Jodi tomar dekha na pai probhu , aar Bhabani Kakur kotha..

Jodi tomar dekha na pai probhu , aar Bhabani Kakur kotha..

(If I couldn’t see you, Lord- Bhabani Uncle’s tale)

For the last few days we are under home quarantine. Passing through an unprecedented experience, sometimes feeling very low , sometime rolling down my memory lane. And like all of you, it is really difficult to get rid of memories of my childhood days, and for no reasons they are haunting me  Actually the events and stories which are occupying my senses are of my childhood days, they are from my days when I was about 9 - 10 yrs old . Somehow, I am also enjoying these nostalgic memories.

The Sundays used to be very special days for me those days, no school, no private tuitions, no waking up early ,, There was a persons who used to make my Sundays even more precious, I used to eagerly wait for him every Sunday. He was none other than Bhabani Kaku ( Bhabani uncle). He used to be at the main door of our house very Sunday morning, with the clock striking 9 AM. He was a man from very well known family in our locality, but it is still a mystery why he used to beg for food. People around our place used call him a mad cap, but he was a big astonishment to me. I could see the depth of happiness in his eyes. It was all going like that. On one Sunday morning I found him a little unmindful , but he was humming a tune to himself. To my surprise i found it to be a song in Bangla. I got hooked to it immediately , because the lyrics appeared magical , "jodi tomar dekha na pai probhu , ebar e jibone  " I had never heard that song before. The tune and the melody were mesmerising. That day he was just sitting and singing the song, was not asking for the food. I was too young to understand the meaning of the song but I realised that the song was a conversation with the Lord, and I could see the very expression of surrender in Bhabani Kaku's glistening eyes. He was conversing with God and complaining why he did not appear for him. I was amazed  with the whole situation , the very ambience engulfed me thoroughly. 

Next week Bhabani Kaku did not turn up, I waited for him, the whole morning till the lunch time. I was sad, but the melody was rolling in my head.. the whole week passed, with home works , games and mischiefs. On the next  Sunday morning I got up early had my breakfast and started waiting for him. I was running to the door on every knock, expecting him to appear and sing the song again but he never turned up. My father observed me and understood what was bothering me. He called me and with his elderly calm and passion explained me the truth, "your Bhabani Kaku will not come any more. He has left us for his heavenly abode." I was shocked , I ran to the terrace and cried for long. It was a huge loss for me.

Now at this matured age of 56 , I can understand the real meaning of the song- It is one of the greatest creations of Rabindranath Tagore. That Sunday morning Bhabani Kaku was connected to the almighty and he was singing that song. I don't know how it got embedded in my mind that morning. Whenever I listen to that song I remember Bhabani kaku and tear drops trickle down from my eyes.

Face that drifts

A face that drifts 
Drifts you way past the galaxy
Milky way evades the mosaic of your melancholy
The song you are singing 
For millions of yesteryears
Beneath the orange moon
The girl with crooked teeth
And the glistening placid eyes,,,
Whispers in your ear 
" I love the smell of your breath " 
A blatant lie that crushed 
Two pairs of lips 
Ground and mutilated
The archaic smell of hasnuhana ...

The love melted the evening moon , 
at 9pm,, It was raining on southern avenue.. Lipstick clad nimblers
Went back early that evening,,
They thick air from lake
Caressed your jealous  lips 
Your poisoned a throbbing heart..

31st April
Jaipur

Dusky Invader from Eastern Sea

Dusky Invader from Eastern Sea

There were faces standing outside the glass door of my cabin ; the faces were naked,naked with their messy expressions, which they wanted hide with mask of hallucination; one out of them were little aside, the one who forgot wear the mask, the eyes were full of expressions of love , while other two faces pretended to be “know all” ; the shorter and stouter one had a beast inside , an hyena , i guess ; that was so vivid in his eye balls , the mask of hallucination could not even hide that. She was wearing a high stiletto as if she could touch the sky.

The one who was not wearing the mask was little dusky, whose face was naked, whose expressions were radiating like reds of a gulmohar, she approached ,, the glass door , all of a sudden seems to be melted like a sheet of butter , she glided through the door ,, and she was in me , in my very glassy cubic mind. Suddenly my cubic space got filled with drowning fragrance.

I was surprised ; “hey hey hey ,, who are you ? “

“what are you doing here in my glassy cubic mind ??’’ I yelled ,,

She was smiling ,, and I realized that was drowning in the ocean of the sweet senses . I
knew , I was invaded , I was invaded by the Dusky Invader from Eastern Sea .

The sun was setting on the other side of the gulmohar tree standing red on the farthest end of the field outside my windows,, and she was smiling with her both hands wide open ,,offering an hug ,,

“ Why an invader would give a hug “ I asked myself ,,sun was drowning , leaving orange feelings on my earthly senses , filling my glassy cubic mind .. The music began to play , with sonorous ecstasy in all the alt notes, in rich clean tones of adoration.

