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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Available For Rent in the Clouds

In the dense fog around, hardly anything to be seen. As if the whole surrounding is floating in the clouds. But I can see my small apartment soaked in the fog.

Yes, this is the one where I spent my last night.

My view is very much restricted. To be able to see some more, I need to muster courage and walk towards it, and then I can see the next restricted view unfold.

Birds have given up on laziness and are chirping while they work. They are chirping somewhere but nowhere to be seen. Insects are not behind, and they are competing the birds with the continuous buzzing in the bushes engulfed in the mist.

Trees sway intermittently, as the wind gushes through. And an ambience of drizzle is created by the trees.

Yarn ends in my cloth have been embraced by the fog too, and their lingering love is so enticing that my brisk walking has no effect on them.

As I walk some more, I hear the waves from the sea. There is a sea nearby, but everything is dissolved in the fog.

Only voices from waves I can hear, and my feet are moving obediently towards those voices.

My moving feet stands still as they touch the salty water, intensely cold, moving forward to brush my feet and retracing back.

My eyes which have moistened quickly from the cold, witness a new friend. Very shy and in a hurry to go away after greeting me. But how could I let him leave without his photograph?

This whole ambience is at rent. You come, you stay, and then you pack your bags and leave. It's time for me to leave.

Because neither my monetary affordability allows it, nor allows my workplace, to stay here any longer.

I need to get back to work and face the reality once again.

PS: This is a short tale of my experience at Sana Beach and Resort, Mandarmani, during early cold weeks of February.

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The Confines of Four Walls and a Roof

Within the confines of four walls and a roof, we create a sweet spot there for ourselves. That sweet spot makes us the most comfortable in this world. This comfort is not just about having the riches of world class furniture, soft cushions, air conditioners, or aesthetic lights in the room. Rather it is about the feeling of staying true to yourself and contented with whatever you have. This is the spot where you are free, and with your freedom you think, you plan, you work or relax and get ready for the next day.

The confines of four walls and a roof comes in different forms and make. A person’s monetary capacity and societal laws determine the form and make of this confinement. Monetary capacity because a person can afford and build his confinement according to how merrier their bank accounts are. Societal laws determine this too because there are few people put behind the bars. Everyone needs confinement of a room. In that room the person finds a sweet spot and slowly falls in love with it unknowingly. Even the homeless on streets are not deprived of this love. They have found their love below a bridge, under large precast drainage pipes, or inside a desolated confiscated car.

But is this love going to last forever? Yes, the love is going to last forever because if it’s “love” then by default it is going to last till the last breath is away. The places change, people at those places change, but the love one carries in their heart stays. May be for the sake of memoirs of the gone by days, or for the discovery of life experienced while staying at those places, this love finds a permanent place in our hearts. Every once in a while, like a cold gushing wind, this old love sinks taciturnly into your present confinement and tries to mingle with your newly found love.  

I see this charming young guy, dressed in an ironed and shiny uniform of a seven-star hotel, that he is wearing off from the work today. It seems he has been on his toes throughout the day, and barely got a chance to sit and unstrain his breath. He is waiting for his work shift to get over, and rush back to his chawl. Because his love for the sweet spot in his chawl room is calling him with open arms to have a cup of masala tea in the evening. Once he is back, he will be true to himself and free. He will be able to enjoy his tea to the fullest in his confinement.

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Amphan of Emotions at Shankarpur Beach

 

I was on the road trip towards Shankarpur Beach in West Bengal. This was nearly two years after the super cyclone Amphan hit coasts of India and Bangladesh. While I was on the way, I witnessed a group of people working on this Bay of Bengal sea coast.

I stopped for a while. They said that they were working to establish a structure at the coast which can withstand high tides and lessen the impact on the land and houses inhabited with people. It was painful to see houses around dilapidated with the wrath of the cyclone that came two years ago, and they were still not livable yet. Many have left the place and moved away as their houses were completely destroyed in the cyclone. But people working at the site were jubilant of the fact that now it will be safe as the tetra pods that they were installing will absorb the mighty waves of the sea. And they were also happy sharing the fact that very soon this coast line will be like Marine Drive, Mumbai. 

Listening to them, coupled with sounds of roaring sea in the air, my eyes travelled across and made me palpate to the power this massive water body holds within. We are too weak to control it, and yet we are trying hard. This is the nature of human after all; we try to control and conquer. Human can somehow tame the wild, but the wilderness cannot be completely polished off. The wilderness is going to stay there. And time to time it has showed that in the past.

With all these thoughts whirling in my mind, I wrote few lines to versify this Amphan of emotions - The Constant Incessant. Link to that blogpost is here.

I am sharing few photos that I clicked on my road trip towards Shankarpur Beach in this post. 

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Warrior

The stage is all set.

For the courage to play

And defeat those lies within

Prying and proclaiming to be truth

Against his lord's pray.

The courage has to act strong

To make the fear go

And kill the ominous thong.

No, not just wait

And continue to contemplate

But to act, enact and direct

The righteousness state.

Determined against all odds

He now stands bold and tall

To fight and to win

Over his evils in all forms.

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Music in my Playlist

The music as it flows into ears, puts into a slumber where eyes are awake; but the mind has taken a leap into memories.

Memories unfold, as if someone has played a movie on VHS; and characters have started their play, some good and some bad.

I don’t see myself, but I see I lived those moments; having whirled and danced on the tunes as if somebody made me do so.

Each track on the playlist, bears a story of its own; stories that I wanted to write my way but were re-tailored by the destiny.

