The Red Crab Clan

The clan of red crabs dwell peacefully and proudly across the sandy beach. The brown sandy spread appears to be dotted by their presence. The farthest extent to which your eyes can help on the sands, the red crabs keep running here and there and everywhere. They mark their presence so profoundly that it is implicit to say that the clan governs this beach.

Reverie and Revera, the queen and the king, rule their clan of red crabs here. They ensure that everyone of them is safe and guarded against any threats from enemies. They are dwelling in the state-of-the-art tunnels under the sand. Humans are still far away from expertise in building such architectures. How complex is the network of tunnels beneath, this only Shambhu knows. Shambhu, he is a human. He is the chief fisherman in the area. He never stops praising to his fellow men about the beauty of the red crab clan and the mesmerism that dwells below the sand in the complex network of tunnels. 

Reverie and Revera, they are always alert against any unusual human intervention. The moment a vibration is detected, the clan blows a trumpet of escape. The crabs would run away like anything. A commotion so contiguous that it appears a whole red patch on the ground is moving. One cannot spot exactly where Reverie and Revera are, but they are always monitoring the commotion. In sense of urgency, they run towards the red patch in danger and lead them to safety. Shambhu is very sharp. He seems to know a lot about these red crabs. When he is not fishing, he voluntarily enlightens tourists of these red crabs. I met Shambhu too, and he ensured that I remember my encounter with red crabs forever.

Soon after the sun ascended from the belly of the sea, Shambhu called me to the beach for a stroll. The sea waves were doing justice that day, and kept embracing our footsteps constantly as we walked. The red crab clan seemed busy in their daily routine to bathe in the chilly waves. Our footsteps alerted them soon and they chose to skip the bathing. Shambhu spoke of Reverie and Revera, that they must be watching both of us and the red patches running away in commotion.

“I am afraid of crabs, don’t they bite?”, I asked.

“You are afraid of crabs? These red crabs?” asked Shambhu surprisingly.

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me help you with your fear”, assured Shambhu.

I defer to share the drama that followed. But it happened. And at the end, I surrendered to Shambhu. I held a red one softly in my hand, careful enough that it doesn’t bite or pinch my fingers. The moment I released him on the sand, he ran fervently towards the sea.

I am sure Reverie and Revera would have watched this too from one of the many red patches around. I hope they were gratified that I handled one of their fellow with love and care. I hope the red crab clan would remember me like I am going to remember them forever.

PS: This post is part of a fiction that I weaved while taking a stroll on a chilly Februrary morning near Mohona Beach, West Bengal.

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In Praise of Memories...

The good. The bad.

He lives them all.

From the bunch of frames,

He admire that young face over and over.

The love. The hatred.

He feels them all.

From the glory of experiences,

The scar shines like the bulb in blur.

The life. The death.

He hears them squall.

From the depths of somnolence,

Life wants to rewind itself with whir.

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Black & Hue

The disjoined one lies in the morass. It lies still, but keeps squeaking… Snakes and crabs board often now, and that makes the giant recall how swiftly it sailed away masses of twelve to the other side. That abandoned savior on the bank of Ganges, it keeps staring the young ones as they pass by in front of its eyes.

The new and the small, but spirits big and held high in sky, it waves with the air. While the children bathe, it rests and prepares for the next ride. With pride in its youth, it takes the responsibility of the bygone savior.

Sitting somewhere and watching as the sun goes down, I observe how it takes away all the colors with it. The young and the old, the time has plans for each one of them.

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While it rained...

My eyes used to take me till the horizon where a distant tree met the marshy land. I could see people, though scarce in number and outspread on the field, working as farmers for the crop…The crop that would feed them and us. I witnessed how their hard work benefited us, they made grains available for ourselves to buy. Then, I wondered that someday my hard work would help others too.

Interlaced with their sweat, rain washed the land. They ploughed and ploughed, till the land was ready to produce. In the uninterrupted pelting of rain, maverick birds flew through the wind…Some flew against, while some steered along with the wind.  I felt caged with all my defects in the small room at the roof, while children played outside. It was water here and there, and everywhere.

I heard happiness. I saw it too. I saw secrecy in the ambience where each one conspired for a productive tomorrow. Farmers, birds, children, trees, and the God, they unified themselves below the pouring cloudy sky. I felt caged, but they enjoyed. They enjoyed themselves to the fullest, mocking me of the pitiful captivity I was in. Real chains were not necessary, my own thoughts of my defects had made me a slave.

