Literary Vibes - Edition XCV (20-Nov-2020)
(Title - Tenderness - Picture courtesy Latha Prem Sakhya)
Dear Readers,
I have great pleasure in presenting to you the 95th edition of LiteraryVibes - fully loaded - with splendid poems and spectacular writings. I am sure you will love them, just take the time off from your busy life and sit down to savour the joy of literature.
I am happy to welcome two new contributors to the LV family in the present edition. Ms. Padmaja Iyengar (Paddy) is a celebrated, highly respected and much adored name in the Indian poetry circle. Her fame has transcended the seven seas and settled like a happy cloud on many shores. I am indeed happy to have her with us. I do hope to see more of her writings in the pages of LV in future. Mrs. Sunanda Pradhan, wife of a retired Civil Servant, has many happy memories of her stay in West Bengal and Delhi and wants to share them with the readers. Here is to wish her many more joyful reminiscences and looking forward to enjoy them in future in our pages.
In these hard times of Corona induced breakdown, I have often wondered how misery and penury have diminished the dignity of many individuals. Last week I saw a relatively well dressed young man knocking at our neighbour's gate asking for a few rupees "to eat a meal". Our neighbours shooed him away, advising him to "go and find some work". The young man shouted back that he was willing to work, but who would give him work? He left, crestfallen.
Life has a way of inflicting wounds and turn the knife on them mercilessly. Yet there are bravehearts who overcome great adversities and conquer the odds of life. Yesterday I read about Mrs. Sangeeta Boraste from Nashik, Maharashtra, who got married in 1990 at the age of fifteen and lost her husband twenty four years later. He was a cultivator of grapes, a cash crop, but repeated crop failures had left the household economy crippled. When he died, he left his family with an unpaid loan of thirty lakh rupees. Sangeeta refused to give up. Although she had never stepped into a field earlier, she started managing the cultivation with a firm grip and in three years paid off the loan. Today she exports grapes to Europe and other countries and is financially well off. She has proved to be resilient and courageous, a model for others. I am sure there are thousands of men and women like Sangeeta who rise from grim adversities to fight for survival and succeed. Let us salute their indomitable spirit and exemplary grit.
By a coincidence, on the same day, I also came across a few poems of deep healing, recovery from despondency and celebration of hope. Here they are, poems of sanguinity from the pen of the young American poetess Raquel Franco:
1.
There will be seasons
where your branches
don’t bear leaves
and it feels like
the sky will never grant
you another sunny day
but you will reach
a reckoning.
Don’t let these cold days
define you.
2.
My hope has turned brittle
beneath these sour clouds.
I wait for the weather to change,
for the branches to bloom,
for the sky to pivot.
These winter hours have stretched
longer than a season
but I will wait. I will wait.
3.
If you have breath
you have purpose.
You are an instrument,
a testament,
that these minutes
can be survived.
4.
When darkness comes,
remember you are resilient.
You will find your way
by the moonlight.
Please do share the link to LV95 http://www.positivevibes.today/article/newsview/357 with your friends and contacts, with a reminder that all the previous 94 editions of LiteraryVibes are available at http://www.positivevibes.today/literaryvibes
Take care, keep smiling and be safe.
We will meet again next week.
With warm regards
Mrutyunjay Sarangi
Table of Contents:
01) Prabhanjan K. Mishra
LIPS OF A CANYON
02) Haraprasad Das
THE ENLIGHTENMENT (SIDDHI)
03) Geetha Nair G.
MULTI-USE CONTAINER
04) Dilip Mohapatra
NEVER MIND
05) ISHWAR PATI
THE THRILL OF REICHENBACH
06) Dr. Ramesh Chandra Panda
OUR HERITAGE - SOMNATH JYOTIRLINGA
OUR HERITAGE - MALLIKARJUNA JYOTHIRLINGA
07) Ajay Upadhyaya
TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN DOCTOR
08) Prof. Dr. Gangadhar Sahoo
SHOPPING CENTRE
09) Padmaja Iyengar - Paddy
BHARAT’S LAMENT
10) Sunanda Pradhan
A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE
11) Madhumathi. H
ROLL IT!
GRAINS OF LOVE...
12) Sunil Kumar Biswal
SPIRIT OF COMPENSATION
13) ) Hema Ravi
DARKNESS TO LIGHT....
14) Lt Gen N P Padhi, PVSM, VSM (Retd.)
LAMENT OF AN EMPTY SWING
DIGNITY OF LABOUR
15) Akankshya Kar
UNION
16) Preethi N R
DOWN THE MEMORY LANE
17) Setaluri Padmavathi
VICTORY
18) N. Meera Raghavendra Rao
THE WONDER LACE OF BURANO
19) Pradeep Rath
DEVI
20) Ravi Ranganathan
TELL ME THAT STORY
21) Aboo Jumaila
WAY TO MY SOUL
22) Abani Udgata
SIDHHARTH
23) Mihir Kumar Mishra
SONG OF BEAUTY
24) Prof. Niranjan Barik
THE KNOTS & EMANCIPATION!
25) Sukanya Kunju
FLOWER
26) Ashok Kumar Ray
ABORIGINAL AUSTRALIAN
27) Mrutyunjay Sarangi
THE LEDGER
Mounds of letters
look mythic and gaunt,
flanks of extinct emotions.
Marches a road from here,
from the plain and crumbling biscuit houses
of latticing syllables. Weaving cadences
it sinks through a tormented ravine
leaving behind the lanes
of verses and reverses, a derelict town.
Monoliths hacked
out of an emotion,
about to subside again
into its native rock
taking with them the bare acacias
of human talk.
The vestiges of a relationship
in labyrinths of accusations
swallow our curt prehensile past.
At the lips of a canyon
our parched acres
blindly pallor for a sun
the differences, reduced
by distances, are shark teeth
in a zoo’s indifferent skeleton.
Prabhanjan K. Mishra writes poems, stories, critiques and translates, works in two languages – English and Odia. Three of his collected poems in English have been published into books – VIGIL (1993), Lips of a Canyon (2000), and LITMUS (2005).His Odia poems have appeared in Odia literary journals. His English poems poems have been widely anthologized and published in literary journals. He has translated Bhakti poems (Odia) of Salabaga that have been anthologized into Eating God by Arundhathi Subramaniam and also translated Odia stories of the famous author Fakirmohan Senapati for the book FROM THE MASTER’s LOOM (VINTAGE STORIES OF FAKIRMOHAN SENAPATI). He has also edited the book. He has presided over the POETRY CIRCLE (Mumbai), a poets’ group, and was the editor (1986-96) of the group’s poetry magazine POIESIS. He has won Vineet Gupta Memorial Poetry Award and JIWE Poetry Award for his English poems.He welcomes readers' feedback at his email - prabhanjan.db@gmail.com
Translated by Prabhanjan K. Mishra
A godman’s wisdom astounds us.
But is he better than a man of the world,
who draws ideas from lived experience?
A godman makes the devotee confess
of his lapses, penitence cures guilt,
but devotee is beholden to his godman.
Add a Peepal tree to the godman,
he may sound more authentic than Buddha
under the Bodhi Tree, divinity thrust on him.
Even an old woman selling berries,
under the Peepal tree, at times imparts
rare wisdom from her life’s experiences.
Her wise words often lull
the listener’s worries and anxieties,
so does a cuckoo crooning from a branch.
In a reverse gear, a déjà vu
may mislead a man, confused
by a retinal glow as divine light,
his babble sounding like sermons,
his eyelids drooping like those of
an oracle, may just be cannabis.
Mr. Hara Prasad Das is one of the greatest poets in Odiya literature. He is also an essayist and columnist. Mr. Das, has twelve works of poetry, four of prose, three translations and one piece of fiction to his credit. He is a retired civil servant and has served various UN bodies as an expert.
He is a recipient of numerous awards and recognitions including Kalinga Literary Award (2017), Moortidevi Award(2013), Gangadhar Meher Award (2008), Kendra Sahitya Akademi Award (1999) and Sarala Award (2008)”
It can hold tons, my dear-- it's
tough elastic-- bridges, houses roads, fields, men and women.
It can contain music
that flows on moonlit nights
in distant lands.
It has a delicate mouth too; it can take in
gently
without hurt,
words by the thousand
and hold them safe within its throb- throb beat;
A useful chambered container.
It can expel too
bridge house road field man woman music words,
Collapse at a stab till
you can hold it in the hollow
of your hand,
Watch it turn back into
A simple chambered pump--
My heart.
Geetha Nair G. is an award-winning author of two collections of poetry: Shored Fragments and Drawing Flame. Her work has been reviewed favourably in The Journal of the Poetry Society (India) and other notable literary periodicals. Her most recent publication is a collection of short stories titled Wine, Woman and Wrong. All the thirty three stories in this collection were written for,and first appeared in Literary Vibes.
Geetha Nair G. is a former Associate Professor of English, All Saints’ College, Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala.
You call her up few times
and she doesn't take your call
you think she may be busy
and will respond when she's free
and sees your missed calls.
You send her messages
urging her to call back
but she doesn't .
You fret and fume
and feel dejected and desolate
and seethe with helpless anger.
Never mind.
Things won't always be the same
and any way, how does it really matter?
Your appraisal for the year is over
and you wait for your increment letter
and perhaps a promotion
that would move you
into the corner office
with your name embossed in brass
on its door
but the bubble bursts
and you find yourself where you were.
Never mind.
Things could have been worse
and any way how does it really matter?
You thought you were the uncrowned king
when your ego was in bloom
and you thought you were
the most powerful man in the room
someone else pushes you aside
and now the crowd applauds for him
you drown yourself in abject gloom
and wonder why the sea
didn't part always for you
as it did for Moses
and how any one ever can take your place!
Never mind.
Nothing in the world is permanent
and any way how does it really matter?
You have chased your dreams off and on
sometimes caught up with them
sometimes left behind.
You have run your races many a times
sometimes touched the finish line
and gave up sometimes.
Now on your last leg
you got to hand over your baton
and carry on to the twilight zone.
Don't feel bad that your days are done.
Never mind.
No one is here to stay for ever
and any way how does it really matter?
Dilip Mohapatra (b.1950), a decorated Navy Veteran is a well acclaimed poet in contemporary English and his poems appear in many literary journals of repute and multiple anthologies worldwide. He has six poetry collections to his credit so far published by Authorspress, India. He has also authored a Career Navigation Manual for students seeking a corporate career. This book C2C nee Campus to Corporate had been a best seller in the category of Management Education. He lives with his wife in Pune, India
The Final Problem is the final episode in ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’, where the famous detective confronts Professor Moriarty on the Reichenbach Falls in Switzerland. A die-hard fan of Holmes, I had read the story and also watched its moving depiction by Jeremy Brett and company on the screen. As far as falls go, other famous ones like the Niagara or the Victoria are certainly more awesome. But the Reichenbach scores over them because of the charm of its association with the greatest detective the world has ever seen (or read about). So on my tour of Europe I made it a point to include the Reichenbach in my itinerary.
The plaque dedicated to Sherlock Holmes has his proverbial profile with a trademark cap and pipe between his lips. It commemorates that fictional event of more than a century ago as if it’s a historical fact. The plaque reads: “Across this ‘dreadful cauldron’ occurred the culminating event in the career of Sherlock Holmes, the world’s greatest detective, when on May 4, 1891 he vanquished Prof. Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime: erected by the Norwegian Explorers of Minnesota and the Sherlock Holmes Society of London, 25 June 1957. Re-erected here in May 1968, the seventy-seventh anniversary of the heroic combat, on the occasion of an international gathering of Friends of Sherlock Holmes.” What a legion of ‘friends’ he must have all over the world!
My friend and I gulped down coffee at a nearby kiosk and started climbing the steep stairs that skirted the foaming waters of the Falls. Soon the thundering din was so great that I could hardly hear my own voice, let alone my companion’s. We inched single file along the narrow ledge, speculating on how our legendary hero must have trod that path with trepidation, even while trying to fathom the danger lying ahead with his ‘deductive’ faculty. Breasting the rocks, we stood on a footbridge spanning the Falls, the scene of action where the two arch foes must have come face to face! A tingle went down my spine as I recollected Dr. Watson’s words in the story, ‘spray rising like smoke from a burning house’. The thick spray of steam must have obscured their view of each other till the very last moment, till they were breathing down the neck of their adversary. Why, there’s a fellow in a dark cloak at the other end of the platform, lurking behind the solid curtain of water! Is it the disenchanted ghost of Moriarty haunting the Falls? A closer look reveals just another tourist like me, more adventurous perhaps to go where I dared not step.
The gushing waters plunging headlong into a cavernous gorge made me dizzy just looking down. How helpless was one before nature’s power! I could visualise a hapless Sherlock Holmes standing opposite his supreme enemy, knowing that all modes of escape were sealed. For once he was not in command of the ‘situation’. I shuddered from the thought of the disaster that would have overtaken the civilised world from the irreparable loss of Holmes, had not a shocked public compelled Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to ‘play God’ and resurrect Holmes from ‘his grave’ in the story of The Empty House. Thank God (and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) for a resurrection no less miraculous than that of Jesus Christ!
Ishwar Pati - After completing his M.A. in Economics from Ravenshaw College, Cuttack, standing First Class First with record marks, he moved into a career in the State Bank of India in 1971. For more than 37 years he served the Bank at various places, including at London, before retiring as Dy General Manager in 2008. Although his first story appeared in Imprint in 1976, his literary contribution has mainly been to newspapers like The Times of India, The Statesman and The New Indian Express as ‘middles’ since 2001. He says he gets a glow of satisfaction when his articles make the readers smile or move them to tears.
Blood stained white sheets
shine brighter than
red roses.
Death was his daily chore,
no different from birth,
and all the suffering strewn between.
The unfazed exterior
and the calm facade:
His armoury in his
mundane battle.
More impenetrable
than protective gear
for the dreaded virus.
Here lies the soldier
from life?s arena.
No gallantry medal,
for simply doing a job.
But, no award above
the honour of healing:
Nothing beats the triumphcompleting
the journey at ones peak.
Strove relentless for
breathing life
into the breathless,
until his own breath
ran out; reduced to air.
The air, faceless
and nameless, drifting
slowly into nothing, drowning
faded dreams of his dear ones
and whisking off
sighs of his sweet heart.
This poem has benefited from feedback and suggestions of Poet Prabhanjan K Mishra, to whom I am grateful.
Dr. Ajaya Upadhyaya is from Hertfordshire, England.
He is a Retired Consultant Psychiatrist from the British National Health Service and Honorary Senior Lecturer in University College, London.
GLIMPSES OF OUR HERITAGE - SOMNATH JYOTIRLINGA
Home to the first among the twelve Jyotirlingas, is the city of Somnath temple at Prabhas Patan on the shores of Arabian Sea in Gujarat which has been a pilgrimage centre. Somnath is believed to be the confluence of the mythological Saraswati, Hiranya and Kapila. Legend has it that Lord Shiva’s Kalbhairav lingam is situated at Prabhas. It is said that the original temple of Somnath was built by the Moon God and was made of gold. It is also believed that Moon God has worshipped this Shiva lingam. This is also the reason why this temple is popularly known as Somnath, named after the moon. After the golden temple was razed to the ground, it was rebuilt with silver by Ravana. When the silver temple was knocked down, it was reconstructed in wood by Krishna. And when this was pulled down, an edifice of stone was erected by Bhimdev. Besides the above legend, historically it has been documented about the frequent damages the temple suffered in the hands of invaders.
