utopian wisdom.

Shook the learned, and awakened

The masses, an arboreal shade- platform

Sheltering Humanity, a warrior to stand

For the Divine Light;

Swamiji, he’s forever bright.

In school magazine

In our school e-magazine HEARTS IN HUE, my article...

...The first one to be published..

The text...

Throughout the half a decade I have traversed in Ramakrishna Mission Vidyalaya, there hasn’t been a day in this school more imprinted on my memory than the day I joined this temple of learning. As of any other new entrant, my assumptions far exceeded any expectation. For the last fortnight to the fourth of April, my only errand was presumably not to forget the day, which I marked on a calendar. That day, I was woken up early in the morning. After an unhabituatedly before-time bath and a quick meal, I started dressing up in the crisp new school uniform. I still remember my father having to tie the shoe laces of mine. Thereafter I was briefed on how to be at my new school. Probably then was I acquainted with the phrase, “the first impression is the best impression”. Then I was off to the bus stop of Bus No 3.

There I was introduced to a plump fellow-classmate. When the bus arrived, we were ushered into the first pair of seats on the left. The journey seemed more or less uneventful. Save I recollect a fog-curtained broad road and a whole swarm of students getting up at Joynagar. The tea gardens and the slope in front of the gate, I also noticed. Then, arriving at the school, I conducted a mental lottery and chose to keep my bag in section B. Fast enough, a teacher collected us into the assembly hall.

After the prayers, Vice Principal Maharaj welcomed us into the school. I noticed a likeness of him in the full length portrait of Swamiji on the stage. Once we were back in the class, the class teachers came and distributed us according to our roll numbers in the two sections. It was hectic running bag in hand for a likeable seat. The first period was taken by Subir sir. In his well-articulated introduction, I learnt for the first time that some schools even fined students for interacting in their mother tongue! So his declaration of the contrary here didn’t quite astound me. Then sturdy (or seemingly so) boys were nominated for the honour of bringing in the new text books, after brief introductions of all of us. I heard some say of having to buy the same books twice. Among those I marked as being the colourful characters, one brought a bottle full of ice and another complained to a teacher (in the third period) citing his friend as calling him mad.

In the journey home, the five freshers were seated in consecutive left-side seats, discussing which school contributed the most students to our new school. And finally, I de-boarded the bus on my way to home. Having said that, that day was not that much too extravagant or out-of-the-ordinary for such a credential as the most memorable day, but in my heart of hearts, I am sure to acknowledge its nonpareility.     

Prayer

‘May I be good,

May I be great.’

I don’t want that.

                                                                    * * *

                                                   ‘May the world be happy,

                                                    May everyone be good..’

                                                    I don’t want that either.

                                                             * * *

                                          ‘God is great, let all know,

                                    Let all rejoice in thy divine light...’

                                                  I don’t ask that.

                                   But I do ask.

       Let each help the other,

       Let each live for all,

       Let each love all..

              Let all be right,

             Let all be hardy,

    Let all be one in one...

                                          And that day..

                                            We’ll all be HUMANs.

A serene setting

Watercolor on paper, 12" by 16"

A Strange Happening

Today was a strange day...

Strange for one thing  –

Strange for me...

I was sad, far too sad –

But steeled myself to smile

While I felt like cryin’.

But if I let myself cry

Tears won’t fall –

I wanted to cry

Still couldn’t,

I tried to smile

I did smile,

But it seemed the bitterest cry...

* * *

An’ this poem is strange, too...

For when I wanted to write

My pen felt like drawin’ –

And when I didn’t

The words just flowed...

Flowed , bereft of rhyme

And bereft of thought

But rejoicing in emotion...

Paper rose

Using A4 paper, pearl baby pink color and glue

Loving LIFE

Seein’ the winds sway

And leaves blown ‘way,

The scorchin’ summer heat

And the monsoon beat,

God’s eternal ways –

And our mortal days,

I feel sad –

I feel happy –

I feel fed –

I feel empty –

And I love to say,

I’m livin’...

To live, I’m lovin’..

Fo’ever lovin’.