Thursday, 19 June 2008

Homecoming !

Yes, there will be no homecoming this monsoon, my son ! We will together move, run, ride and trek all through the hills and vales in Himachal during your vacation. We will have long hours to walk side by side and to sit by some unnamed poolside in some idle evenings. Together we will lay our ears to hear nature’s own tune that it plays forlorn in deeper world and will also breathe in full with different smell of its soil, foliage and air. Yes, togetherness is always enjoyable, be it on homecoming or being away from home; it only brings homes together—homes where souls reside.

My dear son, once I read about homecoming for a son separated for years from his parents. It was during tragic Second Great War. The young scientist was Sam Goudsmit. When back to his own place where he had had spent the most beautiful years of his childhood, his youth, his eyes sparkled in joy and glistened in sorrow—in remembrance of those happy years of togetherness and its melancholic absence.
When Goudsmit, as a member of American Intelligence on German progress in science, could afford a homecoming in an idyllic Holland countryside during later part of the war, he thought of comforting lap of his blind mother, her smiles and gentle presence, and those comforting pats from his ever-caring father.
No, it was a homecoming, but without those most beloved souls. The war had already set the destiny. They were dead in Gas chambers. And, when he scanned the records a few days after, he could only be shocked again to learn that they died suffocating on the day his father had his seventieth birthday.
If you want to cry aloud, read what Goudsmit himself wrote about it :

“The house was still standing. But as I drew near to it I noticed that all the windows were gone. Parking my jeep around the corner so as to avoid attention I climbed through one of the empty windows…..
Climbing into the little room where I had spent so many hours of my life I found a few scattered papers, among them my high school report cards that my parents had saved so carefully through all these years. If I closed my eyes I could see the house as it used to look thirty years ago. Hear was the glassed-in porch which was my mother’s favourite breakfast nook. There was the corner where the piano always stood. Over there had been my bookcase. What had happened to the many books I had left behind? The little garden in back of the house looked sadly neglected. Only the lilac tree was still sanding……”

That’s all before we move out for the vacation….
[ Acknowledged with deep regards ::
Brighter than a thousand suns
by Robert Jungk ]

Wednesday, 11 June 2008

My offering !

I never thought of attempting translating Rabindranath Tagore's songs !
He has been my source of inspiration, ever-enriching my thoughts, philosophy and ever more in realising my own existence in this beautiful world.
The following poem (song) belonged to the original "Gitanjali" written in January, 1908 ( the Bengali chosen collection of Tagore himself, not that won him the Nobel ) and for years together it has been the morning hymn that I (we) hear to welcome the day and the Sun !
My reader friends, be sure that it is a futile attempt to convey deep philosophy and devotion that the great poet expressed in his original contribution; still I felt to do so only to share even a fraction of it with my Non-bengali readers. In doing so, I tried to be as honest to convey the spirit, not the limited meaning of the words.......
It is my tribute to my eternal guardian, my conscience-keeper, the great poet and a greater human being, Rabindranath Tagore; I have nothing to lay before as my offering but to pick up only from amongst those in the tray that he once had offered before the ultimate self....
The Bengali version is :---
...............Nivrita praner debata
Jekhane jagen eka
Bhakta, sethay kholo dwar--
Aaj labo tar dekha ................
The transliteration follows :--
Where the Lord stays alone and awake
In a recluse corner of my soul;
O Devotee ! Unbolt the gate;
Let my eyes satiate in splendour of His presence !

I know not whom do I seek
Wandering all the day out and afar;
Only I overlooked to learn
How the evening sacrament is performed !

With the beams of thy radiant life
I let the candle of my life be lit;
O Priest ! Let me alone arrange
The tray of my offerings !

Where the meditative self pursues
An all-embracing piety of completeness;
O Lord ! Let me also touch and hold
A thin ray of thee lustrous spectrum !

Monday, 9 June 2008

The seed that was sown in another June !

A year has sweetly sped.
When my fingers touched to mirror my expressions on this blog, they delightedly danced to the rhythms of my heart; it was all about a short trek to Nachiketa Tal.
My journey in the blogosphere commenced with that brief travelogue in June, last year. Months hence, I opted for an exclusive blog ( Footsteps…..) to write on travelogues ( only a single addition so far after transferring of four posts originally appeared in this blog ). I wished not to part with my first post, but had to for assuring myself of an unbiased attitude.
But, sailing against melancholic waves diurnal and nocturnal thoughts along the annual course touching the equinox, zodiac and events of my destiny, I have reassured myself to honestly honour my first post on this anniversary.
It was the seed of the past that bears the root for the present.
I reproduce the post ( as existent in my travel blog ) just to acknowledge it as the seed of this blog…
Dear readers, you like it or not, please acknowledge that it is the seed !
“ Posted by: Saibal Barman Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Nachiketa Tal

I never thought that a lake so near to a State capital could be so silently laid.
Nachiketa Tal is only 30 kms away from Uttarkashi. Trek starts from Chaurangi Khal, a usual stop on the main road connecting Uttarkashi–Lombogaon–Gourikund. Just a four km leisurely trek through the solitary path will make you reach the Lake. Kissed by gentle rays of the morning sun peeping through the green veil of foliage, she blushed in alone and unnoticed. Alike gleaming mirth upon sweated face of a mountain lass, her countenance presents a perfect union of joy and innocence. Along the trail, sudden encounters with fascinating panoramic vista of the Himalayan ranges are only offerings that you carry along for her.
The path laden with fallen leaves passionately awaits your warm presence; with every turns it presents a newer way of experiencing beauty, and silently it translates your hidden desires expressively intense. It lays upon lonely content with its natural beauty and virginity. It bares itself as pensive as a tragic heroin seemingly posing for the last shoot of her show. Her native exposure betrays her natural independence of commentaries and enthusiasm as you forget to understand what nicety is there while endowed with a deep feeling that it is just good to have a life in this beautiful world!
You can only hear aching sounds of twinging dry leaves trampled under your footsteps; some ignored murmurs of slender trees and unheard tunes of some unseen birds renewing in every moment of creation.
Someone who loves nature will certainly feel relieved that there are still some places, some vague patches remain where the earth finds its childhood cradle still swinging!

Tuesday, 3 June 2008

Truth is thy religion, so is love !

Gentle kisses from lips hundred, wishes flew to the boy christened;
Yonder was the girl carried to Lord Shiva’s feet so sacred.
Years went by, love flourished, and wished they soon to wed;
Faiths fought, Lords were shunned, just to relish unity in hatred;
Up above from the Heaven’s sky, Lords together smiled and blessed.

[ It is an attempt to write a fifty-five poem.
Inspired by Indicaspecies..
The readers may read her Here ]

The epitaph !

Between leafs of time  S leeps the untold tale of life, In dreams of love and love of dreams. Smudging the margin in between The ...