History
Archaeological remains found from the region and the descriptions in the relevant writings indicate that the place was a colony of the Aryans in the ancient times. This temple of religious importance as well as historical significance is believed to have been built sometime around AD 4. In AD 1026, Mahmud of Ghazni first looted the temple, and then came Afzal Khan, the commander of Ala-ud-din Khilji and later Aurangzeb. It is said that the temple was looted and destroyed as many as seventeen times.
Early picture of the present temple
The Iron man of India, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel was instrumental in the construction of the present temple, an edifice reminding visitors of the splendour of the original Somnath temple. Renowned temple architect Prabhaschandar designed it and the first President of India Dr. Rajendra Prasad installed the Jyotirling in the new temple on May 11, 1951.
The present temple called as Kailash Mahameru Prasad in the Chalukya style of temple architecture and reflects the inherent skill of sompuras, Gujarat’s master masons. It has the shikhara, the Garbhagriha, the sabha mandap and the nritya mandap. It has been built in such a position that there is no land between the Somnath temple and Antarctica. This fact finds mention in the inscription found on the protection wall of the temple.
The museum at Somnath houses the remains of the earlier temples but in the form of old carved stones in a courtyard. It has also pottery, seashell collection, glass case of water bottles containing samples from the rivers Danube, Nile, St Lawrence, Tigris, Plate, Murray, and seawater from Tasmania, and New Zealand. According to popular tradition documented by J. Gordon Melton (Melton, J. Gordon (2014), Faiths Across Time: 5,000 Years of Religious History. ABC - CLIO. Pages 516 -517), the first Siva temple at Somanath is believed to have been built at some unknown time in the past. The second temple is said to have been built at the same site by the "Yadava kings" of Vallabhi around 649 CE. In 725 CE, Al-Junayd, the Arab governor of Sindh is said to have destroyed the second temple as part of his invasions of Gujarat and Rajasthan. The Gurjara-Pratihara king Nagabhata II is said to have constructed the third temple in 815 CE with large structure of red sandstone. The Chaulukya (Solanki) king Mularaja possibly built the first temple at the site sometime before 997 CE, even though some historians believe that he may have renovated a smaller earlier temple. In 1024, during the reign of Bhima I, Mahmud of Ghazni raided Gujarat, plundered the Somnath temple, took away booty of 20 million dinars and broke the Jyotirlinga. Historians analysing the damage to the temple have indicated minimal because there are records of pilgrims visiting the temple in 1038, which made no mention of the damage to the temple. However, there is a different view based on the intricate detail developed in the Turko-Persian literature regarding Mahmud's raid of Gujarat and more specially the temple which ignited the Muslim world.
Latest picture of the present temple
According to an inscription in 1169, the temple at the time of Mahmud's attack appears to have been a wooden structure, which is said to have decayed in time. Kumarapala rebuilt it in excellent stone and studded with jewels. During the 1299 invasion of Gujarat by Alauddin Khalji's army, led by Ulugh Khan, defeating the Vaghela king Karna ransacked the Somnath temple. It seems that fifty thousand people have been killed and more than twenty thousand peole were taken as slaves. Legends in the texts Kanhadade Prabandha (15th century) and Khyat (17th century) state that the Jalore ruler Kanhadadeva recovered the Somnath idol and freed the Hindu prisoners, after an attack on the Delhi army near Jalore. However, other sources state that the idol was taken to Delhi, where it was thrown to be trampled under the feet of Muslims. These sources include the texts including Amir Khusrau's Khazainul-Futuh, Ziauddin Barani's Tarikh-i-Firuz Shahi and Jinaprabha Suri's Vividha-tirtha-kalpa. The mystery still remains as how the Somnath lingam was retrieved from Muslim invaders.
The temple was rebuilt by Mahipala Deva, the Chudasama king of Saurashtra in 1308 and the lingam was installed by his son Khengar sometime between 1326 and 1351. As late as the 14th century, Gujarati Muslim pilgrims were noted by Amir Khusrau to stop at Somnath temple to pay their respects before departing for the Hajj pilgrimage. In 1395, the temple was destroyed for the third time by Zafar Khan, the last governor of Gujarat under the Delhi Sultanate and later founder of Gujarat Sultanate. In 1451, it was desecrated by Mahmud Begada, the Sultan of Gujarat. In 1546 the Portuguese, based in Goa attacked ports and towns in Gujarat including Somnath and destroyed several temples and mosques. By 1665, the Somnath temple, one of many, was ordered to be destroyed by Mughal emperor Aurangzeb. In 1702, he ordered that if Hindus revived worship there, it should be demolished completely. In 1782-83 AD, Maratha king Mahadaji Shinde, victoriously brought back to Somnath three silver gates from Lahore after defeating Mahmud Shah Abdati. After refusal from priests of Gujarat and the then ruler Gaekwad to put them back on Somnath temple, these silver gates were placed in the temples of Ujjain. Today they can be seen in temples of Ujjain in Mahakaleshwar Jyotirlinga and Gopal Mandir. In 1842, Edward Law, 1st Earl of Ellenborough issued the “Proclamation of the Gates”, in which he ordered the British army in Afghanistan to return via Ghazni and bring back to India the sandalwood gates from the Mahmud of Ghazni tomb in Ghazni, Afghanistan. These were believed to have been taken by Mahmud from Somnath. Under Ellenborough's instruction, General William Nott looted the gates in September 1842. The 43rd Bengal Native Infantry, was detailed to carry the gates back to India in triumph. However, on arrival, they were found not to be of Gujarati or Indian design, and not of Sandalwood, but of Deodar wood (native to Ghazni) and therefore not authentic to Somnath. They were placed in the arsenal store-room of the Agra Fort where they still lie to the present day. There was a debate in the House of Commons in London in 1843 on the question of the gates of the temple and Ellenbourough's role in the affair. After much crossfire between the British Government and the opposition, all of the facts as we know then were laid out. In the 19th century novel “The Moonstone” by Wilkie Collins reveals that diamond of the title is presumed to have been stolen from the Somnath temple.
Before independence, Prabhas Patan was part of the princely state of Junagadh, whose ruler had acceded to Pakistan in 1947 but after India refused to accept his decision, the state was made a part of India and Deputy Prime Minister Sardar Ballav Bhai Patel came to Junagadh on 12 November 1947 to direct the stabilization of the state by the Indian Army and at the same time ordered the reconstruction of the Somnath temple.
When Sardar Patel, K. M. Munshi and other leaders of the Congress went to Mahatma Gandhi with their proposal to reconstruct the Somnath temple, Gandhi blessed the move, and suggested that the funds for the construction should be collected from the public and the temple should not be funded by the state. He expressed that he was proud to associate himself to the project of renovation of the temple. However, soon both Gandhi and Sardar Patel died and the task of the temple reconstruction continued under K M Munshi, who was the Minister for Food and Civil Supplies, Government of India. The ruins were pulled down in October 1950 and the mosque present at that site was shifted TO few kilometres away. In May 1951, Rajendra Prasad, the first President of India performed the installation ceremony for the temple and he said in his address,
"It is my view that the reconstruction of the Somnath Temple will be complete on that day when not only a magnificent edifice will arise on this foundation, but the mansion of India's prosperity will be really that prosperity of which the ancient temple of Somnath was a symbol ....The Somnath temple signifies that the power of reconstruction is always greater than the power of destruction.”
Architecture
The present seven-storied structure of Somnath temple 155 feet tall is built in the Chalukya style of temple architecture. Alternatively it is described as "Kailash Mahameru Prasad" style which reflects the sculptural skill of the Sompura Salats, one of Gujarat's master masons. The temple's ?ikhara, or main spire, is 15 metres in height, and it has an 8.2 metre tall flag pole at the top. The temple is situated at such a place that there is no land in a straight line between Somnath sea shore until Antarctica, such an inscription in Sanskrit is found on the B??astambha (Sanskrit: ?????????, or arrow pillar) erected on the sea-protection wall. The B??astambha mentions that it stands at a point on the Indian landmass that is the first point on land in the north to the South Pole at that particular longitude. The temple features an elaborate and extravagant architecture marked with many rich, intricate breath-taking stone carvings and sculptures. The magnificent Kalash or pot vessel tops the temple Shikhara and weighs up to approximately 10 tonnes. The temple’s entrance has an enticing photo gallery exhibiting photos telling the tale of the ancient temple’s ruins, excavations and renovations. The temple in its interior has a Garbha Griha with the Jyotirlinga enshrined in it, a Sabha Mandap or assembly hall and a Nritya mandap. The ceiling is decked with exquisite water colour paintings. It is said that once upon a time, the temple interior is decked up most lavishly with precious gems and jewels. But invaders attacked the temple from time to time in order to plunder all these brilliant riches.,
Fairs & festivals: In Somnath many colourful festivals are organised and famous being Maha Shivaratri, Kartik Purnima, Navratri, Holi,and Diwali.
Kartik Poornima: Kartik Poornima comes in the month of November/December is also a major festival celebrated in Somnath. Kartika Purnima celebrates the power of Lord Shiva; it is held that Lord Shiva killed the devil Tripusara on this day so Shiv temples are packed with devotees to celebrate the event. In Hindu calendar, Kartika month of October-November is be the holiest month of the year. Kartika Purnima comes at end of the Hindu month of Kartik and coincides the complete full moon day. This day of Kartika Purnima also called the festival of Dev Diwali.
Diwali: Diwali is the most important festival celebrated by Hindus. It is also known as Festival of lights or dipavali. This festival falls in the month of October or November. Diwali in Somnath is famous with pomp and grandeur.
Maha Shivratri: The entire town and temple celebrate Maha Shivratri with much pomp and show. The festivities are attended by the millions of devotees in the March month. Shivratri Festival is much awaited by Hindu women. On Shivaratri, married and unmarried women worship Lord Shiva with immense trust for the good of their family lives. While Lord Shiva is observed as an ascetic God, Maha Shivratri is popular with hermits. Thandai, a drink made with bhang, almonds, and milk is basically drunk by the religious people on the day.
Important Places: The Bhalka Tirth is the place where Lord Krishna was mistaken for a deer and wounded by an arrow while sleeping in a deerskin. The place is situated on the confluence of three rivers. There is a sun temple nearby that was also knocked down by Mahmud of Ghazni. The Junagarh Gate is a very ancient triple gate that Mahmud of Ghazni broke through to take the town.
Banastambha (Arrow Pillar)
GLIMPSES OF OUR HERITAGE - MALLIKARJUNA JYOTHIRLINGA
Meaning: “We worship the three-eyed One, who is fragrant and who nourishes all.
Like the fruit falls off from the bondage of the stem, may we be liberated from death, from mortality”.
Mallikarjuna Jyothirlinga Brahmaramba
The holy site of Sri Bhramaramba Mallikarjuna Temple located at Srisailam, situated on the banks of the river Krishna, 232 km south of Hyderabad of Andhra Pradeshm is dedicated to Shiva and Parvati. It is the only temple in India which is revered as both Jyotirlinga and Shaktipeeth. It is significant to both Shaivam and Shaktam as this temple is referred to as one of the twelve Jyothirlingas of Lord Shiva and as one of the eighteen Shakti Peethas of goddess Parvati. Shiva is worshiped as Mallikarjuna, and is represented by the lingam. His consort Parvati is depicted as Brahmaramba.
Legend
The stories of all Jyotirlingas are described in Chapter 15 Koti Rudra Samhita of Shiva Mahapurana in detail. When Shiva and Parvati decided to find suitable brides for their sons, Ganesha and Kartikeya (Kumar) argued as to who is to get wedded first. Shiva seems to have decided that the one who goes round the world in Pradakshinam would get married first. By the time Kartikeya could go round the world on his vahana, Ganesha went round his parents 7 times (according to Shastras, going in pradakshinam round one's parents is equivalent to going one round the world (Bhupradakshinam)). Shiva being Lord of Buddhi (intellect), Siddhi (spiritual power), and Riddhi (prosperity) got Ganesha married. After going around the earth, Kartikeya reaches Kailasa and Narada communicates him about the marriage of Ganesha. Kartikeya knowing this becomes angry and leaves Kailasa. Kum?ra, after offering his salutation to his parents, proceeded to the Krausica Mountain for living there in the name of Kumara brahmachari, much against the advice of his parents. After the departure of Kum?ra, his mother Girijã felt extremely painful. Then Shiva advised her not to be anxious as their son would return. But Pârvati was suffering from the mental agony. Therefore, ?hiva sent the divine sages to Kumar’s place. Devas, Sages and Shiva ganas requested Kumara to return to Kailasa but Kumara didn't heed to anyone. Thus finally Shiva-Parvati visited Kumar’s place frequently. Then both of them feeling painful, displaying the worldly traditions, because of their love for their son, and went to the place where their son was staying. Kum?ra, on the other hand, knowing about the arrival of his parents, discarding his attraction for the Krausica Mountain went to a place located at a distance of three yojanas. After the departure of their son from the Krausica Mountain, both of them taking to the form of Jyoti (flame) established themselves at the Krausica Mountain. Because of their love for their son, both ?hiva and Pârvati used to go to the place of their son, in order to have a look at him. ?hiva used to go to that place on the moonless day while Pârvati went there on the full-moon day. Since that date Mallikarjuna-linga earned popularity in the world.
There are few other legends about the temple. The temple, which shines like a jewel on the Nallamalai range of the eastern ghats, is known by different names like Srigiri, Srimala, Srinagara and Rishabagiri. Rishaba or Nandi Deva did penance on this hill and obtained the darshan of Lord Shiva and Devi Parvati. Hence thehill is named as Rishabagiri.
The popular legend is relates to the story as to why the Jyotirlinga is called as Mallikarjuna. Long ago, Princess Chandravathi of the Chandra Gupta dynasty faced a domestic calamity and decided to forsake royal comforts. She went to Srisailam forests and was living on fruits and cow's milk. One day, she noticed that one of the cows around was not yielding milk. Later she learned through her herdsman that the cow was going to a secluded spot and showering milk on a Lingam amid jasmine creepers. The next day she herself went to that spot and witnessed the miracle. The same night Lord Shiva appeared in her dream and asked her to build a temple at this spot. Since the Lingam was entangled in malli (jasmine) creepers, the deity was named Mallikarjuna.
According to anther legend, Lord Shiva once came to the Srisailam forest for hunting. There He met a beautiful girl of the Chenchu tribe, fell in love with her and decided to stay with her in the forest. The girl was none other than Parvati Herself. In the temple, there is a bass relief depicting this story. It is significant to note that even today people of the local Chenchu tribe are allowed into the sanctum. On the night of Maha Shivaratri, they are permitted to perform abhisheka and puja to the deity. Another interesting feature is that devotees irrespective of caste, creed or sex can go into the sanctum and perform abhisheka and puja.