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Ae Dil Hai Mushkil

Dil tumhara tuta nahi hai, bas bikhra hua hai…

The advocacy to get love, though his actions comic and childish, was beyond any description found in books. The sluggish and the inexperienced he, was embraced in arms of friendship of a stronger lady. Broken hearts are stronger. And he didn’t have a broken heart, his was only scattered. The weaker him, he pushed limits to be with her, to soothe her, to calm her down when emotions from the past were turbulent over her present. His wish, the only wish, was to get loved. And this is the story of his ‘Love’ and her ‘Friendship’.

Ajeeb kahani hai pyar aur dosti ki. Pyar ne dosti ko kabhi samjha hi nahi. Pyar me junoon hai, dosti me sukoon hai...

Her past came into present, and was enough to make the kid grow. As he grew from inside, his endeavors to make her friendship transmute into love grew ferociously. The ‘Love’ was emotionally unbalanced, traumatic, and there ‘Friendship’ was rooted, becalmed, and clear. ‘Friendship’ was comprehended on its own belief. She knew, friendship is the bond of strength between them, and the love is weakness. But ‘Love’ had a different belief. He realized that its passion in love, but what he didn’t realize was friendship is unstrained.

Lag ja gale, ke fir ye haseen raat ho na ho. Shayad, phir is janam mein, mulaqat ho na ho…

He escaped from his truth. He made lies propel his truth to fade away. But his eyes couldn’t lie even a single time. His eyes bleed ‘Love’, and in the redness of pain tried to regain that was lost. She was never meant to be owned by him, he couldn’t realize. He already owned her more than what he wanted in her friendship, he didn’t realize this either. Friendship is above love, he would never understand.

Time flies, and what it leaves behind often is regret and remorse. And when the time was just about to get over, they couldn’t stop but to embrace each other for one last time. ‘Love’ embraced ‘Friendship’, and embraced it till he could feel her heart throb over his. Who knows, will they ever again meet thereafter?

mehfil mein teri
Hum naa rahe jo
Gham toh nahi hai
Gham toh nahi hai
Qisse humaare nazdeeqiyon ke
Kam toh nahi hai
Kam toh nahi hai
Kitni dafaa, subah ko meri
Tere aangan me baithe
Maine shaam kiya


Read more: http://www.lyricsmint.com/2016/09/channa-mereya-ae-dil-hai-mushkil.html

mehfil mein teri
Hum naa rahe jo
Gham toh nahi hai
Gham toh nahi hai
Qisse humaare nazdeeqiyon ke
Kam toh nahi hai
Kam toh nahi hai
Kitni dafaa, subah ko meri
Tere aangan me baithe
Maine shaam kiya


Read more: http://www.lyricsmint.com/2016/09/channa-mereya-ae-dil-hai-mushkil.html

Mehfil mein teri hum na rahe jo, Gham to nahi hai… Kisse hamari, nazdikiyon ke kam to nahi hai... Kitni dafa, subah ko meri tere aangan me baithe maine sham kiya...

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A Journey to Begin

A person with an immense depth in her heart, 

As it is in her eyes. 

But the love struggles to sink in those depths. 

May be she has turned immune to affection,

That a guy struggles to have for someone.

The herald of emotions come in between,

And camouflage the love that wants to seed in the barren.

But the determined destiny has to come into play,

And the two souls will mingle into one.

For they are in need,

In their wish to prosper.

And that they can make it true when they are together.

The journey is about to begin.

It's dawn knocking on the threshold of their windows.

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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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Ripples

It was love behind the sustained silence, in desire to stay lonely in the bygone fragrance.

It was love in the whirlpool of sensations, frozen behind a cold face, dejectedness in his all actions.

That merriment of his was love, when it bloomed for the first time in his life. That too was love inside, when the heart broke for the second, and for the third time.

It was still love, when his heart withdrew from faith, and stopped to dream anymore.

It's my love for him, as I narrate to you his story. Its story of a wave, which never recovered from the wraith. He rippled till he died, and homed inside the grave.

Love is a game too, only later he realized. You win, you lose, but its love that pushes you to play.

Image Courtesy : Google Images Search

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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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Search for the life

As the train takes me through the darkness

My eyes search for the light,

To find in the thickets

If somewhere the life survives.

Rattling of wheels on tracks,

Keeps me mused and awake

Against the envelope of sleep

Embraced over the stretches of darkness.

Blindfolded on my open eyes

My ears make me see now;

Bridges, tunnels, plains…

All I hear, and in my mind I see.

But where is the life?

That, I can’t see.

I search for the light

To find in the thickets

If somewhere the life survives.

In sky is embellished,

Stars and the pearly moon.

And the rest is swallowed

In the endless depths of darkness

Through which I am moving

And in them my eyes keep looking

For if I can find light.

Who knows…

Somewhere out there the life still survives.

Image Courtesy: Google Images Search

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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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New Leaflets

Innocence in stipules,

The novelty in its shade

Pigmented in green

Lustrous in rays from Sun,

Waves in the air

Flimsy and translucent leaflets.

Born from the old stem

Brown and rigid,

Textured with experiences

It gained in a long time.

Leaflets breeze joy,

Pacify the previous pain

Sprinkling the newness in air

Freshening the surrounding

With ambiance of liveliness,

Like notes from sitar

Played in an early morning,

Solacing our mind

Healing the anguish

Descending into our ruptured soul.

Who cares, who plucked the leaf

Who pinned the giant in pain,

New leaflets must come

And breathe in life again.

The nature and its laws

Leaflets acquaint well.

Life has to move on,

With the newness, each new day

And prosper towards future

Till the pigment stays green.

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