The dusky invader was standing out there on the corner in a reluctant stance ,, she  was wearing an inviting smile on her lips . To my surprise I noticed my space , my geometric dimensions was quickly getting filled with sweet and wet smell of “Hasnuhana  “ ,, that was so intoxicating ,, I was drowning in the intoxication ,, by then the dusky invaders  came close enough that I could see dreams oozing out of her placid ocean like eyes . I realized her eyes are dark , deep and serene like a cool ocean. Suddenly the she took out her floral heart and offered ,, it looked like a bunch of orange and pink gerberas  made of cut glasses , the petals were glistening , the dark stem made of brown see through glass tubes,. My cubic mind turned red with a hole on top ,, she put her floral heart , the silicate gerberas in the cube,, i found The petals of glass flowers were tuning into smiles and disappearing in the hazy sunset out there on the fields..

But the other side of the glass door , the beastly faces were still hanging around , trying to fathom the orangeness of the love inside the glassy cube ,, The orange fragrance was slowly shaping up into a thickened certainty . They were scratching their nails on the glass door , but in vain .. I was laughing at them, they looked like hungry beasts. They were blue , so blue that my orange glassy mind , so impossibly orange , the blue could not infuse. The dusky invader from the eastern sea had started pouring nectar from her floral heart ,her lips were shivering a little with loads of feelings which were flowing in her mind . Suddenly her floral heart turned into a bunch of rich red may flowers, and her eyes became blue sky , to my surprise , I saw that her body is turning in calm aquamarine ,, or may be sea green ,.. The dusky invader came forward, with a smile. She held herself open and held my glassy cubic mind against her caring womanhood,, it was smelling hasnuhana ,,intoxicating all glassy senses were drowning , the glass head was melting into molten stream of silicate beads, the dusky invader was turning into rapily deep blue, a kind of electric blue, transparent , I could see inside ,, am purple rainbow emerged on the horizon, the rainbow was having only the shades of purple ,, the sky turned orange ,I could only watch that my orange glassy mind space being conquered by the dusky invader from the eastern sea.

In the evening it raining heavily started , on the coast of eastern sea, after a long summer , the lights from the hills by the sea were washing down in the rain over the greens ,, The dusky invader was there washing off into the oceab  in front of my the orange cubic mind , she was all in her ,she was melting into broken pieces of moonlight on the ripples ,, I was drifting , I was drifting by the waves ,, The dusky invader from the eastern sea was turning into an ocean rapidly ,,my glassy cubic senses were getting shattered into fragments and and drowing in the sea  ... 
......
......
It was dark by then,, and I started walking to the small temple on the other side of the beach .. Some people were burning mortal remains of someone ,, a group was singing “Harinaam Songkirtana “ .. I sat down with them , looking blankly at the burning pier ,, the orange fire .....

Abhrajit
10th June 2015

After fifty springs in life...

Loaded with an amazing feeling today  … 

What a day today ,, after 50 years on this planet , the most beautiful planets in the universe ( as i think ,, arguably though ), I was wondering since I got up today .. 

      " Who the hell I am ...???" 

      " Who has given me the skills to appreciate the beauty of this lovely earth"

      " Who has taught me take a dive into the world of unknown ..."

      " Who has given me the mind to visualize the picture of Hotel California """"

      " Who has shown me the path to enlighten my soul ... "

It took me back to the memory lane , where I started my journey to be a soul ,, a soul with a mind , a soul with a mind with a memory …

I was there in “Charu Babu’s School “ at Panchanan tala , I do not remember the schools full name ,, but for sure all those lovely teachers , I still remember them ,, Arati Miss , Geeta Miss , Konika Miss and Juthika Miss ,, they have were the angels who triggered my journey as a human being.. I still can see Arati Miss playing organ and singing for us ( as I am writing these words my vision is getting blurred with tears ) , Geeta miss and Konika Miss trying calm us down for afternoon “sleeping class” .. It was way back in 1969 …

Days and years passed on , ,  so many teachers toiled to  shape my life ,,,but few of them cleansed and put my thought processes on to the groove ,, I was bohemic by heart during my younger days( I don’t know if I still continue to be so) .. I grew up in a suburban town with river Hooghly flowing by it.. our school was on the river bank ,,, lessons from sky , from the tunes of chirping birds , from the flutters of the sails of cargo boats used to be more fascinating than snail’s law or lessons of literature … then I bumped with one of the heros of my life ,, I am having no shame to say that I scored on 13 out oh hundred in class nine maths exam ,, I was almost rejected by all ,,, only Mr Nemai Chand Kundu ,, known in the locality as Nemai babu , took it up as his personal challenge and showed me the path , he has given me the vision how to look at the life .. today I owe all my learning ability to him ,, he made me a learner ,,by way of teaching me the philosophy of mathematic ,, its much beyond the science ,,