History
Srisailam played a dominant role in religious, cultural and social history from ancient times. According to pre-historic studies the history of Srisailam goes back to about 30,000-40,000 years. Stone tools of that period are abundantly found at various places of Srisailam. The epigraphically evidences reveal that the history of Srisailam begins with the Satavahanas who were the first empire builder in South India and also the earliest rulers of Andhradesa. The earliest known historical mention of Srisailam can be traced in Pulumavi’s Nasik inscription of 2nd Century A.D. Malla Satakarani, an early member of Satavahanas got his name after ‘Mallanna’ the deity on this sacred hill. The Ikshavakus (AD 200-300) ruled from their capital Vijayapuri, about 50 Km from Srisailam and so this Kshetram got their patronage. The Vishnukundis (AD 375-612) were the devotees of God Sriparvatha Swamy who was none other than Mallikarjuna Swamy, the presiding deity of Srisaila Kshetram. Most of their inscriptions contain the prasasti “Bhagavat Sriparvatha Swamy Padanudhyatanam”.The Telagunda inscription of Kadamba Santi Varma reveals that the Srisailam region was originally included in the Pallava Kingdom (AD 248-575) and subsequently formed the first independent principality of Kadambas (AD 340-450). A part of the inscriptional evidences, the architectural features of the temple complex indicate the patronage of Chalukyas (AD 624-848) and the Kakatiyas (AD 953-1323) in regulating the temple management during their respective period. In 1313 AD the reign of Kakatiya Prathaparudra the gift of 70 villages to Srisailam temple made from time to time by several emperors, kings were executed properly for the maintenance of the temple. Mailamadevi, sister of Ganapathideva is said to have constructed the vimana gopuram of Mallikarjuna Garbhalayam. The Reddi Kings period (AD 1325-1448) is considered as the golden age of Srisailam as almost all rulers of this dynasty celebrated service for the temple, constructed stepped path way to Srisailam, Pathalaganga,Veerasiro Mandapam etc..The Velama Chiefs constructed flight of steps at Jatararevu, en-route from Umamaheswaram to Srisailam. The major contributions and renovations at Srisailam were taken up by Vijayanagara Rules (AD 1336-1678). The Second Harihararaya of Vijayanagara Empire constructed the Mukhamandapam of Mallikarjuna Temple and also raised a Gopuram on the Southern side of the temple complex. Srikrishnadevaraya visited the shrine in 1516 AD on his return journey after a war with Gajapathis and constructed Salumandaps on both sides of the car street and Rajagopuram of the temple. In the year 1674 AD Chatrapathi Sivaji the great Maratha King visited Srisailam, restored the festivals of the temple under protection of his officers and taken up some renovations. Later the Moghal Emperors conquered the area and gave as Jagir to Nawabs of Kurnool.under the control of Nizam of Hyderabad. In 1800 AD the East India Company took over the area from Mugals. In 1929 a committee was constituted by the British Government for the management of the temple. After India gained its independence,
the temple came under the control of Endowments Department in 1949 and attained its past glory after it was opened by the road during the year 1956.
Architecture
The architecture of the ancient Mallikarjun Temple is very beautiful and intricate. The temple has fort like walls, towers and a rich endowment of sculptural work. The huge temple is built in the Dravidian style with lofty towers and sprawling courtyards and is considered to be one of the finest specimens of Vijayanagar architecture. Temple of Tripurantakam, Siddavatam, Alampura and Umamaheswaram located in the vicinity of Mallikarjuna Jyotirlina are considered to be the four gateways to Sri Sailam. The temple complex covers 2 hectares and houses four entrance towers (gopurams). The temple has numerous shrines, with those of Mallikarjuna and Bhramaramba being the most prominent. The temple complex houses many halls; the most notable is the Mukha Mandapa built during the Vijayanagar period. The temple is situated facing east. The temple was enlarged in the 15th century under the patronage of the Vijayanagara kings. Harihara II, who visited Srisailasam in 1405, added the mukhamandapa or pillared hall with three porches; the smaller shrines and columned mandapas or halls date from the 15th-16th centuries. The central mandapam has several pillars, with a huge idol of Nadikeshwara. The temple is enclosed by tall walls measuring 183 m (600 ft) by 152 m (499 ft) and 8.5 m (28 ft) tall. There are a number of sculptures in the precinct each rising above another. The Mukamandapa, the hall leading to the sanctum, has intricate sculpted pillars. The Mallikarjuna sanctum is considered the oldest in the temple dating back to 7th century. There is a Sahasra linga (1000 linga), believed to have been commissioned by Rama and five other lingas believed to have been commissioned by Pandavas. A mirror. hall in the first precinct has images of Nataraja. The outer walls of the enclosure, which date from 1456, are richly carved with panels depicting processions of elephants, equestrian and hunting scenes, as well as processions of soldiers, dancing girls, musicians, pilgrims and mythical beasts. Shiva is represented in many scenes.
Festivals
Mahasivarathri Brahmothsavams: The Mahasivarathri Utsavams are being celebrated as Brahmothsavams in the 11th month of Indian Lunar Calendar which falls usually in the month of February/March. This is a festival of eleven days. The 29th day of Magham is the most important day as Mahasivarathri festival takes place. The important events of the celebrations are Ankurarpana, Dhwajarohana, Sevas of Vahanas to God and Goddess, Lingodhbhavakala Maharudrabhishekam, Pagalankarana, Kalyanothsavam, Rathothsavam and Dhwajavarohana. The Brahmothsavams begins with Ankurarpana a religious ritual on the occasion of festival followed by the Dhwajarohana in which a white flag marked with Nandi symbol is hoisted on the temple. This signifies sending invitation to all Gods and goddesses. The Vahana Sevas are the celebrations in which the procession of the God and Goddess will take place on various vahanas (devine vehicles) like Seshavahanam, Mayuravahanam, Nandivahanam and Aswavahanam. The Mahasivarathri midnight is the scared time in which God Shiva manifests in the form of huge flaming Linga and Abhishekam is performed to God Mallikarjuna. The Pagalankarana is a unique custom finds only in Srisailam temple and is the most significant event of the festival. In this a person belonging to weavers community tie a lengthy new hand woven white cloth called as Paga (Turban) starting from the Sikhara of the Vimana Gopuram passing around the Nandi placed on the Mukhamandapam of the temple. The interesting feature of this event is that the Devanga will decorate the Paga with naked body in total darkness in the temple. Kalyanothsavam (Marriage) of God Mallikarjuna Swamy and Goddess Bhramaramba Devi is performed. The Radhothsavam (Car festival) will commence on the next day of Mahasivaratri at the evening hours. More than a lakh of pilgrim participate in the Car festival. The celebration ends with the removal of flag from the flag post..
Ugadi celebrations : The Ugadi celebrations performed for a period of five days. The festival begins three days before the Ugadi day i.e., Telugu New Years day which generally falls in March / April and more than five lakhs of pilgrims visit the temple by traveling the whole distance on foot and present their yearly offerings i.e., tamarind, kumkum, saree, mangala sutram, flowers etc., to Goddess Bhramaramba Devi. On every day of the celebrations various special poojas like Abhishekam to God, Navavaranarchana to Goddess, Rudrahomam and Chandihomam are performed. On the night before Ugadi day a group of Kannada devotees called as Ganacharis express their devotion by performing the Agnigunda Pravesam i.e., walking on the blowing embers. They also pierce their forehead, tongue, cheek, chin, hands etc. with sharp pointed weapons The jewels offered to Goddess are Mahalakshmi, Mahadurga, Mahasaraswathi, Rajarajeswari and Nijalankarana of Bhramaramba. The Vahana Sevas performed to God and Goddess is Bhringivahanam, Nandivahanam, Kailasavahanam and Ravana Vahanam. On evening hours of every day the procession of Vahana Sevas and Alankaras takes place. The Car festival is performed in the evening hours of Ugadi day in a grand manner.
Dasara Celebrations: The Dasara fedtival falls in the month of October. The important events include performing of Chandiyagam, Rudrayagam, Navadurga alankaras to Goddess and Vahana Sevas to God and Goddess besides several special poojas. Goddess Bhramaramba Devi is mainly worshiped in these festivals. The celebration begins with the Ganapathi pooja followed by the Kalasa Sthapana and ends with Poornahuthi.On every day of celebrations various religious rituals like Srichakrarchana, Navavarana pooja, Anustanams, Devi Sapthasathi Parayanas, etc., besides Yagams are performed. Apart these Kumari Pooja, Suhasini Pooja are also conducted at evening hours. In the Kumari Pooja girls within the age group of between 2 to 8 years and in Suhasini Pooja Soubhagyavati (a women whose husband is living) are worshiped as deities. The Dampathi (Couple) Pooja is also took part on Mahanavami day i.e., on the 9th day in which pooja is offered to five couples. This day closes with the offering of sacrificial rice, breaking of pumpkins, coconuts etc., to the Goddess.After completion of nine days Poornahuthi of Chandiyagam and Rudrayagam are performed in the day time. On that evening Sami Pooja (worship to Prosopia tree) is performed
Kumbhothsavam : Kumbhothsavam is the most significant festival of the temple at Srisailam in which various offerings are made to Goddess Bhramaramba Devi. This festival celebrates on the first Tuesday or Friday (which ever first comes) after full moon day of Chaitram, the beginning month of Indian Calendar. It is said that on this day the Goddess is ferocious and so that various poojas like Navavarana, Trisathi, Khadgamala etc., are performed in Ekantham i.e., the doors of Bhramaramba temple remain closed and Archakas themselves performed poojas and there will not be usual darshanam at that time. In the evening a man dressed in saree like a woman comes to the temple to offer Mangala Aarathi to the Goddess and at time the temple doors open. After performing of Kumbha Aarathi the Goddess is covered with large quantity of Turmeric and Kumkuma and then Satvikabali i.e., Kumbham (large quantity of cooked rice), breaking of Pumpkins, Coconuts on a large number and more than 50 thousands of lemons etc., are offered to Goddess.On this day the local tribal people called as Chenchus themselves engage in tribe dances before the Goddess and their prominence is much more in the celebrations.At the afternoon of Kumbhothsavam day Annabhishekam is performed to God Mallikarjuna and after this the deity is covered with curd rice and temple doors remain closed till the early hours of next day.
Makara Sankranthi: These Utsavams are performed on the occasion of Makara Sankramanam and are celebrated for a period of seven days in the month of Pushyam (the 10th month of Indian Calendar) which falls in the month of January.
Karthika Mahothsavam: Karthikam, the 8th month of Indian Calendar is said to be the most auspicious month. On the important days of this month like Mondays, full moon day etc., a large number of lamps are lighted in the temple premises. On the full moon day of the month bonfire is performed in the temple. It is believed that by mere seeing the said bonfire one can get clear of from all sins.
Sravana mahothsavams: These festivals are performed in Sravanam (August / September) the 5th month of Indian Calendar when special poojas are offered. The special feature of this festival is that Shiva Namah music is performed round the clock continuously throughout the month.
Dr. Ramesh Chandra Panda is a retired Civil Servant and former Judge in the Central Administrative Tribunal. He belongs to the 1972 batch of IAS in Tamil Nadu Cadre where he held many important assignments including long spells heading the departments of Education, Agriculture and Rural Development. He retired from the Government of India as Secretary, Ministry of Heavy Industries and Public Enterprises in 2008 and worked in CAT Principal Bench in Delhi for the next five years. He is the Founder MD of OMFED. He had earned an excellent reputation as an efficient and result oriented officer during his illustrious career in civil service.
Dr. Panda lives in Bhubaneswar. A Ph. D. in Economics, he spends his time in scholarly pursuits, particularly in the fields of Spiritualism and Indian Cultural Heritage. He is a regular contributor to the Odia magazine Saswata Bharat and the English paper Economic and Political Daily.
It is said that, when God created woman, He collected all valuable, beautiful, soft and sweet materials and made her.
While taking care of brain He consulted Vishwakarma, the Divine architect, to embody some centres having special qualities. Vishwakarma suggested to add three special centres in the brain of a woman, a shopping centre along with two subordinate centres, sobbing centre and showy centre. God asked Vishwakarma how these three centers will work.
Vishwakarma explained that no husband will complain if his wife looks beautiful, rather he will feel proud.
To look more beautiful a beautiful woman already made so by you, should get a platform to show her talent. For example a marriage party, a parent's day meeting, mother's day celebration, farewell party hosted for her husband, so on and so forth. For this she needs shopping to buy saree / costumes, cosmetics and visit parlour.
So shopping centre will be the dominant centre and other two centres will be recessive centres.
God said, "I agree to your fantastic proposal. But from where the woman will get the money?"
Vishwakarma explained, "You can not be partial. You have to do something for the men.
You create a debit card centre in man. If by chance the husband refuses to pay, the third centre i.e; sobbing centre of the wife will work.
This will create a reflex action and activate his debit card centre. Problem is over. No husband likes to see his beloved shedding tears for these silly reasons."
Dr Bhagirathi Kar, before becoming a professor had joined the army ( permanent commission ). To start with, he stayed with his wife before his family expanded. In the army there are certain protocols which are followed not only for the officers but for their better halves. Dr Kar was from a remote village and his wife was from a city. Mrs Kar could adjust to the new situation more easily than her husband.
So it took some time to learn the new traditions.
Particularly it was difficult to attend a club in the beginning but everything followed suit.
Prof Kar regularly accompanies his wife during shopping, but he seldom enters into the mall. He prefers to stay back in the car and loves listening to the music for hours together. There is a famous jewellery shop in Ahmadabad where Mrs Kar regularly does her shopping. One day they went there to buy a pair of new ear rings, exchanging some old ornaments. As usual Dr Kar remained outside and Madam went in. Observing this regularly, the owner of the shop came down and politely invited Dr Kar to come inside. Knowing that Dr Kar was from army he extended his hearty welcome to him and saluted him as he was a man of two noble professions - being a doctor and from the Army.
As it was a summer Sunday afternoon, there was not much of rush. With a glass of cold drink in hand both chatted for an hour or so. Still then Madam was not free. She was very much absorbed in selecting the ear rings.
Prof Kar had never observed such patience in his wife at home. He was really impressed as well as surprised. Then with a serious voice asked, "How much time?"
"Just a few more minutes",was the reply .
The experienced owner knew how much is a "few minutes."
He started talking about his business. Dr Kar out of curiosity asked, " How do you deal with such customers, who can spend hours together to purchase a pair of ear rings?"The owner replied, "Putting an ice box on our head and evergreen smile on our face we answer all queries very politely. We know she is not the only customer who tests our patience, this is very much a regular and usual practice of ours. We deal with hundreds of such customers daily. We know we are always on the positive side whether you purchase or not. When we are profiting from you anyway, we should not do something in a hurry. We have to show the quality of our salesmanship, or else we will be loser."
Prof Kar who had no idea of business or shopping, learnt a great lesson on that day. "WHERE THERE IS PATIENCE THERE IS LAXMI."
Prof Gangadhar Sahoo is a well-known Gynaecologist. He is a columnist and an astute Academician. He was the Professor and HOD of O&G Department of VSS MEDICAL COLLEGE, Burla.He is at present occupying the prestigious post of DEAN, IMS & SUM HOSPITAL, BHUBANESWAR and the National Vice President of ISOPARB (INDIAN SOCIETY OF PERINATOLOGY AND REPRODUCTIVE BIOLOGY). He has been awarded the BEST TEACHER AWARD of VSS MEDICAL COLLEGE,BURLA in 2013. He has contributed CHAPTERS in 13 books and more than 100 Scientific Articles in State, National and International Journals of high repute. He is a National Faculty in National Level and delivered more than 200 Lectures in Scientific Conventions.He was adjudged the BEST NATIONAL SPEAKER in ISOPARB NATIONAL CONVENTION in 2016..
To you, we four were always your own sons;
You never differentiated between us even once!
For me and my loving brothers,
All three of you were our mothers!
Why oh why, oh mother mine,
After being so loving and divine,
What came over you, oh my mother,
Your insecurity and greed killed father?!
Long back, our father granted you just two boons;
You’ve exercised them now asking for several moons!
