Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts

Friday, 13 October 2017

The journey to nativity


Darkness….lovely darkness…the smoke around..

Swirling up…sketching elf in white cloak…fading somewhere;

Alone…the silence…mind drowning thoughts endlessly…

Lay me there….sink me deep…to the native land

Where once I floated for a while…

Before laughter came out of loud cries…

Where it all started before it all about to end so soon…

Destiny has already scripted the epilogue….in absolute darkness.

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

Being a stranger...

Am I just a name? Or just me what they see?
Or a stranger to the way they know?
Am I just what seemingly I am—in life and beyond?
Or just a few footprints on my walk
On a path lost forever in a meadow unknown?
Am I a soul, far away from life’s roll—
Stuck onto a changeless boll—
Like an unnamed flower in an unknown knoll?
Or a path never walked before, yet awaiting,
Or a dream forsaken in dreamer’s eyes, yet shining,
Or a trampled hope in a frozen cell, yet undying?
Maybe there is a beauty—a beauty forever—
In being a stranger to the way they know
Or to me or to what seemingly I am.
Am I just a few senses that paint me as I am,
Of unchained thoughts of defeats and scars,
Of motion stalled and stymied wars,
Of glorious triumphs and crowned stars?
Or are they just what I lose, one by one,
In becoming a stranger to what they see in me—
To me or what seemingly I am.
Perhaps, there is a beauty—a beauty forever—
Of knowing the way I become a stranger to me
Of becoming a stranger to the way I know myself
Of refining an image of being a stranger within—
To myself indeed—or the way they see,
Or what seemingly I am—in life and beyond.

Monday, 8 August 2016

Destiny !!


Destiny reigns; silent and ageless in the

Mortuary of passions and thoughts;

An indisputable certainty in the vacuity  

Of an eternal flow of senses—within and without,

For a deadened soul to reprieve and reproach.



Life denies life and death derides death;

Delight and sorrow walk away—hand in hand;

The proximity of the present erases the face

Of the past—the moments, hours and years;

Shrivelled eyes fail to mirror a path unbroken.



Time smudges the image of a decent moon

Painted upon a dark face of young night;

Jacob and Esau battles within her womb

With promises of two distinct futures;

Never knowing which will shine the dawn.



From the vacuity it rises and dies within;

The margin between the fortune and misfortune

Is wiped up in the hollowness of events;

Enduring a greater fall to attain a loftier ascent—

Oblivious of the certainty scripted for the End.



Destiny defines; the present is of sheer suspense

Secreted within the bankruptcy of a dead past,

And the prospects of an unborn future;

As night is stifled between the legacy of a day spent

And the certainty of a fresh dawn.

Wednesday, 31 March 2010

Tale of a copycat.....


Dear readers,
I received interesting information from an unnamed reader this morning. It is in my comment box of my February 18, 2010 post, “The Barman’s string”
http://saibarman.blogspot.com/2010/02/barmans-string.html
and when I checked the link provided therein I was shocked to find its contents...you may check yourself too at
http://mkalkunte.blogspot.com/2010/02/barmans-rant.html
And, on further scrutiny I found two more posts in that blog—one being
http://mkalkunte.blogspot.com/2010/02/tormented.html
 copied from one fine contribution of “Shas”
http://wwwscribblingsonthewall.blogspot.com/2009/04/tormented.html
and another one
http://mkalkunte.blogspot.com/2010/02/memories.html
copied from what I wrote in the comment box of “Memories” written by “Shas”
http://wwwscribblingsonthewall.blogspot.com/2009/11/memories.html
I have requested the blogger to search for conscience....
What I write on my blog are just to share expressions, and they never go for publication elsewhere...blogging and publication are two distinct categories for me which are well classified, both in content and context...and, I don’t mind even if someone wants to use any of my blog-posts for any academic or personal interest so long it bears an honest intention...
I still believe that time is never lost...maybe, only delayed...for to learn to renew trust in truth...and I wish the person finds comfort of a guileless space of soul.
Let us hope that this turns out to be the last tale of a copycat....yes, of the last copycat !

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

To my dear readers.....


This life has, along its long branches of tree, offered countless leafs of moments for me. Some could comfort a few blossoms of dreams to bloom, and some more to let float its soft pollens of expressions to meander in smooth breezes of relationships. In its enduring presence through seasons, years and decades, it might also have laid some long shadows of memories upon the beaten path. They grow longer, slender and darker as time ushers faint rays of falling sun in through webs of foliages. Perhaps, soon they will outgrow of its own contents and approximations in an intense yearning for to lie just close to the soil that has, for so long, drenched its roots, treasured its fallen leafs and listened to whispers of its mirth and sorrow. In silence, they—the tree, the soil and the shadows—gently weave on its last wishes to merge into an inseparable oneness before evaporating into a grand expanse of darkness.

And, it all happened in its own solitary world unperturbed by presence of anything external to it. It all happily happened within its own pleasure and pain. Yet, someone observes. There are always some silent observers...yes, it has been as my father once cautioned me. I did not comprehend the truth hidden in his expression. It was so long before !

I smell the flowers again where the seed of this life was once tenderly held in the deepest core of love and care. I run through long lanes of remembrances to hear those sweet tunes that they sang for me only. I float again in that pool of childhood innocence. I hear melodies of joy of creation....I draw signs of my love on those trembling lips with my tiny palms. And, I hear again those murmurs of the past...there are always some silent observers.

In truest sense, I opted for blogging to share my travelogues some three years back. Yes, it runs still separately. I opted for another space here to write on whatever I feel...just a freedom road for my thoughts. I never expected readers, nor do I as this page has no specific objective of discussions. Although my travel blog and online journal are comparatively popular in trekkers’ world, I have enjoyed more in writing here than elsewhere for some interesting revelations that it has offered me with. I will mention just one instance to confine to what I intend to finally end with. After publication of a few posts under Kids Zone, there came an email communication from an US teacher. I was really amazed and happy to learn that she had some lively sessions over those posts with her junior level students and even shared some of their brilliant reactions. A few observations were so incisive that I had to subsequently revise my ambition to write serious things for kids in a more cautious manner. And, finely I learnt that neither the teacher nor the students were bloggers but regular readers. Yes, we are still in occasional touch. And, I can feel their presence through traffic feed counts too. This particular event of life led me to embrace my dad’s words intensely. I realized essence of it and enjoy listening to footsteps of those observers, more and more, in our silent trysts. I started observing them too...yes, truly and meticulously, for it inspirational value...I can travel to those far countries, distant cities, remote corners of this planet—from Norway to Australia, from Texas to Bangalore, from Romania to Hong Kong...and, for last a few weeks I can observe gentle footprints of someone...someone so far from Snow Hill, Antarctica.

I honour you all for being with my expressions, for within my inspiration and for I learn to trust you to explore trust in me. I rejoice in being silenced by your silent presence, my dear readers !

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!

The song of distant meadows !!

In my sparkling youth, on a delightful day of the college picnic, an ever-smiling teacher said to me "In your stubborn state, you don...