Few of my friends likes to see me with my guitar ,, now it would not have been so , had I not come across my best friend “Boga Kaku” ,,, oops I mean Soumya Dasgupta , who did the first hand holding , when I was mere a fledgling in the world of music ,,, he made me love guitar .. fall for the hidden treasure of music ,,

At a much ripened age, I met  Amyt Dutta, he has given me the tools and tackles to enrich my musical ability ,,

Today at standing at the age of 50, with grey hairs and frowns on between the eye brows ,,I was not really aware what was waiting for me this 5^th September.. The first post this morning on my Facebook timeline was a wish ,, someone wished me as her teacher , as her mentor ,,, I was amazed ,, I was overwhelmed ,,,, it continued ,, I received a phone call , wishing me happy a teacher’s day ,,, then came an unexpected SMS, he called me the best mentor he came across ….

I never knew that I had a teacher in me , a mentor in me ,, .. it made me smile and I found a different person in the mirror ,,

But the question is who makes a teacher a teacher ???? Are the teachers the leaders ...???  Is it the teachers who make a teacher or the students make  ,,, but at the end of the day ,, its all for the quest of knowledge and peace ,,,,,

Abhrajit / 5th Sept 2013

The Reverse Clock… ticking

The Reverse Clock… ticking

Happiness does not stay for long what remains is “ the death” ,  sweet, white ,  cold and peaceful state of our existence. We all die , but we remain , we remain as vivid as sun or the moon or the cloud even after our death.. We are born to die , the clock starts ticking , the countdown begins at the very moment a bloody successful , result oriented super achiever sperm  hits a bitchy ova to create a new life inside the womb. An account of loss is opened with a fixed amount called life , which is only to be spent in the coming days. The death clock , as it rolls its gears in synchronicity to count the days , hours , seconds remaining for the final exit. With every beat of heart , with every moment passed the account of happiness is debited, reducing the balance called life, and we inch forward toward the final destination……

….. Have you ever seen clouds from the top , The white cloud below . I see them every day, every moment, with ever blink of my eyes , does not matter whether I am awake or dreaming . I see the white clouds of death, spread like loathsome bed inviting me for deadly slumber .. .. to me death is cloudy ,, like white cumulus one gliding across blue sky ,, my sky , yours sky and everyone’s sky ,, the clock does not stop to work , the only clock which ticks for eternity , keeps debiting the account ,,,,,,,,

…… these days , every day I find myself more and more in love with death ,, with every sunrise ,  my love my feelings about death increased,,,, and my love for you , My Dark invader,  increases. With every sunsets , thousands of needle sharp pains attacks my heart within seconds ,, the clock keeps debiting my account of happiness.. The pain , white pain , sounds like a blues rhapsody crescendos in my sky-scape ,, I fall in love with you again ,, my sweet white death ,, my cherished final exit.

,,,, all of a sudden I noticed the dry hollow hole of the inlet of starboard engine skimming through the white cloud ,, my cloud ,, my dark invader was busy explain the gorgeous sunset over my white cloudy death .. she was seemingly happy to slash and rip my white cloudy death ,, the sunset was painting my white death with its spectacular ordeal of colors ,, The dark cold   titanium lips of GE engine was inviting , they are now covered with whites ,, the death is on her lips … I was feeling like kissing the coldness ,, the death was there , I was feeling like kissing the death before final exit.,,

My feelings about dark invader was growing in a strange pace ,, how strong my dark invader must be to handle a sunset , I was sinking , I was sinking I was falling off my bed of white cloudy death ,, in my dream every night , I come closer to my dark invader ,, I never knew death was so cherishingly sweet. In a while ,I found my life to be a joker dancing in the staccato rhythm of seconds hand of my reverse clock. Life started all of a sudden laughing at me along with life ..

… I realized that I am sailing on ship ,, a ship made of charcoal, that was made out if burning blunders like love , affection, happiness ecstasy, orgasm ..A ship tries to stay afloat on a sea of dark clouds formed out of bellowing smoke of burning pyres of foolish lovers. .. my love , my love for death was slowly taking a shape ,, and the reverse clock was ticking steadily towards the final destination., the ultimate void .. the very sight of this was making me enthralled ,, I am in love again ,, in love again with white cloudy death ,, The clock was on the last lap of its race….

.. the aircraft started descend,, my tears of love dried off … it pierced through my white cloud of death ,, the runway was dark ,, and my dream was lost forever ,,,, I found myself in hand in hand with my love , my dark invader ,,, the white cloud turned in heavy downpour ,, it was draining of all my sorrows and tears … I was hiding my tears of happiness in the late evening rain …..

                                                                                                                                                Abhrajit @ 35000 ft above MSL