Why has power become more important to you?
Why haven’t you given us and family our just due?
Why have you given justice, fair play and love a go
Just to assuage your sense of insecurity and ego?
Oh, you are not really so ignorant, didn’t you know,
That your insecurity will cast a deep, dark shadow
On relationships and bonds forged long time ago?
Why mother, why this selfishness? Why this greed?
At the cost of love, affection, trust and family, indeed?
My desire to remain Rama’s shadow, I never flaunted,
But then, shouldn’t you have asked me what I wanted?
All I wanted and ever want is to remain at Rama’s feet
And serve Him and protect Him from all ill and deceit.
Here I am, designated by you to occupy the Ayodhya throne
That is rightfully my brother Rama’s, only His, His very own!
Never ever will I occupy a throne that is not meant for me
Though absent, Rama is still the King and I His protégé!
Henceforth, even good stepmothers will be viewed suspiciously,
Your treacherous act is forever etched in the psyche of posterity.
Thus, lamented the distraught Prince Bharat, the brother of Rama,
As he set out to bring Him, Seeta and Lakshman back to Ayodhya!
(Inspired from the great Indian Epic ‘Ramayana)
Padmaja Iyengar-Paddy, formerly a senior banker, an urban governance consultant and the Honorary Literary Advisor of CCVA, Vijayawada, is currently an Advisory Panel Member, ISISAR, Kolkata, and the Editorial Counselor-India, International Writers’ Journal, USA. Her maiden poetry collection ‘P-En-Chants’ has been recognized as a Unique Record of Excellence by the India Book of Records for its never-before-attempted movie reviews and management topics in rhyming poetry. Paddy’s poems, articles and short stories, some of them prize winners are published in various anthologies, newspapers, e-zines and print journals. A recipient of several awards, Paddy has compiled and edited 6 international multilingual poetry anthologies of which ‘Amaravati Poetic Prism’ 2016 to 2019 have been recognized by the Limca Book of Records (Published by Coca Cola India) as “Poetry Anthology in Most Languages. Paddy writes for pleasure and finds humour in everything, P.G. Wodehouse being her favorite!
(Lodhi Estate Bungalow)
5th February 2012
It was a cold winter evening of Delhi. A close friend of ours had organised a party in the sprawling lawn of his Lodhi estate bungalow. It was a cosy ambience with beautiful lighting arrangements in the garden. There were many invitees, known and unknown.
While the party was going on, a smart handsome chap in his early fifties approached me and asked, ”Do you recognise me”? I fumbled and couldn’t make out immediately. The voice sounded a bit familiar which took me back down my memory lane.
Ah! I recollected, he was Alok, my classmate during post-graduation, the lanky darkish boy of 20/21 who has turned to be a smart handsome looking man! After a pause, I reciprocated. With lot of enthusiasm, he remarked, “What did you do in life? Spoilt your career by just sitting at home. Look at my wife, such an enterprising lady. I gave her all the opportunity and scope to grow and achieve everything she could."
I smiled at the question he put. I did not want to react to his pride, rather I enjoyed in listening to him. His body language spoke everything about his arrogance as well as his ego.
(Kanchenjunga mountains)
But later on, that question baffled me to analyse myself and my journey over the years and I thought of writing something about it.
In the year 1978 I was doing my post-graduation. In the month of April of that year my marriage had been finalised. The mood and feelings suddenly got changed. My young heart of the time had started floating in the dreamland of imagination.
Five months later.
It was a bright sunny afternoon of September in Vanivihar, my University campus. I was doing an experiment in our Physics Lab. In the meantime our laboratory assistant Lingaraj Babu came and told me "Someone has come to meet you and is waiting in the class room ". I was surprised! I went with curiosity and little nervousness to meet the unknown man. The unknown person was none other than my husband who could read my face and my anxiety. He told smilingly, “Relax, there is nothing to get worried, I have come all the way from Burdwan to mention this. Do not come to me with the expectations like officers enjoy in Orissa. There is still time to go back ". This enchanted heart of mine which was dancing in the dream land of colourful imagination could not understand the deeper meaning of these words at that time.
Brought up in the shadow of a very strict mother, a liberal loving father and two protective brothers this young girl in her early twenties, that time hardly knew anything about the material world or about human relationships except studies. Unlike today, there was no distraction of electronic gadgets. There was only interactions with few like-minded friends.
After marriage in 1979, I came with my husband to a small subdivision of West Bengal called Bishnupur. The colourful ambience of the big bungalow with so many support system at home attracted me. A seed of a feeling of staying comfortably which was sown in my fertile emotional soil by my father appeared to have sprouted and I felt like an empress of a little kingdom. But what a contrast! I found my husband to be a self-disciplined and sincere man who loves doing his work only, it may be of any kind. Moreover in that small place there was hardly anything to do. Hence I developed an interest in cooking which my mother did not like. She used to tease me saying "my daughter has joined ICS - Indian Cooking Service.” In addition to that our daughter was born within a year of our marriage. My mother's disappointment crossed the limit. Being a good student, my parents were too ambitious about my career particularly my mother, though I completed my post-graduation after our daughter was born .
We moved to different places according to my husband's posting. Months went by, years passed without me doing anything productive. I used to be a silent listener to my mother that I did not do anything. She used to give examples of my friends who had nicely established themselves.
(DM Bungalow Darjeeling)
Afterwards, when my husband was posted in Nadia, I got an opportunity to learn Rabindra Sangeet and got a chance to sing in All India Radio as a non-Bengali singer. My father could hear my singing in his hospital bed far away at Cuttack. He felt so happy that afterwards he mentioned, “you have given me immense pleasure in singing Rabindra Sangeet than studying Physics". I accepted this as a reward for myself. Besides learning Rabindra Sangeet, I developed an interest in gardening there. Staying in a mansion like huge bungalow, surrounded by mango orchards, litchi trees, rice and wheat fields, and fish ponds spread across 15 acres of land, used to give me tremendous opportunity to learn about the flora and fauna of that place. I grew many varieties of seasonal flowers in our front garden. It was such a beautiful sight! Every time we had guests at home, they used to take a tour of the garden and appreciated our efforts.
After Nadia, we went to Darjeeling where I studied B.Ed. as well as Computer Science. I always feel privileged to stay in these two places. Mayapur is 25 km away from Nadia which is the head quarter of ISKCON and I got the opportunity to be associated with ISKCON since then. And what to say about Darjeeling, the view of the snow clad mountains from our bedroom was heavenly. I could sense the divinity of nature in that atmosphere.
Moreover I came across many of the dignitaries and great personalities during that period. To name the few who had influenced me, the Nobel laureate Mother Teresa, B. K. Birla that time the eldest member of the Birla's, Nurul Hasan, the then Governor of Bengal. So down to earth were these people, it was difficult to comprehend.
A Day with Mother Teresa
After a glamorous life of vibrant Darjeeling, we came to a peaceful life of Kolkata, the city of joy. West Bengal was under communist Government where most of the ministers were very simple unlike other states, with the exception of Jyoti Babu, the then Chief Minister of West Bengal. We had the privilege of inviting him over for dinner at Darjeeling. Inspite of his stature, he used to look top to bottom an aristocrat and a soft spoken man. Couple of occasions we were invited for dinner by my husband’s minister at his residence. Minister’s wife was working as an assistant far away from Kolkata at Siliguri, though the minister had already served for two terms. She was so nice that she herself cooked for us and served us like a typical Bengali lady which shows their humble culture. Her simplicity was unimaginable. The décor of the house was also equally simple.
At Kolkata, I started teaching at home. My first student was my daughter who was doing exceedingly well in her studies, especially in Maths. She was used get full marks in Maths and that’s how one of her classmate's mother requested me to teach Maths to her daughter. When she came to me, she used to get marks in her thirties. In four months her marks went up to 50. In six months, it went up to 70. So her marks went up in Arithmetic Progression with time! After that there was no looking back. Students started pouring in. What a satisfaction! The performance of the students showed my sincerity and efficiency as a teacher. My reputation as a good teacher spread like fire. I had taught for eight years when my husband got transferred to Delhi. My tempo of teaching which was picking up day by day came to a halt. Many students as well as their parents were disappointed at my leaving Kolkata.
My life went on, always doing something or other. Sometimes I participated in many small events like flower arrangements and interior decorations etc. In these events I came out successful. On couple of occasions I got Ist prize among hundred and odd participants. However, whichever field I was interested in, turned out to be good through God's grace. During our Delhi stay, I taught few slum children too for a couple of years.
After staying with a person on whom power and position did not have any impact nor who believes in publicity, I never felt like having a career of my own. Rather always tried to utilise the slightest opportunities of various aspects which came before me. In the long run, I became a jack of many trades, may not be master of anything. I may not have a successful career but definitely a satisfying journey!
This write up is dedicated to my classmates of Physics during post-graduation who now might be curious to know about my journey over the years.
Sunanda Pradhan is an enterprising lady who keeps interest in various facets of life. She wants to be amidst nature whenever given an opportunity, whether it is on top of a calm mountain or beside a tranquil sea beach. Perhaps those moments help her in expressing herself the best. She likes to spend her time taking care of her balcony garden and reading books on philosophy. She also enjoys the fun moments spent with her two grandsons and teaches them the values of life.
Destiny unfolds
Yet again
Hope shuffled
Dices thrown
The game of life
Played
To collect ephemeral victories...
Between start and finish
Do we ever wait for tired runners, to catch their breath
Do we offer a glass of water, to the parched tongues
We run faster, not knowing where we are heading to
All we need, is to be faster
Speed! Haste! Quick!
Sigh!
The game of life, is won
Not in speed
But, in an unruffled pace
When the soul blooms in peace, and
Eyes smile at the person in the mirror
When the heart whispers, "Am happy, am full of love!"
Life is neither a game, nor a race
Life, is in moments when time 's eyes well up, and
Our names are tattooed by Time, on eternity's chest...
Pigeons
Hundreds of them
Take flight
As the first shower
Lands on the golden sand
They carry
Footprints of memories
Stuck to their feet
Scatter them as they fly
Upon another slice of earth
And
One day
When we walk together
By that riverside
We shall find
Those tiny plants
Growing
Like stencils of our souls
Deeply rooted
In the soil
That have some grains
Of the seashore sand
Carrying the scents
Of our conversations...
Leaving our footprints
Eyes quivering in tears
We begin again
In gratitude
To flow like the river
And merge with the ocean
Of love, and light.
Madhumathi is an ardent lover of Nature, Poetry(English and Tamil), Photography, and Music, Madhumathi believes writing is a soulful journey of weaving one's emotions and thoughts, having a kaleidoscopic view of life through poetry. She experiences Metamorphosis through writing. Nature is her eternal muse and elixir. Poetry, to Madhumathi, is a way of life, and loves to leave heartprints behind in gratitude, through her words. She strongly believes in the therapeutic power of words, that plant love, hope, and enable a deep healing. Madhumathi loves to spread mental health awareness through writing, breaking the stigma, and takes part in related activities, too.
Madhumathi's poems are published with the Poetry Society India in their AIPC anthologies 2015, 16, and 17, the multilingual anthology 'Poetic Prism' 2015(Tamil and English), Chennai Poets' Circle's 'Efflorescence' 2018, 2019, India Poetry Circle's 'Madras Hues Myriad Views'(2019) celebrating the spirit and glory of Madras, in the UGC approved e-journal Muse India, in IWJ-International Writers' Journal (2020), and e- zines Our Poetry Archive(OPA), and Storizen.
Blog for Madhumathi's Poems :https://multicoloredmoon.wordpress.com/, http://mazhaimozhimounam.blogspot.com/?m=1
At crack of dawn on the first cry of the rooster Dhanpati Khara, one time millionaire of village Dumbaguda woke up to a throbbing head ache. The insides of his hut were still dark but his accustomed hand groped around and found the object of desire, a bottle of country liquor. Half of the contents were used the previous night. Dhanpati sat up on the floor and emptied the remaining liquor down his throat. He lighted a beedi and the darkness around him was banished briefly by the glowing match stick. The light reflected for a moment on things around him, his wife and two children sleeping on the grass bed spread on the floor, few tattered clothes hanging from a rope tied between two walls of his cottage, a stack of bricks fashioned into a chullah his wife used to cook on, few shapeless blackened utensils. Dhanpati drew deeply at his beedi and the glow shone on his creased face and his eyes. Could one decipher what that face gave out? Was it happiness? Worries? Did it give away any signs of any kind of remorse? You will be disappointed if you ever tried to read any expression on the face of Dhanpati. Nobody ever could claim to have seen Dhanpati thinking. In his life there was no such word as tomorrow.
Dhanpati, our hero of the story now must hasten to go to the village stream and complete his morning rituals. He had to take a herd of a hundred cattle to graze in the field. In return the villagers would be paying him some amount in cash and some in kind. He made a living out of that. The proceeds were just sufficient to feed him two square meals a day and also a bottle of country liquor. People who cared to know about Dhanpati could never ever swear to know the priorities Dhanpati gave between food and liquor.
At this point you must know that Dhanpati was a lakhpati just a few months back. True to his name Dhanpati had a bank account which had about eighteen lakhs rupees as opening balance. Some detractors of him dispute the figure and speculate it to be close to twenty lakhs. But let’s rely on more reliable information else our story may get off track.
You will find many table mountains in Koraput, the high land of Odisha. These mountains rose to about four thousand to five thousand feet above the sea level and the top of the mountains were vast flat lands. Due to their typical shape they were called Table Mountains. Table Mountains were a treasure house of pyrite, a mineral form of Bauxite which yield world class Alumina. Dhanpati’s village was on foothills of one such mountain. But it was a remote village having no roads, no electricity, no schools, no hospitals. People lived off partly from the crops they grew on slopes of the hills and partly from various types of food stuff they got from jungles around them. Dhanpati had a substantial patch of land, but it was of little use as it was on slopes of a hill with no way of irrigation. Dhanpati grazed the village cattle just like his father did. But they all lived happily. At end of day, when the sun went down, they all got intoxicated by consuming liquor and sent large part of the night dancing to beats of drums. Men women alike, they danced and made merry like there was no tomorrow.
Everything went well till one fine morning they saw a group of people clad in pants and shirts walking with some strange looking machines. They were accompanied by the revenue babu and also local constable. Things started happening at a quick pace and in six months time, a road was laid to their village. Few boxes big enough as houses were put up near their village. It dawned upon Dhanpati that a company will set up a big plant to extract something called aluminium from the mountain near their village. The villagers were thrilled to see so much activity around them. Cars, trucks, bikes, giant excavators, machines … Dhanpati quickly learnt to recognize the vehicles and the purpose they were for. Soon a new bank and a post office started in the company area.
The company acquired lands from villagers and paid compensation to villagers. Their village Sarpanch declared that the company has best R&R policy and is giving best compensation one could imagine. Dhanpati had two patches of land.
Dhanpati went to the bank and opened an account. He could understand little of the procedure he was made to go through in the bank. He kept putting his thumb impression on papers and In two days time, all villagers became jubilant as most of them had become lakhpatis. Each of the villagers had in their bank account lakhs and lakhs of rupees. Dhanpati was one of biggest beneficiary and his account was credited with eighteen lakhs rupees and still more after a few days.
How much money Dhanpati get? He didn’t understand. He only got a small notebook by the bank and he was told that the amount was written in the notebook. He quickly learnt to call the note book as passbook. He wished to have all money to hold in his hand. But the babus in the bank laughed at him and said that he shall not be able to carry the load of all money that was in his account.