After clouds faded off slowly into the pitch black and while the rain continued, a wise owl obliged me by resting at my window. I don’t remember when my eyes closed and how I leapt into the house of a farmer. But before I could have completed my play with their children, the owl woke me up. He said that he has come to my rescue, to unchain me. ‘The key to your chains is in your point of view’, he said.

The next day was different. I heard happiness and I saw it too. But I became a part of the ambience now. Farmers, birds, children, trees, me, and the God, everyone unified themselves below the pouring cloudy sky, and we conspired for a productive tomorrow. The gloom of grey in surroundings was changed, because my point of view was changed. Keys to the most endured locks lie within us.

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In the praise of Lord Ganesha

I meditate on the glorious Lord Ganesha, clad in sparkling robe, omnipresent, endowed with four arms and a benign smiling face to ward off all impediments.

In all my good and bad, you make me aware of your presence. 
If death is about to come in the next move of the puzzle piece, I shall not be afraid to make it. 

I chant your name no matter what comes now, you will remain the king of all puzzles we were afraid of.

If you liked the photographs, don't forget to 'Like' my Facebook page. :)

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In love...

From the patches of scorn,

You furbished a clean soul.

In light of the goodness I wasn't aware of,

You infused a healed life in me.

The warmth of your embrace will linger,

Till the time the sun shines

And the moon cools the planet blue.

I rejoice the cherished moments we spent together,
In them I found love…

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A House at the Grange

Since ages I haven’t been asleep in the lap of insouciance. It has been so long since I was at my home, the place where I grew up. In the ‘Nest’ of ‘Love’, my childhood bloomed. Where birds came and lived and became part of my evening plays, that is my home.

Every morning it was chatter of birds in balcony that woke me up. Their tore up feathers I collected, and preserved them so I could remember them even after they left. Tickle of my small fingers on the feathery head is still afresh in the memory. Where I lived lovingly, that is my home.

By the shade of the back wall in the compound, I recited poems in the afternoon. I weaved stories and played my role with conceit. Mamma’s words went unheard and my plays continued in the blazing sun. Where life was carefree, that is my home.

I don’t wish to win the rat race now; I set myself free from all the responsibilities. I want to travel to the place that soothes me with belongingness. I want to soak myself in the rain of memories from my childhood. Where I will heal myself, that is my home.

Photographs were shot by Canon SX150, Point and Shoot camera. If you liked the photographs, please like the Facebook page. 

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A token that spreads happiness...

Happiness is not just a state of mind; it is the reason for us to live. From the smallest of our actions to those of our biggest futuristic plans, they circle around our desire to attain happiness. Reasons to be happy are innumerable, but its us who decide what would make us happy at the end. Job, money, foreign tour, a lavish bungalow, and the list can go on increasing. But the reason for happiness for a few around us could be to be able to get a full day meal for himself and kids. The reason for happiness could be to gather enough money to cure the disease that the wife is dealing with.
They gave me a token of happiness, and it changed my perspective towards life forever…

Bodh Gaya is the prominent tourist spot in eastern India, famous for Mahabodhi Temple. It lies in Gaya District of my home state, Bihar, and is known for Gautam Buddha to have obtained enlightenment here. Events that I will explain to you here dates back to the time when I was in class sixth. I, along with my mom and dad were on tour in Bodh Gaya. It was around 10 AM, and we are strolling down the streets outside the premises of Mahabodhi Temple. I was reluctant to move, while mom consistently pulled me by my arm, making me step forward forcibly. I merely inched, and that too through baby steps. Do you know why?

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Cups of Coffee...

Through the spectacle of memories, I see a valley trenched with sweet and sour bygone days.
As if I never knew, how soon all those moments flee.
Happiness and sorrow, we shared them over cups of coffee.
Yours had sugar, and mine didn’t.
You hastened, while I went slower.
Frothed with cream of love, your slurps I remember.
And through them, my stories you would hear.
Saturday evenings were when we would meet and stare at each other endlessly.
My wait for the coming saturday seems to never end.
Just two days more, and we will meet again, we will share happiness and our sorrow again.
I want you to know, but I am afraid.
My endless stories over the cups of coffee, no one would have heard but you.
Yours, frothed with cream and sprinkled with sugar on heart, resolved sweetness in mine.
I owe my sweetness to you.
I wait for the Saturday evening, for our cups of coffee and for you…

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