Sukru, his nephew who had witnessed the conversation of Dhanpati with the bank clerks would narrate the incident like this.
“Why do you look so gloomy Dhanpati ?” Quizzed the bank clerk.
“Where is the money the company promised to give me? This is only a bunch of papers” Dhanpati said to the clerk showing the passbook.
“The money is with us and you can withdraw any amount as and when you like” Answered the clerk smiling at seeing the colossal ignorance of Dhanpati.
“Then give me all the money now, why should you keep my money?”, Dhanpati demanded looking worried.
“You can’t take all money by yourself. You will need a truck” the bank clerk said enjoying the look of bewilderment on Dhanpati’s face.
“How much money do I have?” asked Dhanpati.
“for next fifty years and more you can do nothing and enjoy all pleasures of life” Said the clerk.
“How much is fifty years?” asked Dhanpati.
“In that many years your son will be as old as you” the bank clerk tried to help Dhanpati.
Dhanpati came out of the bank with a look of dis-satisfaction.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Dhanpati turned up at the bank next day and with help of bank clerk withdrew a hundred rupees. For the first time in his life he was holding a hundred rupee note in his hand. And the money was his own. He could spend it anyway he liked.
He ate sumptuous snacks at the Tiffin center outside the bank. He asked the shop owner to pack more snacks to take home. On way back home, he got drunk with country liquor. When he got home, his wife and children were waiting for him to see the money and enjoy the snacks. They were so happy.
Next day he went to the bank and withdrew two hundred rupees and bought some toys for the children and saree, hairpin, scented oil, soap for his wife. On the way back, he got drunk to teeth and somehow managed to reach home. His wife and children were so happy to see the goodies.
Next day when he went to bank and withdrew more money, he asked the clerk, how much money is balance in his account. The clerk laughed and told him not to worry as the balance has become more due to interest added. Dhanpati could not understand how the money has increased even though he had withdrawn three hundred rupees. He thanked the bank, thanked the company. He withdrew five hundred rupees that day and bought a radio set for himself, a small tri-cycle for his children.
This became a routine for Dhanpati. The whole locality knew which villager received how much compensation and each was busy to handle the money in his own way. The company had offered employment to all who wished to join. Dhanpati had outright rejected the offer and claimed that working in the company’s lawn as a gardener was far less dignified than growing crops in his own field.
The company had construed a boundary wall around the plant and their village got cut-off from the bazaar. One had to take a roundabout road to reach the bazaar. The bank had given him one ATM card to withdraw money. Dhanpati had learnt to drink foreign liquor and no more touched the country liquor he so fondly used to drink. Everyone in the locality knew that Dhanpati was one of big beneficiary of compensation money and where ever he went he was greeted, offered chair to sit on, his opinion sought and sometimes his patronization sought for myriad festivals, football tournament etc etc.
Dhanpati never said no to anyone and donated liberally. He had hired an auto driven by a local youth to carry him every morning from village to the market and ferry him back to village when he was drunk and out. The ATM card posed a trouble for Dhanpati and he found a solution by handing it over to the Auto wala youth. If he needed money, he just asked the boy to stop at ATM and take the money out.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Years passed, everyone in village Dumbaguda made spectacular progress. Most of them moved out of village to the bazaar, built their new homes there. Dhanpati was too busy with his trips to the wine shop and the hotel. He was now attending the local football matches and volleyball matches as chief patron member. He wore sparkling polyester dress and colorful turbans. Wore black goggles day in and day out. He smoked branded cigarettes, sprayed costly perfume on himself.
The auto wala had purchased a car now and was fully engaged to ferry Dhanpati between village and bazaar.
One fine morning Dhanpati stopped at the ATM and asked the boy to go and encash ten thousand rupees. The boy came back crest fallen and informed Dhanpati that there is no balance in the account.
Dhanpati could understand little of where the money went. He rushed to the bank and confronted the same clerk. The clerk was happy to see their valued customer and greeted him
“Sir, how can I help you?”, the clerk said.
“There is no money in my ATM!!! How can it be? You said it would last till my son became my age”, Dhanpati asked.
“Let me check sir”, the clerk punched few keys on his computer.
He looked concerned and looked at Dhanpati few times. Put on his glasses and checked the figures again.
“Sir, you have exhausted all your money and there’s only two thousand rupees left in your account” the clerk said.
“But you said that the money can never be exhausted”.
“It could never be exhausted if you spent it wisely”.
And when Dhanpati came out of the Bank, the car was missing along with the driver.
Dhanpati did not waste time searching for the boy who had been like a shadow of his for the past so many years. He started walking towards Dumbaguda. He removed his black goggles and gave it to the first man he met on the street. The man was not startled, as Dhanpati was famous for his generosity. Dhanpati started removing his dress one by one as he kept walking towards his village. And giving it away to the first man he sighted. By the time he reached home, he was Dhanpati the cattle herdsman of Dumbaguda village.
Er.Sunil Kumar Biswal is a graduate Electrical Engineer and an entrepreneur. He is based in Sunabeda in Koraput District of Odisha. His other interests are HAM Radio (an active HAM with call sign VU2MBS) , Amateur Astronomy (he conducts sky watching programs for interested persons/groups) , Photography and a little bit of writing on diverse topics. He has a passion for communicating science to common man in a simple terms and often gives talks in Electronic media including All India Radio, Radio Koraput. He can be reached at sunilbiswal@hotmail.com
The Lamp of Love
kindles the flame within
shines brighter, longer
spreads the
Lamp of knowledge
that's not fragmented
by pride or prejudice
Proliferates goodwill in minds
Ignites more hearts
with positivity and solidarity
The Lamp of Love!!
(Written on National Education Day- November 11, 2020. Every year since 2008, November 11 is celebrated as Education Day to commemorate the birth anniversary of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, independent India's first Education Minister....)
Hema Ravi is a freelance trainer for IELTS and Communicative English. Her poetic publications include haiku, tanka, free verse and metrical verses. Her write ups have been published in the Hindu, New Indian Express, Femina, Woman's Era, and several online and print journals; a few haiku and form poems have been prize winners. She is a permanent contributor to the 'Destine Literare' (Canada). She is the author of ‘Everyday English,’ ‘Write Right Handwriting Series1,2,3,’ co-author of Sing Along Indian Rhymes’ and ‘Everyday Hindi.’ Her "Everyday English with Hema," a series of English lessons are broadcast by the Kalpakkam Community Radio.
Ravi N is a Retired IT Professional (CMC Limted/Tata Consultancy Services ,Chennai). During his professional career spanning 35 odd years he had handled IT Projects of national Importance like Indian Railways Passenger Reservation system, Finger Print Criminal Tracking System (Chennai Police),IT Infrastructure Manangement for Nationalized Banks etc. Post retirement in December 2015, he has been spending time pursuing interests close to his heart-Indian Culture and Spirituality, listening to Indian and Western Classical Music, besides taking up Photography as a hobby. He revels in nature walks, bird watching and nature photography.
He loves to share his knowledge and experience with others.
LAMENT OF AN EMPTY SWING
Lt. Gen. N. P. Padhi, PVSM, VSM (Retd.)
Abandoned I hang, my chains dangling
My seat empty, I sway in sadness
The gentle breeze whispers, caressing
Keep faith, this too shall quickly pass
The noise of children no more heard
And absent the laughter of the newlywed,F
Full of dreams and hopes of life ahead
All from my memory seem to fade
The giggles of happy maidens fair
As they celebrate women hood
Chewing betel leaves in braided hair
Swinging happily in gay mood
Oh, the silence is killing my dear,
The Merry-go-round, in grief is sad
The slide has gone to deep slumber
And what of the See Saw, isn't he dead?
Hey you contagion, have you no shame?
But for the glance of few passing curs
We lie abandoned, life is not of the same,
Gay abundance, for no fault of ours
The day of revenge will soon come
Mankind will trounce you and survive
Hear you Imp, Life is a zero sum game
We shall celebrate victory and thrive
The children will be back, with friends anew
Romance will return with the newly wed
Bride seated, gently pushed by her beau
Maidens fair will swing in gay mood
You will be long gone, cursed in history
Wrecking havoc, killing millions innocent
For you tiny virus, no headstone, no obituary
Shame on you blighter, it serves you right.
DIGNITY OF LABOUR
Lt. Gen. N. P. Padhi, PVSM, VSM (Retd.)
Manas babu was a senior auditor in the state administration. Upon retiring, he shifted to his apartment in ‘Nirmala Heights’, a housing colony near Saileshwari Vihar. The colony consisted of four compact towers, each tower six stories tall, with stilt parking facility and housing eight 3 BHK flats on each floor. He was one of the first to occupy the flats.
Munna belonged to a town about a hundred kilometers from Bhubaneswar. He had left his wife back home to come to the city in search of work. He was an electrician by trade and had found employment with the builder at Nirmala Heights. He had worked on all the external and internal electrical work in the colony. When the electrical works were completed in the project, the builder not requiring his services fired Munna.
Taking this setback in his stride and desperate to make a living for his family, he decided to freelance. He had made a name for himself while working at Nirmala Heights and most people liked his work. So, he started by undertaking electrical work as per the requirements of the residents over there. These projects included provision of extra power points, fixing of fans, geysers, light fittings, drawing up the TV cable etc. Seeing how useful he was to the residents, when the RWA (Residents’ Welfare Association) was formed, it was decided to employ Munna to maintain the streetlights and operate the generators as a contractual employee of the Society.
Manas babu, who through years of auditing of public expenditure had imbibed the habit of questioning every financial decision, though expressed his opposition to this decision of the RWA.
“He is earning a lot of money, attending to maintenance and repair work in the apartments. He should provide free services to the RWA.” He posted his objection in the WhatsApp group of the RWA.
The RWA contended that the requirement to operate the generator and looking after electrification of common areas required a full-time employee. Any service provided by him to individual households was beyond his official charter of duties, hence, to be paid by concerned households. This resulted in a heated argument amongst the residents, some supporting and others opposing the stand of the Secretary RWA. However, the Secretary RWA prevailed upon the others and Munna was hired at a monthly salary of Rupees ten Thousand. In addition, he was also provided rent free accommodation in the campus, to be shared with other employees of the Society. Manas babu, had also suggested employing a handyman, who could carry out repair and maintenance of both the plumbing and electric works. This he said would result in savings to the Society. This suggestion was turned down outright by the RWA in their monthly meeting.
When cyclone Fani hit the city in 2019, the residents of Nirmala Heights continued to receive controlled power supply from the generators, while most of the city was bereft of electricity for ten to fifteen days. The RWA, noticing Munna’s contribution decided to raise Munna’s salary by Rupees Five Hundred per month. Manas babu was again in the forefront, objecting to the raise. He even accused the RWA of spending public money thoughtlessly. He was joined by a couple of residents, who also argued that the annual raise of three percent had just been granted to all contractual employees of the society. This time too, the Secretary RWA managed to justify the raise and peace was restored in the colony.
The Society’s plumber Ramu and Munna were good friends and often worked together. Association with Munna, had taught Ramu how to repair minor electric faults, operate the generator sets and maintain the streetlights. In the absence of one, on short leave or sickness, the other could manage routine outages. Manas babu, though not an elected member of the RWA Committee was always on a faultfinding spree with the functioning of the electrician. If a streetlight was not functioning or there was a delay in switching the generator during power outage, Manas babu was the first to complain.
On 23 March 2020, Munna proceeded home to attend a marriage ceremony in the family with a commitment to return by the 24th. Due to an urgent family commitment, he decided to extend his leave by a day and return on the 25th instead. As bad luck would have it, the lockdown was declared effective midnight 24thMarch and Munna could not move out of his house to travel back. After three weeks, the lock down was further extended as the pandemic spread across the country. To make matters worse, Munna’s village was identified as a red zone and declared as a Containment Zone.
During this period, there was a fault in the incoming electric supply at Nirmala Heights, which resulted in over voltage in the domestic supply. Electrical appliances and circuits in a few houses were damaged due to this voltage surge. Manas babu himself suffered major damage to some ceiling lights and the wiring in one of his bedrooms. Immediately enough, he called Ramu to carry out the repairs, who arrived and changed the damaged ceiling lights. After detecting a short circuit in the wiring of the bedroom, he opined that the electric wire needed replacement, which needed the expertise of Munna.
Not having any other option, Manas babu was forced to wait for Munna to return from his village. Calling upon another electrician, who was not familiar with the circuit layout did not seem wise. His wife also was not in favour of engaging any outsider, apprehensive that he may be a carrier of the lethal Corona virus. Any way, the two of them did not need that bed room, which was essentially used by their children when they came home on leave.
Munna returned from his village a month after this incident. On arrival, he was placed under isolation in the colony, for a week since he had come back from a red zone. After his quarantine, Munna spent the next three days attending to more critical repairs in the colony and turned up on the fourth day at Manas babu’s flat, who breathed a sigh of relief upon his appearance. Munna and Ramu together completed the repair over two sessions of two hours each. A relieved man, Manas babu paid them five hundred rupees more than the charges levied.
The RWA committee’s finances had been hit hard by the pandemic as well. During their next meeting, one of the topics of contention was the payment of Munna’s salary, for the two months of work that he had missed due to the lockdown. After all, it did not seem logical to pay someone for work not performed. According to them, this would set a bad example for other employees and give them a good excuse to miss work and yet expect to get paid.
This time however, Manas babu who was still smarting up from his own inconvenient experience was in the forefront, supporting Munna .He was able to convince the committee to make the payment, through his sheer persistence. The same Manas Babu who had fought tooth and nail to have Munna’s salary reduced was singing a different tune now.
“This is an unprecedented situation. After all, we have to be humane and look after our employees. This is a global pandemic and they have their families to feed too.” He had argued.
Remarkably enough, the tables had turned rapidly in Munna’s favor. All it took was a couple of months to make Manas Babu realise the true dignity of labour.
An alumnus of Sainik School Bhubaneswar, National Defence Academy, IIT Delhi and Osmania University, Lt Gen N P Padhi was commissioned in the Corps of Engineers in June 1976. During his career spanning 39 years, he held many challenging technical and administrative appointments, namely; Chief Engineer of a Corps, Works Adviser to the Air Headquarters, Chief of Staff of Tri-service Andaman & Nicobar Command, Chief Engineer of Southern Army Command, Director General Works in Ministry of Defence, Chief of Staff of Eastern Army Command. As Director General Weapons and Equipment in the Ministry of Defence, he was responsible for Capital procurement of weapon systems for the Army. Apart from winning the Silver Grenade as the best Young Officer, best officer in Mountain Adventure Course, he won the Gold Medal in BE and a CGPA of 10.0 in M Tech from IIT, Delhi. He was awarded the Harkirat Singh Gold Medal for Excellence in field of Engineering in 2000, Commendations of CISC ( 2005), Chief of Army Staff (2008 and 2010) and Chief of Air Staff( 2009). The officer is recipient of the Vishist Seva Medal from the President of India in 2014 for Distinguished Service of a High Order and the Param Vishist Seva Medal in 2015 from the President of India for Distinguished Service of the Most Exceptional Order. On superannuation in May 2015, he worked as President and Unit Head in a 1980 MW Super Critical Thermal Power Plant at Allahabad.
The dusk nears and lights wane,
Pristine silhouettes of my room
Await your homecoming.
With my tangled tresses
Cascading down the sides of my countenance,
I sit by the door wreathing garlands of memories
With no one but the flickering lamp to my company.
The oil burns and with it the time of my wait.
A sense of content and nervousness
At once runs through my nerves by degrees.
The sooner the clock ticks, the faster beats my heart
And nearer comes the moment of our beautiful union.
Suddenly distracting my ears
From the hum-drums of the instance
A faint sound of footsteps makes itself heard.
The distracting sound gets louder
Becoming more becoming the nearer it gets.
My heart thumps faster,
Pounding to acknowledge your arrival.
The time has come. The wait is over.
I can see you, touch you, feel myself in your arms.
Your eyes: my mirror
Your touch: my senses
Your arms: my safest haven.
I have lived with your bodiless presence for ages.
Today comes the moment of tangibility
And it means my life to me and nothing less.
Ms Akankshya Kar primarily works as a sales trader in the Indian debt market with a reputed Primary Dealer. After completing her B.A(H) in Economics from Miranda House( University of Delhi), she did her PGDM(Banking and Finance) from National Institute of Bank Management, Pune. She has been extremely passionate about poems as a genre and has been writing for a long time now. Some of her poems have been published in the refereed international Journal, the Contemporary Vibes and have been discussed at international forums as well. She is also a trained Indian classical singer and a professionally trained belly dancer.
Memory lost or memory gained?
Where do you stand
In the maze of my memoirs?
Wish I could answer that!
I traverse alone in my memory lane.
You no longer stand beside me,
Nor does the bitterness of your love.
I left you and
Long enough time has passed for me.
To forget, but not forgive.
Do you deserve to be part of my memory?
I think not, else I would not be here
Alone, transcending time and age.
Waiting.
For a face with a halo of darkness to surface.
To shiver in fear and pain.
A dark memory of loss.
A face long lost.
Dr. Preethi Ragasudha is an Assistant Professor of Nutrition at the Amrita Institute of Medical Sciences, Kochi, Kerala. She is passionate about art, literature and poetry
Erudite man brightens the world
with his knowledge and wisdom;
He shines like a shining star ever
when he’s methodical at his task!
He is a denizen of the motherland
amidst riches, joys, and troubles
He strives hard to buy comforts
finds peace in the material world!
Success doesn’t lie in properties
It lies in his attitude towards men
If he loves beings, he receives love
If he hurts them, he surely gets hurt!
If he is concerned, he’s a winner
If he’s generous, he’s a blessing
Success is what he is and how he is
Victory is winning odds and humans!
Mrs. Setaluri Padmavathi, a postgraduate in English Literature with a B.Ed., has over three decades of experience in the field of education and held various positions. Writing has always been her passion that translates itself into poems of different genres, short stories and articles on a variety of themes and topics.
Her poems can be read on her blog setaluripadma.wordpress.com Padmavathi’s poems and other writes regularly appear on Muse India, Boloji.com and poemhunter.com
Venice is famous for the technique of glass blowing where beautiful glasses/vases of different shapes, designs, colours and sizes are produced and tourists make it a point to include a couple in their shopping list and exhibit them proudly in their drawing rooms. Though we did not pick up any, we were keen on visiting Burano island which is famous for its delicate lace making by women .Once we reached the island by a ferry and on alighting we were fascinated to watch amid delicately worked lace table cloths, various motifs and women’s garments displayed in a showroom an elderly woman engrossed in stitching on a tiny fabric. Such was her concentration that she was oblivious of the presence of visitors who closely observed her work with curiosity. She was doing the “Air Stitch,” also known as the ‘Burano’ stitch for a typical table cloth. This intricate lace work we were informed takes several months to complete because of the special skill involved. The best laces in the world come from Venice but little is known about the Burano lace which unlike the Venetian lace and that of Chioggia or Pallestrina which are made on bobbins, is stitched by hand. Since the most valuable part of Burano lace is its needle work, especially its delicate “Air stitch” it costs a minimum of fifty thousand liras if one were to buy a handkerchief (1 dollar is equivalent to 1,500 liras).
What are the various work stages of Burano lace?
A design is drawn first on a paper followed by warping and Guipure (which is a heavy large patterned decorative lace on a fabric foundation). Then a net and a filet (lace with a square mesh and geometrical design) are made and you proceed to make bars (small loops or cross pieces of oversewn threads used for strengthening) which is followed by relief and detachment. Finally comes the “skinning” where the finished lace is separated from the fabric and ready to be used.
The Burano lace, dating back to more than three centuries has an interesting story behind it. Centuries ago young crusaders, before going to the Far East gave a piece of sea weed to their sweethearts as a token of their love. But seaweed had a short life and the girls had to wait day after day for the return of their lovers. They thought of a way to keep it as long as they could. Their fathers’ fishing nets came in useful. All that they required was a needle to reproduce the seaweed on the nets. That is how the Burano lace was born. For years it has been part of the clothing of both men and women and in the 18th century was also widely used for fans, bags and shoes.
Historically, lace first appeared in Venice in the 15th century and the first record of it is a painting of Carpaccio’s (1456-1526). The origin of lace goes back to Magna Grecia (Southern Italy) and Asia Minor from where it reached Venice. Authentic Burano lace originated in1537.
At Burano, in the middle of the square with the characteristic crooked bell-tower (a clock tower built in 1496, upon which two colossal bronze figures strike the hours on a large bell even today) the antique lace gallery, “dalla lidia” is situated. You go in and find a shop which offers the Burano laces made in modern times and antique centre pieces of various shapes and workmanship. At the end of the shop is a collection of fans including one belonging to Louis XIV, the “Sun King” (1638-1715). In the gallery beautiful mats and laces of different ages between 1500 and the present are on display, worked with precious yarns from number 4000 to 40, 40 being the lace yarn being used now-a-days. There is a unique mat that measures 12.80 metres.
The piece de-resistance is exhibited in the first showroom, a light and rare wedding dress, (the only one in the world), all done in needle work in the 18th Century. Also on display is a splendid embroidered handkerchief made on the occasion of Napoleon’s coronation; the workmanship of its design of five eagles forming the Imperial Crown is simply marvelous.
Burano lace has survived the ravages of time and the severe winters when the lagoon around Burano is covered with ice and fishing, the main activity of men folk becomes impossible. The lace makers of the island too get disheartened at such times but the rest of the year they are active with their needle, turning out exquisite bedspread, tablecloths, motifs with the “air stitch.”
N. Meera Raghavendra Rao, a postgraduate in English literature, with a diploma in Journalism and Public Relations is a prolific writer having published more than 2000 contributions in various genres: interviews, humorous essays, travelogues, children’s stories, book reviews and letters to the editor in mainstream newspapers and magazines like The Hindu, Indian Express, Femina, Eve’s Weekly, Woman’s Era, Alive, Ability Foundation etc. Her poems have appeared in Anthologies. She particularly enjoys writing features revolving around life’s experiences and writing in a lighter vein, looking at the lighter side of life which makes us laugh at our own little foibles.
Interviews: Meera has interviewed several leading personalities over AIR and Television and was interviewed by a television channel and various mainstream newspapers and magazines. A write up about her appeared in Tiger Tales, an in house magazine of Tiger Airways ( jan -feb. issue 2012).
Travel: Meera travelled widely both in India and abroad.
Publication of Books: Meera has published ten books, both fiction and non-fiction so far which received a good press. She addressed students of Semester on Sea on a few occasions.
Meera’s husband, Dr. N. Raghavendra Rao writes for I GI GLOBAL , U.S.A.
We never fathom your infinite marvel, Mother,
let our fancy run wild, we paint your visages in contrasting images, blissful and lurid.
Your eternal bounties
sustain us,
yet mundane desires being unfulfilled,
crave for limitless riches,
pray for your grace
for grant of further bounties,
exploit the vast earth with all the unholy means at our command,
ephemeral fools that we are.
Easy preys to temptation,
we defile you,
puny monsters
and shudder at your wrath and retribution,
imagine you fierce and nude like primal nature,
adorned with skulls, machets and radiant tongues,
drinking putrefying wine and blood,
derive sardonic pleasure thinking you dance in wild frenzy, astride on your consort.
We,
ignorant fools
repeat ad nauseum
what a prankster imagined ages ago
and never venture to transcend the confines
of our limited horizons,
Bless us O Mother.
Pradeep Rath, poet, dramatist, essayist, critic, travelogue writer and editor was born on 20th March 1957 and educated at S. K. C. G. College, Paralakhemundi and Khallikote College, Berhampur, Ganjam, Odisha. Author of ten books of drama, one book of poetry, two books of criticism, two books of travelogues and two edited works, Pradeep Rath was a bureaucrat and retired from IAS in 2017. His compendium of critical essays on trends of modernism and post modernism on modern Odia literature and Coffee Table book on Raj Bhavans of Odisha have received wide acclaim.He divides his time in reading, writing and travels..
TELL ME THAT STORY
Ravi Ranganathan
Before going to sleep my little boy
wanted to hear the same story
For the hundredth Time
Though it had no music or logic or rhyme
Only for the security of my voice
It was to fill his ears with a familiar noise
Or else sleep will not visit him .
Tell me, tell me he would plead
With impatience and wide eyed innocence,
Even if I pause for a while he would prod
Go on and on; I would see his closed eyes
Making movements this way and that
But his inner ear will still hear
And my voice would build Beautiful castles
For him in his fairy dream land...
The child in me would then awake
As I caress the soft hair on his angelic head...
Ravi Ranganathan is a retired banker turned poet settled in Chennai. He has to his credit three books of poems entitled “Lyrics of Life” and “Blade of green grass” and “Of Cloudless Climes”. He revels in writing his thought provoking short poems called ‘ Myku’. Loves to write on nature, Life and human mind. His poems are featured regularly in many anthologies. Has won many awards for his poetry including , Sahitya Gaurav award by Literati Cosmos Society, Mathura and Master of creative Impulse award by Philosophyque Poetica.
I forgot the way
To my soul.
If you
Love me,
Walk before me
To my soul.
Hold a
Lamp
In your hand,
For,
All the paths
May be
Dark.
Take a
Bamboo staff as well
To brush away
The cobwebs
That fill the way;
No one walks there
Any longer.
If you still
Love me,
Carry a
Holy Book
With you;
I have forgotten
The formal words
And the rituals
Of parting
From you.
Aboo Jumaila is an upcoming and prolific writer in Malayalam. She is a bank employee from Alapuzha, Kerala.
Did you say that this is
a hunter-gatherer’s trophy,
this inert mass lying in
a pool of blood on ground ?
Then you do not know
a little puddle beckoned
the river beckoned it
the sea beckoned it.
But it spurned the mud,
the grime , the black taste .
It’s beak sought the clouds.
It climbed on and on, its thirst
spurred the wings up and up.
Out of a hundred dreams
may be a solitary comes true,
a single drop from a cloud-mass
may drop on parched beak.
For eternity life is a tortuous wait,
a dream of light and shadow.
And death is yet another dream.
(Image: The words “Buddha”and “ Sakyamuni “ on an Ashokan pillar at Lumbini. Source- Wikipedia Commons)
Abani Udgata ( b. 1956) completed Masters in Political Science from Utkal University in 1979. He joined SAIL as an Executive Trainee for two years. From SAIL he moved on to Reserve Bank of India in 1982. For nearly 34 years. he served in RBI in various capacities as a bank supervisor and regulator and retired as a Principal Chief General Manager in December 2016. During this period, inter alia, he also served as a Member Secretary to important Committees set up by RBI, represented the Bank in international fora, framed policies for bank regulations etc.
Though he had a lifelong passion for literature, post- retirement he has concentrated on writing poetry. He has been awarded Special Commendation Prizes twice in 2017 and 2019 by the Poetry Society of India in all India poetry competitions and the prize winning poems have been anthologised. At present, he is engaged in translating some satirical Odia poems into English.
Nature unlocked her treasure
From the onset of this winter
The loving heart in me perhaps
Hears the alluring bell
Of village sweetmeat vendor
Limps back to marigold days
Of childhood ecstasy in mid-November.
Dewdrops in my garden
On the grass blade shine
Like the nose stud golden
Glittering in the bosom of wrinkles
Of buzzing early love, my grandmother
Who dwells through ravaged time
In intimate reverie with all her care.
The flowering beds rejoice
Abdicating a life profane
In mild heat, bliss solemn.
Early birds greet with necks swollen
Weaving beads of past in mental den
Days of despair seem to wane
Echoing benediction; amen amen.
Human memory matches clear
With pervading glamor, nature
An epic of love in a safe store
Wrapping possibilities; hopes azure.
A feeling of bonhomie or a cold shiver
Depending on the string we pluck for sure
Colors thought, action; rich or poor.
Maybe a failure, lack of order
Deliberate indifference, apathy either
We hardly see life in nature
Treating like a discarded wall hanging
A mere polythene carry bag, a cover
Keep missing the bright full moon
While counting stars in Milky way far.
Born on 14th August 1960, Shri Mishra is a post-graduate in English Literature and has a good number of published poems/articles both in Odiya and English. He was a regular contributor of articles and poems to the English daily, 'Sun Times' published from Bhubaneswar during '90s. As the associate editor of the Odiya literary magazine Sparsha, Mishra's poems, shared mostly now in his facebook account are liked by many
The threads were not visible
In the thick darkness of the night that was getting thicker
The threads needed to be straightened for some use
But knots were naughty
Will you bring me a scissor?
I will cut sudden and salvage some
Is it not said that in situations not easy but difficult or dangerous
The Wise give up the half for the rest
But some voice said, Wait dear wait.
Night before the dawn is the darkest
As the light slowly breaks out, you will see the threads in the knot
And get it loosen one by one.
An exercise that will give you ecstasy unimaginable and unknown
Don't go for shortcuts
Know knots are there to test you your patience, your endurance
Untying them will liberate; will lead to your true emancipation!
Dr. Niranjan Barik is a retired Professor of Political Science from Ravenshaw University, Odisha and is currently attached there on teaching and research on an ICSSR project. He is passionate about literature and writes poems, short stories.
Flower is an expectation of growth,
It gives happiness to us when it reaches its goal.
The first step of a flower
Is a bud of hope,
Slowly it grows with
sunlight, and our care.
Then it dazzles us with its beauty,
It gives succour to many lives;
The butterflies and bees,
And the beetles to suck honey;
They dance with ecstacy and add to the beauty of the flower.
Till the flower withers, and is of no use.
Flower is like our life,
Which is also an expectation of growth.
The first step is an infant's,
It grows in the sunlight of a family's love.
Then it spreads light to
every member.
Alas, like a man losing his teeth,
The petals of the flower fall.
Men and flowers are two living things on earth,
Both of these beautiful forms
sing the joy of life.
Sukanya.V.Kunju is a post graduate student of St.Michael's college, cherthala
Once upon a time in my childhood days, my friend asked our class teacher- 'Sir, December 25 (Xmas) is the smallest day. Why is it called Bada Din (big day) in odisha ?'
He said - 'It is the biggest day in Australia. December is a winter month in India, whereas it is a summer month in Australia. Xmas, celebrated on December 25, is a great day of Christian religion all over the World. During the British reigns, it was called Bada Din in Odisha and continued so'.
He continued -'Not only Australia's days, weather, climate, seasons are different from our country; its indigenous strange animals like Kangaroos and Koalas are also different and unavailable in India (except zoos). Its Aboriginal Australians are unique. It is both a country and continent. There are so many dis-similarities. It is a different world altogether. Funnily, it is called 'country of Kangaroos'. Five centuries ago, it was unknown to the outside World. It was inhabited by the Aboriginals for tens of thousands of years. They were living freely in their natural habitats and were governed by natural law. With the arrival of the British, their freedom was clipped and curtailed. It is the only country in the World, where the indigenous people are not ruling their own country, rather they are being ruled by the immigrants. The original inhabitants of Australia are called Aboriginal Australians'.
Once, my friend said in the classroom - 'Kangaroos are good cricketers'.
Others shouted - 'Kangaroos are animals. How will they play cricket? You fool ! Play with them.'
In the meantime our class teacher came. He told us - 'Stop shouting. Australian cricketers are also called Kangaroos humorously. Australia is an island country in the Southern hemisphere far away from our India in the Northern hemisphere. As I know, you have to fly over the Indian Ocean and the Pacific Ocean to reach Australia. It is difficult for you to reach that new-found-land. Pay attention to your studies. If you like it, see the pictures of Kangaroos, Koalas and Aboriginal Australians'.
My curiosity about Australia was rising and decades were passing by. At last, I booked my trip to Australia through a renowned international tour operator (company) and that also failed. After some days, they canceled the program due to inadequate tourists and refunded my money. However, they had made my Australia visa. My daughter, Ritu booked my flight ticket and my niece, Moni, called me from Sydney, Australia.
I went to Kolkata, then to Kuala Lumpur. It was a day time non-stop 8-hour air journey from Kuala Lumpur to Sydney. It took one day's travel time from Bhubaneswar to Sydney via Kolkata and Kuala Lumpur. While going by air covering a distance of 8000 kilometers, I was stunned to see the beautiful blue waters of the Indian Ocean, the South Pacific Ocean, Tasman Sea and the captivating landscape, sky-kissing blue mountains as well as arid desert zones and luss green wild forests. While the flight was coming down to Kingsford Smith International Airport, Sydney, I looked down through the window and saw our flight landing on water. But it was actually the Sydney Airport runway surrounded by the silent, calm, quiet, waveless water of the sea. Its spectacular scenery was mind-blowing and eye-catching from the flight.
I was alone and a stranger at the airport. After immigration, I came outside. My niece received and took me to her residence by car. She was a software engineer there. I felt homely and happy. My mission was accomplished. We traveled by road, rail, water and air for sightseeing. She was well aware of Australian weather, culture, language, people, places, communication, sightseeing destinations and attractions. She managed everything. I faced no difficulty in enjoying Australia.
It was September 2018 in Australia. The Spring was reigning. The weather was fine. The temperature was balmy with 16-20 degree celsius. The sky was cloudless and transparent blue. Sydney Harbour was calm and quiet. No big waves were coming and going. The gardens, parks, trees, plants were laughing in the blooming flowers. In a nutshell, the natural beauty was breathtaking.
Its 4 seasons are Spring (September- November), Summer (December - February), Autumn (March - May), Winter (June-August). I visited Australia in September to enjoy its Springtime ambience and beauty.
It is the 6th largest country in the World. It's 2.4 times bigger than India. It comprises 6 states: New South Wales, Victoria, Tasmania,
Queensland, South Australia, western Australia. It is an urbanized country with 25 million people and urban areas like Sydney, Canberra, Melbourne, Adelaide, Brisbane, Perth. The name Australia comes from Latin words 'Australis incognita' meaning 'unknown southern land'.
It was founded by the British in 1788. It became a federation in 1901, a free associated country of the British Commonwealth of Nations in 1926 and got full independence in 1986. Though it is now a sovereign country with a government headed by the Prime Minister, the British Queen is still the Monarch of Australia and her representative is the Governor General of Australia.
While moving around Australia, I felt and smelt the British culture, tradition, language (English), religion (Christianity), pattern of government and administration. Hardly I could find the Aboriginal Australians and their culture, tradition, religion, language, ethnicity. Still my search and exploration were going on silently through my travels in Australia.
Sydney is the capital of the state of New South Wales, one of the most flourished business and financial centers of Australia and one of the most important ports in the South Pacific Ocean. Its population is around 5.4 million. Melbourne, the Capital of Victoria, is the cheapest and cleanest city of Australia with a population of around 5 million.To avoid the conflict between both the cities to become the capital, Canberra was made the capital of Australia. Distance of Canberra is around 250 kilometers from Sydney and around 650 kilometers from Melbourne. The cities are well connected by rail, road, air.
Next morning, we came to Port Jackson. It comprises Sydney Harbour, Middle Harbour, North Harbour and Parramatta Rivers. It is an inlet of the Tasman Sea and a natural Harbour of Australia. By cruising, we explored Sydney city, its spectacular sceneries and beautiful islands. It was exciting and thrilling. The iconic Sydney Opera House, Royal Botanic Gardens, Sydney Harbour Bridge, Sydney city are located on it. The Harbour is famous for sailing, swimming, diving and walking around its shore. It is surrounded by miles of shoreline, national parks and spectacular sites. Its sparkling blue waters are fascinating. It is the gateway to other parts of Sydney. I enjoyed its scenic beauty. Its beautiful islands are attractions and destinations of tourists all over the World.
In course of cruising we reached Darling Harbour. It is adjacent to the city center of Sydney. It's a shopping center, recreational and pedestrian precinct. We took our lunch in a restaurant and purchased some goods in a shopping mall. Goods and services were costly.
We walked on the precinct, city centre, harbour shore and reached Sydney Harbour Bridge. We walked to the other side of the iconic bridge and came back. It was a thrilling experience. It is a heritage steel arch bridge across Sydney Harbour. It was opened in 1932. The arch spans 503 meters. The top is 134 meters above the water. It carries rail, vehicular, bicycle and pedestrian traffic between Sydney central business district (CBD) and North Shore. The spectacular Harbour Bridge, Opera House and Harbour are widely regarded as the iconic images of Australia.
We returned to our residence.
Another day, we came to the Sydney Opera House. It is a multi-venue performing arts center. It is one of the 20th century's most famous and distinctive buildings. It was opened in 1973. The building and its surrounds occupy the whole Bennelong Point on Sydney Harbour between Sydney Cove and Farm Cove adjacent to the Sydney central business district and the Royal Botanic Gardens. Performances were presented by numerous performing artists including resident companies: Opera Australia, Sydney Theatre Company, Sydney Symphony Orchestra. We enjoyed one musical performance. As one of the most popular visitor attractions in Australia, the site is visited by more than 8 million people annually. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
We visited Royal Botanic Gardens. It is a 30-hectare (74-acre) heritage garden, event venue and public recreation area located at Farm Cove on Sydney Harbor near the Opera House adjacent to the eastern fringe of the Sydney central district. It is one of the most visited attractions in Sydney. Its plants and flowers are unique.
Traveling by train and bus we reached Bondi beach. It is famous for its fine golden sands, curling waves and quality surf. It is one of the most iconic places of Australia. It is exposed to the Pacific Ocean.
One early morning, we were going to Canberra by train enjoying the natural scenery of Australia. Travel time was around 4 hours. Many of the seats of the interconnected compartments were vacant due to less number of passengers. Wild Kangaroos were roaming freely here and there. They were catching our eyes and attention. Koalas were also seen. I was amazed to see them in their natural habitats. Except zoos, I had never ever seen them elsewhere. They are indigenous to Australia, not found anywhere else in the World. Now, they are, of course, available in almost all the zoos in the World.
An Australian co-passenger was going with me. We were curious about each other. His look and appearance was different from normal Australian people. We were talking to each other. Through our conversation we became known and familiar with each other.
He told me - 'There are 50 million kangaroos and 300 thousand koalas in Australia. The Kangaroos, koalas and Aboriginal Australians are idigenous to Australia, all others are immigrants and foreigners. But the irony is that the indigenous people are languishing, whereas foreigners are reigning in Australia'.
I told him - 'I am an Indian. I have come here to see the Aboriginal Australians and their culture, tradition, habits and habitats, ethnicity as well as the natural beauty of Australia with its flora and fauna. Prior to our independence in 1947, the British had also ruled over us for two centuries'.
Being aware of our similar languishing situation during the British misrule, he was encouraged to Express his sorrowful feelings-'I am an indigenous Australian. My beloved ancestors were Aboriginal Australians. I am an educated Australian and doing a job in Canberra.'
I got the Aboriginal Australian, whom I was searching for so many decades. I asked him - 'Please clarify the difference between Aboriginal Australian and Australian'.
He narrated - 'Our forefathers were the Aboriginal Australians, the original inhabitants of Australia. Before the arrival of the British and other European nationals in the early 17th century, the population of Indgenous Australians or Aboriginal Australians was around one million. They might have originated here or come from Africa /Asia tens of thousands of years ago in the Ice Age when the waters of the oceans and seas were frozen ice. Our origin is shrouded in mystery. Our history is distorted by the British and as such, it's not so clear about us. However, it is now well known and accepted fact that we were the original inhabitants of prehistoric and today's Australia. We have had distinct and specific genetic characteristics, languages, cultures, traditions, ethnicity, habits and habitats, religious beliefs, practices. For tens of thousands of years we had been living in Australia in peace and tranquility.'
I asked - 'Then what happened?'
He said sorrowfully - 'You don't know the sufferings of our forefathers after the arrival of the British. Forcefully they started colonizing our native land in 1788. As I heard, the Aboriginal Australians resisted such brutal colonization which resulted in conflicts, quarrels, battles between the British and the Aboriginal Australians. Due to their cunningness, superior weapons and technology, the British became victorious and the indigenous peoples were vanquished. The sons of the soil were subjugated, victimized and massacred. Our forefathers' lands were seized. They became landless in their own mother land. They were impoverished. They were forbidden to speak their native language and practise their own religion, culture, traditions, habits. Their children were taken away from them mercilessly. By intimidation, they were made slaves of the British. The free Aboriginals lost their freedom. Behind the beauty of Australian heritages, iconic buildings and cities, art and architectural marvels; the tear, toil, blood and sweat of our forefathers were latent and hidden. Their number was reduced by the British through massacre, impoverishment, malnutrition. Now our total population is around 800 thousand much less than the number prior to arrival of the British. We live mostly in New South Wales, Queensland and also in other states including Australia Capital Territory. We were given voting rights in 1967. Now, we constitute around 3.3 % of Australian population. We have lost our heritage, culture and tradition. We are struggling for our rights and fighting for our recognition. We are hopeful of a bright future.'
I asked about immigrants.
He replied - 'Migration of foreign nationals has been a continuous process since 1600. Now, the Aboriginals are negligible and neglected. Australia has pursued an official policy of multiculturalism and there has been a continuous inflow of foreign immigrants from across the World. Asian countries are now the largest source of immigrants. English is its main language. The British population is the largest, the Chinese and Indians are the 2nd and 3rd largest respectively. 52 % of its population are Christians, 30 % belong to no religion and others practise Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, etc. Alas! We are forgotten and forbidden in our native land'
His emotional narrative was stirring my heart and mind. I was helpless to help the hapless. However, I was glad to find one Aboriginal Australian and to hear their history and legacy. My childhood ambition was fulfilled.
In course of conversation and sightseeing, we reached Canberra, the Capital of Australia. I felt his melancholic feelings and thanked him for his emotional narration about the Aboriginal Australians.
Moni and I traveled by a taxi in Canberra. It's a sparsely populated capital city with a population of around 450 thousand. It's a beautiful city with the Parliament House, lake, hills, gardens, iconic flowers and trees.
We entered the Parliament House, the parks and places. We went up the peak of Mount Ainslie and looked out to enjoy the uninterrupted view of Canberra. We gazed at breathtaking panoramic views of Lake Burley Griffin. Its scenic beauty is magnificent. In short, Canberra is a spectacular city.
We came back to Sydney and traveled in Australia. After a couple of days, my pleasure trip in Australia came to an end and my niece, Moni saw me off at Sydney International Airport. I left for India by AirAsia flight.
Now, I'm in India and brooding over the Aboriginal Australians. The mind-blowing overflow of thoughts and emotions of my Aboriginal Australian co-passenger is still haunting me.
Sri Ashok Kumar Ray a retired official from Govt of Odisha, resides in Bhubaneswar. Currently he is busy fulfilling a lifetime desire of visiting as many countries as possible on the planet. He mostly writes travelogues on social media.
(Biswajeet dies of a sudden heart attack and in a jiffy goes to heaven. The peace and beauty of the place fills him with a sense of wonder. But even more wonderful is the discovery of The Ledger – the account of good and bad deeds people commit on earth. Buoyed by alternate jolts of joy and sorrow while going through his ledger, Biswajeet confronts God with some uncomfortable questions …………)
“Are you really annoyed with me, Biswajeet?”
Biswajeet folded his hands in abject surrender.
“God, Almighty, how can any one be annoyed with you? You are the Lord of the Universe and we are but specs of dust under your feet! My only regret is, if I had known all this earlier, I would have enjoyed life much better!”
“Biswajeet! Don’t tell me you have any regrets about your life! Don’t you remember the morning on August Kranti Road four years back, how the driver braked the car just a few inches from you when you were taking a walk? You got a new lease of life that day and resolved to enjoy life more intensely.”
God flashed a mischievous, all-knowing smile and continued,
“And Biswajeet, just imagine how much you have enjoyed life in the past four years! How you used to touch the soft petals of flowers while taking a walk in the Ansal Plaza park! How you used to stand under the window of Block Number seven and listen to the old songs, eyes closed, as if in a trance! And my son, have you forgotten how, despite your advanced age, you used to cast sweet glances at the young, nubile girls of Gargi College while taking a walk on August Kranti Road?”
Biswajeet did not show any surprise before God, nor did he ask how He knew all this. After his amazing experience of yesterday, he was aware there is nothing in our life that is hidden from God. He knows everything, absolutely everything!
* * * * * * *
Four days back Biswajeet suddenly died of a severe heart-attack. It was so sudden that he had no time even to blink before his last breath escaped silently. One moment he was awake, reading the newspaper sitting on the verandah of his Niti Bagh bungalow, and the next moment his head bent forward, his eyes closed and on a strange path of terrifying cold and blinding light he rushed towards a new abode.
In the fifty eight years of his life, he had come across death in many forms and on many occasions. He had seen his father struggling to keep himself alive, clinging to every little hope. His aged mother often used to wake up, breaking the silence of the night with piercing screams. She used to see shadows against the window on rainy nights and thought spirits have come to take her away! Biswajeet had seen some friends and relatives talking bravely about the meaninglessness of life, yet getting mortally scared in the face of debilitating illness, the fear of death making their eyes look like luster-less mirrors, reflecting nothing, no hope, no zeal, no life.
With experiences like this, Biswajeet thought the path of death was a long dark tunnel one has to pass through for days or months in an agony of dread, despair and hallucinations. But strangely, for him death was only a momentary transition – a shortdistance between two tiny dots in the circle of time. He reached heaven in a flash. For a very brief moment he was non-plussed, marveling at the new surroundings, missing his bungalow, the lawns, the flowers, even the long serpentine water-pipe lying lazily on the grass. He blinked and found himself in a breath-takingly beautiful landscape – green lawns everywhere, surrounded by white hillocks, blue springs sprinkling silvery water on the lawns. The air was light with a strange, exquisite fragrance. A mild stream of divinely melodious music reverberated, bringing a peace which can only be felt, but cannot be described.
Within a moment, his heart was drenched in a sweet joy, and an infinite bliss. This is a place of pure beauty; there is no want here, hence no despair. All the want and desire are left behind on earth. There is no competition with anyone, there is no one to talk to, yet one feels spirits moving all around, eager to touch others with selfless love and respect.
He moved on. At a distance he saw a beautiful cottage, its walls made of yellowish green leaves, the roof made of bright flowers of exotic colours. He went inside. His home? Was it his home? He wondered and the next moment laughed it off. A spirit doesn’t need a home – it roams freely in heaven, everything is his and yet he doesn’t possess anything! There is no hunger, no thirst, no desire for anything, and hence no frustration. There is only contentment, and bliss, there is God within and everywhere. There is no day, no night. In fact Biswajeet still had a sense of time, of a today or a tomorrow, because he had just come from earth and his spirit had not been totally liberated from its bondage of attachments. In due course, he will also overcome the limitations of time and merge into infinity. In a sense of bewildering joy, he had moved around, soaking in a feeling of joy and bliss, music and fragrance, wonder and fulfillment.
That was four days back. Gradually Biswajeet had settled down in his new abode. Yesterday Biswajeet had come across a large, shining building. Out of curiosity he went near it. The door was open, in heaven no door is ever shut to anyone. He entered and caught his breath in wonder. It was a mile-long hall with blue shelves lined up. And there were stacks of white books, thick ones, and thin ones, of all sizes, bound by a red ribbon. Biswajeet went to a shelf and tried to take out a book. It didn’t budge. He peered at the cover-page – there was something written in a strange letter, it looked like somebody’s name. He again tried to lift the book, it just didn’t move.
He suddenly felt a kind spirit whispering in his ears – “That one is not yours, you can’t open it. Come with me, I will take you to the right place.” Guided by the spirit he walked on and on. A long way down the hall the spirit bade him to stop. He looked at the book before him. Lo and behold, there was a thick, white book with Biswajeet’s name written in golden letters on the cover page.
Wow, this book has his name on its cover! What is it? What is inside? Can he see it? He lifted the book. It came off easily, light, like a bundle of feathers. Out of great curiosity, he opened the book. It looked like a diary – page after page – with a date at the top and rows of beautiful writing – who has written these lines?
Suddenly it came to him like a flash of lighting. Oh, this must be The Ledger – the book of accounts of one’s good and bad deeds! So, it is true! He had heard of it so many times in life. Everything that people do gets recorded in God’s account - the good ones as well as the bad ones! So this is what it is, for every living being on earth, God maintains a Ledger! Biswajeet wanted to see what has been written about him!
The first date was 16th May 1960. How old was he at that time? Eight years? And who has written about him? Vaishnav Mishra? Who was he? A class mate? Biswajeet had no idea; he didn’t recognize the name. What has Vaishnav said about him? And it is recorded in green ink!
“What a cruel chap Bijay is! I would have died today if Biswajeet had not rescued me. Why was Bijay so angry with me today – just because I threw the ball at Sumant and not at him? How can he be so heartless? May be his drunk father had thrashed him again at home. But why should he take it out on me! And what a cruel way of punishing me! He and three others dug a big pit in the sand and buried me in it, with only my head outside! And they just ran away leaving me there, to be mauled by the street dogs! It is Biswajeet who saved my life, standing near me with a stick to scare the dogs away. Luckily two persons passing by came and rescued me. I can never forget Biswajeet in my life. He is such a decent chap. We decided from tomorrow we will not play with Bijay and the bunch of rowdies. We will play on our own at a different place, may be at his home, or mine. Biswajeet has such good manners, I owe my life to him.”
Biswajeet tried to remember this incident, buried deep in his past. But he couldn’t recollect it. He started turning the pages and stopped at 10th September, 1961. Radharani Sabat. Who is this lady? His class-teacher? A neighbour? He failed to place her in the huge canvas of his past.
“Who was this young boy I met today? Didn’t even tell me his name and went away! My three year old son Naveen was crying when this boy saw him. I was busy in my work – digging earth for the road near Buxi Bazaar post office. This boy must be on his way to school. He stopped near Naveen and asked him “Why are you crying?” Naveen looked at him and started screaming loudly. He was hungry – I had given him some food two hours back, if he feels hungry again, what can I do? The boy looked at him, “Young boy, are you hungry? Here, take these snacks.” And he took out the tiffin box from his school bag and gave all the food from it to Naveen. I came running to him“Son, you gave all your food to Naveen, what will you have in school?” “Don’t worry, Mousi, I had a heavy meal before leaving for school, I won’t feel hungry. I will go home and eat later.” With that, he went away, leaving me in tears. What a kind soul, what unbelievable compassion in such a small boy? So many people were passing by the road, nobody stopped to check on Naveen. How did this small boy get such a large heart? God bless him. This boy will surely grow up to be a noble man.”
Biswajeet had no recollection of this incident. He must have been about nine years old at that time. He turned a few more pages and stopped at one. Here the writing was in black, in contrast to the previous pages in green. Why was it in black? He knew when he read the page. 24th July 1963 – Digambar Bhuyan.
“Can a small boy of ten, eleven years be such a big rogue? How could he do this? Cheating a poor vegetable seller for two rupees? I gave him vegetable for seven rupees. How did he run away by paying only five rupees? Such a black mind in a small boy! The scoundrel will become a thief or a robber when he grows up!”
Biswajeet remembered this incident quite vividly. In his life he had seldom done any wrong consciously, except for this black deed. He knew why he did it. He just couldn’t control the temptation to get the two rupees and spend it on ice-cream, chicken-chop and rasgollas. He was eleven years old at the time and there was no concept of pocket-money in his family – his father earned just enough to give the children a decent life and good education. That afternoon, Biswajeet paid the five rupee note to the vegetable seller and ran away when he was attending to other customers. After indulging himself with the ice-cream and other stuff, guilt set in.
With guilt, came an unsettling fear - the fear of getting caught. He avoided the shop for many months. One day the vegetable seller saw him from a distance and shouted, “Hey, hey, thief, where are you going? Wait, let me catch you and give you a good thrashing!” Biswajeet ran for his life. He was so scared, he started shivering. Somehow he ran through the lanes and by-lanes, reached home, rushed to the bathroom and bolted the door from inside. He half-expected to hear shouts from outside, may be a crowd would barge in and break his legs with big sticks.
Trembling with mortal fear, he decided that he would never commit such a black deed in his life again. The ice-cream, the chicken-chop and the rasgollas were not worth the pangs of guilt and stabs of fear he suffered for many months. He kept his promise and never knowingly did anything wrong in his life. His friends and relatives knew him as an honest, God-fearing man. Biswajeet felt he had got redeemed by paying a price in the form of the bone-chilling fear of that afternoon.
Seeing the page, he knew why God has put that ugly incident as a black mark of his life. His heart sank a little and he moved on, to a page in green letters. Must be some good deed of his!
22nd January 2006! He remembered the date. It was a frightfully cold morning. He almost got killed by a car while taking a turn in August Kranti Road. The narrator was Ram Lal Verma – must be the man under the flyover.
“Today an angel appeared before me and saved my life. It was bitingly cold and I woke up at 5 O’clock in the morning. A gust of cold air felt like a knife on the skin. My old tattered sweater was not enough to protect me, nor did the old blanket help. I gathered some sticks and paper lying on the road and lit a fire, but it blew out in the cold air. I started shivering, my teeth chattered, the hands and feet felt numb. I passed out. When I opened my eyes, there was a kind man standing near me, hands in his pocket and shivering slightly. He had taken out his long overcoat and covered me with it. When he saw me stirring, he came to me, patted my head and said, “Don’t worry, you will be alright. The worst is over. Keep this overcoat and cover yourself.” He looked for some money in his pocket, took out everything he had. It was eighty-eight rupees. He gave them to me – “Please go and have some hot tea, I can see tea brewing in the stall on the other side of the road. Have something to eat also. Don’t worry, trust in God, you will be alright.” I knew I could trust in God. Only He could make people like this kind soul who came as the Almighty’s messenger to save my life. Before I could touch his feet and thank him for giving me a new lease of life, he walked away briskly. I could see that his brisk walk was to fight off the severe cold. In a few moments he disappeared behind the tall building of Ansal Plaza. God has made such men to save others, he is a messenger of hope and faith!”
Biswajeet’s spirit was elated reading this narration. He clearly remembered the incident. The man had almost died of hypothermia. Biswajeet’s woolen overcoat saved his life. He turned a few more pages. Another page with black letters. What sin did he commit this time? 23rd October 2008 – Monica Talwar! Monica was the wife of his neighbour Sanjib Talwar who has a furniture shop in Amar Colony. For some reason Monica had taken a dislike to Biswajeet. She snubbed him all the time, putting him off.
“What is this uncle, is he a maniac? Why does he get so excited whenever he seesPinky, my four year old daughter? He snatches her from me and holds her in a tight hug, showering kisses on her cheek, making her squirm in discomfort. Doesn’t he realize Pinky hates him for that? Today he almost chocked her to death. She started screaming in pain. I shouted at him, ‘Uncle, what are you doing? Can’t you see she doesn’t like it? Why do you do this? Don’t you have some shame? Please leave her and go away’.”
Biswajeet was shocked! Pinky is exactly the same age as Juhi, his grand-daughter in Australia. Every time he looked at Pinky, he saw Juhi in her. He had tried to explain this to Monica so many times, but she always snapped at him, treating him like a pariah. But, why is this narration in black? What was his sin? He tried to reason with himself. May be he should not have been selfish and forced his love and affection on little Pinky. Only if Monica had given him a chance to explain! By hurting her feelings and disturbing Pinky’s delicate mind, Biswajeet had earned a black entry in his Ledger!
Thinking of Pinky and Monica, his heart became heavy. Why did he inflict pain on any one? He wished he had known about the Ledger and the account of good and bad deeds!
Suddenly his mood changed when he remembered the nice incident that happened just four days before his death. Is it there? He turned the pages and came towards the end of the Ledger. Yes, it is there! 10th July, 2010 – Nayana Majhi – must be the mother of the two cute kids.
“There are some kind souls who remind us of God. Today I saw an uncle who is like that. I had gone to the milk booth to buy a litre of milk for my employer. My son Bablu and daughter Dulari accompanied me – I wanted to stop them, but they insisted on coming with me. When I was waiting in the queue, Bablu and Dulari were excitedly pointing at the pictures of different varieties of ice-cream. Bablu was saying, “Cola-bar is the best. I don’t like cup ice-creams.” Dulari was trying to contradict him, “Arrey, jah, mango cup is the best ice-cream in the world. I will give my life for a cup of mango ice-cream!”
It’s then that I regretted bringing them to the milk booth. Why did I let them come with me? I had only a twenty-rupee note given by my madam to buy a litre of milk. And the kids were so excitedly pointing out at the picture of ice-cream bars and cups! What right do I have to make them dream of ice-cream when I can’t give them even two decent meals a day?
I paid for the milk, collected the packets and turned to leave. Suddenly there was a tug at my saree. I looked back, tears welling up in my eyes. His weak eye-lids quivering, Bablu asked me, “Mummy, won’t you give us some ice-cream?”
I felt as if my heart will burst in grief. I just shook my head and started to leave. Bablu and Dulari dragged themselves after me, looking back at the pictures of ice-cream bars and cups, their heads bent in sadness. Suddenly an uncle’s voice stopped me on my track – “Beti, why don’t you give them some ice-cream?” I couldn’t look at him, nor did I open my mouth to speak. I am sure I would have burst into sobs, if I tried that. I kept my face down and lifted my hands to show the two packets of milk.
The uncle came near me and softly whispered, “Can I make a request to you?” I nodded. “Today is my grand-daughter’s birth-day. She is far away from me, in distant Australia. Can I give some ice-cream to your children and to you?” I looked up and saw a kind, sweet face beaming at me. I nodded again.
The uncle asked, “Do you have a fridge at home?” I said “Yes, a madam had given away her fridge to me three years back when she vacated her house.” Uncle was very happy. He looked at Bablu and Dulari and said, “Come here, you know, I am an old man. I cannot remember names. Tell me which are the ice-creams you wanted to have?” The children felt shy and hid themselves behind me. When uncle asked again, Bablu said ‘Cola-bar’! Dulari wanted mango cups. Uncle looked at the Bhaiya in the milk-booth and asked him to give one cola-bar and one mango cup immediately to Bablu and Dulari. Then he asked him to pack four Cola-bars, four mango cups and two bricks of strawberry ice-cream.
Bablu and Dulari were mad with joy, when the ice-cream was placed in their hands. Uncle beamed at them and took out the photograph of a cute four year old girl – I caught my breath – such a beautiful child, with golden hair, twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks she looked like an angel. Licking his ice-cream Bablu looked at her photo and said, “Is this a girl, or a cute doll?” Uncle’s heart swelled with pride. He gave two hundred rupee notes to the Bhaiya at the booth, shook hands with Bablu and Dulari and left. He was an amazing man. How could he feel the pangs of pain in my heart and the pining for ice-cream in the children? He is an angel.”
The memory of that sweet evening came back to Biswajeet, he had been so happy seeing the ecstatic joy on the face of Bablu and Dulari. Only children are capable of such innocent joy! Remembering them, his heart overflowed with tremendous bliss. Away from earth, he missed his grand-daughter, his son and daughter and the numerous blessed souls that had touched his life. He knew, down there they would have been stirred by an unknown touch of love from him.
* * * * * * * *
Biswajeet looked up at God, who was still smiling benignly at him. He felt like asking God a basic question – “God, Almighty, the Ledger has opened my eyes to a secret, hidden from me and my fellow human beings. But how come, there is no mention of anything from my wife or my children? Didn’t they ever feel anything about me?”
“Biswajeet, do you remember, when your daughter Asima was so small, she used to sit on the pillion of your motor-bike, clinging on to you, putting her whole life and being on your shoulder? Have you ever seen her doing it with any one else? And your son, Sourav, when he used to fall down and hurt himself while playing, how he used to come running to you and your wife Geetika, to soothe him, to put balm on his wound. That is a balm of love, trust, and faith which can heal more than any medicine. And think of your wife and the implicit trust she has in you. With that she can stand up and fight a thousand demons, she can cross the oceans and soar to the sky. Where there is trust there is no need to show appreciation, nor there is any room for complaint. Your family is the flesh of your flesh and heart of your heart. How can they think good or bad about you? Whatever they feel about you is a part of you, your being, and your soul. There is no place for them in my Ledger!”
Biswajeet thought he understood, although he was not so sure! He was aware, God had given him a form and shape for this brief encounter. Before he got back into the form of a spirit, he wanted to confront God with the question that had been bothering him since yesterday.
“God, you have been cheating the people on earth all the time! If human beings knew of the Ledger you maintain, the world will be a much better place to live. Everyone will be doing only the right things to earn a good entry in the ledger. There will be no pain, no frustration, no bitterness and no sorrow in the world.”
God smiled benignly at him again.
“Biswajeet, if everyone did only good deeds, don’t you think life will be monotonous and boring?”
With a twinkle in the eyes and the naughtiest of smiles on His face, God asked, “and my son, if there is no pain, no suffering, and no problem, will anyone ever think of me? Imagine how unbearable my existence will be, if everyone on earth forgets me!”
Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi is a retired civil servant and a former Judge in a Tribunal. Currently his time is divided between writing short stories and managing the website PositiveVibes.Today. He has published eight books of short stories in Odiya and has won a couple of awards, notably the Fakir Mohan Senapati Award for Short Stories from the Utkal Sahitya Samaj.
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